Make the Media Sane Again
“Thank You Dr. Yechury, that concludes the debate. Thank You all for joining us this evening and please join me in thanking both participants.”, said the young British moderator conducting a debate at the great hall with fine brown wooden walls at the Oxford Union.
I had almost forgotten about a debate like this. Both Jay Panda of the BJP and Sitaram Yechury of the CPI(M) behaved the way politicians used to on television debates back in the day. Oxford conducts the same kind of debates Indian news channels did in the 1980s and the 1990s. But the important thing to notice is that all depends on how the moderator conducts it. That is it, pretty much. Eureka! “Ahh!”, I cried out instead. My fractured leg and troubling spine gave me the eureka instead. Lying in a hospital bed wearing the traditional blue uniform that you would imagine, I was watching the Oxford Union debate on my phone. A white plaster with numerous ‘Get well soon’ messages in fabulous handwriting is not very pleasing to stare at the whole day, and a bunch of yellow flowers along with a big bottle of hand sanitiser does not make a hospital room Shangri-La, I suppose. It will be time for my painkillers soon, they help, trust me they do! Also, the drug sends me sort of in a trance with good dreams.
“Arrey Satyam, you still up?”, said Kartik entering the room with more flowers.
To which I annoyingly said, “Bhai (Brother), get me some lottery scratch cards instead, how many flowers will fill up this room?”
“Haha, stop wasting your money, just because you are not married does not mean you can waste money on whatever you like.”
Kartik was a friend from Oxford. We studied journalism and literature together and came back to India in 1989. He went on to become the famous reporter that he is today and I chose to handle the camera and editing for him. We are a famous duo you know, his wife sometimes doubts our relationship.
“Ahh, your nurse is here. Miss! please give him a strong dose, don’t let him wake up till late evening.”, Kartik’s advised the nurse to which she smiled.
‘This nurse is prettier than my last girlfriend’, I thought to myself as she took a syringe and injected something into my bloodstream. ‘And less painful as well’.
I smiled and said to Kartik, “Yaar the nurse is just as beautiful as we see in the movies.” Kartik glared and nodded disapprovingly.
“Well I hope the Ayodhya verdict is received with peace in the country”, Kartik brought back the conversation.
“Haan, we started off with this thing; funny our entire careers were shaped by this thing, and we still have it as an integral part of our reporting”, I joyfully reminded.
“Yaar, bas I need the result of this case. Way too much drama.”
“Its okay man, don’t get agitated. We’ll discuss it in full detail.”
“Naa Satyam naa. Not going to discuss this at all!”, said Kartik slamming his wallet on the table.
Kartik’s tone has changed in thirty years from, “This is the most exciting project to work on”, to “Bas”.
Funny how time has changed the attitude of my friend who was insanely liberal and open to any discussion.
“And once the result comes out, Ravi will have a long discussion with me, no matter what, he will go on and on about any part of the judgment. He just has to annoy me and constantly invade the argument….”. As Kartik ranted about our friend Ravi, the painkiller had started to kick in… I could feel my eyes shutting and Kartik’s words were almost illusionary. But I was awake, well, more like dazed and half awake, thinking of how civilised the debate was and how people have become impatient like Kartik.
In my mind’s labyrinth, I am transported back to that quaint morning. Ayodhya, 1989. Two strangers walking to get some air … on our first day in the city could see people in uniforms. Never had this twenty-two-year-old journalist and his cameraman seen such a city in their lives… chaos in the air with visible calm, temple bells ringing at regular intervals, bright flowers on plates at every shop and every home… and the uniform… a sea of saffron. Wait, what did you think? I see. You imagined the Defence forces’ camouflage! Well, the word uniform is not a misnomer. Don’t get me wrong, it’s just that I was a twenty-year-old who had never seen such a sight in my life. Saffron robes everywhere! Amazing! But why was I there? Well, unofficially, to meet our old friend Ravi, who had recently moved to Ayodhya and officially, because Kartik and I were covering the Ram Janmabhoomi movement in which apparently Ravi was also involved. There he was, standing at the flower shop wearing his favourite brown trousers and white shirt. I should have got him some fashion advice at least.
“Hey, Ravi!”, Kartik screamed across the street.
“Arrey Kartik… Satyam”, he called out in haste, “come fast! We will start the aarti and then go to the gathering.”
The gathering he was talking about was organised by groups which were at the forefront of the movement to build a Ram Temple on the site of the Babri Mosque. I did not know much about either the temple or the mosque.
“So we are going to listen to some Saffron clad sadhu lecture us on history?”, Kartik asked.
“I wish the saffron clads were kept in the background, the others are much better to head the movement.”, Ravi replied.
Ravi was a very sane man and always believed in some good debate and dialogue with reason, and ever after his son was born last month he has started to listen even more. Fatherhood does make you polite, it seems!
After listening to the sage for about two hours rant on how the temple is a matter of pride and should be built on the site of the mosque, I started wondering how will they do it? Will they build next to it, or convert the mosque into a temple? Seemed a bit strange and I had absolutely no idea about this as I looked towards Ravi who was clapping in awe to the speech. We let him enjoy his moment.
Going back to his home I wondered what reason does Ravi have to participate in this. As we sat down on his small sofa in his living room Kartik asked him, “Ravi, why is it important to build a Ram Temple on that site?”.
I usually preferred to be the silent spectator to people’s conversation. With an endless dialogue playing in my head, I watched others debate; peaceful coexistence you see.
“It’s sacred to the Hindus, it was the birthplace of Lord Ram, there should be a temple there.”
“It might be the birthplace of Lord Ram but is it really necessary to build it right there? I mean there are lots of land available elsewhere in Ayodhya”, reasoned Kartik.
Ravi sighed, “See Kartik, you as someone who has studied at Oxford might not understand this, let me explain. Every religion has their beliefs and it should be respected, unfortunately in our case we had certain rulers who came from outside and destroyed a lot of our heritage and culture specially monuments, one of them was this temple and I think its a matter of self respect for the community to have this done once and for all, even Sardar Patel restored Somnath”
“And said no to Ayodhya”, Kartik rebutted quickly.
To which Ravi recoiled, “He did not say no, he said through mutual agreements or a ruling of the court.”
He knew his facts I will give him that. Nobody cares about the cameraman, I was recording the street shops, the most fun thing in small towns! You see white jalebi paste turn orange and juicy, while the man sitting at the kirana yells out to the little boy for some change… he runs to the paan shop where the bhaiya is constantly rubbing the beetle leaves. The only difference in the streets of Ayodhya is that the shops are filled with photographs of Lord Ram and dotted with flower sellers and those who sell saamagri for Pooja.
Even as I soaked in the smell of the city, Kartik was relentless. “But history is history, we should not undo it, otherwise it will create some serious repercussions, and as you said let the courts decide, why need a movement?”
Ravi calmly responded, “The court will give its judgement, our job and right is to have a peaceful movement and inform people. Even you did not know of this before the movement.”
“How can you build something on an already existing monument, you can’t destroy it!”, the concern in Kartik’s voice was evident.
“Why would you destroy it? Aren’t you educated enough to know right and wrong? The mosque can be shifted to another place. It is possible as per the Archeological Survey of India, and that is what is there in the manifesto of the party: respectfully shift the mosque to another place and build a Ram Temple at the site… God, Kartik! Be patient and read more, please will you!?”
“Build one at Kashi and Mathura also, if the community is so hurt and has so much sentiment involved”, the sarcasm in Kartik’s tone had started to build up. It was time to hide ourselves.
“Kashi and Mathura already have the new temples, so no need to interfere there”
“What if the courts rule in the favour of the mosque?”, Kartik smiled wryly.
Ravi knew Kartik was trying to agitate him. He stared at me for a moment with the most amazing smile, eyebrow raised, and replied while looking into the camera, “Well then tough luck for us, law is the law, we’ll still build it in Ayodhya at some place for sure. Hindus won’t back out this time.”
All three of us laughed and I just wondered, what an amazing conversation on something so sensitive and so controversial. My friends at Oxford would never believe this, and the surprising thing was that almost everyone you would talk to was this calm and reasonable, except for may be the leaders of the movement who were way too fiery.
For months we would have the same debate almost everyday and we would go with Ravi to every meeting possible to get all information for reporting, and to understand the movement. People would happily cooperate and give me details which I would not have expected. I usually opened my mouth for ordering and eating food. Not much debating skills.
Sitting at Ravi’s home one day, we were watching the news on the 1991 election results. The Congress had a massive lead, redeeming themselves after the whitewash in 1989; the strange thing was that the BJP had increased its tally. This Ram Janmabhoomi thing worked out then?
It was Prannoy Roy of the NDTV. NDTV back then provided news services to Doordarshan and then to Star News after a few years. We worked for him. On the panel that night he had LK Advani, Dr. Subramanian Swamy, Arjun Singh and Ram Vilas Paswan. All debating the election results in 1991. The all new DD studio, blurry lights, low quality plastic stage. That is what brings us to work every single day.
“Do you think that the Ram Janmabhoomi movement has not materialised as expected by the BJP, and people have rejected the party?”, asked Dr. Roy in the most calm manner possible.
“I don’t think so. BJP is still popular, we lost the election due to some reason for which we have not done any analysis as of now. Give us time and we will bounce back.”
“But your party is being termed as communal.”
“I would reject that claim, I have said repeatedly that the disputed structure is something we will not touch. I think the engineers have the technology to move it somewhere else, the communal tag is something our party rejects. Our fight is against the pseudo-seculars.”
“Are you satisfied with Mr. Advani’s answer, Mr. Singh?”, asked Dr. Roy.
The debate continued for a long time, each person putting forth his own point and asking pointed questions.
“Dr. Swamy, your party has pretty much been wiped out, and it seems you will go out of power. Do you think your Prime Minster Chandrashekhar failed in delivering his message”
“Well, first of all, we lost because of a sympathy wave in the favour of the Congress due to the assassination of Rajiv….”
“Hey Satyam! Hey! I’m leaving, will see you in an hour.”, Kartik woke me up from my slumber.
“Haan theek hai (Alright), bring some home made achaar if you can”, I said in a squeaky voice.
“Achaar (Pickle) you want??!!? Bones are broken and achaar chahiye inko! (He wants pickle)”
Boy was I high, I went into a flashback. Quite a good painkiller and a good flashback. I still remember that 1991 election debate like it was yesterday. I took the remote and turned on the TV to wake myself up. On comes ABP News, and some voice shouted, “Aap samajh nahi rahe hain, you don’t understand, the Hindu of this country will not sit quietly now, we have to protect ourselves otherwise we will become a minority!”.
God, the shouting! How does one watch news anymore.
Five people raising their fingers and shouting at the same time. “Sinha Ji, bataiye (Sinha Ji tell us), reply to the concern that Hindus are in danger”, the news anchor goes on to turn up the heat.
How many people are there in this debate? Ek, do, teen (One, Two, Three)…I started counting the picture in picture frames, dear lord! Eight people!!
Turn this damn thing off! I was feeling sleepy again, the shouting took me back to the 1991 elections and reminded me of politicians of a different era. Across party lines we had such great men (well, minus the corruption). They had space for each others thoughts and comments. The language really mattered, every word spoken was serious, unlike today. We see people using words without understanding what it means.
Reminds me of a speech Atal ji gave in absolute anger back in the parliament in 1999. Sonia Gandhi had given a statement the NDA government had betrayed the mandate of the people. We listen every neta giving this statement today. The mandate is betrayed every single day even when the political parties are not in power.
Atal ji came heavily for the use of such language. People today might think what is wrong in it, it has become that common in our world. But back in the day it mattered.
‘Let me watch that video again’, I thought to myself. As I watched the video, I was carefully analysing the language. The man was angry for the use of phrases like ‘The government is incompetent’, which are today so common.
“Ye lo apna achaar (Here are your pickles)”, Kartik barged into the room.
“Arrey! itni jaldi (That quick) you came back?”
“Haan, not much work today.”
“Yaar Kartik, I was just thinking how much the media has changed over the years”
“Haan, look at the technology and the analytics. The kind of studios..”
“Arrey not that!”, I interrupted him while he looked at me puzzled.
“Then?”
“I was just watching this speech of Mr. Vajpayee in the Lok Sabha. Remember the time when he got angry at Sonia Gandhi? The one where she spoke about how the NDA government was insensitive, incompetent, wagarah wagarah.”
“Haan haan, faaltu mein (No reason) Atal ji was getting angry”
“See that is what I am talking about, we have normalised these words. These words and phrases were never used to the extent they are today. They have lost their impact because of such usage.”
“Meaning?”, Kartik made a face as if I was taking his IQ test.
“I mean, Atal ji was angry because these words were never used in such a callous manner, they had impact. Look at our TV debates they have from quiet discussions in the studio to shouting matches”
“The world has changed Kartik, technology has come in. We can fit in more people in the debate through video, so we have to bring them in”
“Haan but it leads to only quarrels na, the topic of the debate is lost somewhere in the fight. And it just becomes knee jerk reactions.”
“Yaar, listen I can’t really change it. That is the norm which we have to follow, else people don’t watch news”
“Who has decided that, our attitude in the media has made society gulp this norm down their throats.”, I almost got up till I realised I had a fracture.
“Are you saying that politicians have not made vile comments? Should we not debate the hideous comments these people make across party lines?”, Kartik countered.
“That does not mean we create a ping-pong shouting match! On the contrary, the person with the hideous comment gets away, because the debate comes down to personal attack and jumla. If we go back to the old ways, it would be a sane debate with people sitting in front of each other and answering the question we pose to them. Even the anchors have lost their skill of moderating properly!”
Kartik stared at me with a near angry and upset look on his face.
“Arrey matlab, not you. You are still better and have not given up much of the old ways.”, I covered up somehow and somewhat.
“Yaar, I think debates on the news are hardly paid attention to.”, said Kartik.
“What are you saying? People take reference from these debates and discuss politics at home and dinner parties. Have you seen Arnab now? Do you remember when he worked with us? How calm he was, so was Rajdeep. Well, he still is to a large extent, although he too gets agitated from time to time. The only difference is that he does not shout, but his style has changed and not for the good. Clearly media people need to take responsibility.”
“Yaar if you closely watch Arnab, he only shouts in the debates, not in interviews. It is a matter of format.”
“Hmm, maybe, it is the problem of the format! And also, this is another problem, when you start justifying like this. We as journalists have become arrogant and we do not realise our mistakes.”
“Suno (Listen), don’t be a lawyer, alright? The industry is doing well and Indian journalism is thriving.”, Kartik tried to shut off the conversation.
I paused for a while with a deep sense of disbelief. I could just remember the last lines in that speech of Mr. Vajpayee.
“Arrey sabhya tarike se ladiye. Is desh ki maryaadao ka dhyaan rakhiye.” (Fight with decency. Keep in mind the dignity of this nation.)
“The media needs to get its act together. We did not realise in our race for viewership, we have been an integral part in ruining the political discourse in this country. Hope some responsible journalist change the format of their prime time”, I said out loud without looking at Kartik.
Kartik walked out. Indeed the media has become arrogant and unfortunately my friend was no different.
Memory is a strange friend. It takes me back to an afternoon when I was lying down at Ravi’s home in Ayodhya enjoying some tea. Ravi barged in with anger and started shouting, “See this is what happens! Every single time the Hindu keeps quiet and tries to reason and this is exactly what happens!”
He was red and his voice was breaking when he was shouting, never had I ever seen him so angry and so vicious. We tried calming him down, offered him water but he shoved it away. I asked him what has happened. “The police open fired on karsevaks in the temple complex without any warning! This is what happens! Peaceful karsevaks and this is what they get! This temple will be created no matter what, it is now a matter of pride!” He stormed off saying he was going to the party office.
Kartik turned on the television to see what was happening and indeed the police had open fired. We thought to give Ravi time to calm down and as we knew he would eventually and reason out the event.
Over the next few days all we would get in reply to what is going on about the movement was, “Ram temple shall be built on the land where the karsevaks died and where that cruel Babar built his masjid. Its time for the Hindus to stand up for their right”
“What right are you talking about? Let the court give its ruling, calm down”, Kartik tried to reason.
“Court jab karega tab karega. Aur pataa nahi woh karenge kya. (Court will do it when it has to. And no one knows what it will do). If it does not, we will, enough is enough! Every religion has their beliefs and it should be respected, unfortunately in our case we had certain rulers who came from outside and destroyed our monuments, and if Hindus don’t get up now, they will be finished!” Ravi sounded like a demagogue who would not engage in any debate; just give a statement and leave.
We knew the circumstances had changed. But the day I knew it was all over was when I saw him dressing up in saffron. It was a message, not just for us but for everyone around him.
Kartik walked in after a while, “Hey man, I am sorry I walked out.”
“Its okay, take out a bit of the achaar in my plate.”, I said in a forgiving tone.
“Abe tere achaar ki..”, Kartik almost forgot his Oxford education.
“You know what? I was just reminiscing a memory. An ugly one actually. Remember the day the disputed structure of the mosque was brought down after which Ravi went absolutely furious?”, I asked hoping he remembers.
“Yeah I do. It changed him forever”, Kartik frowned.
“That is the era what in my mind changed India, where we got divided into camps. And the media fuelled it, the format of the media changed slowly and steadily. Not pointing fingers at anyone, but it changed us dramatically.”
Kartik seemed amazed.
“It went from reasonable debates between senior leaders in a TV studio to a hundred thousand windows within a 32 inch TV with junior netas shouting ‘Baith ja Maulana’, ‘Aap chup rahiye’, ‘How dare you? The nation wants to know!’.”
Kartik gave it a thought, “I agree the objective of analysis and thought is lost a bit. In the shouting for identity, and trying to shut each other up, we have created the TV news into what people said it was 50 years back, an idiot box!”
Wow, it was that easy to convince this man?! I could not believe it. He said ‘a bit’ but at least he acknowledged it.
“We are somewhat responsible but it did not happen overnight.”, Kartik came back to a near justifying mood.
“That is what I said na. It had started. It completely exploded by the starting of the new millennium.”
Kartik nodded, I hoped in agreement and not just for the sake of it.
“Which brings me back to the Oxford Union debate. It reminds me of a line from Richard Attenborough’s movie Gandhi ‘Without British administration this country would be reduced to chaos’ , a Brit administers the debate and our politicians act sane!”, I asserted.
“Did you see the debate?”, Kartik asked.
“Yeah yeah! Took me back to college, man. They haven’t changed a thing, same furniture and all. Let’s take a trip this winter.”, I got excited.
“Yeah, a Brit was needed to put sanity back into our politicians debating about something, seriously?”, Kartik seemed disappointed.
“The moderator of the media is the key to bring back civility in our discussions and flow. The media in its race to create TRPs and sensation exaggerates and presents half facts on both sides to fuel the spokesperson and in turn the followers. Using biased language to support one’s side has become the norm.”, that was me sounding like an intellectual.
“One way is to stop the remote controlling of TV debates. Bring the focus back on discussion and the topic. Bring back the old TV studio debate I guess!”, I could see the old Kartik coming back.
“With the blur lights and low cost stage, with two to three people talking in front of each other. I repeat, low quality stage!”
“You said cost the first time, and quality the second. Keep your language consistent! And take your medicines!”
We smiled and laughed looking at each other. Change begins at home. With that smile on his face I was happy and full of hope that at least one person might try to bring back sanity to the news. And the rest, may be they will follow, only time will tell?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Vardan is a Computer Engineer from Purdue University, currently pursuing the Young India Fellowship at Ashoka University. He is interested in history, politics, impact investing and the venture capital space.
ABOUT THE STORY
In the era of 24 x 7 news channels, all we see is shouting matched during our prime time news slots across channels. In the early days of the television boom in India, the news debates were much more civilised and much more sane. The studio debate was the norm. Overtime, in the race for viewership news channels started to resort to various experiments which included prime time debates with many politicians joining from anywhere across the country. Technology enabled such formats and the format of the debate with all the participants actually being in the studio pretty much stopped. We have seen over the years that most news debates have become knee jerk reaction matches which have overshadowed the importance of exploring an issue. The issues are no longer about the depth, it is more about guilt and how politicians can justify their side of the story.
This story is a conversation between two friends who are journalists. The story tries to differentiate between news in the 1990s during the Ram Janmabhoomi movement, and news in our time today. Having seen the latest Oxford Union debate on the Jammu and Kashmir issue, one friend tries to convince the other about how it is important to go back to the news debate formats prevalent during the 1990s.
