The truth is that every news channel is a variant of the other

The words of Barkha Dutt—“The truth is that every news channel is a variant of the other and the difference is one of degree.”—are an unmasking of the age of spectacle. In them, she declares that the truth presented by the media is often not as diverse as it seems. Though the banners differ, the logos gleam in their own colors, and the anchors speak with voices of conviction, beneath the surface lies a shared pattern: the pursuit of audience, the bending of narrative, the shaping of perception. The differences we behold are not of essence, but of degree, like shades of the same fabric, altered slightly in tone but woven from the same thread.

The origin of this insight comes from Dutt’s own long journey as a journalist, bearing witness to war, disaster, and politics. She saw how news channels, while claiming to be impartial arbiters of fact, inevitably became participants in the theatre of power. Each would tilt its lens—some more, some less—but all would select, frame, and deliver reality through filters. In speaking these words, she was not scorning the craft of journalism itself, but warning of the illusion of absolute objectivity. For in the modern world, information is not only reported—it is packaged, dramatized, and sold.

The ancients, too, understood the danger of manipulated truth. In the Roman Forum, orators could stir the people with fiery words, making them believe the Senate noble one day and corrupt the next. The citizens thought they were hearing truth, but in reality, they were listening to variations of the same persuasion, colored by the interests of those who spoke. So too today, where news channels battle for ratings, their differences become less about fact and more about emphasis, tone, and degree.

History offers vivid testimony. Consider the Vietnam War. American citizens received their understanding of the conflict largely through television, which was then the most powerful news medium of its time. Networks varied in their coverage, some emphasizing patriotism, others highlighting casualties, but all shared a reliance on selective framing. The truth was not false, but partial, and the difference between one channel and another was indeed one of degree. It was only when reporters revealed hidden realities—such as the My Lai massacre—that the public recognized how much had been concealed by the sameness of earlier reports.

What Dutt reminds us is that truth cannot be passively received; it must be actively sought. To watch one channel and believe you have grasped reality is folly. To compare channels, weigh sources, and look beyond headlines is wisdom. The recognition that news is a variant, not an absolute, humbles us. It forces us to remember that reality is larger than any studio’s script, and deeper than any anchor’s voice.

The lesson is this: guard your mind from captivity to a single source of narrative. Do not be lulled into believing that one channel speaks eternal truth while another speaks only lies. Instead, recognize that all bend the light, some more sharply, some more subtly. Your task as a seeker is to look past the prism, to discern the truth beyond degrees of distortion. This is the labor of the wise citizen, who does not surrender his sight to those who would see for him.

Therefore, take these actions: question what you hear, compare what you see, and refuse the comfort of easy certainty. Seek multiple voices, not to find agreement, but to uncover depth. Above all, remember that reality itself does not change with the studio backdrop or the crawling ticker. As Barkha Dutt has declared, every news channel is a variant of the other—so let not your understanding rest upon them alone. Instead, let your search for truth be tireless, discerning, and free. For only then will you see not the shadow, but the substance, of the world you inhabit.