The barrier to entry for asking questions has collapsed, but the art of the interview is in danger. Are “armchair interviews” democratizing media or fueling one-sided narratives?
By Aubaid Ahmad Akhoon
In the modern media landscape, the interview has escaped the confines of the newsroom and the corporate boardroom. It has become the background noise of our lives, a ubiquitous format that dominates everything from our morning commutes via podcasts to our evening scrolls through social media. We live in a time where the barrier to entry for asking questions has collapsed; a smartphone and a Wi-Fi connection can transform anyone into an interrogator. Yet, as the volume of dialogue increases, the quality of the conversation often struggles to keep pace. Whether it is a high-stakes corporate vetting of a potential CEO, a Vanity Fair profile of a Hollywood star, or a raw, unedited livestream from a living room, the fundamental mechanics of the interview remain an intricate dance of psychology, ethics, and art.
To understand where we are going, we must first look at the most functional form of this art: the job candidate interview. In the corporate sphere, the interview is not just a conversation; it is a sophisticated assessment tool where the cost of error is high. The modern interviewer cannot simply rely on a resume. They must possess what we might call “knowledgeable insight”—a profound grasp of industry trends that allows them to peel back the layers of a candidate’s rehearsed answers. It is an exercise in Socratic wisdom; as the philosopher noted, “To know thyself is the beginning of wisdom.” Today, this translates to an interviewer understanding their own biases and the specific cultural deficits of their organization before they ever sit across from a candidate.
However, technical precision in hiring means nothing without the ethical framework of empathy. The recruitment process has increasingly moved toward a candidate-centric model, reflecting Immanuel Kant’s categorical imperative: humanity must never be treated merely as a means to an end. In a tight labor market, the “ghosting” of candidates or aggressive grilling is not just poor form; it is a brand liability. Fairness and objectivity, those twin pillars of John Stuart Mill’s utilitarianism, dictate that we assess merit without prejudice, ensuring the greatest good for the organizational ecosystem. But perhaps the most underrated quality in this high-speed corporate environment is patience. As Lao Tzu reminded us, “Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.” The best interviewers allow silence to do the heavy lifting, giving candidates the space to reveal who they truly are rather than who they think they should be.
Shift the lens from the private conference room to the public stage, and the dynamics change entirely. Interviewing a renowned personality—a politician, an artist, or a business tycoon—requires a different kind of courage. Here, the interviewer is a proxy for the public, tasked with extracting authenticity from people who are often professionally trained to be impenetrable. This requires a mastery of the subject that borders on obsession. One cannot ask a piercing question without knowing the interviewee’s history better than they know it themselves. Friedrich Nietzsche’s assertion that “he who has a ‘why’ to live for can bear almost any ‘how'” applies beautifully here; if the interviewer understands the driving force behind a public figure’s life, they can navigate through the deflection and PR spin.
Yet, this interaction is fraught with tension. Voltaire’s observation that “to hold a pen is to be at war” feels increasingly relevant in an era of access journalism, where publicists often demand pre-approved questions. The truly great interviewers—the Christiane Amanpours or the David Remnicks of the world—balance empathy with constructive criticism. They understand that rapport is necessary, aligning with Dale Carnegie’s timeless advice about being interested in others, but they do not mistake rapport for friendship. They maintain the courage to be disagreeable. As Mark Twain noted, courage is the mastery of fear, not its absence. To sit opposite power and ask the question that will end the interview is the ultimate test of journalistic integrity.
However, the monopoly that professional journalists once held on this format has shattered. We have entered the era of the “armchair interview,” a phenomenon driven by the explosion of long-form podcasts and independent media. On one hand, this is a democratization of dialogue. It allows for a rawness and depth that the constraints of cable news soundbites never could. It brings diverse voices to the forefront, validating Heraclitus’ view of the ever-changing river of dialogue. But this freedom comes with a dangerous lack of guardrails.
The rise of the armchair interviewer has birthed the “Press Enclave Paradox.” In physical spaces like the historic Press Enclave in Srinagar, grievances are aired, and stories are exchanged in a tangible, community-vetted environment. There is a sense of accountability in the physical presence of peers. In the virtual equivalent, however, that accountability often evaporates. The digital space allows for the proliferation of one-sided narratives—a digital “public shaming” disguised as an interview. When an influencer or a podcaster allows a guest to defame a third party without offering the accused a right of reply, they are not conducting an interview; they are broadcasting propaganda.
This is where the distinction between a content creator and a journalist becomes critical. The ethical imperative of journalism is fairness. It is the discipline of verification. It is the refusal to accept a single source as the whole truth. When we abandon these principles in favor of virality or confirmation bias, we erode the foundation of public discourse. We risk creating a society where truth is determined by who has the loudest microphone rather than who has the facts.
The “armchair” revolution is not inherently bad; in fact, it has revitalized the format, forcing traditional media to abandon stiff, archaic styles in favor of more authentic conversations. But for this new medium to mature, it must embrace the old responsibilities. We must scrutinize personal attacks and one-sided grievances through the lens of objectivity. As Walter Lippmann famously said, “There can be no higher law in journalism than to tell the truth and to shame the devil.” But to shame the devil, one must first be sure they have the right devil.
Ultimately, whether the goal is to hire a junior analyst or to interrogate a head of state, the core of a great interview remains humility. It is the recognition, as Rumi wrote, that we should not be satisfied with the stories that come before us, but must unfold our own myths. The interviewer is a vessel for truth, a guide who helps the audience navigate the complexity of another human being. In an age of noise, the quiet, prepared, and ethical question is more powerful—and more necessary—than ever. As Joseph Pulitzer warned, our republic and its press rise and fall together. In 2026, that “press” includes anyone with a camera and a question. The responsibility is no longer just on the newsroom; it is on all of us.
The views expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions or views of this newspaper. The author can be reached at [email protected]
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