When will the news media dare to question itself?
In Bangladesh, conversations about press freedom are constant, but discussions about the media's own accountability and transparency are far less frequent. Journalists often claim that state control, lawsuits, intimidation, attacks, blackouts, dependence on advertising, and political ownership or influence hinder their ability to work freely. But citizens may also raise an equally valid concern: if the government is not regulating the media, then who will?
This leads to an uncomfortable question. How often does a media house step before its audience and confront its own mistakes, biases, financial interests, or the pressures that influence its reporting? This lack of a culture of self-examination is the most fragile aspect of our media environment. That is where the idea of self-regulation emerges—not as censorship, but as a form of responsibility.
During the 2024 mass uprising, many journalists were assaulted on the streets, their equipment smashed, while many faced lawsuits and arrests. The internet shutdown halted the flow of information entirely. Many outlets could not publish the truth, not only because the internet was down but also because some owners blocked stories or because journalists themselves feared internal or external consequences. Later, when the interim government cancelled accreditation cards of 167 journalists, the Editors' Council described it as a direct attack.
For these reasons, the formation of the Media Reform Commission in late 2024 seemed like an opportunity for real change. It recommended an independent media commission, legal protection for journalists, transparency in ownership, fair wages, and a framework to rebuild public trust. However, discussions later revealed that the central recommendation—establishment of an independent commission—might be removed from the draft. If that indeed happens, the entire reform process could be meaningless as self-regulation depends on supervision by a truly independent third party.
Self-regulation is a moral and accountable means through which the media makes itself responsible to the public. When done correctly, it strengthens press freedom rather than weakens it. In countries such as the United Kingdom, Norway, Ireland, Slovenia, and South Africa, these bodies accept complaints, hold open hearings, issue public rulings, and compel news organisations to correct mistakes or issue apologies.
The question for us is simple: do we want a media that only questions others, or a media that also dares to question itself?
India also has a Press Council but because its rulings are not binding, the system exists more in form than in effect. Pakistan's state-run regulator prioritises the ruling party's interests over journalistic freedom. Bangladesh's Press Council is barely discussed. It has a code of conduct but very few media outlets appear to follow it. Meanwhile, the number of journalists who actually entered the profession by completing the formal K-form registration processremains unclear. Under the 1974 law, Press Council journalists are legally categorised as "public servants"—a rare designation for members of private media anywhere in the world. And where else do privately owned newspapers accept government wage-board decisions? Bangladesh is full of contradictions. And there is no reason to expect the media to be an exception.
Bangladesh must therefore develop a hybrid model suited to its realities—a model that includes regulation but does not compromise editorial independence.
For self-regulation to work effectively, there must be a widely understood code of ethics that defines accuracy, fact-checking, corrections, conflict-of-interest disclosures, and fair representation of minorities, women, and children. There must also be an independent mechanism for hearing complaints, where any member of the public may lodge a concern, and hearings and decisions are made openly and transparently. Punishments must be proportionate and justified, and all rulings must be published regularly so that the public can observe real progress.
An additional layer is also essential given Bangladesh's unique context: financial and administrative transparency. Media houses can be truly independent only when their sources of revenue, owners' business interests, any hidden political ties, advertising pressures, and job security of reporters are all subject to public accountability. This means publishing annual audit reports, disclosing sources of funding, making clear any foreign financing or advertisement-driven influence, revealing conflicts of interest involving owners or editors, and publishing rules on recruitment, promotion, salaries, and disciplinary actions. When the media demands accountability for public figures, the public has every right to ask in return, "Whose money funds your news?"
A crucial factor in all of this is the financial security of journalists. No ethical code survives when journalists are underpaid. Financially insecure journalists become vulnerable to pressure, unable to resist owners' interests, and often unable to prevent misinformation. Their economic security is therefore not merely a humane demand; it is a basic condition for a democratic information system.
Some ask why media owners would ever accept self-regulation. The answer lies in the changing nature of the news market. A growing segment of the audience today does not simply consume news; they also verify it. They know when a report is propaganda or when an advertisement is disguised as journalism. Credibility has become a valuable asset. In many European countries, when self-regulation is strong, readership and advertising revenue increase, because people trust outlets that publicly admit mistakes. Good journalism is ultimately a good investment. The question is how long it will take Bangladeshi media owners, editors, and reporters to accept this simple truth.
With the 13th national election approaching, a wave of misinformation and deepfakes is already around the corner. The government or the Election Commission alone cannot manage this challenge. Instead of blaming social media influencers as "non-journalists," the responsibility for checking misinformation must begin with the mainstream press, whose own political divisions often undermine professionalism. This responsibility should not be handed over to the state.
Bangladesh now needs a practical roadmap. To make progress within the next three months, the first step is to establish a new, independent, multi-stakeholder Press Council. A single national code of ethics must be announced for all media outlets, and an online complaints portal must be launched to allow direct public participation. Every three months, a Media Accountability Report should be published, listing complaints, rulings, corrections, and outlets that failed to comply. Major media houses should appoint ombudspersons. A journalist protection law must also be introduced to make any attacks and harassing lawsuits punishable. And decisions such as cancelling press cards must be transferred from government hands to an independent oversight body.
At the heart of these reforms lies one principle: without fair wages, safety, and professional protection for journalists, no policy will endure. Equally importantly, desired transformation will come when the media welcomes critical scrutiny and ensures its own accountability to the public. When this happens, only then can we say that our media is not only free but also responsible.
Dr Rezwan-Ul-Alam is an associate professor at North South University, Dhaka. He can be reached at [email protected].
Views expressed in this article are the author's own.
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