There is a discernible pattern to the popular rage expressed intermittently against the Indian electronic media, which can ignore the anger only at the risk of damaging its own credibility. They are detested in moments of acute collective suffering, as they are also by those who challenge the political consensus in India.
As enraged Nepalis asked the India media to go back home, the Aam Aadmi Party declared in Delhi that it has decided to court silence in the face of allegations flung against it. The provocation for what is tantamount to a veritable boycott of the media is its unfounded charge against AAP leader Kumar Vishwas of having engaged in an extramarital affair. The episodes in Delhi and Nepal testify to anger and disgust against the Indian media, largely electronic, but their dynamics are different.
But first, turn to Nepal.
It’s convenient to dismiss the Nepalis seething against the Indian electronic media coverage of the devastating earthquake as yet another example of the inferiority complex that country has about India. It is also possible to perceive in the rage a deliberate attempt to fan sentiment against India, which is accused, sometimes unjustly, of interfering in Nepal’s internal affairs. The anger could also be ascribed to that human trait about which the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche once said, “Great obligations do not make people grateful, only revengeful.”
Indian state's handmaiden
But the rage of Nepalis mirrors that of Kashmiris last year, when they were reeling under devastating floods. They, like the Nepalis, thought the nation’s TV channels displayed little empathy in their coverage. Worse, the Kashmiris interpreted the lavishing of praise on the India Army’s rescue and relief operations as an attempt to efface the popular memory of its two decades of oppression in the state.
Perhaps you’d dismiss this perception of Kashmiris as typical of them, believing they have been taught for generations to hate New Delhi. But you should have read Communist Party of India (Marxist-Leninist) leader Kavita Krishnan’s post on Facebook: “I am just seething after a phone call from Times Now that asked if I would participate in a debate on how AFSPA [Armed Forces Special Powers Act] and Army were needed in Kashmir, as proved by the relief work the Army is doing there.”
This echoes the charge the Nepalis too have levelled against the Indian media – of being the handmaiden of the Indian state and promoting its interests, besides having gone around with their cameras with the swagger of unmistakable superiority. Undoubtedly, India’s response to the earthquake was exemplary, but it acquired a political twist as the nationalistic sentiments of journalists shone bright in the ambience of gloom and doom. This is why the hashtag #GoHomeIndianMedia has been abuzz with extraordinary vehemence.
Extolling the Indian state, batting for what it calls the national interest, and displaying a patronising attitude are traits the Indian electronic media reserves for countries such as Nepal or in conflict zones at home. Yet even its coverage of normal politics in normal times is no less disparaged for its shrillness and unfairness and pushing hidden agendas. It’s clear that the Indian media has a few whipping boys.
Answered with silence
For the moment, it is AAP, which, surprisingly, attracts media attention grossly disproportionate to its national presence. The most recent trigger for the media to direct its wrath against AAP is Arvind Kejriwal’s exhortation to voters to expose what he claims are the lies of journalists, to create a counter-narrative to their spin. He has been stridently criticised for instigating a public trial of the media. Now, he will also be criticised for not responding to the allegations the media routinely levels against his party.
Yet, from AAP’s perspective, the accusations have been hurled against it without evidence. For instance, the media was quick to ask why AAP hadn’t cancelled its rally against the land acquisition bill in Delhi’s Jantar Mantar on April 22 as soon as it became known that a farmer named Gajendra Singh had been found hanging from a tree on the grounds, probably having committed suicide. Forgotten was the fact that no one had been sure at the time whether Singh was actually dead. Neither did the media show empathy by suspending their live telecasts from the venue, nor had crew members rushed to rescue Singh.
AAP leader Kumar Vishwas was then embroiled in yet another controversy, in which he was accused of having an affair with an AAP volunteer. It is altogether a different matter that the woman had asked him to issue a public statement denying they ever had a relationship, in the hope of squashing the suspicion of her husband who is said to have left her on this count. It was this episode which has prompted AAP to court silence, to not issue clarifications to what it believes are unfounded allegations by the media.
AAP’s decision to turn silent is a variation of Bahujan Samajwadi Party leader Mayawati’s strategy to keep the media at bay. It has bewildered many why she prefers to read out, rather monotonously, from a prepared text at press conferences instead of fielding questions. Sociologist Prof Vivek Kumar, who has extensively researched the Dalit movement, explained her reason. “She told me that she does this because journalists at press conferences would ask her infuriating questions, play up what suited them, and ignore the issues for which she had called them in the first place,” he said. “She said she always ended up defending herself.”
Recall the relentless campaign against Mayawati for erecting statues of Dalit icons and laying out parks. Compare it to the media’s relative silence on the 182-metre-high statue of Sardar Patel, in iron, commissioned in Gujarat. Think of the barbs against Mayawati’s pink dress and lavish birthday parties, which are undoubtedly needless wastage. But is the same yardstick of criticism deployed against some of Bharatiya Janata Party or Congress leaders, who display equal profligacy. Or, for that matter, do the electronic media debate the source of the BJP’s overflowing electoral war chest?
Corporate pressures
It is easy to predict that the unequal treatment of politicians and parties will define the media coverage of the Bihar assembly elections, due around October. No doubt, the richer the party the greater leverage it has with the media, which hopes to corner a slice of its advertising campaign. The one who pays, we all know, plays the piper.
But it is also about the caste-class composition of the Indian media, which, to a large extent, remains the preserve of upper castes and urban middle class. It’s from this segment the Indian state recruits it managers, who define what national interest and progress is – and which policies are best suited to realise these twin goals. This is why we haven’t read many stories on how the AAP government’s decision to reduce the power and water rates has benefited residents, even though the mood in Delhi slums is celebratory.
From this segment, too, come the sharpest critics of the Indian state, activists and journalists alike. But for a few exceptions, their voices are drowned out. The bigger the newspaper the less empathetic it has been to the freezing of the bank account of, say, Greenpeace, which might have to down its shutters.
Blame all this on the control of the media by corporate interests, exercised either indirectly through the revenues they contribute to owners of TV channels and newspapers or through direct ownership. In return for financing political parties, these corporate giants attempt to have policies framed to benefit them.
Their interference in the media’s functioning can be brazenly biased. For instance, in January, AAP spokesperson Raghav Chadha was told to leave the CNN-IBN studio five minutes before a TV debate was to go on air. The guest coordinator of the channel told him: “The boss said, you can’t have AAP.”
If the Indian media is deemed a handmaiden of the state in Nepal, it is the greenhouse in which corporate interests bloom at home. If it is revoltingly patronising in the Himalayan state, it is downright condescending of leaders of unwashed masses. Perhaps the nation is ready for the hashtag#indianmediacometosenses.
Ajaz Ashraf is a journalist from Delhi. His novel, The Hour Before Dawn, published by HarperCollins, is available in bookstores.
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As enraged Nepalis asked the India media to go back home, the Aam Aadmi Party declared in Delhi that it has decided to court silence in the face of allegations flung against it. The provocation for what is tantamount to a veritable boycott of the media is its unfounded charge against AAP leader Kumar Vishwas of having engaged in an extramarital affair. The episodes in Delhi and Nepal testify to anger and disgust against the Indian media, largely electronic, but their dynamics are different.
But first, turn to Nepal.
It’s convenient to dismiss the Nepalis seething against the Indian electronic media coverage of the devastating earthquake as yet another example of the inferiority complex that country has about India. It is also possible to perceive in the rage a deliberate attempt to fan sentiment against India, which is accused, sometimes unjustly, of interfering in Nepal’s internal affairs. The anger could also be ascribed to that human trait about which the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche once said, “Great obligations do not make people grateful, only revengeful.”
Indian state's handmaiden
But the rage of Nepalis mirrors that of Kashmiris last year, when they were reeling under devastating floods. They, like the Nepalis, thought the nation’s TV channels displayed little empathy in their coverage. Worse, the Kashmiris interpreted the lavishing of praise on the India Army’s rescue and relief operations as an attempt to efface the popular memory of its two decades of oppression in the state.
Perhaps you’d dismiss this perception of Kashmiris as typical of them, believing they have been taught for generations to hate New Delhi. But you should have read Communist Party of India (Marxist-Leninist) leader Kavita Krishnan’s post on Facebook: “I am just seething after a phone call from Times Now that asked if I would participate in a debate on how AFSPA [Armed Forces Special Powers Act] and Army were needed in Kashmir, as proved by the relief work the Army is doing there.”
This echoes the charge the Nepalis too have levelled against the Indian media – of being the handmaiden of the Indian state and promoting its interests, besides having gone around with their cameras with the swagger of unmistakable superiority. Undoubtedly, India’s response to the earthquake was exemplary, but it acquired a political twist as the nationalistic sentiments of journalists shone bright in the ambience of gloom and doom. This is why the hashtag #GoHomeIndianMedia has been abuzz with extraordinary vehemence.
Extolling the Indian state, batting for what it calls the national interest, and displaying a patronising attitude are traits the Indian electronic media reserves for countries such as Nepal or in conflict zones at home. Yet even its coverage of normal politics in normal times is no less disparaged for its shrillness and unfairness and pushing hidden agendas. It’s clear that the Indian media has a few whipping boys.
Answered with silence
For the moment, it is AAP, which, surprisingly, attracts media attention grossly disproportionate to its national presence. The most recent trigger for the media to direct its wrath against AAP is Arvind Kejriwal’s exhortation to voters to expose what he claims are the lies of journalists, to create a counter-narrative to their spin. He has been stridently criticised for instigating a public trial of the media. Now, he will also be criticised for not responding to the allegations the media routinely levels against his party.
Yet, from AAP’s perspective, the accusations have been hurled against it without evidence. For instance, the media was quick to ask why AAP hadn’t cancelled its rally against the land acquisition bill in Delhi’s Jantar Mantar on April 22 as soon as it became known that a farmer named Gajendra Singh had been found hanging from a tree on the grounds, probably having committed suicide. Forgotten was the fact that no one had been sure at the time whether Singh was actually dead. Neither did the media show empathy by suspending their live telecasts from the venue, nor had crew members rushed to rescue Singh.
AAP leader Kumar Vishwas was then embroiled in yet another controversy, in which he was accused of having an affair with an AAP volunteer. It is altogether a different matter that the woman had asked him to issue a public statement denying they ever had a relationship, in the hope of squashing the suspicion of her husband who is said to have left her on this count. It was this episode which has prompted AAP to court silence, to not issue clarifications to what it believes are unfounded allegations by the media.
AAP’s decision to turn silent is a variation of Bahujan Samajwadi Party leader Mayawati’s strategy to keep the media at bay. It has bewildered many why she prefers to read out, rather monotonously, from a prepared text at press conferences instead of fielding questions. Sociologist Prof Vivek Kumar, who has extensively researched the Dalit movement, explained her reason. “She told me that she does this because journalists at press conferences would ask her infuriating questions, play up what suited them, and ignore the issues for which she had called them in the first place,” he said. “She said she always ended up defending herself.”
Recall the relentless campaign against Mayawati for erecting statues of Dalit icons and laying out parks. Compare it to the media’s relative silence on the 182-metre-high statue of Sardar Patel, in iron, commissioned in Gujarat. Think of the barbs against Mayawati’s pink dress and lavish birthday parties, which are undoubtedly needless wastage. But is the same yardstick of criticism deployed against some of Bharatiya Janata Party or Congress leaders, who display equal profligacy. Or, for that matter, do the electronic media debate the source of the BJP’s overflowing electoral war chest?
Corporate pressures
It is easy to predict that the unequal treatment of politicians and parties will define the media coverage of the Bihar assembly elections, due around October. No doubt, the richer the party the greater leverage it has with the media, which hopes to corner a slice of its advertising campaign. The one who pays, we all know, plays the piper.
But it is also about the caste-class composition of the Indian media, which, to a large extent, remains the preserve of upper castes and urban middle class. It’s from this segment the Indian state recruits it managers, who define what national interest and progress is – and which policies are best suited to realise these twin goals. This is why we haven’t read many stories on how the AAP government’s decision to reduce the power and water rates has benefited residents, even though the mood in Delhi slums is celebratory.
From this segment, too, come the sharpest critics of the Indian state, activists and journalists alike. But for a few exceptions, their voices are drowned out. The bigger the newspaper the less empathetic it has been to the freezing of the bank account of, say, Greenpeace, which might have to down its shutters.
Blame all this on the control of the media by corporate interests, exercised either indirectly through the revenues they contribute to owners of TV channels and newspapers or through direct ownership. In return for financing political parties, these corporate giants attempt to have policies framed to benefit them.
Their interference in the media’s functioning can be brazenly biased. For instance, in January, AAP spokesperson Raghav Chadha was told to leave the CNN-IBN studio five minutes before a TV debate was to go on air. The guest coordinator of the channel told him: “The boss said, you can’t have AAP.”
If the Indian media is deemed a handmaiden of the state in Nepal, it is the greenhouse in which corporate interests bloom at home. If it is revoltingly patronising in the Himalayan state, it is downright condescending of leaders of unwashed masses. Perhaps the nation is ready for the hashtag#indianmediacometosenses.
Ajaz Ashraf is a journalist from Delhi. His novel, The Hour Before Dawn, published by HarperCollins, is available in bookstores.
