Every night in Pakistan once began with a simple ritual. At a set hour, the noise of the household softened and the glow of one small television brought everyone to the same place. Families sat together and waited for the drama of the evening.
These stories carried grace. They respected the viewer. They shaped values without shouting them. They created a national moment of shared attention. The whole country breathed in the same direction for half an hour.
Scroll through your phone today – and the contrast hits like cold water. A shouting clip. A face frozen in fake shock. A thumbnail built to provoke curiosity through bold colors and suggestive hints. A creator delivering insults to please the algorithm. The digital feed is not a gathering place. It is a marketplace where noise sells and outrage rises like smoke.
This shift is not only about technology. It is about the loss of a shared cultural space. When families watched content together they formed opinions together. They discussed what they saw. They learned from one another. They understood the world through stories that valued dignity. Today, each person sits with a private screen. The house is full but the minds are far apart.
The old media acted like a compass. It steered the public toward ideas that mattered. It held a sense of responsibility. It offered entertainment with thought. PTV dramas of the 1990s and the early 2000s balanced conflict with empathy. They showed love and loss without cheapness. They connected generations. They built collective memory.
Digital platforms follow a different rule. They reward reaction not reflection. They measure success through views not value. The algorithm pushes the extreme to the top. It studies what makes us pause and what makes us angry. It learns that shock is more profitable than calm. It understands that curiosity opens faster when mixed with conflict. So it feeds us more of what harms our attention and less of what grows it.
Creators see these incentives clearly. Many feel forced to chase views through tricks. Loud insults. Suggestive lines. Staged fights. Thumbnails that promise more than the content delivers. Even social issues are turned into props for drama. The goal is not public interest. The goal is to win one second of attention from a distracted user. This race shapes the tone of our digital world. It makes vulgarity look normal. It makes anger feel entertaining.
Global media research shows why this problem feels so large. Extreme content spreads faster because it triggers strong emotion. Misinformation travels quicker when wrapped in drama. Lies packaged with fear reach viewers before facts packaged with calm. When this cycle repeats users become numb. They struggle to tell real news from digital theater. This weakens national discourse. It creates confusion around serious issues. It pushes society towards reaction instead of understanding.
Pakistan stands at a sensitive point in its media journey. The young population spends more hours on mobile screens than any group before them. These screens shape their sense of community. Their sense of behaviour. Their sense of truth. They are learning the world through clips that reward heat instead of light. They deserve more than this.
Media literacy has dropped because the noise of the digital feed is louder than the sense behind it. People consume headlines without context. They believe clipped videos without checking full statements. They fall for staged drama because it looks real. The gap between perception and reality grows. This gap becomes a breeding ground for rumors and manipulation.
Serious journalism cannot survive in this climate unless it defends ethics with clarity. Ethics is not a slogan. It is a long plan for stability. Credibility takes years to build but only minutes to lose. A society that treats journalism as entertainment soon loses trust in every source. Without trust no country can think clearly or act wisely in times of crisis.
Yet the future is not locked. We can still repair what has broken.
Pakistan needs a digital civility code that sets a basic standard for online behaviour. New media creators need clear guidelines for accuracy, privacy and public responsibility. Platforms should enforce community rules that discourage indecent or aggressive thumbnails. Newsrooms must build ethics for short form video reporting so speed never replaces verification. Young creators should be trained to understand the weight of their influence. They should learn that views gained through honesty last longer than views gained through shock.
Advertisers hold real power in this landscape. Their money fuels the content race. Brands must stop supporting channels that use indecency or fake outrage. They should reward creators who build trust. If advertisers shift their priorities the entire content economy will shift with them.
These solutions are not about nostalgia for an old era. They are about protecting the quality of our national thinking. They are about rebuilding the shared ground we once had when families sat together and learned from the same story. They are about reminding ourselves that media can be more than noise. It can be a source of guidance. It can lift taste instead of lowering it. It can inspire instead of inflame.
The screens in our hands carry endless potential. They can divide or connect. They can poison or enlighten. They can weaken a nation or strengthen it. The choice lies in what we promote and what we permit.
If we bring back ethics to digital media, we do not return to the past. We move towards a wiser future. A future where the loudest voice does not drown the honest one. A future where truth can travel as far as scandal. A future where our young people grow with clarity not confusion.
The question is simple. What kind of media do we want to shape our national mind? The old living room taught us something. Shared stories build shared values. If we want a stronger Pakistan we must choose stories that lift us. We must choose content that respects us. We must choose a digital culture that brings us back to one another.
The writer is a journalist.
