A newspaper story can be accurate, well-sourced and informative, yet still leave readers with no clear idea of what to do next. That is one of the most important lessons emerging from a five-year study of cancer coverage in two major Bangladeshi newspapers.
The study examined 257 cancer stories published online between February 2019 and February 2024 and found that fewer than half — 49 percent — contained what communication researchers call mobilising information (MI), or practical details that can help readers turn health awareness into action.
The research was led by Anirudha Biswas of the College of Journalism and Communications at the University of Florida, who is also the corresponding author. His co-authors are Md. Akil Khan of the School of Media and Strategic Communications at Oklahoma State University, Khalid Ahammed of Khulna University, Sish Ahemmed of the Department of Political Science at Clemson University, and Shahariar Khan Nobel of the Philip Merrill College of Journalism at the University of Maryland.
The researchers analysed cancer stories published on the websites of Bangladesh Pratidin and Daily Sun, looking for information such as screening locations, contact details, prevention advice and links to further resources.
The difference between the two newspapers was striking. Mobilising information appeared in 80.8 percent of Bangladesh Pratidin's cancer stories, compared with just 29.1 percent of Daily Sun's. Tactical information — the practical "how-to" guidance on prevention and screening — appeared in 61.9 percent of Bangladesh Pratidin stories, against 27 percent of Daily Sun stories.
Contact details for doctors, clinics and campaign organisers, as well as information about screening locations and schedules, were also considerably more common in the Bengali-language newspaper.
The disparity matters, but the more important question is what it says about health journalism in general. Newspapers do not merely tell people that a disease exists. At their best, they help people understand risks, recognise warning signs, find reliable services and make informed decisions.
Cancer reporting, therefore, should not end with describing the seriousness of the disease or quoting experts about its dangers. A reader who learns about cancer but is not told where screening is available, whom to contact or what preventive measures can be taken has received information, but not necessarily assistance.
This is particularly important in Bangladesh, where cancer care continues to face shortages of treatment facilities, equipment and specialists, while screening and specialised services remain unevenly distributed. Late diagnosis is also a persistent challenge.
In such circumstances, reliable information can become an important part of the public-health response. Journalism cannot build hospitals or provide treatment, but it can help bridge an information gap that may prevent people from seeking care in time.
The study also raises questions about the way cancer is covered. Only 257 stories from the two newspapers were included over five years, with coverage often concentrated around occasions such as World Cancer Day in February.
That suggests an episodic, event-driven approach rather than sustained reporting on cancer as a continuing public-health issue.
Awareness days have value. They draw attention to diseases that may otherwise receive limited public discussion. But cancer does not become a public-health concern only once a year. Prevention, early detection, treatment access, patients' experiences and health-system challenges require regular reporting.
A sustained reporting beat could also allow journalists to follow up on issues that are often forgotten after the initial story — whether screening programmes are functioning, whether treatment facilities have the necessary equipment, whether patients can access services and whether government commitments are being implemented.
The findings are even more significant because the study examined online newspaper stories. Digital journalism offers newsrooms tools that print journalism cannot easily provide. A story can directly link readers to hospitals, screening programmes, government services, credible medical organisations and other reliable resources.
Yet interactive mobilising information - including hyperlinks, embedded resources, comment facilities or email contacts- appeared in only two of the 257 stories. Bangladesh Pratidin had none.
This is a missed opportunity.
Publishing health information online without connecting readers to practical resources means news organisations are using only part of the potential of digital journalism. A simple link to a recognised screening centre or government health service could make a story considerably more useful without requiring a major increase in reporting space.
The researchers also found that stories focused on prevention, highly preventable cancers, environmental or occupational risks and educational information were more likely to contain mobilising information. Reports that included ordinary people, including patients and their families, also tended to provide more practical guidance than stories relying mainly on institutions and official sources.
These findings offer useful direction for newsrooms.
Health editors could introduce simple mobilising-information checklists for cancer stories. Reporters could routinely ask: What can readers do? Where can they go? Whom can they contact? What warning signs should they know? Is screening available, and where? What credible source can readers consult for further information?
Such questions would not change the fundamental purpose of journalism. They would strengthen it.
The difference between the two newspapers also deserves attention because they serve different audiences. Bangladesh Pratidin has a mass Bengali readership, while Daily Sun reaches a more concentrated English-speaking audience, including sections of the country's urban, professional and policy communities.
Access to actionable health information, however, should not depend on the language of the newspaper a person reads.
The study's limitations should also be recognised. It examined only two newspapers and cannot represent the entire Bangladeshi media landscape. The study period overlapped with the COVID-19 pandemic, when health desks were heavily occupied with coronavirus coverage. Researchers also could not determine how individual readers encountered the stories or whether exposure to mobilising information actually changed their behaviour.
Even so, the central message is difficult to ignore.
Cancer journalism should move beyond simply telling readers that cancer is dangerous. It should help them understand what they can do about it.
As Anirudha Biswas put it, "the key issue is not simply whether cancer is being covered, but whether that coverage gives people something they can actually do." Information about cancer risks or treatment is important, he said, but it becomes much more useful when readers are also told where they can seek screening, whom they can contact or what steps they can take.
That should be a basic principle of health journalism.
Newsrooms need not turn every cancer story into a medical guide. Nor should journalists prescribe treatments or replace qualified health professionals. Their responsibility is different: to provide accurate, understandable and useful information that enables readers to make informed choices.
Cancer coverage should therefore be treated as a continuing public-service responsibility, not merely as an annual awareness exercise.
The most successful health story is not necessarily the one that generates the greatest alarm. It may be the one that leaves a reader better informed, less confused and, most importantly, able to take the next appropriate step.