by Tyron Devotta
There was a time when the rules of journalism were almost monastic. Journalism, in those days, carried a kind of moral purity. Reporters were expected to observe, investigate, and report without emotional entanglement. Objectivity was our doctrine.
When I first walked into a newsroom in 1980, one of the earliest warnings I received from my boss was simple: stay away from the advertising department. The unspoken translation was even clearer, they were the bad guys. They would compromise you, influence you, and lead you to the dark side! Seventeen years later, as a deputy editor of another newspaper, I was told something very different by the Editor: balance was not necessary, facts were. That shift, subtle as it seemed, marked a deeper transition. It was about accuracy, and the discipline to present truth through a subjective lens. I was uncomfortable but I moved on.
Fast forward another quarter century (approx), and we now inhabit a world where the very idea of truth has become negotiable. The lines between what is real and what is constructed have blurred to the point of indistinction. The so-called evil of the advertising department of old, now fading into insignificance! Digital tools can replicate voices, fabricate images, and manufacture entire narratives. Even something as simple as a recorded interview, once considered near-irrefutable evidence, is now open to manipulation. The tools that once strengthened journalism now challenge its very foundations. This is not merely a technological shift. It is a structural one, affecting the very foundations of old journalism.
The collapse of Verification
There is a growing tendency, particularly in times of economic strain, to view the decline of mainstream media as collateral damage; an unfortunate consequence of digital disruption. Newspapers close, newsrooms shrink, journalists move on, and the assumption is that information will continue to flow through other channels. That assumption is dangerous..
If Sri Lanka were to lose its mainstream media, its newspapers, television, radio, and the editorial systems that underpin them, the consequences would extend far beyond the industry. This is not something that just relates to the media. It is a systemic risk. Fundamentally, mainstream media performs a function that no algorithm has successfully replicated: verification.
It is the disciplined process of checking claims, validating sources, applying context, and enforcing accountability. Remove that layer, and information does not disappear, it loses accountability. In its place emerges a landscape dominated by noise: partial truths, partisan narratives, viral misinformation. Interfaces like Meta Platforms and Google are powerful distribution engines, but they are not editorial institutions. They amplify content; they do not consistently assess and weigh information.
A Signal from the BBC
This tension is now visible even within the world’s most established institutions. The recent appointment of Matt Brittin (a former senior Google executive) as Director-General of the BBC has triggered unease within media circles. The head of the BBC is not merely a CEO, he is also the editor-in-chief of one of the most influential news organisations in the world. The question, therefore, is unavoidable: can a leader shaped by the logic of Big Tech (scale, data, engagement) fully align with the principles of public service broadcasting; trust, neutrality, and accountability? At its heart, this reflects a broader anxiety: is media drifting toward platform logic, where audiences are treated as consumers rather than citizens?
The immediate casualty of a weakened legacy media is accountability. Mainstream media has historically functioned as a watchdog, scrutinising public expenditure, questioning executive power, and exposing wrongdoing. In such an environment, governments operate differently. The corporate sector is often slow to recognise what it stands to lose. Markets do not function on data alone. They function on trusted interpretation of data. Mainstream media provides that layer; credible reporting, institutional insight. Without it, rumour begins to replace analysis. Investment decisions become less informed, more reactive. Ironically, the same corporate sector that has shifted advertising away from mainstream media may be among the first to feel the consequences of its decline.
Perhaps the most profound impact is less visible. Mainstream media does more than report events. It creates a shared frame of reference; a common understanding of reality. Without it, public discourse fractures. In a society as politically and socially sensitive as Sri Lanka, that fragmentation carries real risk. In the absence of mainstream media, influence does not disappear. It shifts. It moves into spaces that are less regulated, less accountable, and often driven by engagement rather than accuracy; influencers, anonymous networks, algorithmic visibility. These actors are not bound by editorial standards. They are not answerable to institutions. Yet they shape perception at scale. For policymakers, this creates volatility. For businesses, unpredictability. For citizens, confusion.
The Slow Erosion of Democracy
Democracy rarely collapses in a single moment. It erodes. It erodes when information becomes unreliable and when news sources lose credibility. Mainstream media, imperfect as it has always been, provides a framework within which disagreement can occur constructively and in a structured manner. Remove that framework and the system does not become freer; it becomes fragile. There is a threshold beyond which recovery becomes difficult. When newsrooms are dismantled, institutional knowledge lost, and editorial cultures erased, they are not easily rebuilt.
The decline of mainstream media is not like the decline of a product line. It is the collapse of an ecosystem. And ecosystems, once broken, take generations to restore. Sri Lanka still has the foundations; experienced journalists, established institutions, and a literate public. But these require support, respect, and adaptation. The real question is not whether the legacy media can survive on its own. It is whether Sri Lanka can afford the consequences if it does not.
Not The Final Curtain
After decades of working across different corners of the media industry and its allied professions, I find myself less preoccupied with the old debate of whether I am subjective or objective. That question, which once felt central to the craft, now seems almost secondary to a far more pressing concern. The real question today is whether I, and many like me, belong to a vanishing breed. We were trained in a discipline that placed value on verification, on balance, discipline of getting it right before getting it out. We believed that journalism, imperfect as it was, carried a responsibility that extended beyond deadlines and headlines.
The world has changed faster than the institutions that shaped us. The tools are different, the speed is lightning, and the very idea of truth is now negotiated in real time. In such a landscape, one cannot help but wonder whether the traditions we upheld still have a place, or whether they are slowly being edged out by a new order that values immediacy over accuracy, noise over nuance. And yet, if this is indeed a moment of transition, it is not one that calls for quiet resignation. Because what we represent is not nostalgia. It is a standard. If we are a dying breed, then it becomes even more important how we choose to stand in these final chapters, not as relics of a past era, but as reminders of what the craft was meant to be. And that, perhaps, is where the fight begins.
The writer is a communications professional with 45 years of experience. He worked as a correspondent on the frontlines during Sri Lanka’s war years and played an active role as a reporter on the news and investigation desks of several English newspapers. He was a Business Editor and Deputy Editor of two national newspapers with work experience on international news teams from CNN, German Television (ARD), and Deutsche Welle (DW) in Sri Lanka. Devotta was also the News Director for a leading private media organisation for eight years, managing a trilingual newsroom that delivered news to three television channels and four radio stations. Fluent in English, Sinhala, and Tamil, he is currently a columnist for Daily FT and a Public Affairs consultant.