An aspect of the AgustaWestland scandal that has drawn the loudest blood-lust at the gladiators’ circus called Twitter is the Rs 50 crore that middlemen are reported to have earmarked for “managing Indian journalists”. There are no names yet, nor proof that any money changed hands. But always ready to comment on something before it happens and faster than the speed of light, various well-known editors have already been “identified” and slander campaigns launched against them.
But it’s not just a war on the usual suspects. “Experts” on journalism have damned “the media” as a whole. This fatuous disdain for all journalists because of a few bad eggs, presumed in this case, must be countered with vehemence. The mean age of Tweeters, for one, renders them incapable of grasping both the magnitude and the effect of the message that the Indian media sent out when Indira Gandhi tried to gag it in the 1970s: Come what may, no government will ever commit harakiri by attempting the same again. Sadly, even older people with a few Op-Eds to their name have been hurling abuse with nonchalance, forgetting that if information dissemination were left to governments alone, nobody would get the real picture. Some Journalism 101 is needed here:
Scoops: The big “lead” story on Page 1 is not the product of one person alone. There are beat reporters, researchers, “off-shore” correspondents, sub-editors, desk chiefs, the chief editor and, finally, the proprietor involved. At times, and after all that work, a given story does get “killed” by the owner if s/he feels it clashes with their business or other interests. If the suppressed story has nothing to do with public money or public exploitation, its omission can — at best — be derided as sham journalism. But if it happens over a scam that involves Rs 3,500 crores of public money, it is seriously compromised journalism.
Junkets: Think of a mining company in a remote part of India, being opposed by NGOs working against displacement. It invites a reporter to visit the site and hear its side of the story. There is a single guesthouse in the area owned by the same company. Does the reporter drop the story, and therewith forego a chance to hear the other side of the stand-off? NGOs, too, routinely invite journalists on similar trips. Many try to aggressively prevent reporters from talking to the one group of villagers that does not subscribe to their protests. And, through a single good word about the company, incur the accusation that s/he is unconcerned about the displaced?
Freebies: Journalists are constantly heaped with goodies, big and small. “Networking” is an essential part of all professions. Even governments take the media to witness the inaugurations of dams, on board new trains. Are reporters supposed to reject all such invitations? Or, attend, but take along a lunchbox, a bottle of water and later claim “integrity” by only writing bad things about the host, even if their research shows otherwise? One can say with certainty that the AgustaWestland “freebies” must have been far more lavish than Nataraj pencils and erasers.
Paid Media: This is a favorite swear-word, employed by those themselves in professions with huge turnovers. Is it suspect if television star anchors or hoary editors wear smart suits, live well and attain star status in a screen-mad country?
Other than some cases against whom telephonic evidence surfaced during the 3G scam, does a level of affluence automatically mean that all top editors are suspect of bribes?
Is it wrong for newspapers — struggling to keep afloat given the exorbitant cost of newsprint and stiff competition from the Web and TV — to seek advertising to keep themselves alive? The basic conundrum in addressing the issue of “compromised” journalism is the existence of plenty of monitors and “recommendations”, but the near-total absence of a clear-cut law. The good news is that the Press Council of India — one of the many relatively powerless “regulatory” bodies — is to acquire teeth. It must be made mandatory for every registered media concern in India to issue a disclaimer to the readers and viewers for every story that is an outcome of a junket.
Meanwhile, the ministry of information and broadcasting must do more than just perfect the glossiness of its Press Information Bureau acc-reditation card. It must carefully scrutinise and weed out the thousands of card-holders across the country who have nothing to do with journalism but were “gifted” these passports to the corridors of power.
Till all this falls in place, all reporters must remember the oath of journalism: objectivity. It must be a quasi-“bond” a reporter signs along with his/her first employment letter. Irrespective of what the final fate of a given story may be, the writer sitting down to a blank screen must have one single thought in mind before s/he starts typing: the truth. Utopia? Perhaps. But worthy of pursuit till it becomes a law.
