Editor,
A troubling trend has emerged in our state: when an accident occurs, bystanders instinctively reach for their smartphones-not to assist, but to record.
In the age of social media, the boundary between public interest and exploitation has blurred. Moments of profound human suffering are often reduced to viral content, stripped of context and dignity. Instead of offering help, people become spectators, eager to capture and share distressing events online.
I speak from experience. After a collision, a stranger filmed my distress and uploaded it without my consent. This was not an act of journalism or public service-it was exploitation, plain and simple.
My experience is not an isolated case. Across Arunachal Pradesh, this behavior is becoming alarmingly common-at accident sites, in hospital emergencies, and even during domestic disputes. Ironically, the same individuals who ignore pressing civic issues on corruption, unemployment, and failing infrastructure-are often the first to document someone’s worst moment for online validation. Where are these so-called citizen journalists when our roads are crumbling, when young graduates queue for hours for a single job vacancy, when public services fail to deliver? Where were their cameras when recent scandals demanded accountability?
Part of the problem lies in how people consume news. Many in Arunachal Pradesh still rely on Facebook and WhatsApp as their primary sources of state updates, often treating unverified posts as factual reports. This overdependence on social media has given rise to a wave of “cell phone journalists” who prioritize sensationalism over accuracy and truth. While some citizen journalism serves an important role in highlighting overlooked issues, the absence of proper fact-checking has also led to misinformation spreading rapidly, misleading the public and distorting reality.
The consequences of this voyeuristic culture are severe. Victims endure double trauma-first from the incident itself, then from the indignity of becoming viral content without consent. Our state’s obsession with viral shame comes at a profound cost to basic human decency. When did we become a society more interested in documenting suffering than preventing it? When did entertainment overtake empathy?
Change is necessary, and it must begin on multiple fronts. Social media platforms must take greater responsibility by swiftly removing exploitative content. Lawmakers need to strengthen privacy protections in the digital age. But most importantly, we, as a society, must confront our own complicity in this harmful trend. Do we want to continue fueling an outrage-driven culture that thrives on humiliation? Or can we reclaim our collective humanity and prioritize what truly matters?
The choice is ours.
Bengia Jirmin