Editorial

In an age where attention is currency, the reckless pursuit of clicks has become a threat far greater than we care to admit. Amid rising geopolitical tensions and wartime anxieties, misinformation can spread like wildfire—unchecked and unfiltered—magnifying fear, distorting facts, and endangering lives.

Take the recent panic around the River Jhelum, where rumors of catastrophic flooding flooded social media timelines. The truth? There is nothing unusual about the river’s behavior. Its flow remains normal. Neelum Valley, Jhelum, and the adjoining plains face no immediate threat. Even if a surge were to occur, the Mangla Dam—currently at just 15% capacity—has more than enough room to absorb it.

Yet, some digital provocateurs seized on this non-event, crafting alarmist narratives and flooding feeds with speculation under the guise of concern. This isn’t journalism; it’s disaster cosplay. For the people who live near the riverbanks, such fabrications are not just irresponsible—they are cruel. Panic doesn’t just trend online; it trickles into the lives of the vulnerable, unsettling communities already grappling with uncertainty.

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There is a local proverb: “An enemy will never hit you with a brick made of gold.” Today’s viral misinformation, cloaked in dramatic thumbnails and exaggerated captions, is a digital brick—one that hits the public square with real consequences.

In moments of crisis, the burden of responsibility is heavier than ever. Citizens must rely on verified information from official sources. And content creators must remember that views built on fear are not only hollow—they are harmful.
Sensationalism is not free speech. In times like these, it’s sabotage.

Let the facts flow like the River Jhelum—steady, clear, and unharmed by noise.