When news stops being information

What distinguishes impartial news from sensational news? The line between the two has always been blurred, but today it seems to have completely blurred. Journalistic impartiality is a principle that advocates the balanced presentation of facts. In television news, this principle is even more challenged, especially when the use of sensationalist images overshadows information. When a piece of journalism prioritizes emotional (shocking) images over information (facts), it moves away from its role as an informative public service and approaches pure entertainment.
The media in general, and some television channels in particular, have been engaging in dangerous activities: covering certain tragedies with a purely sensationalist approach. Under the guise of "information" and protected by freedom of the press, we witness the transformation of catastrophic events into a morbid spectacle, with devastating consequences for society as a whole.
One of the most "spectacular" examples of current events in Portugal is the series of fires that have ravaged several forested and urban areas in recent years. Every summer, what should be responsible news coverage, focused on warning, prevention, and education, turns into a media circus. We see journalists "chasing" the flames, reporters describing their proximity to the fire and the drama, eager for sensations as if it were an adventure. The focus almost always seems to be on the immediate drama: the burning houses, the desperate faces of the victims and firefighters, the scale of the fire, the questions awaiting desperate answers, etc., etc., etc. This spectacle inevitably becomes a perverse incentive. For an arsonist, the certainty that their action will be the center of attention for days on end can be as nefarious a motivation as the pyromania itself. The news ceases to be a warning and becomes a stage.
However, this pattern reaches its maximum and most cruel exponent in the coverage of armed conflicts, as we have all witnessed in the wars, particularly in Ukraine and Gaza. Here, journalistic ethics are often sacrificed in the name of impact. We are bombarded daily with shocking images, often unjustifiable because they are unnecessary for impartial reporting. The bodies of victims, the evident hunger, the despair of parents losing their children, and the total destruction of cities are shown live and repeated exhaustively, day after day, hour by hour, minute by minute, and second by second.
Freedom of the press is an unquestionable pillar of democracy, a fundamental right that, broadly speaking, aims to expose the truth. The corollary of the press is responsibility, and it is this responsibility that prevents the exploitation of others' misfortune to generate ratings. It is this responsibility that imposes the duty to contextualize, to protect victims, and not to contribute to the spectacle of tragedy. What we observe, however, is the failure of this responsibility, transforming a right into an abuse.
The problem isn't reporting the facts—that's journalism's mission. The problem is the irresponsible and almost pathological way in which they're reported. Exaggeration isn't a form of information; it's a form of entertainment that feeds on the pain of others. By doing this, the media is betraying its mission and also devaluing human life, transforming collective tragedies into mere spectacles for quick audience consumption. The price to pay for this obsession with ratings is the deterioration of trust in the press.
The media, which so often sets itself up as the guardian of the limits of politics and its extremes, ultimately, where does it draw its own boundaries? Is this the mission we, as a society, want for the media? And what role do political decision-makers have in demanding more serious and responsible journalism?
Finally, the recent news about a decapitation followed by the transportation of the head, delivery of the head and everything else that certain heads so much enjoy leads me to question whether the press will be able to resist the obsession of a public thirsting for misfortune, reporting and highlighting, and even praising, the most diverse morbid aspects of the event or will it succumb to its already habitual animalistic instinct? One thing is certain, there will be plenty of news... because following Pulitzer's idea, a world without news is just a blinder world.
observador