In the days leading up to the ceasefire announcement between India and Pakistan, the atmosphere was thick with tension, both on the border and on our television screens. Ceasefire violations had surged, soldiers and civilians paid the price, and the spectre of a full-blown conflict loomed large. But long before humanity, commonsense, and diplomacy took the wheel, Indian mainstream media had already declared war. Primetime news channels, which shall remain nameless, turned into war theatres, with anchors shouting over air raid siren sounds and retired generals, studio graphics mimicking missile launches, and hashtags romanticising bloodlust. Fear was packaged as breaking news, speculations paraded as facts.
And now, even after the hostilities have paused, the noise hasn’t stopped. If anything, it’s become clearer than ever that the next big enemy India must confront isn’t across the border, it’s the unchecked force of media war-mongering within.
Well, this isn’t a sudden phenomenon. For decades, conflict between India and Pakistan has served as a profitable narrative arc for national television. And whenever real domestic failures loom large, be it unemployment, inflation, or unrest, the media resurrects this old rivalry. The core formula never changes: dramatic and repetitive music, hyper-nationalist and ill-informed panelists, graphics of exploding bombs, and a rotating cast of talking heads echoing one unified sentiment that war is good TV. Every conflict becomes an opportunity to incite rage. Every small, irrelevant detail is broadcast with maximal drama, while every tragedy is stripped of nuance to fit a “patriotic” script.
The recent ceasefire should have offered a rare moment of reflection. But instead of asking how the two nuclear neighbours can work toward long-term peace, Indian media chose to ask who surrendered, who backed down, and who lost. Hate to break it to you, but this isn’t journalism, this is reality distortion at its finest. This is media war-mongering dressed in patriotism, where the studio becomes a battleground and facts become casualties.
And mind you, the damage is real. When the media chooses fury over facts, it doesn’t just reflect public sentiment, it shapes it. The average Indian viewer, exposed daily to a stream of rage and righteousness, begins to believe that war is not only necessary, but it’s noble. Peace becomes a weakness, and diplomacy is seen as betrayal. This kind of conditioning is not harmless; it silently yet significantly radicalises minds, desensitizes us to loss, and deludes our idea of empathy. It pushes us towards the belief that we are always under threat, and that vengeance is more important than resolution.
Well, this is not fiction, and we are not Batman, so let’s respect the reality, however grim it is. Let’s also talk about what the media didn’t do and should have. Fearless and honest journalism, in the face of heightened tensions and actual loss of life, would have demanded answers.
What were the security lapses that cost lives in Pahalgam? What is being done to evacuate vulnerable civilians from at-risk areas? What does the future hold for the two countries? Instead, the media parroted official statements, ran speculative headlines, sensationalised every word that went on screen, and in many cases, reported completely unverified stories that could have sparked retaliation, escalated violence, and endangered lives. Media war-mongering doesn’t just mislead, it has the power to kill.
It’s worth remembering that journalism is meant to speak for the people, not the powerful. It was always supposed to hold governments accountable, especially in times of crisis. Instead, we saw national security weaponized to silence dissent, and the press becoming complicit in manufacturing consent for aggression. This betrayal is not just editorial, it is unethical by all means known.
Meanwhile, the actual victims of this endless tension, the soldiers on the frontlines, the villagers caught in overnight shellings, the grieving families, remain voiceless in the national conversation. Their stories, their pain, and their hopes for peace rarely make it past the commercial break. That’s where community journalism must rise again, journalism that focuses on the ground realities, that gives voice to the voiceless, that brings the borderlands into the heart of India’s consciousness.
The peace process, however fragile, is a chance not only for governments but also for the media to take responsibility and reset its approach. We need strict regulation against disinformation, mandatory editorial accountability, and an overhaul of newsroom ethics. The public, too, must reject outrage as entertainment. Ratings thrive on rage only if we continue to reward it with our attention. Listen to your instinct and close that TV right before it messes with the peace of your nervous system.
We cannot ignore the growing echo chamber that has turned a once sensible press into an engine of fear, anxiety, and polarization. Media war-mongering has hijacked our national narrative. And unless we confront it head-on, we risk losing the very thing we claim to defend, our democracy, our reason, and our future.
The ceasefire may have paused the crossfire, but it has not stopped the battle of perception being waged every night in our living rooms. The time has come to recognize the enemy we’ve allowed to grow unchecked. It’s not across the border, it’s on Channel 123. And it’s high time we turned it off.
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