Sheikh Salman Amin
In the digital landscape of Kashmir, a disturbing trend has eclipsed the fundamental ethics of human decency, creating a crisis that demands we draw a sharp line between legitimate journalism and the predatory behavior of unregulated “content creation.” We are witnessing a tragic irony: professional journalists, who invest a handsome amount in their education, adhere to strict editorial codes, and often face serious legal trials to report the truth, are currently subjected to underestimation. Meanwhile, a new brigade of social media page administrators—oblivious to media ethics, operating without cost, consequence, or training—are being valued and glorified. These entities, often operating out of specific hyper-local niches, are not reporting news; they are manufacturing engagement.
This manufacturing process has become a routine horror. Immediately after a tragedy, these pages upload not just photographs of the deceased, but also highly sensitive audio recordings of wailing mothers and graphic videos of accident sites. These materials are curated with “crispy,” emotionally manipulative captions designed specifically to arrest the attention of the scroller. Their goal is not to inform the public, but to grab followers, often targeting female demographics perceived to be more empathetic. What these content creators fail to realize is that by commodifying death for “clout,” they are actively weaponizing trauma against a population that is already living on the edge of psychological exhaustion.
The neuroscience of the trigger
The damage this inflicts is deeply physiological. To understand why a simple video on a screen can trigger a panic attack, we must look at the neuroscience of the amygdala, the brain’s “threat detection center.”
When a person is casually scrolling through their phone, their body is passive, but the sudden appearance of a deceased person’s face or the piercing sound of a scream shocks the amygdala. It cannot distinguish between a digital threat and a physical one, so it immediately signals the release of stress hormones like cortisol. For a population living in a conflict zone, this “fight or flight” mechanism is already overactive. These posts essentially hammer a fragile biological switch until it breaks, resulting in the palpitations and sudden anxiety that so many Kashmiris now report.
The bookends of the day
This digital assault is compounded by a disruption of our natural biological rhythms. A fundamental fact of neuroscience is that the content we consume immediately before sleep acts as a “primer” for our subconscious. Similarly, what we consume upon waking sets the neural tone for the entire day.
Health experts universally advise positive inputs during these “bookends” of the day. In Kashmir, however, the situation is vice versa. An adult here often sleeps with the news of grief on their screen and rises up again with the same visual and auditory panic. We have disrupted the brain’s recovery cycle, programming our minds for anxiety before we even leave our beds.
Digital intoxication vs chemical addiction
This phenomenon has created a unique form of “Digital Intoxication.” When we analyze rising psychiatric cases in other states, the root cause is often visible: the high consumption of liquor and narcotic substances. In those regions, the “toxin” is chemical. In Kashmir, the statistics of mental distress are parallel, but the “substance” is different. We do not have a liquor epidemic; we have a Content Epidemic.
The brain of a Kashmiri is being fed graphic imagery and emotional triggers with the same addictive intensity as a drug user consuming narcotics. The damage to the neural pathways is strikingly similar, yet because this toxicity comes through a smartphone screen rather than a bottle, we fail to recognize it as an addiction.
The doctor’s dilemma and the ‘petril’ paradox
This brings us to the frontlines of our mental health crisis: our clinics. Psychiatric clinics and the offices of clinical psychologists in the valley are currently overflowing. However, our medical professionals are fighting a losing battle. A doctor can prescribe a regimen to stabilize a patient, but they cannot control the smartphone in the patient’s pocket. When a patient leaves a therapy session feeling grounded, only to open Facebook and see a graphic video posted by a random admin, the therapeutic progress is undone in seconds.
Because the triggers are not stopped, the reliance on chemical suppression increases. The consumption of psychiatric medications, specifically Clonazepam (brand name Petril), is on an alarming rise. It has become a household “reservoir” against mental agony.
This creates a medical paradox. Scientific logic dictates “Risk Factor Modification”—to cure a disease, you must first stop the exposure to the cause. In Kashmir, we are treating the symptom with medication while the environment remains toxic. Medicine acts only as a temporary pump to sedate the system; it contributes perhaps 20% to recovery, while the remaining 80% depends on the atmosphere we live in. Furthermore, the persistent, unregulated use of these benzodiazepines leads to severe withdrawal symptoms that can be more debilitating than the original anxiety.
The normalization trap and religious misinterpretation
Perhaps the most insidious part of this crisis is the “Comparative Normalization” of trauma. When a young man in Kashmir feels behavioral changes, he looks at his father or neighbor and sees the same stress. He subconsciously concludes that this state of mind is “normal,” simply because it is shared. This delays diagnosis until mild anxiety calcifies into chronic disorders.
Adding to this tragedy is a dangerous cultural confusion. These message circulations are often mistakenly viewed as a religious process. Holy verses are frequently attached to photos of the dead to validate the violation of privacy. People circulate these images under the guise of soliciting prayers, ignoring the fact that our faith places the highest priority on the Hurmat (Sanctity) and privacy of the deceased. No other society places on record such behavior where the dead are paraded for likes under the banner of piety. We have confused “clout” with “charity.”
Rethinking awareness: Beyond the auditorium
Finally, we must address our flawed approach to awareness. Currently, we see seminars conducted in grand auditoriums and halls, often for the sake of publicity and photo-ops. But real awareness must be generated at the basic level—in our homes and on our phones. We do not need speeches; we need a psychiatric advisory that reaches the average smartphone user. We need parents and youth to understand that mental diseases are disastrous; they cannot be assessed like a physical wound, but they carry more trauma and pain than any physical injury.
Conclusion
The solution lies in our own hands. We are not helpless consumers; we have the power of refusal. We can stop, we can say “No” to such content. We can unfollow the pages that trade in gore, we can report the posts that violate privacy, and we can choose to protect our mental hygiene. We must value the integrity of trained journalists who protect our sensitivities, and reject the reckless “content” that exploits them. Unless we support our doctors by sanitizing our digital environment, we are walking toward a future where every single household in Kashmir shelters a chronic psychiatric patient. We must stop the triggers to stop the meds; that is the only scientific logic that will save us.
(The author can be reached at [email protected])
