Politicians might stifle, corporates might encage, but the viewer wields the remote. Sensationalism flourishes because we watch, while journalists pursuing inconvenient truths—from Gauri Lankesh to Mukesh Chandrakar give their lives.
Democracy has been envisioned as a house with four sturdy pillars—the legislature, executive, judiciary, and the press. But take a close look at that fourth pillar today, and it does not look like stone anymore. It appears chipped, weak, and has at least several shivering bricks left. The illusion of a free press remains, but in truth, much of it is tied in the tight grip of corporatisation and political patronage.
Within every newsroom are reporters who wish to report on the stories of hunger in the backlands, on the abuse of workers, on the corruption in contracts, and on lives upended by war. But too many of them have their pencils blunted by unseen censors—advertisers, owners, or politicians. What gets lost is not simply "news" but the very air that sustains a democracy.
Independent journalism struggles to be that oxygen mask when the room is choking. It releases the reporter from accountability to shareholders and enables them instead to be accountable to society. But such independence's survival hinges on readers and viewers—readers who baulk at paying a few rupees for a newspaper, while casually splurging hundreds on a single cup of coffee. If truth is not worth the cost of loose change, how long will truth last?
The TRP Irony: Who Actually Determines the News?
It has become chic to deride the media by claiming, "They only chase TRP." Stop for a moment and wonder—who provides TRP? Not satellites, not sponsors, not some secret machinery—it is people. When a shout-fest in prime time is watched by record ratings, when a celebrity scandal is read more than a farmer's suicide, it is the audience that determines what "leads."
Sensationalism doesn't just fall from the heavens; it exists because it is watched. The pepper and salt story gets more eyeballs than a story on child malnutrition or rural healthcare. If viewers channel-surf the moment they catch a story that really counts, what do they communicate to newsrooms? That "reality" isn't sellable, but "spectacle" is.
The irony is dramatic. There are scores of journalists all over India and the globe who go on reporting matters of real human interest. They visit villages devastated by floods, follow illegal mining mafias, cover tales of corruption within local governments, or capture the testimonies of riot victims. These stories never reach "most viewed," though. They are out there, but the people tend to avert their eyes. Blame, therefore, cannot be placed on journalists alone; the public must take its own blame. Demand better reporting, and you will receive it. Pursue only the noise, and the noise will pursue you back.
The Danger of Truth-Telling
And yet, for those few who keep telling the uncomfortable stories, the dangers are huge. India has witnessed its fair share of truth-tellers being silenced through violence. In 2017, Gauri Lankesh, the editor of the Lankesh Patrike, was gunned down for daring to confront extremism. Shujaat Bukhari was killed in Srinagar in 2018 after spending decades reporting on Kashmir. Sandeep Sharma, who had reported sand mafia connections in Madhya Pradesh, was killed when he was hit by a truck. Chandan Tiwari was kidnapped and murdered in Bihar for revealing corruption in his state.
The trend now frequently goes beyond physical injury to legal harassment. Siddique Kappan was detained in 2021 under charges of terror while reporting on the Hathras gangrape. The Caravan has been slapped with FIRs for reporting police brutality. Local journalists have been threatened and attacked for their reporting during Manipur's continuing ethnic strife. Raman Kashyap, a reporter reporting on the Lakhimpur Kheri protests, was run over in farmers' vs convoys violence in 2022. And more recently, Mukesh Chandrakar, a Chhattisgarh-based freelance reporter, was killed after he exposed a ₹120-crore road building scandal. His body was discovered wrapped in a contractor's septic tank, and his murder serves as a spine-chilling reminder of what dangerous times journalists live in. All these incidents are a reminder that India's journalism is not an office job—it is frontline work.
Soldiers of Truth vs. Merchants of Influence
That is why equating trained journalists with social media influencers is false. The influencer tells stories from the comfort of their living room while a journalist is in the midst of riots, smoking tear gas, or huddling in shelling areas with a notebook. Only two types of individuals voluntarily go into war zones: soldiers and journalists. The soldier kills for sovereignty; the journalist kills for truth. The country honours one, but tends to question the other: Why did they go there in the first place?
The Corporate Cage
Corporatisation of the media puts another strangulating layer in place. Most debates on primetime television today are like theatre stages, less about democracy than drama. But even here, the audience is not blameless. If ratings pay for noise, noise will be served. Independent voices—be it The Wire, Newslaundry, Scroll, or local papers—fight both state and corporate machinery. They get IT raids, defamation cases, and advertising blockades. All they can bank on is the trust of readers who are willing to prize truth over drama.
The Way Forward
The future of journalism cannot lie only with reporters; it also needs to be determined by readers and viewers. If the citizens keep on consuming sensationalism, then the market will keep on delivering it. If the citizens insist on integrity and want to support independent voices, the newsroom will change accordingly. To call the killing of a reporter "unnecessary risk" is to remember that without witnesses, there is no history. A soldier guards the country's borders; a journalist guards the country's conscience. Both sacrifices are important. Both are worthy of respect.
The fourth pillar can be wobbly, but it's not lost. Whether it falls or gets stronger hinges not just on whoever pens the news but on whoever selects what to view, read, and pay for, as well. The foundation of democracy is not constructed solely by whoever wields the pen—it's supported by whoever appreciates the ink.