I’ve come to find the clunk and whirr of closed circuit tv cameras turning to follow my movements as I walk to and from work quite reassuring. It seems sometimes like I’m stepping into Orwell’s Big Brother world every time I leave the house, and more than finding it frightening, I find it comforting.

My job often involves finding CCTV images of brutality: of bashings and murders and stabbings on the streets of London. Television news loves these stories, hideous and gruesome, and sometimes I wonder if they’re not the backbone of 24 hour news altogether. As I log the day’s news, or simply passively absorb it while I research pictures of the deceased and flowers behind a police cordon outside their house, the message that violent crime is omnipresent is continually reinforced.

Killings and rapes are everywhere! Why did I move to this dangerous big city?! But I remember noticing a similar mindset after starting work at Television New Zealand. I had always felt very safe in Auckland, until I began at TVNZ. Continually being exposed to stories of horrific violence – especially on the early morning shifts where the news is repeated every half hour, and read from right next to my desk – I found myself feeling afraid as I walked through the city at night. (And so knowing that someone’s “keeping an eye on me” by way of CCTV surveilance seems vaguely comforting).

A bit of vigilance is a good thing, but this is hardly Sao Paolo. I used my self-defence moves for the first time a couple of weeks ago, but it was not exactly a life-preserving moment. Some seedy random guy took hold of my wrist in a club and didn’t let go when I shook my arm. I was in no mood for asking nicely, so I whirled around and slammed my other fist onto his forearm, breaking his grip.

And - need I remind you? - this is all at the expense of telling us about big-picture events like the looming tragedy in the Sudan. I don’t mean to detract from the importance that these stories have, but the glee with which the news machine latches onto these events is rather sickening. While Bill Ralston is dealing out the Reporter’s Fluff Removal Kit he could perhaps throw in a Blood Clean Up Kit as well.

I still believe that the personal is political – Don Brash’s alleged affair should not be swept under the carpet (although I have to admit to a bit of bias on this one). But the graphic repetition of extreme violence does no-one any favours.

Other posts by Katie Llanos-Small