What is unfolding in India is not a lapse in journalism—it is a complete abdication of its responsibilities. The recent incident in Pahalgam has once again exposed a deeply disturbing pattern in Indian media: a rush to judgment fueled by propaganda rather than evidence.
Even before forensic teams had finished their work or any credible leads had emerged, the Indian government and its compliant media—often dubbed “godi media”—launched into a synchronized blame campaign against Pakistan. The speed and certainty with which fingers were pointed toward Islamabad suggested choreography, not investigation.
This reflexive reaction goes beyond entrenched geopolitical rivalry. More worryingly, it reflects a calculated spectacle engineered for television ratings, social media virality, and political capital. News anchors, reporters, analysts, and politicians quickly united in a chorus of outrage, sacrificing every principle of responsible journalism. As seen after the Pulwama attack in 2019 and the Uri incident in 2016, significant segments of India’s media abandoned their role as truth-seekers and transformed into instruments of hyper-nationalist propaganda.
Leading television networks, boasting primetime audiences in the millions, turned their platforms into theatrical stages of jingoism. The familiar imagery returned: roaring fighter jets, exploding graphics, screaming hashtags like #RevengeForPahalgam, and chaotic panel discussions where ethics were drowned out by shouting matches.
This time, the spectacle descended further into absurdity. Viral videos supposedly showing “Pakistani terrorists training in Kashmir” were later debunked as old clips from Central Asia. An “exclusive” about Pakistani drones allegedly dropping weapons across the Line of Control was denied by India’s own security agencies. Despite these revelations, no retractions or apologies were issued. Instead, news outlets doubled down, hiding behind vague phrases like “sources say” or “alleged involvement,” all while fueling public anger and obscuring accountability.
Social media, meanwhile, became a breeding ground for misinformation. Influential accounts shared AI-generated imagery and unverified claims, creating an echo chamber where facts were secondary and outrage was mandatory. Any voice questioning the dominant narrative was swiftly targeted by online mobs.
In sharp contrast, Pakistan responded with restraint. Islamabad categorically denied the allegations and called for an independent international investigation into the Pahalgam attack—a position that, while diplomatically strategic, reflected a preference for fact over frenzy. This stark divergence highlighted the difference in approach: one nation calling for inquiry, the other demanding immediate indictment without evidence.
Blaming a neighbor for a deadly incident without credible proof—and basing such accusations on sensationalist media coverage—is not just irresponsible; it’s dangerous. In a region as volatile as South Asia, where both nations are nuclear-armed, the consequences of reckless narratives are far from theoretical—they could be catastrophic.
What’s at stake here is not only the credibility of India’s media but also the broader stability of the region. The line between journalism and jingoism is becoming increasingly blurred—and may soon disappear entirely. In such a climate, truth becomes the first casualty, followed closely by peace.
The tragedy is compounded by the fact that India, often lauded as the world’s largest democracy, has a rich tradition of robust journalism. But that tradition is now under siege from a toxic mix of nationalism, political patronage, and commercial interests. The media, which should act as a check on power and a guardian of truth, has instead become a participant in the very hysteria it ought to challenge.
If this trajectory continues, the damage may be irreversible. The implications go far beyond a single news cycle or incident. They touch the very core of democratic accountability and regional peace.
As the dust begins to settle in Pahalgam, one can only hope that cooler heads will prevail—not just in the halls of government, but in the newsrooms of Delhi and Mumbai. In times of crisis, responsible journalism is not a luxury—it is a necessity.
