Violation of victims’ rights: When trauma becomes media content

BY BIBEK SHRESTHA, Kathmandu, Oct. 11: “How are you feeling after the disaster?” “What did you lose?” “What went through your mind when you saw your house being swept away?” “How do you remember your deceased family members?”

In the aftermath of the Bhotekoshi flood, survivors were repeatedly asked questions such as these in front of cameras. For journalists, they may have seemed like legitimate attempts to capture the human cost of a disaster. For those who had lost homes, livelihoods and loved ones, however, answering them could mean reliving some of the most painful moments of their lives.

In one particularly distressing instance, an elderly man who had lost his sons, daughters and grandchildren was asked how he felt about losing his family. Visibly overwhelmed, he broke down in tears on camera.

His grief became footage. But what did the interview offer him, beyond another painful encounter with his loss?

Journalism is not simply about what can be asked. It is also about when, how and why a question is asked. In disaster reporting, the responsibility to inform the public must be balanced against privacy, dignity and the obligation to minimise harm. Yet, in an increasingly competitive digital environment, the suffering of survivors risks becoming another commodity in the attention economy.

Dr. Gopal Dhakal, a psychology practitioner, warns that repeatedly asking survivors to recount traumatic experiences can expose them to secondary trauma. People struggling to process a devastating event may be forced to revisit it before they are emotionally ready.

“Most media houses do not train their reporters about the psychological impacts on victims during disasters, wars and other uncertain times, which has led to the rise in cases of retraumatisation,” Dhakal said.

His concerns extend beyond repetitive questioning. Recalling an incident in which a YouTuber reportedly entered an intensive care unit (ICU) and interviewed a patient, Dhakal questioned the necessity of such an intervention.

“I don’t think that was ethical and, most importantly, necessary. As a viewer, society did not benefit from interfering with critical treatment and asking traumatising questions,” he said.

The incident raises a fundamental question: does the public's right to know justify entering a space where a patient should be receiving care? A hospital is not a stage, and a critically ill person is not obliged to provide content simply because a camera is present.

Nor was the problem confined to one interview. Lokesh Joshi, a customs officer who survived the Bhotekoshi flood, was reportedly approached by more than 10 media outlets and asked variations of the same questions: What happened? How did you escape? What did you see? How do you feel?

Each outlet may have considered its interview necessary. Collectively, however, their pursuit of the same account raises concerns about whether the needs of the survivor were being considered at all.