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September 26, 2000

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Saisuresh Sivaswamy

Truth or dare...

At the best of times it is not easy for the media to go about doing its job in a free and fair manner, given officialdom's predilection to serve as the bushel to a lamp, but it sure hurts when on the few occasions when the media faithfully reproduces what has been said by, say, the prime minister in full view of an assortment of video cameras, tape recorders and sundry such accoutrements, the media gets treated like how a dog treats the lamppost.

The prime minister's reaction, attitude, disclaimer whatever to his Swayamsevak bloomer, is also typical of the politician's attitude towards the media, which oscillates depending on whether the worthy is on the treasury benches or on the other side. If the latter, then of course the Fourth Estate is his bosom pal as he goes about unearthing muck which he hopes to stick on those individuals he hopes to replace.

The media-man's task, of course, is unenviable. With the establishment treating him as a purveyor of HIV or worse, his access to official indiscretions, of which there are plenty, is through malcontents in the ruling party and/or aspirants for power in the opposing camp.

Thus, what does one publish, and what one doesn't, is purely a judgement call; the tragedy being that such judgement is exercised only by scribes, not their interlocutors. Thus, a Swamy can aver to journalists, 'Print it I say, he took the Bofors money, I am telling you, I know, print his name' even while refusing to go on record with such revelations. Or, the man who milked the scandal the most can disclose his political rival's Swiss bank account number at a public meeting and later deny having made the statement. There is a Press Council of India where you can drag errant scribes, but where do you haul politicians who habitually gargle with their Guccis?

Given that there's unilateral application of Queensberry rules, some journos have gone in for a level playing field by discarding them altogether. Thus, Pritish Nandy may find it normal to go on air with what a federal minister tells him under the impression that the camera is off, but that's not something that's become the norm for the media.

If it was, Kitty Kumaramangalam's interview to rediff.com for instance, in which she made intemperate comments about the way her husband's illness had been diagnosed, would not have incorporated the changes she wanted after having second thoughts, despite her original conversation being on tape and thus incontrovertible.

When does a journalist stop being one? One of the characteristics of the profession is that one's antenna is always up, regardless of the situation, place, time, etc. Since to most people it remains an arcane profession, the novelty of meeting the face behind the byline blinds them to the reality.

Once long ago, while a friend had come over for lunch, he took a phone call from his factory. The multinational where he was employed as factory manager was about to come out with a popular brand, and the phone call informed him of a minor disaster in the plant. Ammonia had leaked, but the situation had been controlled, my friend merely being given a status report.

Since the conversation about ammonia etc took place in my presence, I quizzed him about it and had the full details. The next day, I promptly put a reporter after the story, who stormed into the general manager's cabin without an appointment. The details she had on her made the GM call my friend on the intercom and ask if he knew any journalist. Yes, said my innocent friend, why, I was at lunch at his place yesterday when the factory called...

I took his phone call minutes later, in which he begged to call off the reporter, his job was on the line otherwise. 'I spoke to you as a friend, not journalist...' Naturally, the report never got written.

But that incident wisened me up. Now, when any of my friends tell me anything even remotely newsy, I ask them right away if they realise they are talking to a journalist... There is a potential story here if you don't mind it coming out. And discover that when faced with openness, most people open up.

It still doesn't prepare you for the twists in the tale. Like it happened years ago when the newspaper I was working for received an anonymous tip-off from the student of the country's premier educational institution. The letter said one of the students, who made it to the institute on a scheduled caste quota, was in reality a brahmin. His upanayanam ceremony had been attended by many students, and there were photographs of the same making the rounds in the college...

Even to the dim-witted this was a damn good metro story. I promptly despatched our newsiest reporter to the campus with instructions to speak to the student concerned without fail -- covering one's backside is what we call it in the newsroom. The reporter made it back to the office in the evening with the story, spoken to eye-witnesses of the thread ceremony, had details of his admission from the institute etc, but not the version from the student since he had gone home for the weekend. Let us hold back the report till we get him, we are dealing with someone's future, was the consensus in the newsroom. And off the reporter went, to trace the student's parents.

The next day, during the course of the hectic day, I noticed a nondescript couple hanging around, and generally inquired who they were. No one knew, except that they were waiting to talk to me, about what they wouldn't disclose to anyone. More out of pity than curiosity, I called them in.

They were the parents of the student who we had been trying to contact. Scheduled caste father, brahmin mother, theirs was a love marriage. The son has been registered as a scheduled caste. Among us three in the cabin, I think it was the mother who broke down first. 'What is wrong with my son having an upanayanam, where does the law say a mother gives up her right to her son on marriage? I am a Hindu, my husband is a Hindu. Of course, my son made it to the college on SC quota, so what?... We were driven out by both communities when we married each other, we were stigmatised, now do you want our son to go relive our trauma? You can have your report, but please realise the damage it will be doing to all our lives...' is the abbreviated version of how it went.

Thus it was that another very good report did not make it to the newspapers.

Saying all this is not to say, oh see how noble, caring, blah-blah the profession or journalists are. Every publication has its 'killed' stories to tell, as does every journalist. In fact, the stories that don't see the light of the day are far more interesting than the ones that you get to read finally.

The point in talking about the few incidents that I have come across, is to demonstrate that journalists are not this bunch of untrustworthy, unreliable, callous bunch of buccaneers for whom cooking up stories, quotes, reactions is all part of the day's work. Of course there are a few who fit the bill, but they would be minuscule in number. But when someone no less than the prime minister talks about being misquoted by the media in broad daylight, it's probably time to wonder if the lie, thanks to ad nauseam repetition, has become the truth.

Saisuresh Sivaswamy

Mail Saisuresh Sivaswamy
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