Two identical crimes are committed, one by a "mentally troubled teen” and another by a “thug.” The difference between the two instances doesn’t stem from the situations themselves, but from how the media chooses to frame them. This intentional framing often exploits a vulnerability in our consumption habits: we tend to put faith in those meant to inform us, clicking share on a video without thinking, and above all, we make the optimistic assumption that a journalist’s priorities stem from providing us with unbiased facts regarding an event. The fact of the matter is, we are more than likely to be met with framing intended to almost manipulate us into taking a certain stance, which, in some extreme cases, has resulted in irreversible damage to those involved. 

But can a few words really have that much of an impact?

The media, in general, plays a vital role in informing the public about current events while simultaneously producing a byproduct of shaping our perceptions of justice and injustice. Especially with the rise in the usage of social media platforms such as TikTok, X (formerly Twitter), and Instagram being used as “news” outlets, this topic becomes more relevant as an individual's opinion is even more likely to be swayed by false narratives or titles made to promote a specific belief or garner likes and shares. As a whole, we have seen media framing being used as a method of persuading the public to form an opinion on justice and, in some cases, take action. This has been proven extremely harmful in past scenarios in which an individual, and in some cases, a community of individuals faced unjust consequences simply due to a journalist's negligence.

A prime example is the “protest vs. riot” phenomenon that we typically see following major events. Many are familiar with the Black Lives Matter protests following the murder of George Floyd in 2020. Media coverage of these protests often purposefully emphasized the looting, violence, and other crimes that took place despite them being mostly peaceful. However, coverage of the January 6th Capitol attack used far more lenient language, like “protesters.” Both incidents involved individuals advocating for something they felt strongly about (albeit one more reasonable than the other) and crimes being committed in the process. So why does one group adopt the label “criminal” while the other gets the privilege of being called “protesters”

Framing is strategic, and if a certain narrative reaches enough people, the consequences can prove disastrous. In addition to influencing public opinion, framing can have an impact on justice responses as well. In regards to the January 6th Capitol attack, many noticed the extreme lack of police presence as opposed to the Black Lives Matter protests in 2020. This was not due to a difference in extremity in these situations. The January 6th Capitol attack forced elected officials and staff to hide from some armed individuals. Despite the severity of the situation, they were met with lukewarm police presence, and a large number of the officers present had an overall cordial response despite the violence, disruption, and even occasional looting taking place

However, in stark contrast to the Capitol rioters, Black Lives Matter protesters were met with unjust and excessive police force, including chemical irritants such as tear gas and pepper spray, batons, and mass arrests.The harrowing truth is that in comparison, participants in the January 6th Capitol Riot were borderline coddled, while peaceful Black Lives Matter protesters were treated as unruly criminals. In turn, much of the public adopted a negative view of BLM protests and even the movement itself. The responses to the protests, to an extent, further exemplified why the movement was started in the first place. The excessive police force used is not only attributed to the government, but also to journalists who chose to portray protests as unruly with images of looting or violence, in addition to those who spread misinformation without looking further.

Framing can have disastrous consequences, often producing a disproportionate response to similar circumstances. These disproportional responses are often seen with marginalised communities who are often villainised as opposed to their white counterparts. The media more often than not fails marginalised communities with their choice of framing, forcing them to receive undeserved backlash and the short end of the stick when it comes to justice.

The opioid crisis versus the War on Drugs is a perfect embodiment of the unfortunate outcomes and unbalanced responses that occur as a result of this kind of strategic framing. Throughout the 80s and 90s, the media deemed crack cocaine use (which mainly impacted Black communities) as criminal while simultaneously labelling opioid addiction (which affected white communities) as a health crisis. The media led people to conclude that one belongs in a prison cell and should be shown no leniency, while the other deserves to be placed in rehab and met with compassion. The fact that these near-equivalent situations were framed so differently is not a simple error, but can be attributed to the racial bias in the media that was especially prevalent during this era. 

Media framing had a large impact on the responses to both of these epidemics. In terms of policy, the opioid crisis was met with some law enforcement as it was framed as a public health issue. Individuals were labelled as victims of a disease (substance abuse disorder) and were thus able to receive treatment in response, as opposed to criminalisation. However, in terms of the war on drugs, drug use was a crime. Users (especially Black and Latino individuals) were met with arrests, minimum sentences, and mass incarceration. As previously stated, these responses by the justice system were not accidental. The way the media framed these instances allowed the justice system to carry out unfair practices, which impacted thousands and produced an almost irreversible system of mass incarceration that would continue to oppress the generations that followed.

More than usual, we see a distinct contrast between the reactions to two factually indistinguishable crimes: one perpetrator is met with outrage, while the other is met with indifference or sometimes even sympathy. Time and time again, the differentiation between the two comes down to their race. Black people are more likely to be villainized in the media, while their white counterparts are often humanized, despite the similarity in crimes. The Equal Justice Initiative (EJI) highlights this bias, stating that mugshots were used in coverage of 45% of cases involving Black people accused of crimes, compared to only 8% of cases involving a white defendant. Even the innocent aren't free of this issue: the EJI also brings light to the fact that White victims are four times more likely to be presented in photographs with friends and family than their Black peers.

Despite seeming minimal, these choices in the media further push harmful narratives: one that states that Black people are dangerous and an even more tragic one that dares to utter that Black suffering is unimportant. The devastating effects of the overrepresentation of Black people in crime versus the underrepresentation of Black victims are evident. The categorization of Black people as aggressive, violent, and dangerous not only has social consequences but also directly impacts how the justice system handles cases involving a Black person accused of a crime.

The Central Park Five is a representation of the effects of media framing. Many journalists ignored the facts of the case and used language such as “wolf pack” that were guilty from the start, completely dehumanising these boys. Donald Trump even took out full-page ads calling for the death penalty for these boys.  Even before the trial, these boys were “guilty until proven innocent” in a justice system that takes pride in its “innocent until proven guilty” system. They weren’t given the same grace that they should have been. The justice system let these boys down on so many levels, and it was permitted unequivocally because of the harmful tales that the media told, which normalised the injustices these boys (now men) faced. Although they received compensation, these men will never get the time they spent in prison back. They will never get to the years that they spent being dehumanised by the media. 

The Central Park Five incident is also the epitome of how Black victims are often pushed to the side and ignored in comparison to their white counterparts. Trisha Meili, a white woman, was sexually assaulted while simply trying to go out on a jog. Afterwards, there was a strong public outrage, which was warranted. However, in addition to Trisha Meili, there was a report of 28 other completed or attempted rapes in the city that same week, as stated by the Times. Almost all of these victims were Black and Latina women. The contrast is stark: why did one victim spark widespread public outrage while the others were flat-out unknown? Trisha Meili was a white woman; the other women were Black and Brown. This differential coverage further pushes the agenda that tells Black and Brown women that their victimisation does not matter. That they will always be disregarded despite the psychological damage they endured. Which, in turn, makes them less likely to come forward and manufactures a civilisation that allows offenders to continuously reoffend as long as their victims are Black or Brown.

Now, is it really just a few words? Or is it a deliberate attempt to persuade the public and promote harmful narratives? Or an attempt to bait viewers and/or readers in order to accumulate fame? 

Knowing this, what can we do? 

As a whole, we must start holding journalists accountable. We need to set high standards when it comes to what should and should not be published. Be that as it may, we also need to hold ourselves to the same standard. We need to look for alternative resources and dig deeper into a situation before forming an opinion and, more importantly, relaying it to other people. We need to recognise and refuse to fall for “clickbait.” These things need to happen so that results such as disproportional responses, public misconceptions, and negative long-term impacts are reduced. More crucially, we can ensure that these detrimental and false narratives are dismantled as we attach utmost importance to receiving factual news.

And we do have the power to change this. If we begin actively opposing misinformation, we can facilitate a culture that places the utmost value on informational, factual, and bias-free journalism—not merely entertaining viewers. We must demand truth over clickbait, not just for accuracy, but because the future of a truly just society depends on our ability to see and understand one another, unclouded by bias.