This Is Not A Time For TRPs: How Newsrooms Are Turning War Into Spectacle
In a country where news anchors are celebrities and debate panels resemble battlegrounds, it’s becoming harder to distinguish journalism from performance.
The recent Indo-Pak tensions once again revealed a pattern that should alarm us: Indian newsrooms, instead of serving as spaces for sober reflection, turned into frenzied war rooms, loud, theatrical, and at times, dangerously irresponsible.
Somewhere in the noise of “exclusive visuals” and “breaking news” tickers, the line between reporting and warmongering has blurred.
During moments of cross-border conflict, one expects the media to act as a mirror, reflecting truth, offering clarity, and reminding citizens of the weight of each headline.
Instead, what we often get is a high-pitched simulation of war. Dramatic sound effects, animated fighter jets flying across the screen, and anchors with voices raised like generals issuing commands.
It’s not analysis; it’s orchestration. A choreography of adrenaline and outrage, choreographed not for understanding, but for ratings.
Take, for instance, the slew of fake or repurposed videos that flooded television and social media recently. Old clips from Israeli airstrikes or accidents in foreign countries were passed off as “fresh visuals” from Indo-Pak operations.
A news anchor shouting about “India destroying Karachi Port” while playing footage of a plane crash in Philadelphia isn’t just laughable: it’s harmful.
The truth does emerge, eventually — but often through independent fact-checkers, not the networks that first broadcast the misinformation.
After the excitement fades, the quiet retractions roll in. “The video has been taken down.” “The tweet has been deleted.” But by then, the damage is done. Minds are made up, rage is stoked, and any correction becomes just a whisper against the scream.
Meanwhile, the newsrooms rarely take accountability. Why would they? In a fiercely competitive space, being “first” is more important than being accurate.
The phrase “exclusive footage” has become less a badge of journalistic merit and more of a sales pitch, regardless of whether the footage is real or even relevant.
What should be mourned is instead celebrated. What should be examined is turned into entertainment. Real lives, both Indian and Pakistani, hang in the balance — but the coverage feels more like a blockbuster countdown.
This is about basic decency. Journalism, especially in times of crisis, has a responsibility to remain grounded, not to inflame but to inform, not to provoke but to present truth with clarity and empathy.
My son called me on the phone, his voice trembling with fear: “Mom, there’s a war coming… they’re dropping missiles!” He had overheard a Malayalam news anchor shouting repeatedly from a neighbour’s television. The intensity and urgency of the broadcast had frightened him deeply, despite there being no immediate threat.
Perhaps more disturbing than the fake visuals is the language itself. Anchors casually talking about “flattening cities,” “dropping bombs,” or “wiping out enemies” as though they were narrating a cricket match. Children watching at home hear words like “kill,” “destroy,” “annihilate,” stripped of their human consequences.
In a rush to outpace one another, several regional channels have aired unverified footage, packaged speculative commentary as breaking news, and elevated fear over facts. Each anchor tries to outdo the other in drama — “Operation Sindoor,” “The Final Blow,” “Revenge Strike” — while rarely stopping to question whether these terms trivialise war or trauma.
The real tragedy here isn’t just misinformation, it’s the sheer ease with which newsrooms pivot into performative nationalism. A bomb becomes a bullet point. A death becomes a headline. A war becomes a weekend segment. And a country becomes a road map.
When there has been no official declaration of war, hearing news anchors repeatedly refer to the situation as an “Indo-Pak war” is deeply disturbing and irresponsible.
People deserve a media that pauses before it publishes. That verifies before it glorifies. That remembers war is not content, and conflict is not clickbait.
The heart of journalism is, and should always be, human. Not heroic posturing, not studio soundtracks — but real stories told with care. Amidst the noise, we need voices that speak with responsibility, especially when lives are on the line.
