Minions Could Have Sportingly Leaked Portfolios In A
Carnival of Democracy
Saeed
Naqvi
The great TV
anchors, God’s gift to Indian journalism, who have been Prime Minister Narendra
Modi’s shrill town criers these past five years, looked sheepish covering the
spectacular swearing in ceremony at the forecourt of the Rashtrapati Bhavan. These
media stars from the loyalist school of journalism kept state secrets so deep
in their hearts that they revealed not one portfolio, not even the time when
the portfolios would be announced. There is an Arab saying: he knows not and
knows not that he knows is a fool to be avoided.
It would ofcourse
be a matter of concern to the profession that after five years of supplication,
short of Shashtang, the anchors and their cohorts did not have a hint on
government formation. There is a simple lesson for the anchors: a supine media
does not invite the state’s respect. Why would the state take into confidence
those who are at its pleasure?
It was brave
of the pundits whom the anchors had assembled to keep up the pretense of being
in the loop. Some of the pundits who looked particularly distraught for having
made no contribution to the discussions, leapt with excitement when a lady in a
dark sari strode towards the lectern. “Sadhvi Niranjan Jyoti” one exclaimed. “The
Sadhvi of the haramzada fame” added his neighbour helpfully. In the midst of
solemnity, this struck a discordant note. The anchor could have explained that
the Sadhvi while trying to rhyme Ram Zada with Haram Zada, had quite
inadvertently ended up describing Muslims as “bastards”.
The manner in
which the cabinet cards were held close to the chest reveals two things: the
government’s singular lack of rapport with the media. The lack of transparency in
government formation would have been understandable if the Prime Minister had
to juggle and balance multiple coalition partners. He has a brute majority and
the allies who are part of the NDA are in no position to dictate terms. Actually,
it is his absolute dispensability in the present establishment that is the
source of Nitish Kumar’s infuriation. It was this pique that caused him to
demand more than one seat in the cabinet. We shall see more of his craft in
days to come.
Too clever by
half, he had got into the game with a singular plan: for the BJP to need him in
a split verdict. He would then have made a statement about the lack of a clear
verdict. That would have freed him to play the field to further his soaring ambitions.
How does he now get out of the situation of being in the NDA’s safe keeping?
Sitting tight
on the cabinet list quite innocuously, what signal is Modi sending to his
cabinet, party, media, indeed the country? That he runs a tight ship? But we
know that.
In the
ultimate analysis the message is loud and clear: Information is power and this
power, like all the others, is held by Modi and Modi alone. Remember his pitch
during the campaign: wherever you press the flower button, “the vote will come
to Modi” (pointing his finger at himself).
Information as
power for a leader or a party is one thing. But when the power to shape the
minds of the Indian ruling elites on International affairs is placed
exclusively in the hands of external agencies and news sources, surely the
Prime Minister’s idea of nationalism is in danger of being bruised. The sellout,
which happened during Congress rule, can surely be discontinued now. Pardon the
digression.
The
multiplicity of the media and its rapid expansion to accommodate the post
liberalization advertising, altered the state-media equation. This happened in
the 90s. But relations between the media and the state were so vitiated much
earlier by Indira Gandhi’s Emergency that these relations could never be truly composed.
A section of the media compromised with the regime imagining the emergency
would last. But much the larger section fought Indira Gandhi tooth and nail. Journalists
in the latter category, altered the basic terms of endearment. In a classical
framework, the independent media was expected to have an “adversarial” attitude
towards the government. But the fierce antipathy generated during the emergency
caused a simple replacement of the term “adversarial” by “oppositional”.
The feisty publisher
of the Indian Express, Ramnath Goenka who had staked his newspaper Empire
fighting Indira Gandhi, sought to make peace with her when she returned to
power in 1980. Alarmed at this turn, Romesh Thapar and other champions of civil
liberties pleaded with RNG. “You and Arun Shourie have been a two-man
opposition to Mrs. Gandhi.” They implored him to keep up the struggle. RNG’s
response was pithy: a newspaper cannot function like an opposition party.
Indian journalism,
accustomed to a Congress culture since 1947, had to cope with something
radically different since 2014. Atal Behari Vajpayee was an interregnum of an
unexpected order. He was the best Prime Minister the Congress never had.
The fawning media
is, ofcourse, a function of crony capitalism. The media is a secondary
investment by business houses which they place at the disposal of the state in
order to buy favours for their principal businesses. The alternative media,
manned by journalists of caliber, are on subsistence living, their durability
subject to fluctuations. All concerned must have a conversation. Are the
channels and the Information and Broadcasting Minister open to a dialogue?
To be on
talking terms, the sides have to fall back on the classical dictum. “In a
democracy, people elect a government of any hue. The role of the independent
media is to support the people’s choice on an issue by issue basis.” The stance
is not oppositional but adversarial. For example, the media would reserve the
right to tear into the administration whenever vigilantes lynch alleged beef
sellers or young couple who cross lines of caste and community. And, applaud
where applause is due.
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