Quick disclaimer: I have not been classically trained as a journalist. Or non-classically trained, for that matter. The only “journalism” I’ve ever done (and I use scare quotes liberally) has been personal, reflective work on current events, where I take something that seems interesting and relevant to me and write about what that is and why.

So really, answering the question of whether objectivism is possible or desirable in journalism is a bit like asking me if being able to breathe out of your neck is possible or desirable.

For me, neither are possible. And for me, it’s tough to tell if it’s desirable if it’s more or less a fantasy.

It might seem nice and helpful, but if it’s impossible, why waste time thinking about it?

Every single word that passes through our minds and onto the page comes with its own connotation that readers must begin to unpack. Say I describe Northern Ireland as “quaint.” Then let’s say I change my mind and describe it as “charming,” or “picturesque.” I might mean the same thing by all of these (Northern Ireland is beautiful, a little bit small-town-ish, with stores that are almost all closed on Sunday and an impressive sheep-to-people ratio), but each of those adjectives carries a different emotional connection in its wake.

Do I like Northern Ireland? Depends on how you interpret my adjectives.

Writing about the Troubles cannot be disentangled from the power of connotation, because each individual term in the conflict is, in a sense, taking a side. What do you call the event itself? An armed conflict? A civil war? A revolution? A series of sustained terrorist attacks? The label you choose shows more than you might think about what side you support.

Each party of the conflict comes with the same problem. Is it the IRA, the Catholics, the Republicans, the Separatists, or the paramilitarists? Is it the UVF, the Protestants, the Loyalists, or the Royalists? The power of a name to bind someone to a cause and an ideology carries through to the words we use to describe our so-called objectivity.

The aspect of the conflict that I keep finding myself thinking about, almost without meaning to, is the name the world has assigned to it. “The Troubles.” When I say something is troubling, I usually refer to something like the refrigerator in the hostel kitchen malfunctioning and freezing all our eggs, or some stranger showing up in the middle of the night and booting one of my classmates out of his hostel bed. “Trouble,” to me, doesn’t quite cover the extent of what has been affecting Northern Ireland since 1969, or since 1690, or since who knows when. But calling it “war” or “revolution” or “civil war” implies solidarity with one side or another, who considers the counties of the island to be one unified country or who doesn’t.

By choosing not to call the Troubles a war, agreement with the UVF is implied.

But if we called the Troubles a war between two sovereign states, we would in effect be siding with the IRA.

With mutually exclusive choices like this, and with emotions running high on both sides and any person observing the conflict bringing their own personal beliefs to bear on events, I can hardly imagine that objectivity in its strictest sense can ever be accomplished.

But if we spend our time questing after the impossibility of an unbiased look at events, nothing good will come from it. The only way to end the strife in Northern Ireland is to meet people where they are and help them to see the benefits of open communication and compromise, and the Northern Irish are certainly not in a state of objective impartiality. How could they be, when their lives have been torn apart by the Troubles for decades?

Objectivity is a myth, and not a functional one. Compromise and acceptance of disparate beliefs is the only road forward.

I say this not as an objective foreigner, trying to swoop in and solve the “nation”‘s problems. I know that I am incapable of enacting this change, and that there are complexities and nuances that I am incapable of understanding without having lived the lives of those involved.

But recognizing the myth of objectivity helps break down the savior complex of outsiders, and allows the change to evolve from within, as it must.