What we are witnessing in India is not a failure of journalism; it is its abdication. There is emotion-driven narrative building in place of evidence-based reporting in Indian media.
Ghulam Haider
The recent incident in Pahlgam has exposed a deeply troubling pattern in Indian domestic discourse based on false propaganda. Even before forensic dust had settled on the site or credible leads could be established, the Indian government and its Godi media jumped into a frenzied blame game targeted towards Pakistan. In a fraction of a second, they pointed fingers in unison towards Islamabad with a certainty that bordered on choreography rather than conclusion.
This knee-jerk reaction was not merely a reflection of a hardened geopolitical rivalry. More dangerously, it was a calculated spectacle manufactured by clowns for television screens, social media timelines, and political mileage. From news anchors, to reporters, to analysts to politician, everybody jumped the bandwagon of destroying every inch of Pakistan. Once again, as in the aftermath of Pulwama in 2019 and Uri in 2016, a large section of India’s national and regional media shed any semblance of journalistic integrity. From a stringer to those advocating for truth for decades in the field of the noble profession donned the garb of wartime propagandists rather than truth-seekers. Once again, they choose war hysteria, which eclipsed reason on the Indian media and political mindset conspicuously.
India’s leading television news channels—those that boast primetime viewership in millions—transformed themselves into platforms of hyper-nationalist theatre. The visuals were eerily familiar: graphics of roaring jets and exploding bombs, hashtags like #RevengeForPehalgam, panel discussions filled with shouting matches devoid of any ethics, and studio hosts all but frothing at the mouth demanding swift “retribution” against Pakistan.
This time, the theatrics came with an added absurdity: blatant disinformation, most of it verifiably false and laughable. A viral video shared by several news anchors purported to show “Pakistani terrorists training in Kashmir,” which was later revealed to be an old clip from a military drill in a Central Asian country. Another channel ran an “exclusive” report claiming Pakistani drones had dropped weapons across the Line of Control—only to have Indian security forces themselves deny such an event.
Astonishingly, none of this has led to retractions, apologies, or editorial introspection for disseminating misleading or false narratives about Pakistan’s role in the conflict. These accounts have been involved in spreading disinformation including doctored images and fabricated documents to shape public perception.
Instead, many of these media houses have doubled down, couching their misreporting in vague phrases like “sources say” or “alleged Pakistani involvement”—allowing them to tiptoe around responsibility while stoking a volatile public mood.
Social media, meanwhile, became the wild west of misinformation. Influential handles amplified unverified claims, shared AI-generated visuals as real-time proof of Pakistan’s aggression, and trended hashtags demanding military action. The consequence was a national echo chamber where facts were optional, outrage was compulsory, and dissenting voices were quickly drowned under the weight of online mobs.
At the center of this tempest stood a curious paradox. While India’s media and government spoke with near-religious conviction about Pakistani involvement, the Pakistani state took a markedly different approach—calling for an independent, international investigation into the Pahalgam attack. In a rare show of restraint, Islamabad rejected the allegations and proposed that neutral parties determine the perpetrators.
Pakistan’s call for an international probe may be politically strategic, but it is also rational. In contrast to New Delhi’s rush to judgment, it demonstrates a willingness to place facts above frenzy, investigation over invective. Whether the proposal will gain any traction globally remains uncertain, but it lays bare the contrast in posturing between the two states—one advocating for inquiry, the other insisting on immediate indictment.
Skepticism is not synonymous with blind attribution. To hold a neighbor responsible for a deadly attack without credible evidence, and to base that attribution on sensationalist media reports, is an exercise in dangerous and misplaced diplomacy.
What we are witnessing in India is not a failure of journalism; it is its abdication. In place of evidence-based reporting, there is emotion-driven narrative building. In place of investigative rigor, there is patriotic performance. In the wake of the Pahalgam incident, India’s media industry—especially its television networks—has crossed the line from being flawed to being farcical.
Democratic role of the press — as a watchdog, as a check on power, as a disseminator of truth — has been compromised by a toxic blend of nationalism, commercial incentives, and political complicity in India
Implications are not confined to India’s borders. Such media narratives have real-world consequences. They shape public opinion, influence policymaking, and in high-stakes environments like South Asia, they can edge nuclear-armed neighbors toward the precipice of armed conflict. The consequences of misinformation in this region are not limited to bruised reputations or lost ratings—they can be catastrophic.
And herein lies the real tragedy: India, the world’s largest democracy and a country with journalistic traditions, finds itself in an information crisis at a time when truth is most needed. The democratic role of the press—as a watchdog, as a check on power, as a disseminator of truth—has been compromised by a toxic blend of nationalism, commercial incentives, and political complicity.
If Indian media continues down this path, the damage may become irreversible. The line between journalism and jingoism, already blurred, may vanish entirely. And in such a scenario, not only is truth the first casualty—peace may be next.
As the dust begins to settle in Pahlgam, one hopes that cooler heads will prevail, not just in the corridors of power but in the newsrooms of Delhi and Mumbai. Responsible journalism, after all, is not a luxury in times of crisis—it is a necessity.
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