By Sardar Khan Niazi

In a stage of development where attention is legal tender, distress has become a humdrum. Whether it is war-torn streets in Gaza, a flood-ravaged village in Sindh, or a hungry child gazing uninterestedly into the lens of a camera, agony has found itself curated, filtered, and broadcast to billions — over and over again, not for change, but for engagement. The sight of distress is not something new. Ancient Roman masses gathered in coliseums to cheer bloodshed. Public executions drew questioning members of the audience. However, the digital age has globalized the audience and professionalized the presentation. Distress now trends. It is wrapped up in viral videos, aestheticized in photo dissertations, and used up with the same ephemeral curiosity as celebrity gossip. What should bring to mind action instead invites likes, shares, and little else. Nowhere is this more painfully visible than in modern conflict zones. The war in Gaza, for instance, has generated a steady stream of shocking photographs: children buried under rubble, hospitals under siege, entire families wiped out. These images flood our feeds, but so every so often, the hullabaloo is performative — hashtags without policy pressure, outrage without organization. In Pakistan, the 2022 floods brought this closer to home. Entire communities drowned. Millions were displaced. And yet, much of the national and international attention came only after haunting drone footage showed people clinging to their rooftops, or when Western celebrities commented on the crisis. Suffering had to be made visible before it became real. Journalism, of course, plays a vital role in keeping a record of human rights violations and disasters. On the other hand, the line between documentation and exploitation is becoming dangerously thin. When pain is edited for maximum emotional impact, when victims are framed like characters in a narrative designed to go viral, are we informing or manipulating? This commodification of distress is not limited to the media. NGOs, too, walk a fine line. Fundraising campaigns often rely on the most pitiful images– skeletal children, weeping mothers, crumbling homes — to stir donors into action. The intention may be noble, but the method raises ethical questions. Is the dignity of those in crisis secondary to the dollars they can attract? Social media influencers are another layer in this ecosystem. Some arrive at disaster zones with more equipment than empathy, capturing just enough sorrow to boost their follower count before moving on. They often leave behind little more than dust and disappointment. However, perhaps the most troubling part is our own response. We have become numb. A video of a man weeping over his dead child competes for attention with a viral dance challenge or a political meme. In the never-ending scroll of content, everything begins to blur. The seriousness of distress is lost in the spectacle of it. What, then, is the way forward? We must rethink how we engage with the pain of others. Media outlets need to practice ethical storytelling – addressing and centering the voices of survivors, not just their wounds. Aid organizations must foreground dignity over pity. In addition, as individuals, we must resist the urge to consume suffering passively. Witnessing pain should compel us to donate, to protest, to vote wisely, to hold the powerful accountable. Above all, we need to reject the idea that suffering is only valuable when it is visible. Pain that does not trend is no less real. The world must learn to act not just when the cameras are rolling, but always — guided by conscience, not clicks. Because in the end, distress is not a scene. It is a reality. In addition, it deserves more than just our gaze. It deserves our humanity.

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