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"Many Have Archived 'Meduza' Because They Can’t Take It Anymore"
Why are more and more people consciously reducing their exposure to the news?
Lately, we have seen an increasing number of people who are unaware of the latest events, even though they used to be glued to the news feed.

The WP project team collected data and analyzed these changes through in-depth interviews and general meetings with dozens of subscribers; and then, together with our psychologists, we tried to answer the following questions:
  • — Why are more and more people consciously refusing to read the news?
  • — How does this affect their psyche and what consequences can it have?
  • — Is it really true that all mental resources can be exhausted?
As the primary method of our research, we used in-depth interviews, which the team conducted through personal and online conversations. We also relied on quantitative methods, namely surveys and analysis of data from our chatbot.

Our respondents were project subscribers and participants of psychological groups. Their total number amounted to 120 people.

For a more complete understanding of the results, it is important to clarify that all informants:
  1. Take an anti-war stance;
  2. Have been deeply engaged in the news agenda since the beginning of the war;
  3. Have, in one way or another, sought psychological help within the last 2.5 years.

Based on the survey results, we found that
📌 65% of respondents (78 people) consciously or unconsciously stopped or significantly reduced their consumption of news content;

📌 45% of them noted a loss of interest in news in summer 2023. Others say that this happened in May 2024 (when Putin was inaugurated for a fifth term);

📌 26% of men and 18% of women surveyed completely stopped reading the news;

📌 all respondents emphasize that they resume reading the news during the most tragic events. They cite Navalny’s death in February 2024 as the last such reason.
"A person gets used to everything," one of our team psychologists comments on this data. "This fact sounds monstrous when we talk about getting used to war, but, nevertheless, this is how psychological defense mechanisms protect the human psyche, shielding one from an unbearable environment.

Initially, one of the most common requests for psychological counseling used to be the inability to stop scrolling the news. Feeling that life is uncontrollably falling apart, a person seeks to read all the available information and regain control, or at least the feeling of control, over life. They receive information that only confirms the saddest forecasts, offering nothing that would instill hope. As a result, they become depressed.

Meanwhile, their entire life is put on pause: work, studies, family, children, hobbies — all are pushed into the background, carried out "automatically", or even completely abandoned. But as time passes, the psyche dulls the sense of the unbearable. No matter how cynical the phrase "normalization of war" may sound, it reflects the process of adjustment to the fact that continuous scrolling does not help to cope with the situation. "Living one’s own life" by locking oneself in an ivory tower suddenly brings, if not relief, then at least oblivion".
At the very beginning, when our team first had the idea to conduct this study, we believed that there would be few reasons to stop reading news, and we would be able to write about each of them in detail along with comments from our psychologists. However, while conducting surveys and interviews, it became apparent that a wide range of factors, both internal and external, influenced people’s decision to stop reading the news. Therefore, we decided to select three interviews, which we consider the most informative and interesting, to illustrate how people’s attitudes towards the media and news have changed since the beginning of the war and to explore why this happened.
"A person cannot remain in a state of non-existence for long. We must move on somehow."
Anna, 57 years old,
resides in Russia.
Now, when I hear some bad news, I don’t feel much. It’s bad every day. There’s a certain level of news that just doesn’t get to me anymore. This dullness has grown, and it’s impenetrable.
Psychologist’s comment:
The psyche adjusts to what is happening in the external environment by reducing the level of emotional reactivity to something that would just recently have elicited a powerful reaction or even shock; emotional blunting occurs. Thus, the psyche protects a person by normalizing, to some extent, the surrounding events and turning them into a routine.
"Four houses destroyed, five people killed." OK. This no longer hits me as it did at the beginning of the war. Back then, every incident — there were many — was felt in my very bones. I could only endure about a year of such intense emotions, and then it stopped.

When the war started, I read the news constantly. I had a new job, but I checked the news at least once an hour, often more. I distinctly remember how I was supposed to dive into a new project, but it all felt like nonsense. It didn’t matter. I was glued to the news.

I lost track of time. I felt horror every minute, but time itself slipped away. It seemed incredibly important. It felt like having control, as if I’d been in control of the situation.

The news brings up different feelings. Sometimes it’s fear, sometimes horror just overwhelms me, and sometimes it’s a feeling of nausea.

I can’t digest it all. Everything just seems to fall right inside me, forming a void.
Psychologist’s comment:
The feeling of losing control over one’s own life, which emerged in people’s lives at the beginning of the war, is experienced very painfully. A person encounters existential uncertainty in its most terrifying form, and the urge to read all the news on every channel arises in response to this uncertainty as a desperate attempt to get rid of the overwhelming feeling of helplessness. Paradoxically, immersing oneself into this information only intensifies the subjective feeling that life is going down the drain, and a vicious circle gets set in motion.
It just sits there, and it seems if you don’t touch it, it will remain still. But if I start talking about it, I begin to cry. I might even start weeping.

If we talk about the fight, flight, or freeze response, well, I’m totally frozen. My body’s frozen, and my life’s frozen. Everything’s barely working. At the beginning of the war, emotions were running high — overflowing even. But then everything just froze, and it felt like I stopped living.
Psychologist’s comment:
What is happening is a chronic grief reaction: the feeling that everything has stopped, a lack of dynamics in this state — no improvement, no "bright spots". A person cannot get in touch with their own feelings that they once experienced — it is just too painful. The sense of hopelessness becomes central and colors the person’s entire existence even in those areas that seem unaffected by the war. The freeze response risks developing into a subsequent way of living.
So, I turned to therapy and came up with this image of myself as a submarine: I feel that I am, but it’s like I’m sitting in a submarine, and I’m running out of oxygen. A person cannot remain in a state of non-existence for long. We need to move forward somehow. I need to find a way to survive because it feels like I’m dying.

Yes, in terms of quantity, I started reading way less news. I stick to a few familiar sources, and I might stretch those updates over several hours, taking a break when I need to. But I don’t read the news on purpose anymore. No sense in it. I used to endlessly listen and read, thinking something important was about to happen, but now I don’t have that feeling anymore.

I’m not sure how much of this shift is conscious. To say that I intentionally reduce my consumption of news content — well, it is so. I know people who have stopped watching altogether; they watch it once a week and look completely happy.

My goal in reading the news is strategic. Sounds funny, yes. The environment is like a chessboard. I’m in the middle of this chessboard and I need to understand the threatening moments. Purely for the sake of survival — like what else could pose a threat to me, my kids, and my loved ones.

Towards people of opposite views — I mean, if I’ve known someone for a long time and understand that, in principle, they’re a good person, but it just so happens that they have their own way of thinking, and now they’re on the opposite side from me — I don’t even feel negative emotions towards them. Unless these are completely cannibalistic stories, I’ve learned to accept everyone’s choices.

There were a lot of losses. At the beginning of the war, I was just cutting ties with people. There are some with whom I completely severed connections and will never speak to again, and honestly, I don’t want to. Back then, it was all raw emotions that couldn’t be controlled. Now, it’s more like acceptance, some sort of inner peace — it’s hard to describe.

I’ve been through a lot of internal processes. It was such a tough journey that now I don’t claim to have the absolute truth. I still think what I used to consider bad is bad. But if someone thinks it’s good for them, I won’t try to change their mind. I connect with them on a different level, from a different part of myself. I know these people well and understand why they think that way. It’s not evil; it might be a misguided belief, but it’s not because they’re some kind of aggressive cannibal. They’re either wired differently, or they just can’t take it any other way.
Psychologist’s comment:
The polarization of society that emerged at the beginning of the war due to value conflicts is gradually diminishing over time. The need to live alongside people with different views compels a revision of one’s original position.

The world, once seen in black and white, now reveals its many colors. People renew or strive to maintain relationships with loved ones, finding common ground. The need for intimacy and warm connections doesn’t erase value conflicts, but it teaches how to coexist differently. Instead of grinding against each other’s sharp edges, the focus shifts to what unites and connects.
There’s this friend of mine. If I start telling her what’s really going on, she’ll probably fall apart right in front of me. Everything hits her hard, even the little stuff. So, she keeps herself safe by sticking to everyday tasks, because she doesn’t have the emotional strength to handle more.

So how can I badger her or keep pushing her? She just can’t handle it. What’s the point? What will change if I hit her with all this information?
“I just work, work, work, so I don’t have to think”
Lyubov, 37 years old,
resides in Russia.
My self-preservation instinct has kicked in. A year ago, I was crying, wanting to leave and take my kids out of the country. At first, I left on my own, worked, and tried to rent an apartment. Then I came back.

What is happening in Ukraine is a tragedy for me. And my great pain. So as not to go crazy, I began to protect myself, my brain. I said: I must save myself. Someone must remain sane in Russia. I just disconnected from everything.
Psychologist’s comment:
Replacing the initial reaction, when many experienced catastrophic thinking — wanting to run away, be far from what was happening, and avoid any contact, — a new stage has come. Now, people are regaining the ability to assess risks, analyze the gains and losses from various courses of action, and frame their chosen strategies in terms of personal meanings. The strategy of self-preservation reflects a broader planning horizon, or "playing the long game." People recognize the need to live in a way that not only upholds their own values but also ensures they preserve themselves for tomorrow and the days to come. Top of FormBottom of Form.
I work very hard, to the point of exhaustion. On weekends, I work just to avoid thinking. I deliberately immerse myself in work to keep my mind occupied. Because I understand that the only thing I can do is keep my sanity, so that the "beautiful Russia of the future" can be preserved. The more reasonable people there are, the better. Yes, now we can’t do anything.

How do I feel? I’m waiting. And I just keep working and working, so I don’t have to think. What remains are Saturdays and Sundays, when I’m left alone with myself. I don’t have the strength to be emotional. I’m so exhausted that I don’t have the energy for emotions, tears, or hysteria. But when I’m alone and not tired, it all washes over me.
Psychologist’s comment:
Overworking is a form of addiction that, like all others, serves as a substitute, providing a means to obliterate painful realities. It’s a kind of escape. However, recognizing the purpose behind this behavior transforms it from an addiction into a tool that puts the mind into an energy-saving, hibernation-like mode.

The suppressed energy of these unfelt emotions seeks an outlet, and without finding one, it can have a destructive effect on the human psyche.
Here (in Moscow, editor’s note) it is all peace and quiet. People are going to the beach, hitting the gym, and I’m sipping freshly squeezed juice on my way to work out. It’s like nothing is happening, and it makes me feel ashamed. Outwardly my life looks no different than it did four years ago.

And you think, well, what can I do? Nothing.
Psychologist’s comment:
Shame is a feeling of unworthiness, "wrongness"; it is close to the feeling of guilt but is still distinct from it. Guilt concerns specific actions, while shame relates to a person’s overall feeling that they do not deserve the life they live. The irrationality of this feeling stems from the fact that the decision to start the war, made by other people, seemingly takes away a person’s right to life and joy. Shame is largely a socially induced feeling where the issue of responsibility becomes blurred.
"I glance at the news — Palestine, Ukraine, it’s all there — but I just don’t care at all."
Alya, 35 years old,
resides outside of Russia.
For me, how I feel about bad news really depends on where it’s happening. The last time I felt really upset was with the Crocus [attack]. Anything about Ukraine doesn’t hit me the same way anymore. I guess I’ve kind of adapted or become numb to it.
Psychologist’s comment:
Here, the novelty effect is at play. The war gradually went from being a focal point to becoming part of the background, but other events of comparable emotional intensity still elicit responses.

From an ethical point of view, this might appear cynical, yet the psyche protects individuals from debilitating suffering by transforming what was once perceived as terrible into something routine. At the level of values, a person remains unchanged — good and evil do not swap places — but their threshold for emotional reactions alters, leading them to develop a "thick skin".
I try not to read anything. If something pops up, I just don’t feel anything about it anymore, no matter what it is.

I had a really strong reaction to the news of Navalny’s death and ended up having a big fight with my parents. I just couldn’t cope with my emotions. When Alexey died, my mom and I talked about it and she said, "Well, his time had come." That tore me up. I said, "What do you mean, his time?!" Even if it was a natural death, I just lost it. It was really painful.

When I heard about his death, I felt hopeless. I hadn’t understood it before, probably because the person was alive. I can’t say I thought about him every day while he was in prison, but when he died, it dawned on me there definitely wouldn’t be any bright future ahead. Mandela survived, built something, changed things. But Navalny died, and that was it. Just a total feeling of hopelessness.
Psychologist's comment:
The personification of hope (i.e. creating an image of an individual who embodies an ideal, positive future and appears capable of actualizing this vision) is a natural process.

We want to imbue this person with supernatural abilities and share with them the responsibility for our lives in the future.

The archetypal figure of the Hero, embodied by Alexei Navalny, became a source of inspiration and hope. His vision of the “beautiful Russia of the future” was inseparable from his persona. For many, he was a pillar of strength that they could not find within themselves. His death produced a “house of cards” effect, causing people to lose the sense of purpose in their struggle for the future that had been firmly associated with Alexei.
The news about the Crocus [attack] really hurt me, and even more so what came afterward. Seeing the video of the tortures on the news was the absolute worst because I realized that tortures were being literally legalized, and most people were okay with it. That terrified me. It struck me that they were carried into the courtroom on stretchers, and people said that it was the right thing to do. Where’s the evidence? They can execute without a trial or investigation, they can torture. What if next time it’s you? The most painful part was knowing that people approved of it.
Psychologist’s comment:
During wartime, social norms are changing, and the media broadcast them to people, thereby "representing" the new normality.

The display of approval for cruelty most often manifests subconscious attempts to explain it — people need to find an acceptable explanation for something unbearable in order to coexist with it. Even if the explanations are not too logical, they provide a rationale, such as the existence of hidden information, considerations of global justice, or something else. In conditions where reliable information is lacking or inconsistent, such simple explanations help people come to terms with what is difficult for them to accept.

Another aspect is the polarization of society. The division into "us" and "them" is taking on increasingly radical forms, giving rise to intolerance towards any representative of the opposite camp. It creates a sense of indulgence for anything done against "the other."
For the first two weeks of the war, I was reading everything I could get my hands on. I didn’t read propaganda news, only mainly "Meduza." I can’t recall exactly when I stopped, most likely around May 2022. Now, I can go for a week or two without even checking it [Meduza].

In the first month of the war, I had this subconscious need to stay connected to everything going on. I remember in the first couple of weeks checking out some Telegram channels and coming across Ukrainians who posted pictures of dead Russian soldiers; nothing was censored. They put all this stuff on public pages. I saw this news even though I didn’t go looking for it. At some point, I messaged them: "Why are you doing this?" They replied: "To mock." I was shocked. I thought there were some lines that shouldn’t be crossed. War is war, but some things just aren’t okay. After that, I cut myself off from it. I thought: "Why am I putting myself through this?"

It’s more like peaks and valleys. When a big news story comes up, I read it, then I stop following. But if a year ago it was an intentional detox, now it’s more natural, I’d say. Now I just don’t have that urge. A year ago, I had to control myself, but this year there’s no need for that.

There are people who deliberately control their reactions, you know, like they say they’ve built a brick wall. For me, it’s more of an uncontrollable thing, where the subconscious defense mechanism kicks in because the psyche is just too tired of dealing with and processing everything.
Psychologist’s comment:
People differ in their sensitivity to emotional stimuli due to individual life experiences and characteristics of the nervous system. In addition, controlling external manifestations is a skill that can be acquired through special training. But when the present day is in question, most likely people who appear outwardly impenetrable may have merely progressed further in the process of emotional encapsulation. Their psyche has dulled their emotional reactivity to protect them from constant suffering. It is these people who strike us as completely unresponsive to anything. Of course, there are also those who are genuinely unaffected by the suffering of others. Typically, psychopathic personalities exhibit this trait, but the percentage of such individuals is not too high.
It’s hard to give an exact timeline, but for about four months now I haven’t felt any strong emotions from the news content. It took me about a year, maybe six months, to stop actively scrolling through it.

It’s like I’ve become numb to the news; it just doesn’t get to me anymore. I glance at it — Palestine, Ukraine — but I don’t care anymore. My empathy dulls. And then there’s this fear that nothing good is coming. I’ve stopped dreaming of anything. I used to always feel like things would turn out okay, but now that feeling is gone.

News has started to evoke fewer emotions in me. I feel it has led to a worse understanding. When there were reports about a hospital being shelled in Ukraine, I realized I felt absolutely nothing — no negative or positive emotions. I thought, in theory, I should be feeling something, but I didn’t. I read it, closed it, and moved on as if nothing had happened.
What conclusions can be drawn from all this?
It’s clear that reactions to stress and emotional turmoil among respondents vary greatly. Some have completely given up on news, immersing themselves in work, while others still read it but no longer feel the same emotions.

However, all these stories have something in common — the focus gradually shifts from the thought "What can I do to make a difference?" to the question "How can I keep living with this?"
Unfortunately, the answer to the latter question, as well as to the former, cannot be found in the news.

"How will reading the news change the world?" our respondents pondered, ultimately concluding, "By giving it up, I will at least save myself and preserve my sanity."
In addition, during personal communications with group members and subscribers, our team noticed that even among people united by common views and values, horizontal ties are beginning to fray. Tensions are emerging between those who "stay on top of things" by keeping up with the news and those who have given it up and "retreated into their shells."

Through extended conversations, we found that one of the reasons for such changes was the fear of losing "allies" in the form of those who refuse to read the media. Many fear, often subconsciously, that by stopping following the news, a person potentially renounces their stance on the war. However, as we can see from the interviews, refusing to read the news is simply a way to adapt to current events, redirecting one’s attention to a less traumatic and more controllable area of life.

The "Without Prejudice" psychologist explains it this way:
As the war continues and repression expands, the growing tension amplifies the division between "us" and "them." To classify someone as "one of us," shared values are no longer sufficient — new filters emerge, and the criteria for inclusion become increasingly stringent.

Amid the pressure from the authorities, it is necessary not only to be one of "us" in essence but also in form: it is not enough to oppose the war — one must also align with how this opposition is to be expressed. Differences in how people deal with internal rejection of the events and display their way of dealing with it create a barrier, dividing like-minded individuals into "more us" and "less us."

Examples abound: those who have left and those who have stayed; those who fled at the beginning of the war and those who escaped mobilization; those who have left but continue to work remotely for Russian enterprises, and those who have left and completely severed all ties. Trusting a smaller and smaller number of people is a reaction to perceived and real dangers, some of which concern freedom, while others concern identity. Polarization of the community is occurring not just around common values, but around more specific characteristics. A significant factor in this process is the absence of a widely recognized leader — someone who could offer a set of ideas, principles, and goals that would be acceptable and suitable for uniting like-minded individuals.
It should be noted that all conclusions regarding the emergence of tension within anti-war groups are based solely on the personal feelings and perceptions of the WP project team. As such, these conclusions do not claim research objectivity, and the phenomenon itself warrants further and more detailed study.
In conclusion, we have compiled the briefest and most expressive responses from participants of our groups and surveys.
  • — "A sense of futility and going around in circles."
  • — "My own life started to take up more space, and this [war] stopped being a priority. It makes me sick; I feel sickened by myself."
  • — "Is it really true that all mental resources can be exhausted? "
  • — "If I get emotionally involved, it’ll kill me!"
  • — "I'm still fighting, but I’m tuning out the news."
  • — "Sad to say, it’s no longer killing me."
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