Your phone is face-down on the bedside table, and an hour ago you told yourself that was the last time tonight. At half past eleven, in the dark, you turn it over anyway.
The war is still there — a video that started playing before you could stop it, a headline in bold type above three grey paragraphs whose shape you already know, a number you didn’t want to know but read regardless. You put the phone back down. Your heart rate hasn’t caught up with the news yet. Nothing in your bedroom has changed. Something in you has.
You are not imagining the size of this. In its 2026 annual mental health poll, the American Psychiatric Association found that 62 per cent of American adults describe themselves as very or somewhat anxious about current events around the world, and 48 per cent say they feel more anxious about world events than they did last year — up from 43 per cent in 2025. The economy topped the list of specific worries, at 71 per cent, with international conflict and the prospect of wider war counted among the other leading concerns. You don’t need to follow foreign policy for a living for any of this to apply to you. If you’ve felt your chest tighten at a push notification, or caught yourself flinching at the news app icon before you’ve even opened it, this is what it feels like to be paying attention in 2026.
Perhaps you’ve muted a group chat because someone keeps forwarding clips you didn’t ask to see. Perhaps you’re the parent trying to explain, in an ordinary voice, why the television is on the news channel again at teatime. Perhaps you’ve simply noticed that you feel worse after fifteen minutes of scrolling than you did before you picked the phone up, and you can’t quite explain why, because none of it is actually happening to you.
That last part turns out to be one of the more interesting questions researchers have been asking for well over a decade, and the answer is not that you are being dramatic. Your body may be responding to something real, even though the conflict itself is thousands of miles from your street.
Why your nervous system can’t tell the difference
The parts of your brain responsible for detecting threat, chiefly the amygdala and the wider stress-response system it switches on, did not evolve to check a map before deciding whether to react. They respond to what they are shown: movement, distress, danger, suffering. A screen delivering that footage in high definition, on a loop, with a notification sound attached, is not the same as being in a warzone. But it is also not nothing. The nervous system does not always draw a clean line between witnessing something and being told, vividly and repeatedly, that it is happening.
The clearest demonstration of this came not from a war but from a terrorist attack much closer to home for the researchers who studied it. In the fortnight after the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing, psychologists Dr E. Alison Holman, Dr Dana Rose Garfin and Professor Roxane Cohen Silver, from the University of California, Irvine, surveyed representative samples of residents in Boston (846 people), New York City (941 people) and the rest of the United States (2,888 people). Publishing in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, they found something that still unsettles people when they hear it: six or more hours a day of bombing-related media exposure in the week afterwards was associated with higher acute stress than having actually been at or near the marathon when the bombs went off. In the statistical model, media exposure carried a stronger association with distress than direct physical exposure to the attack itself.
Acute stress, in this context, means the cluster of symptoms that can follow a frightening event: intrusive thoughts you didn’t invite, a jumpiness that has no obvious trigger, trouble concentrating, a mind that keeps returning to the thing even when you’re trying to think about something else. You do not need to have been there to be shaken. That’s the finding, in eleven words.
What the newest evidence adds
That study is now more than a decade old, and one attack is not the same as years of grinding, televised conflict. So it matters that the pattern keeps reappearing. A study published in June 2026 in the journal Healthcare, led by Dr Majed M. Aljabri along with Bandar S. Alharbi and Endale Alemayehu Ali, surveyed 247 nursing students across five regions of Saudi Arabia about their exposure to conflict-related news and their mental health. The numbers are worth sitting with: 50.2 per cent showed moderate to severe symptoms of depression, 59.9 per cent moderate to severe anxiety, and 32.4 per cent moderate to severe stress. Students who got most of their news online, rather than through television or conversation, had nearly double the risk of depression compared with those who didn’t — an adjusted mean ratio of 1.92, which is simply a statistical way of comparing two groups once other differences between them, such as age or workload, have been accounted for.
Here’s the detail that matters most for you, though, sitting in the dark with your phone. Direct exposure to conflict-related news correlated only moderately with psychological distress on its own. What correlated far more strongly, at roughly double the strength, was disrupted sleep and disrupted daily routine. In other words, the news wasn’t simply making these students sad or anxious in a straight line. It was getting into their sleep and their ability to function the next day, and it was that disruption, sitting in between the headline and the mood, that did much of the damage.
Does any of that match what’s been happening on your evenings lately — the phone reached for out of habit, the hour of sleep that goes missing without you quite noticing when?
Notice, too, what these two studies — different decades, different countries, different kinds of crisis — have in common. Neither population was made up of soldiers, aid workers or people living in a conflict zone. One was ordinary American adults answering a survey. The other was student nurses in Saudi Arabia trying to get through their coursework. The distress in both cases came from watching, not from living through. That is precisely why this matters to you, wherever you are and whatever is on your screen tonight.
The sleep connection nobody warns you about
You’ve probably treated a bad night’s sleep as an inconvenience rather than a mechanism. The research suggests it’s closer to the second. When conflict news arrives late at night, in bed, on the device you also use for an alarm, it does two things at once: it activates the same threat-response system described above, and it does so at the exact moment your body is meant to be winding that system down. Cortisol — the stress hormone that should be tapering off by that hour — rises instead of falling. The scrolling itself delays sleep onset, how long it actually takes you to drop off. And the sleep you do get is lighter and more disrupted, which leaves you with less capacity the next day to regulate the very anxiety the news produced in the first place. You reached for the phone to feel less unsettled. The tiredness didn’t lift. If anything, it compounded.
Here I want to slow down, because hope without honesty helps no one. None of this means that caring about the world, or wanting to stay informed, is the problem. The problem is closer to volume, timing and where you let it in.
What this research can’t tell you
It would be dishonest to hand you these figures without also handing you their limits. Before you decide the news is doing something specific and measurable to you personally, it’s worth knowing exactly what protection these studies can, and can’t, offer you.
The Saudi nursing study was cross-sectional, meaning everyone was surveyed at a single point in time. That design can show that heavy online news use and depression turn up together; it cannot prove which came first. It’s entirely possible that if you already run anxious, you’re drawn to more news, rather than the news creating the anxiety from scratch. Holding onto that distinction protects you from a harsher story than the evidence actually supports. Student nurses are also not a general population: they were already managing demanding coursework and clinical placements, so their baseline stress was likely higher than average before a single headline was read.
The Boston Marathon study, for all its strength, examined reactions to one acute, contained event rather than a slow-burning, multi-year conflict, and reactions to a single shock do not necessarily behave the same way as the low-grade, accumulating exposure you might be describing today. And a correlation of 0.24 to 0.27, the strength linking direct news exposure to distress in the newer study, is real but moderate — it is not the whole story, which is exactly why sleep and routine turned out to matter so much more.
None of that is a reason to dismiss what you’ve been feeling. It’s a reason to be precise about it, which tends to be more useful than either panic or denial.
What you can actually do about it, starting tonight
You cannot switch off a war by switching off your phone, and nobody sensible is suggesting you try. What the evidence does point towards is changing the shape of your exposure, rather than the fact of it.
- Give the news a time, not a reflex. Two fixed check-ins a day, say early evening and mid-morning, take in roughly the same information as constant checking, without the repeated activation of your stress response every time a notification lands.
- Choose depth over volume. One or two sources you trust will tell you more, more accurately, than five apps and a dozen unfiltered social feeds, and it removes the sense of being caught in a current you can’t get out of.
- Keep the bedroom a news-free zone. Charging your phone outside the bedroom, or even just across the room rather than on the pillow beside you, protects the exact window — the last hour before sleep — where the research suggests the damage compounds fastest.
- Notice the cue before you open the app. A tightening chest, a restless hand reaching for the phone without deciding to: naming that sensation, even silently, creates half a second of choice where there was none before.
- Turn some of the feeling into action. Donating to a vetted aid organisation, writing to a local representative, or joining a community conversation about what’s happening converts passive dread into something you actually did, which tends to be easier to live with than watching alone.
- Say it out loud to one person. Distress that stays inside your own head tends to loop. Distress that gets said to a friend, partner or colleague, even briefly, tends to lose some of its charge.
If you’re a parent, the same principles apply to what your children see, with one addition: children take their emotional cues from the adults around them before they take them from the screen itself, so how calmly you handle your own exposure often matters as much as how carefully you manage theirs.
A note on attention, briefly and plainly: if your brain already finds it unusually hard to disengage from something urgent — a hallmark of ADHD (attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder) and the attention-switching difficulties that come with it — treat the fixed check-in times above as a stricter boundary than most people need, not an optional suggestion. Neither study cited here was designed to isolate ADHD specifically, so that’s an extension of what the evidence shows rather than a finding within it, said here plainly rather than implied.
Staying informed was never meant to cost you this much
The fact that world events reach you at all, that you feel something when you read about people you will never meet in places you may never visit, is not a fault in your wiring. It is closer to the opposite: it is empathy doing exactly what empathy is for. The research above simply confirms something worth taking seriously rather than something to be ashamed of — that the channel through which the world reaches you shapes how much of its weight you end up carrying, and that a few deliberate changes to that channel, particularly around sleep, can lower the cost without asking you to stop caring at all. You don’t have to choose between being informed and being well. You just have to stop letting the choice be made for you by whichever app happens to buzz first.
Source: Holman, E. A., Garfin, D. R., & Silver, R. C. (2014), “Media’s role in broadcasting acute stress following the Boston Marathon bombings,” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 111(1), 93–98; Aljabri, M. M., Alharbi, B. S., & Ali, E. A. (2026), “Exposure to Conflict-Related News and Psychological Distress Among Nursing Students: The Mediating Role of Sleep Difficulties and Study Disruption,” Healthcare, 14(12), 1609; American Psychiatric Association, 2026 Annual Mental Health Poll, published 2026.
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