When Ghana mourned her eight sons who perished in the line of duty, their families, rather than being allowed the dignity of a quiet farewell, were exposed to the harsh glare of graphic images of the burnt remains of their beloved.
These were shared widely, not only by media outlets, but also by ordinary citizens wielding smartphones; and as if still images were not enough, live videos emerged showing the bodies being transported in cocoa sacks—an act of desecration.
This is what happens when viewer discretion is abused, when the line between necessary reporting and sensationalism is crossed, and when our collective conscience fails us.
Balance
In journalism, there is a sacred balance to be struck between informing the public and preserving the dignity of those involved—especially the dead. Unfortunately, that balance was ignored.
Viewer discretion warnings, meant to protect audiences and uphold ethical standards, have become mere footnotes to content that should never have been published in the first place.
The words “viewer discretion advised” have become little more than a green light for sensationalism.
We must ask the hard questions: What purpose did those disturbing visuals serve?
Were they truly necessary for public understanding? Did they honour the dead or comfort grieving families?
Or did they simply feed a growing appetite for shock and spectacle?
Sense of restraint
The uncomfortable truth is that we have lost something essential—our sense of restraint.
We forget that our phones do not just capture images—they capture lives, and sometimes, the worst moments of those lives.
We forget that behind every “viral” clip is a human being with a family, friends, and a story that deserves more than a few seconds of gawking.
Just because we can film does not mean we should. Just because we can post does not mean we are helping.
Imagine being a grieving family member, and opening your phone to find your loved one’s final moments displayed in the most graphic and dehumanising form possible.
Imagine that the last image the public sees of your brother, father, or son is not one of life, love, or honour, but of mutilation and indignity.
That is not journalism. That is cruelty.
Moral obligation
Respect for the dead is not simply a cultural norm—it is a moral obligation.
It transcends religion, tribe or profession. It is one of the few shared values that unite us as humans.
The way we treat the dead says everything about who we are as a society.
If we cannot afford dignity to those who made the ultimate sacrifice, what does that say about how we value life itself?
The cost of indecent coverage is high.
It dehumanises the dead, retraumatises the living and erodes our shared values.
Every insensitive image chips away at compassion.
Every unnecessary video blurs the line between news and exploitation.
And every click on such content tells the media that sensationalism sells.
We must do better—not just for those we have lost, but for the society we hope to become.
Newsrooms need stronger editorial checks. Journalists need to resist the pressure of being first at the expense of being decent.
Citizens must pause before pressing “record” or “share” and ask themselves whether their actions are helping or harming.
Laws and media ethics guidelines can provide structure, but empathy is what will make the difference.
It is empathy that will tell a citizen to put the phone down and lend a helping hand instead.
It is empathy that will guide a journalist to choose a respectful image over a shocking one.
And it is empathy that will ensure our public conversations about tragedy are framed with compassion rather than voyeurism.
Let this be a turning point. Let this be the last time a national tragedy is met with insensitivity disguised as news.
The dead deserve dignity.
The living deserve compassion.
And the truth, when told, must always be wrapped in empathy.
E-mail: edolphyne@gmail.com
