Hiru TV and the Manufacture of Misinformation: How Sri Lanka’s Airwaves Became a Political Weapon
By Political Correspondent
In democracies under strain, misinformation rarely arrives wearing the uniform of a coup. It comes instead in the familiar garb of the evening news: confident anchors, dramatic music, selectively edited footage, and an implicit promise that what is being broadcast is “the truth”. In Sri Lanka, that promise is now under scrutiny, as Hiru TV—one of the country’s most influential private broadcasters—faces serious accusations of fabricating, falsifying, and deliberately distorting news content, prompting intervention by the police and renewed calls for regulatory action.
At the heart of the controversy is a question that goes well beyond one television station: how did a politically entangled media network acquire and retain a licence to broadcast nationwide, and who is accountable when that power is abused?
Police scrutiny and allegations of deliberate deception
Sri Lankan police have confirmed that they are examining complaints relating to Hiru TV’s recent broadcasts, which allegedly involved manipulated footage, misleading captions, and editorial framing designed to inflame public sentiment and create communal disharmony. Senior officers privately concede that the issue is no longer a routine media dispute but a matter of public order and national cohesion.
The allegations are not trivial. According to investigators, the broadcasts in question were not errors of judgment or lapses in verification but systematic editorial decisions—news packages edited in ways that altered context, omitted critical facts, or presented speculation as established truth. In several instances, content circulated on social media hours before being “confirmed” by Hiru’s primetime news bulletins, suggesting coordination rather than coincidence.
For a broadcaster with reach into millions of households, such practices carry consequences far beyond reputational damage. They shape public perceptions, influence political behaviour, and, in a country with a history of communal violence, risk reopening wounds that have barely healed.
Ownership, politics, and the illusion of independence
Hiru TV is not an ordinary media organisation. It is owned by an individual with deep political associations,closer ties with Rajapaksha family, alongside close family members who have long operated at the intersection of business, media, and power. While the channel presents itself as an independent voice, critics argue that it functions less as a newsroom and more as a political instrument, advancing particular narratives while silencing or marginalising others.
This is not an abstract concern. Media watchdogs have repeatedly raised alarms about the concentration of media ownership in Sri Lanka, where a small number of politically connected families control television, radio, and print outlets. In such an ecosystem, editorial independence becomes a branding exercise rather than an operational reality.
The current controversy has reignited scrutiny of how Hiru obtained approval from the Telecommunications Regulatory Commission (TRC) in the first place. Former regulators, speaking on condition of anonymity, describe a licensing culture historically shaped by political patronage rather than transparent criteria. “Everyone knows how licences were issued,” one former official said. “It was less about compliance and more about connections.”
That history matters now, as questions mount over whether regulatory bodies failed not only at the point of licensing but throughout years of oversight.
The Dilith Jayaweera intervention
The situation escalated further when businessman and Derana TV media figure Dilith Jayaweera entered the public debate, writing to the President to warn against what he characterised as pressure on Hiru TV by law enforcement. Casting himself as a defender of media freedom, Jayaweera argued that police scrutiny risked undermining democratic norms.
Yet this intervention has been met with sharp criticism. Media analysts note the contradiction between professed concern for press freedom and a documented record of editorial misconduct. “Media freedom is not a shield for disinformation,” said one Colombo-based journalist. “It is a responsibility, not a licence to mislead.”
Critics also point out that invoking the President to halt police inquiries reflects a deeply ingrained culture of elite impunity, where powerful media owners seek political protection rather than judicial scrutiny. In established democracies, such an intervention would itself raise red flags about undue influence.
A record that cannot be ignored: COVID-19 and communal scapegoating
Perhaps the most damning aspect of Derana TV’s record lies not in recent broadcasts but in its conduct during the COVID-19 pandemic. At a time of widespread fear and uncertainty, the channel repeatedly aired content that singled out Sri Lanka’s Muslim community, implying—often without evidence—that they were responsible for spreading the virus.
Several broadcasts featured inflammatory commentary, dubious “expert” opinions, and sensationalist headlines that blurred the line between reporting and incitement. In one widely criticised incident, a Hiru employee made explicitly defamatory remarks about Muslims on air, remarks that would have triggered immediate sanctions in most jurisdictions with robust broadcast regulation.
The impact was not theoretical. Human rights organisations documented a surge in hate speech, social ostracization, and discrimination following such broadcasts. The channel later claimed it was merely reflecting public concern, but critics countered that it was actively shaping and amplifying prejudice.
In countries like the UK, broadcasters found guilty of such conduct face heavy fines, licence suspensions, or outright closure. The question Sri Lanka must confront is why similar accountability has been absent.
Hiru and Derana: parallel paths of ethical erosion
Hiru TV is not alone. Derana TV, another powerful broadcaster, has also been accused of abandoning journalistic ethics in favour of sensationalism and political alignment. Together, these channels dominate the airwaves, setting agendas and framing debates in ways that leave little room for nuance or dissent.
What distinguishes the current moment is that the state appears—tentatively—to be asserting regulatory authority. This has prompted predictable accusations of censorship. But media scholars warn against conflating regulation with repression. As one academic put it, “A democracy without standards is not free; it is vulnerable.”
The regulatory dilemma
The government now faces a difficult balancing act. On one hand, any move to suspend or revoke a broadcast licence will be portrayed as authoritarian overreach, particularly in a country with a fraught history of state control over media. On the other, allowing systematic misinformation to continue unchecked erodes democratic discourse from within.
International norms offer guidance. In the UK, Ofcom operates under a clear statutory mandate: broadcasters must ensure accuracy, impartiality, and harm minimisation. Violations are investigated transparently, with sanctions applied proportionately. Crucially, enforcement is independent of political interference.
Sri Lanka lacks such institutional insulation. Regulatory bodies are vulnerable to pressure, while courts move slowly. This vacuum has allowed powerful broadcasters to operate with near impunity.
What accountability should look like
Shutting down a television station is an extreme measure, and one that should be reserved for persistent, egregious violations. But doing nothing is equally dangerous. At minimum, independent investigations, public findings, mandatory corrections, and financial penalties should be on the table.
Equally important is scrutiny of ownership structures and licensing decisions. If licences were granted or renewed on the basis of political loyalty rather than public interest, that is a governance failure that must be acknowledged and corrected.
Media freedom cannot mean freedom from consequences. A press that knowingly fabricates or distorts information is not a watchdog; it is a participant in deception.
A test for Sri Lanka’s democracy
The controversy surrounding Hiru TV is ultimately a test—not of one broadcaster, but of Sri Lanka’s democratic maturity. Can the state enforce standards without silencing dissent? Can media owners accept accountability without crying persecution? And can the public distinguish between genuine journalism and manufactured outrage?
If misinformation is allowed to masquerade as news, democracy itself becomes a performance—loud, theatrical, and hollow. The choice facing Sri Lanka is not between press freedom and regulation, but between responsible media and reckless power.
In that sense, the question is no longer whether Hiru TV is under pressure. It is whether Sri Lanka’s institutions are finally prepared to apply it—lawfully, transparently, and in the public interest.