Prof. Nipunika Shahid, Media Studies, School of Social Sciences, CHRIST University Delhi NCR
We often say, “Media is the oxygen of democracy.”
But what happens when that oxygen carries impurities — when the air that sustains truth also spreads prejudice?
Media, in its purest form, is supposed to mirror society. It should reflect the world as it is — its achievements, injustices, and aspirations — with honesty and balance. But in practice, the media’s mirror often distorts. It stretches some truths, blurs others, and sometimes hides what doesn’t fit the frame.
In every society, the media doesn’t just report stories — it decides which stories are worth telling. It decides who gets the microphone, whose pain is visible, and whose suffering is turned into background noise. This decision-making process — from newsroom hierarchies to headline choices — silently shapes how we see the world and how we see each other.
The power of media lies not only in the stories it publishes but in the stories it omits. Every unreported act of discrimination, every silenced voice, becomes a lost opportunity for empathy and understanding. And every stereotype repeated on screen or in print seeps deeper into public consciousness, until bias feels like common sense.
In today’s digital era, this influence is magnified a thousandfold. A single tweet can ignite a social movement — or unleash a storm of hate. A viral video can humanize a refugee’s journey — or turn them into a symbol of fear. Hashtags, memes, and sound bites now shape public opinion faster than policy papers or academic debates ever could.
What we consume — the news bulletins, the reels, the trending topics — all shape the stories we tell ourselves about gender, caste, religion, class, and power. Media doesn’t just influence politics or markets; it molds our cultural DNA. It decides who seems trustworthy, who seems threatening, who seems deserving, and who doesn’t.
And when bias — subtle or overt — creeps into that process, discrimination doesn’t always shout. It whispers. It embeds itself in how people are described, in whose experiences are normalized, and in who remains invisible.
That’s the quiet danger of a distorted mirror:
It doesn’t just misrepresent society — it teaches society how to misrecognize itself.
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How Media Shapes Perception
Media’s influence on society is rarely loud or obvious — it works quietly, emotionally, and through repetition. Over time, what we see and hear again and again starts to feel like truth. When television shows mostly depict women as homemakers, Dalits only as victims, or people from the Northeast as “outsiders,” these repeated portrayals become mental shortcuts that audiences internalize. A 2019 study in the International Journal of Research and Analytical Reviews confirmed that when negative imagery is consistently repeated, people begin to accept it as social reality. This is how stereotypes take root — not through hate, but through habit. But media’s distortion goes beyond representation; it extends into storytelling itself. Drama sells, and in pursuit of engagement, news narratives often exaggerate conflict while silencing context. For instance, during global refugee crises, coverage tends to focus on overcrowded camps and “security threats,” rarely highlighting stories of resilience, contribution, or integration. A 2018 Harvard Kennedy School study showed that such selective framing can reduce public support for inclusive policies by nearly 20%. In India, we witnessed a similar pattern during the 2020–21 farmers’ protest, when instead of amplifying farmers’ economic concerns, some channels chose to frame them as “anti-nationals” or “Khalistanis.” Words, too, carry enormous weight in shaping perception. A single phrase can shift public emotion from empathy to fear: compare “Immigrants flood the city” with “Refugees seek safety after conflict.” The first headline incites alarm, while the second humanizes. UNESCO’s 2022 Media and Information Literacy Against Discrimination report notes that language choices determine whether audiences perceive groups as threats or as partners. During the COVID-19 pandemic, some media outlets in India used the term “Corona Jihad,” a phrase that not only stigmatized Muslims but also led to real-world consequences — hate crimes, boycotts, and social exclusion. The final, and perhaps most insidious, mechanism is underrepresentation. When marginalized voices are missing from media spaces, their realities vanish from public conversation. The Oxfam–Newslaundry report (2019) revealed that 85% of newsroom leadership in India is held by upper-caste men, leaving Dalits, Adivasis, and women grossly underrepresented. Their stories — of land rights, gender pay gaps, rural struggles, or systemic discrimination — rarely make it to the headlines. The result is a partial national narrative that amplifies some experiences while erasing others. Through repetition, distortion, language, and silence, the media doesn’t just reflect discrimination — it actively shapes how society understands it.
Why It Matters: The Ripple Effect on Policy and Society
Why does all this matter? Because media narratives don’t just shape opinions — they influence decisions, policies, and even the economy. Every frame, every headline, and every viral post sets off ripples that move far beyond the screen. When media normalizes stereotypes or sensationalizes fear, those perceptions become part of the public mood, and that mood pressures policymakers. A powerful example lies in how certain economic policies are discussed and perceived. Consider the rollout of the Goods and Services Tax (GST) in India — a major structural reform that reshaped the country’s tax system. Early coverage largely focused on slogans of “One Nation, One Tax,” celebrating its unifying intent. But little attention was given to how the policy affected small traders, unorganized workers, and rural economies that struggled with digital compliance. By highlighting success stories and downplaying hardships, the media created a perception of universal progress while masking the inequality in outcomes. The same pattern repeats with discussions around India’s per capita income, which has crossed ₹2 lakh in 2023–24 — a sign of growth, yes, but one that hides the widening gap between the top 10% who own nearly 70% of the nation’s wealth (Oxfam India, 2022) and the vast majority who still earn below subsistence levels. When economic reporting focuses on growth without context, it risks reinforcing the illusion of shared prosperity, allowing inequality to deepen unnoticed.
In the political arena, perception is often policy. Media framing can legitimize or delegitimize public movements. During the CAA–NRC protests, for instance, coverage that portrayed demonstrators as “anti-national” shaped not only public attitudes but also government responses — from increased policing to arrests under sedition laws. Similarly, the way corruption or governance failures are reported can determine whether voters view them as isolated events or systemic issues. Political communication today is inseparable from media framing; in fact, governments and opposition parties alike now invest heavily in “narrative management” — the art of influencing what people believe before facts can settle.
The economic and political effects are intertwined with social ones. When crime stories disproportionately feature minorities, or when poverty is depicted as a moral failing rather than a structural issue, it affects how societies treat welfare and justice. Research by the Harvard Shorenstein Center (2021) found that negative portrayals of minorities in crime reporting led to measurable declines in public support for social assistance programs. The same logic applies to gender and labor: when media stories about women workers focus on “exceptions” rather than systemic discrimination, audiences start believing that inequality is an individual problem, not a societal one.
In Industry 4.0 — the age of algorithms, automation, and data-driven communication — this ripple effect is faster and harder to contain. Platforms amplify emotional content; misinformation spreads before it can be verified. According to an MIT study (2018), false news travels six times faster on Twitter than factual information. This means that distorted or discriminatory narratives can influence markets, elections, and social harmony before truth even enters the conversation.
As educators and researchers, we must recognize that every media narrative is an economic and political event in disguise. The way unemployment data is interpreted, how welfare schemes are covered, how protest movements are framed — all of this shapes collective understanding. If we want our students to thrive as journalists, economists, and policy experts, we must teach them not just to analyze data or draft reports, but to understand the politics of perception. Because in today’s world, perception often precedes policy — and media is its most powerful architect.
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What Happens When Students Step into the Industry
Discrimination doesn’t vanish when students graduate — it simply changes its disguise. Once students step into professional spaces, the classroom ideals of equality collide with the industry’s deeply entrenched hierarchies.
In the media industry, for instance, structural bias begins quietly. Dalit and Adivasi graduates are often steered toward “social beat” reporting — stories of caste, poverty, or rural distress — while prime-time political or business beats remain dominated by upper-caste voices. Women, despite their talent, face subtle exclusion: harassment, slower promotions, and a ceiling that’s far less invisible than people like to admit. The 2020 International Center for Journalists study showed that 70% of women journalists globally had faced online threats or abuse, much of it gendered. In India, the Oxfam–Newslaundry 2019 report found that over 85% of newsroom leadership roles were held by upper-caste men — leaving very little space for marginalized perspectives.
In economics and finance, inequality hides behind numbers. The Monster Salary Index (2021) revealed that women in India earn about 19% less than men doing the same work. Even before employment, caste and class bias shape who gets the opportunity: a Harvard and Delhi School of Economics study (2019) found that Dalit candidates with identical résumés received 67% fewer interview callbacks than upper-caste applicants. Graduates from tier-2 or tier-3 universities often face similar bias, not because of capability, but because of institutional prestige — a softer form of discrimination that quietly shapes economic opportunity.
The policy and governance sector faces its own paradox. Women and minorities are often hired for “diversity” but excluded from decision-making. Their roles are visible but voiceless — confined to assistant-level research or data work. Language discrimination is another silent filter: English fluency, especially “accented” English, is often valued more than insight or expertise. As a result, brilliant students from rural or non-English backgrounds struggle to find recognition in think tanks or political consultancies.
These aren’t just numbers on a report — they are the lived experiences our students will step into. Each of these biases — gendered, caste-based, regional, or linguistic — compounds over time, shaping careers and confidence.
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So, what can educators, do?
Our job isn’t just to teach; it’s to train students to question the systems they’ll inherit.
They can start by embedding critical media literacy into every discipline — helping students spot bias not only in newsrooms but also in data, policies, and algorithms. Educators must promote cross-disciplinary learning, where economics students grasp how narratives are constructed, and media students understand the policy impact of their framing. Building stronger industry collaborations with ethical organizations can also create inclusive internships and mentorships that don’t just teach skills but model fairness. And as Industry 4.0 reshapes every sector, they must prepare students to use technology ethically — training them to understand AI bias, verify data, and maintain integrity even in automated environments.
Ultimately, creating a fairer professional world begins within the classrooms.
From Awareness to Accountability
Media influences not just what we think — but how we think.
It can inflame prejudice or inspire progress.
For economists, this means asking how narratives influence markets and inequality — how stories about “growth” can mask poverty, or how biased reporting can distort public trust in data.
For political scientists, it means recognizing how media frames shape ideology, governance, and citizen behavior.
And for journalists, it means remembering that every word, image, and frame can either heal or harm.
As educators, our job is not merely to help students produce content — but to help them question it, contextualize it, and correct it.
Because in the end, the most powerful story the media can tell is one of truth, empathy, and fairness.
That’s the kind of storytelling that doesn’t just describe society — it helps transform it.