Feeding the flames of censorship: Et tu media?

We Indians are a vastly sentimental people. We possess way too many sentiments and each in perpetual risk of grave injury. And our response to everything that offends is not to mind it, but ban it. Every movie release, for example, comes accompanied by a chorus of protesters. Aarakshan upset some Dalits. A few Sikhs were mad as hell about Son of Sardar. Vishwaroopam offended a couple of Muslim groups. Mani Ratnam’s Kadal is now raising the red flag for the Indian Christian Democratic Party, while another Christian group is mad about Adhibhagavan because it “hurts Hindu sentiments”. You read that last sentence exactly right. In India today, fact imitates parody. Over the past week, we in the media have opined, decried, denounced, bewailed this climate of “cultural terrorism”. And that’s all good. Let’s award ourselves a gold star etc. But here’s what we’ve not done: take a look in the mirror.[caption id=“attachment_614304” align=“alignleft” width=“380”] The protest against Vishwaroopam. PTI[/caption] In response to one of my various tweets complaining about Vishwaroopam, a fellow journalist asked the unwelcome and important question: “But aren’t we as mediawallahs implicated too?” My blithe comeback: “[T]he 24X7 media cycle is the tiger: as journalists, we either ride it or will be eaten by it.” This is what we tell ourselves as journalists, over and again, as we tirelessly feed that vast, gaping maw of the media beast. Posting instant tweets and live updates, churning out sound-bytes and insta-views, shoving the camera in front of anyone with something inflammatory to say. And in that chaotic whirl of just doing our job, we sometimes lose sight of the line that separates covering a controversy and feeding it. If so-called ‘fringe groups’ have disproportionate clout in our democracy, we the media bear at least part of the responsibility for it. The media spotlight can make small organisations with little political muscle look powerful; their views plastered across the front-page and the TV news ticker, their leaders’ faces populating the repetitive TV news loop and late-night debates. Ashis Nandy’s remark—irrespective of its merits—would not have gained the same salience without the attending mob of journalists at the Jaipur litfest, eagerly awaiting the next Salman Rushdie-style brouhaha. The police may not have paid the same attention to an FIR lodged by Rajasthan Manch’s Rajpal Meena if they weren’t keenly aware of the multitude of cameras and microphones pointed in their direction. Say, if Nandy had made the very same remark in an obscure panel held at some university or think-tank (as he may well have, for all we know) that we journalists couldn’t be bothered to attend. And once the intial complaint made headlines, all the big hitters followed suit, each eager for their share of the publicity pie. MNS, Shiv Sena, BJP, RPI and Dalit organisations, under the banner of Bahujan Samaj Sangharsh Samiti, pressured the police to register the complaint. BSP chief Mayawati wanted him arrested immediately. All this of course prompting ever more frenzied press coverage since the involvement of such worthies had now made it a bona fide headline story. We could all wallow together in the mud of spurious controversy. In the case of Vishwaroopam, as my Firstpost colleague Pramod Kumar noted , the agitation was led by Tamil Nadu Muslim Munnetra Kazhagam (TMMK), a relatively obscure group which is now using hard-line stances as an attention-seeking strategy. Over the span of six months, they led violent protests, each sparked by a movie: the US consulate for the anti-Islam “Innocence of Muslims; Vijay’s blockbuster Thuppakki; and then Vishwaroopam. The opportunity to ride the publicity coattails of a multicrore budget movie by a cinematic legend proved irresistible – and highly successful. Kamal Haasan’s brand power propelled TMMK leaders onto the national stage, their leaders now invited to grandstand for the cameras on every news channel. At least in the Vishwaroopam case, the media attention was a double-edged sword, also creating a sense of national outrage which may well have forced Tamil Nadu Chief Minister J Jayalalithaa to intercede.And to be fair, there are times when we get it right, as the Deccan Herald did today with its front-page story on Anirudh Sainath Krishnamani who was asked by the Chitra Kala Parishath to take down his nude paintings under pressure from the police. This is a grievous wrong that deserves to be highlighted in the interest of public good. (No other news outlet, including TOI, covered the story) Far too often, however, careless haste outweighs the good. A story that rightfully belongs on page 14 ends up making big headlines because we too want to ride the coat-tails of some big name or event – or are worried about being left behind while someone else does the same. We are now witnessing a proliferation of micro-groups who thrive purely on media oxygen, looking for ripe targets to gain unwarranted clout. No one had even heard of Bhagat Singh Kranti Sena until they rose to prominence by attacking Prashant Bhushan in front of a TV camera. They have spent the last year trying to bully their way back into the spotlight, attacking everyone from Syed Shah Geelani to Swami Agnivesh. The women’s wing of the VHP, Durga Vahini, recently tried to jostle for some media space by trying to shut down “The Naked and The Nude” exhibition in Delhi. Each week brings a new PR stunt disguised as moral policing.  Covering these kinds of stories is often unavoidable, but there is a critical difference between reporting a story and giving undue legitimacy and airtime to groups who have only intolerance as their claim to fame. And the everyday stampede of chasing the next story often makes us journalists a willing if unwitting accomplice. The fourth estate has an important responsibility to stand up for the freedom of expression. This is one bias we ought to wear proudly on our sleeves as it is the foundation of our very existence. In a political climate where attacking free speech has become the cheap way to buy publicity and clout, we have to exercise due diligence on behalf of that right. Each time such an incident occurs, we must ask first ourselves: Are we feeding the fire or sounding the alarm?