No Place to Land
Compassion Fatigue, Responsible Media, and Solving Empathy
Dear Readers,
Writing this essay was challenging due to the difficult and sensitive nature of the topic. Addressing issues of violence, misogyny, and the systemic failures that perpetuate these injustices require a careful balance of empathy and critical analysis. It was not easy to confront the harsh realities that many endure, nor was it simple to articulate the deep frustrations that arise from witnessing a world that too often turns insensitive to the suffering of others. Every word was chosen with the weight of these realities in mind, as I navigated the complexity of expressing pain and outrage while advocating for meaningful change. The emotional toll of reflecting on such grim subjects cannot be understated, yet I felt compelled to write this essay in the hope that it might contribute to the broader conversation and inspire action toward a more just and compassionate society.
Trigger Warning!
This essay contains discussions related to violence, which may be distressing or triggering for some individuals. Your mental well-being is your first priority, and I encourage you to mindfully engage in the habit of reading as much as you would while buying a food product. If you feel that this content might negatively impact your mental health, please consider skipping this essay or reading it at a time when you feel more prepared.
The same recurring dream visited me once more this week. The sand beneath my feet is coarse and nearly black like charcoal, yet it pulls at my feet with a clay-like softness. I wander along the shore without any particular destination in mind. White pebbles are scattered across the beach, perfectly smoothed by the tides. The waves rise and crash as I stand rooted, a spectator in awe of this untamable force of nature. I am free from perceptions and the urgency of reaching a destination. A sense of peace, almost alien, permeates my being. I pick up one of the pebbles and bring it closer for inspection; it smells of the angry sea, spitting salt at my face. The dream always ends the same way—violently jolting me awake. There must be a symbolic meaning in a recurring dream with such specific details. I imagine the black sand as my mind—a canvas against which life manifests. The waves represent my longing for freedom from the constraints of the world, and the angry pebbles are the knocks of the universe that I keep picking up, trying to find my way through existence. It seems as if the universe is attempting to crack open my sheltered self, revealing the ongoing despair consuming the world, one cruel act at a time.
There is a physical dimension to violence that makes it almost inextricable from the person who has experienced it. Violence exists solitarily within the mind of its host before taking on a physical form. The incitement of violence almost always stems from the wounds of the ego—a false sense of self. Its manifestation perpetuates an unending cycle of suffering. Once violence takes shape, it constantly shifts forms, becoming one thing or another, its destructive agency untouched by the beauty of the world, almost like a force of nature. Those who resort to violence are often its victims. Although suffering is innate in all of us, it can never justify our choice to inflict harm on others.
I have personally experienced violence and lived through the damaging aftermath of surviving it. I have always said, and will state once more: suffering is not a rite of passage to wisdom. Abuse should not be covertly glorified in art and media, both of which have a pervasive online presence and free access. This glorification stems from a perverse fetish with violence, which ultimately leads to compassion fatigue. Our overexposure to images of violence, ironically, diminishes our sensitivity toward the victims. While bearing witness is essential to ensure we don't forget the pain of those who have suffered at the hands of perpetrators, it is equally important to use journalism responsibly. It should not appeal to the voyeuristic tendencies of the collective psyche, which may be hidden but is not absent. These are difficult topics to discuss, but the brilliant Susan Sontag has articulated them succinctly in her brave and confrontational work Regarding the Pain of Others.
Citizens of modernity, consumers of violence as spectacle, adepts of proximity without risk, are schooled to be cynical about the possibility of sincerity. Some people will do anything to keep themselves from being moved. How much easier, from one’s chair, far from danger, to claim the position of superiority.
I advocate for change by using narrative as a tool, but it is important to raise awareness without provoking, especially when addressing insensitivity, apathy, and the ongoing normalization of violence. This is particularly crucial in cases like the one we are about to discuss, where collective anger is understandably prevalent.
Last week in Kolkata, a female medical student was brutally raped and murdered on the premises of a medical college where she was resting after finishing her night duty. The rapist was a contractor appointed at the local law enforcement department. The director of the college tried to cover up the case by not registering an FIR and informing the victim’s parents that she killed herself. In response, medical students across the country have rightly organized protests demanding justice for her, and the nation is once again reminded of Nirbhaya and her tragic, inhumane demise. Since then, the media has been flooded with artistic depiction of a woman sitting in a dark corner by the wall with her head down on her knees, as updates on the case are reported on a split screen next to it. She is not a stranger to me - the subject of this art. I have seen her repeatedly throughout my life, in newspapers and news channels depicting the violence she has endured. This caricature has always formed an uncomfortable knot in my stomach. She has come to represent an archetypal woman—violated, silenced, and terrified by the violence she has barely survived.
Constructing victims into archetypes is concerning for many reasons, not least of which is that archetypes become objects of meditation. While reflecting on the trauma and suffering of a victim can serve as a tool to deconstruct the power of oppression, it can also lead to the glorification of suffering by separating the cause from the image of the victim. In other words, the victim's suffering is a direct result of the crime committed against her, and her existence is inherently dualistic. She exists as does her perpetrator; therefore, her existence should remind us of the perpetrator, not of her supposed lack of agency. Turning her into an archetype implies that someone who is violated, afraid, and in despair exists independently of the crime committed against her, which is a fundamentally flawed way to hold the pain and suffering of others in our awareness. It is precisely because of such portrayals and imagery that victim-blaming has become a pervasive cultural issue. People who consume these stories as news highlights often use this narrative to simplify their compassion fatigue and justify an increased tolerance for violence.
In a country like India, where patriarchal values are deeply ingrained and misogyny often goes unchallenged, it is not uncommon to hear members of the so-called 'educated class' make comments about such atrocities in tones that imply, "maybe she should have resisted more" or "what was she doing there at such a late hour." This reflects a problem of exhausted empathy rather than a lack of sensibility. Excessive media exposure normalizes violence, as the initial shock is gradually replaced by empathy fatigue. In a civilized and modern society, when violence and crime occur, people are reminded of the flaws and fragility of the system in which they live. Their trust in the facade of civility is shaken, and their faith in institutions, in this case, the state medical association and police administration is lost. This leads to an avoidance mindset, which, upon closer inspection, reveals a form of denial—denial that criminals emerge from within polite society. This, in turn, risks a dangerous proximity and identification with the criminal, sometimes more so than with the victim.
Therefore, personal information, crime-related facts, and forensic details should never be made widely accessible to the public. The victim's humanity should not need to be justified by assigning her an avatar or by interviewing her parents on television. The victim does not exist independently of the perpetrator; thus, instead of focusing on her suffering, we should focus on the institutions and their caretakers that failed her. Rape and murder is the tool of domination used by a syndicate of power-hungry men who have taken a high position and then claimed impunity. For women to find a safe place to land, political impunity should become obsolete to the custodians of these institutions. While we are distracted by the convoluted media circus surrounding someone’s grief and suffering, the criminals and their accomplices within public systems are busy securing their own escape.
If discussing crimes in specific detail could have prevented them, the data over time would show a different outcome. Over the past decade, awareness of hate crimes against women has increased due to the widespread accessibility of smartphones and the internet across the country. However, the data contradicts the expected benefits of modernity and the information age. A UN Women-approved study conducted in New Delhi reveals some insidious insights.
95 per cent of women and girls have stated that they feel unsafe in public spaces.
Providing a stark picture of the daily realities faced by women and girls, 51 per cent of men reported that they had themselves perpetrated sexual harassment or violence against women and girls in public spaces in Delhi. In the study, 25 per cent said they had done so in the last six months.
In cases of sexual violence, many men blamed women for their behaviour. In the study, three out of four agreed with the statement ‘Women provoke men by the way they dress’ and two men out of five fully or partially agreed with that ‘Women moving around at night deserve to be sexually harassed’.
Nearly 73 per cent of women said they do not feel safe in their own surroundings as well, and reported feeling unsafe all the time.
Here are some additional statistics that should shame all the lawmakers and policymakers of the country.
As per the Women Peace and Security Index 2023 released by Georgetown Institute for Women, Peace and Security, India ranks 128 out of 177 countries in terms of women’s inclusion, justice, and security.
The latest data from the National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) reveals that the rate of crimes against women in India (calculated as crimes per 100,000 of the women population) increased by 12.9% between 2018 and 2022. In India, the reported crimes against women per 100,000 women population is 66.4 in 2022, in comparison with 58.8 in 2018. This increase could be due to a number of factors, including an increase in actual crimes, an improvement in reporting mechanisms, and a growing willingness of women to speak out about their experiences of violence.
The majority of crimes against women under the Indian Penal Code were of cruelty by the husband or his relatives (31.4 per cent). This was followed by kidnapping and abduction of women (19.2 per cent), assault on women with intent to outrage her modesty (18.7 per cent), and rape (7.1 per cent), NCRB records state.
While India has made significant progress in women's inclusion and equality in fields such as academia, science and technology, and business, the reality of representation in law and policy-making is still disappointing. Only 9.4% of judges in the Indian Supreme Court are women. In West Bengal, the ratio of women in the legislative assembly is just 13.7%, which, I should note, is the third highest in the country—a figure that is still pitifully low. The situation is no better in the police force, where women make up only 11.75% of the total enrollment. In a country like India, which is notorious for its lack of safety for women, we must do far better than these numbers when it comes to including women in law and order. With numbers falling significantly below the national target of 33% women in all policy-making, I am not someone who questions the future of women in this country—I am someone who lives it.
It is the treacherous combination of general fearlessness of consequences due to lenient policies, massive delays in justice, and the casual misogyny embedded in language, media, and institutions that allows such heinous crimes to remain rampant and even more prevalent over time. If we continue to hide in our shells, afraid to confront the cracks in our foundations, we should not be surprised when our home eventually crumbles. It is immensely difficult to admit that our civility must be an inherent value rather than a mere facade, because if we do, we might actually have to behave in a way that reflects it.
I believe decency is a prevalent force of nature, while perversion is a dark edge of the collective shadow. I envision a world where our girls are safe to work and study late at night in the institutions entrusted with their safety. I believe in a world where lighting candles during a protest march is more than just a symbol of solidarity; it is a spark that ignites a wildfire, breathing life into a movement that challenges the corrupted and perverted psyche unafraid of consequences. This is not a request or a demand—it is a declaration that the night will be illuminated by the candlelight of our brothers and sisters as we bloody our hands to dismantle the current order.
Heartbroken. Angry. Frustrated. I hate that we all have to keep writing this. To remind folks of our humanity. To remind folks to look at the root cause instead of promoting the misogynistic talking points. It’s infuriating. Rage inducing. I am so sorry you had to write this but am so grateful you lent your words and heart to this conversation. Holding you in my heart, friend. Thank you for reminding us to do the work and heal our own wounds to be sure we don’t inflict more upon the world.
Swarna—i read about this and felt so much grief and despair and rage—and i feel like in many ways it’s what i cannot live with here but also want to write about and fight—how many women are treated like this and how much it affects my view of this place. It’s haunting and enraging and I don’t want to accept it in any fucking measure. And i read it this week and thought of you and was worried and also knew you’d write about it. It’s also amazing how much fuckery imperialism does for misogyny and violence and racism and all of it. Just no. We’re working towards something more loving and based in care—But gos I mourn with you from here and how all of this is woven into settler mindsets and empire and all of it. And my god—just how? I’m so angry.