Ravish Kumar, once celebrated as a beacon of Indian television journalism during his tenure at NDTV, has become a cautionary tale of how a journalist can squander credibility. His resignation from NDTV in November 2022 and subsequent pivot to YouTube marked a stark departure from the principles of balanced reporting, replacing nuanced journalism with venomous monologues that brim with hatred, bias, and a disregard for logic. On his Ravish Kumar Official channel, now boasting over 10 million subscribers, Kumar’s rants have alienated many who once admired him, raising the question: has he abandoned journalism for propaganda?
The Fall from NDTV’s Pedestal
Kumar’s 27-year career at NDTV, where he hosted shows like Prime Time and Ravish Ki Report, earned him accolades, including the 2019 Ramon Magsaysay Award for amplifying marginalized voices. His reports on unemployment, education, and social inequality were lauded for their depth and empathy. Yet, his exit from NDTV, prompted by the channel’s changing ownership, coincided suspiciously with the Congress-led United Progressive Alliance’s (UPA) fading influence post-2014. Critics argue that Kumar’s journalism was never as impartial as claimed, pointing to his relatively lenient coverage of Congress-ruled states during his NDTV days. A 2018 Quora thread branded NDTV a “Congress PR team,” reflecting a perception—however anecdotal—that Kumar’s critiques sharpened only when the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) took power.
His resignation speech, dripping with melodrama, compared his departure to a “bride’s farewell.” This theatrical flourish set the tone for his YouTube era, where emotional manipulation would overshadow factual reporting. Kumar framed his exit as a stand against a stifling media environment, but detractors see it as a calculated move to reinvent himself as a martyr, free from the accountability of a newsroom.
YouTube Monologues: A Platform for Venom
On YouTube, Kumar has traded structured journalism for long-winded monologues that prioritize rhetoric over substance. Gone are the on-ground reports and balanced discussions of his NDTV days. Instead, his videos—delivered with his signature “Namaskar, Main Ravish Kumar”—are solo performances, often exceeding 20 minutes, where he rails against the government with unchecked vitriol. These monologues, produced with a skeletal team of eight, lack the rigor of his former work, relying on anecdotes, metaphors, and emotional appeals rather than data or diverse perspectives.
Posts on X paint a damning picture of Kumar’s content. Users have called his videos “propaganda” and “hate-filled,” accusing him of targeting the BJP with relentless malice. A February 2023 video, where Kumar sarcastically “searched” for the Hindenburg Research office near the Hindon River, was widely ridiculed as unhinged. Critics on X mocked his theatrics, with one user questioning his “mental stability” and another labeling it a “clown show.” Such stunts, far from journalistic inquiry, play to an audience hungry for anti-government spectacle, sacrificing credibility for views.
Kumar’s monologues are not just emotional—they’re accused of being deliberately divisive. His critiques focus almost exclusively on the BJP, rarely scrutinizing opposition parties like Congress or the Aam Aadmi Party with the same fervor. This selective outrage fuels allegations of bias, with detractors arguing that Kumar’s YouTube avatar is a mouthpiece for Congress sympathizers. His defenders might claim he’s holding power to account, but when criticism is so one-sided, it reeks of agenda-driven activism, not journalism.
Beyond Logic: The Erosion of Journalistic Standards
Journalism demands objectivity, evidence, and logical coherence—qualities Kumar’s YouTube content sorely lacks. His monologues often blend fact with hyperbole, obscuring truth in a haze of righteous indignation. For instance, his repeated use of the term “godi media” to dismiss mainstream outlets as government puppets is a catchy slogan, not a substantiated argument. While India’s press freedom ranking has slipped, as noted by Reporters Without Borders, Kumar’s blanket condemnation ignores the complexity of media dynamics, painting a simplistic narrative of good versus evil.
His reliance on emotional storytelling—once a strength—has become a liability. In one video, he likened the state of democracy to a “sinking ship,” a metaphor that resonates but offers no actionable insight. Such rhetoric, while gripping, prioritizes sentiment over analysis, alienating viewers who seek reasoned discourse. OpIndia, a right-leaning outlet, has accused Kumar of “mixing facts with emotions” to manipulate his audience, a charge that rings true when his videos lean on theatrics rather than evidence.
Kumar’s claim that “journalism is dead” might justify his approach to some, but it’s a cop-out. By abandoning the discipline of fact-checking, sourcing, and balanced reporting, he’s not reinventing journalism—he’s betraying it. His monologues lack the transparency of traditional news, with no visible effort to corroborate claims or engage opposing views. This isn’t independence; it’s indulgence.
The Myth of the Martyr
Kumar’s supporters paint him as a victim of a hostile media landscape, citing death threats and surveillance as proof of his courage. The documentary While We Watched portrays him as a “tired hero,” battling a crumbling industry. But this narrative conveniently sidesteps his own role in polarizing discourse. Kumar’s YouTube success—10 million subscribers and counting—shows he’s far from silenced. If anything, his platform amplifies his voice, yet he uses it to stoke division rather than foster dialogue.
His claim of living “in exile” in India, assuming his communications are monitored, reeks of self-aggrandizement. Many journalists face threats without resorting to Kumar’s brand of vitriolic monologue. His small team and limited resources are no excuse for shoddy journalism; independent reporters worldwide produce rigorous work under worse conditions. Kumar’s choice to prioritize emotional rants over substantive reporting is just that—a choice.
The Cost of Kumar’s Transformation
Kumar’s YouTube descent has consequences beyond his own reputation. By trading journalism for activism, he fuels a cycle of mistrust in media. His monologues, while rallying a loyal base, deepen India’s polarization, pitting “liberals” against “nationalists” in an endless culture war. His refusal to engage with opposing views—unlike his NDTV panels, which at least attempted balance—creates an echo chamber, no better than the “godi media” he decries.
Once a journalist who gave voice to the voiceless, Kumar now speaks mostly for himself, his monologues a mirror of his grievances. His 2019 Magsaysay Award feels like a distant memory, overshadowed by a present where clicks and claps trump truth. The tragedy is not that Kumar left NDTV; it’s that he left journalism behind, choosing hatred over inquiry, bias over balance, and monologues over meaning.
Ravish Kumar’s YouTube channel is not a bastion of independent journalism but a platform for propaganda dressed as principle. His monologues, steeped in hatred and unmoored from logic, betray the values he once championed. Far from holding power to account, Kumar has become a caricature, pandering to an audience that craves outrage over insight. Indian journalism deserves better than a fallen icon who mistakes rants for reporting.
