Sunday, December 08, 2013
The Hindu, Sunday Magazine, December 8, 2013
We have also watched the game of competitive politics muddying an issue that should have remained firmly focused on issues of gender. Instead, helped largely by some sections of the media, it has deteriorated into a slanging match, of a kind that is all too familiar in this election season.
Amid all the heat and noise generated, what did we forget? Plenty. For one, we forgot that the issue was violence against women. We forgot, that it is not just these two women but thousands like them who can never speak up because the predators are in their homes, in their neighbourhoods, men they know and even trust. And we in the media forgot that going for the overkill on one case will do nothing to educate our readers and viewers about the reality of sexual violence that women confront.
In the midst of all this madness, it was a relief and inspiring to listen to a voice of sanity. To a woman who can tell you something about the insanity of living daily under the cloud of violence. About the ability of women to work around this state of madness. And about how, despite life’s grimness, you can have a sense of humour.
The woman I refer to is the remarkable Palestinian writer and architect, Suad Amiry. She was in India at the end of last month to release her new book, Golda slept here (published by Women Unlimited).
Amiry is an architect. Her organisation, Riwaq, has done amazing work in restoring and conserving heritage buildings in Palestine. These structures have been restored to create spaces for the local community who live in a perpetual state of siege. Riwaq has created over one hundred such “spaces for change”, as she calls them.
When you listen to Amiry, you get a new perspective on survival, on how to deal with adversity, on how to make people laugh even though what you narrate is heart-wrenchingly tragic.
Born in Damascus to a Syrian mother and Palestinian father, Amiry chose to make her home in Ramallah, on the West Bank. And in addition to her work as a restoration architect, she began to write about living in Palestine where, as she says, you have to forget about logic because “nothing makes sense”. Amiry says she also realised that Palestinians speak about their collective loss but hardly ever about personal loss. Her latest book records the stories of Palestinians who had owned and lived in beautiful homes in Jerusalem but who, like other Palestinians, were turned into refugees overnight in 1948 when Jerusalem was divided. Some of them moved to East Jerusalem, others further, to other cities, other countries.
In 1967, when the Israelis occupied East Jerusalem and made it, once again, one city, many of these Palestinians thought they would be entitled to recover their properties. Instead, they found their homes occupied by Israeli families. What hurt the most was that these families had no idea of the past, of the people who had designed and built these beautiful homes, who had lived in them for generations, and who had to abandon them not out of choice but because of the force of circumstances. As if that was not enough, under Israeli law, these Palestinian home owners were considered “absentee” landlords and therefore had no rights over their own property.
Of course, these stories are familiar from the Partition between India and Pakistan and in other parts of the world where forceful displacements of people have taken place. But the poignancy of the stories that Amiry recounts in her book are special because these are people who now live in the same city, they are not “absent” and yet the law will not acknowledge their presence. As architect Andoni Baramki, who built many beautiful buildings in Jerusalem tells the judge hearing his case for repossession of his home, “Sir, the Palestinians are ‘absentees’ only because you do not allow them to be present. And those of us who are present are considered absent. We can never win.”
Indeed, nothing makes sense in Palestine. Except the lives of those who survive, who “lost the pillars for a sane life, a profound foundation called HOME,” as Amiry puts it. Yet who continue to fight and to hope. They have much to teach us.
(To read the original, click here.)
Sunday, November 24, 2013
The incident reflects on the state of the Indian media as a whole and its attitude towards sexual harassment at the workplace and how it is to be handled, writes KALPANA SHARMA.
PIX: Tarun Tejpal
Posted/Updated Friday, Nov 22 17:26:10, 2013
The issue is Tehelka, and it is not. It is Tehelka because in the charge of sexual assault brought by a magazine staffer against the editor, Tarun Tejpal, the name of the magazine he founded and nurtured cannot be avoided. Thus even though the issue is about two individuals, it is also about the way a magazine that has set out to challenge and expose institutions, functions internally. The response of Tejpal and Shoma Chaudhary, the managing editor of the magazine to what the latter has inappropriately termed “an untoward incident” tells a story that reflects on the values the magazine purports to support.
On the other hand, the issue is not only about Tehelka. It reflects on the state of the Indian media as a whole and its attitude towards sexual harassment at the workplace and how it is to be handled.
But let us look at several issues that the Tejpal episode raises. The incident that the staffer has detailed in her email to Tehelka managing editor Shoma Choudhary took place in Goa during the Think festival that the magazine organises each year. The staffer was given duties, such as looking after one of the foreign guests (duties that normally would fall outside the remit of a journalist, but we are told that Tehelka editorial staff have no choice in the matter). In other words, she was on work even if, technically speaking, the location was not her workplace. As such, the equation between her and Tejpal was unequal, with the former being an employee and the latter her boss. In classic cases of sexual harassment, it is precisely this kind of unequal power situation that comes into play.
Second, is one of attitude. This comes out in the messages that Tejpal allegedly sent to the woman after the two occasions when he assaulted her. In these messages he wanted her to agree that all this was just “banter”. The dictionary meaning of “banter” is “the playful friendly exchange of teasing remarks”. Forcing yourself on a woman is not “banter” by any stretch of the imagination. Yet the very fact that this is how he perceived it reveals the attitude of many men who think nothing of doing the same or similar things to the women with whom they work.
Third, we come to impunity. In his email to Choudhary, where he seeks “atonement” and wants to “recuse” himself from editorship for six months (why six and not 10, or 12 or any other number?), you sense a confidence that this is something that can be dealt with if you move quickly and are slick about it. So before the storm could break (and if you looked at social media on Thursday, it was nothing less than that), Tejpal sent off his infamous email. And Choudhary accepted his apology with alacrity, virtually dismissing the seriousness of the crime by calling it an “untoward incident” while Tejpal referred to it as “an error of judgment”. We can quibble about the two letters but what is evident is that both are brazenly ignoring the established law in this country.
According to the earlier Visakha guidelines on sexual harassment, formulated by the Supreme Court in 1997, and the recent Sexual Harassment at the Workplace (Prevention, Prohibition, and Redressal) Act, 2013, it is mandatory for institutions to have Internal Inquiry Committees consisting of representatives of the employer and employees and at least one outside member who knows the law and is familiar with incidents involving sexual harassment. It is also mandated that half the members of the committee must be women.
Tehelka did not have such a committee in place (although it has now gone about setting it up). There was no inquiry held. And yet both the editor and the managing editor saw nothing wrong in unilaterally deciding that an apology and the editor “recusing” himself for six months was an adequate response to the very serious charge of sexual assault. In her mail to Choudhary, the woman had, in fact, explicitly asked for an inquiry.
These three aspects speak poorly not just of the individuals involved, or the publication, but also of the media as a whole. Tehelka is not an exception in its cavalier approach towards the crime of sexual harassment. We in the media point our fingers at every conceivable institution in this country and think it well within our rights to question and expose their shortcomings. Yet, how many media houses have complied with the Sexual Harassment Act and set up inquiry committees as required by this law? If a survey were to be conducted today, it is more than likely that less than a handful would have done so. For an institution that is constantly claiming the high moral ground, this lackadaisical attitude towards something that is not just mandated by law but is essential for the safety and well-being of the growing number of women in the media is unacceptable.
Another aspect that has emerged, yet again, is the power and the downside of social media. In a few hours, not only were the two letters of Tejpal and Choudhary circulating widely but also the confidential email sent by the Tehelka staffer to Choudhary. As Reetika Subramanian points out in her blog posting on the feminist blog Ultra Violet:
“Amidst the hordes of tweets and other posts on social media, another disturbing aspect that came to the fore was the brazen voyeurism of the masses. The Twitterati also christened themselves as the messiahs for justice.
“Bits and pieces from the confidential e-mail sent out by the victim made its way to social media websites. Within minutes, intimate details about the grave nature of the ‘unfortunate incident’ were analysed, re-analysed, tweeted and re-tweeted.
“The words ‘penetration’ and ‘disrobing’ invited the wrath of several tweeple. Conversations on the World Wide Web were spent on finding aspects to identify the ‘victim’ without naming her. Thus, with every minute passing by and every new notification, the seriousness of the offence was duly replaced with the need for more intimate details.
“Under the guise of disseminating ‘justice’ and backing the ‘victim’, there were aspersions cast against Tejpal’s twenty-something daughter. Eventually, she succumbed to the pressure and according to news reports, was compelled to delete her Twitter account.
“In this cacophony, I fear that this ‘unfortunate incident’ i.e. an act of ‘sexual harassment’ will be eclipsed by hypocrisy, voyeurism and the unending need to dispense justice in 140 characters.”
From the above it is evident that like mainstream media, social media too is being used to give out salacious details about sexual crimes rather than finding ways to deal with them. In the last one year, despite the discussions around rape coverage that ensued following the December 16, 2012 gang-rape in Delhi, we have seen how much of mainstream media still continues to skirt dangerously close to giving hints about the raped woman’s identity as also giving unnecesary details about the actual crime. This serves no other purpose except satisfying readers who follow all such crime reports as if they were serialised crime fiction stories.
Above all, this episode reminds us yet again that the media is far from exemplary when it comes to covering crimes against women or to dealing with sexual harassment in the workplace. This would be as good a time as any to turn the searchlight inwards for both media institutions and social media users.
(To read the original, click here.)
This column was written two days before the Tarun Tejpal issue broke and took over all discussion on sexual assault and harassment. To read what I wrote after it, look at the next post, my column on The Hoot website.
The Hindu, Sunday Magazine, November 24, 2013
Let us talk about sexual harassment. It is an uncomfortable subject. No one wants to talk about it. Yet every woman in a mixed workplace knows that this is a daily hazard; one that she has to learn to negotiate. Sometimes, it goes beyond being tolerable. And that is when women protest, they speak out, they report the crime.
The Hindu, Sunday Magazine, November 24, 2013
What happens then? In most cases, it is the woman who is questioned. Is she reading too much into an innocent gesture or remark? Is she being vindictive? After all, no real harm was done (meaning, she was not sexually assaulted or raped). So why raise a hue and cry, she is always asked.
As for the perpetrator, there are many who will give him a character certificate. No one can believe that a person of such sterling character can do such a thing. So, they conclude, it is the woman’s fault. Either she is making it up, or she “invited” this unwanted attention.
This uncomfortable subject has once again become a talking point after a young woman law graduate accused a retired Supreme Court judge, under whom she interned, of sexual harassment. The incident took place last December in Delhi, ironically at a time when everyone was incensed with the brutal gang rape of a 23-year-old woman in the same city. Why is this case more important than other cases of sexual harassment?
First, the charge is against a Supreme Court judge, even if he has retired since the incident. Another intern, similarly placed, wrote the following on a social networking site: “The funny part is, it was very likely that I would have been the person in SJ’s place. I’ve been at the receiving end of unsolicited sexual advance more than once, and so has she (SJ). And we kept attributing all the signs of leeriness to our hypersensitivity to such situations, mistrusting our instincts. We discussed innocuously said off-colour remarks and dismissed their creepiness because we really respected him (the judge), and the possibility seemed at odds with everything we knew about him, his ideas about feminism, patriarchy, social justice...” These remarks illustrate what most women think when confronted with such a situation.
Secondly, it highlights the casual attitude towards sexual harassment that prevails. In the hierarchy of violence against women, sexual harassment is placed very low. As a result, even institutions like our courts have not paid cognisance to the very rules that they have instituted. We must remember that it was the apex court that passed what are known as the Vishakha guidelines on sexual harassment in the workplace in 1997. It was this initial intervention by the apex court that paved the way for the passage of the Sexual Harassment of Women at Workplace (Prevention, Prohibition and Redressal) Act, 2013, earlier this year. Now by law, it is mandatory that committees be constituted to hear sexual harassment complaints in all establishments, including the courts.
While the Supreme Court has responded to the complaint by setting up a three-judge committee to look into it, this does not, as Additional Solicitor General of India, Indira Jaising, pointed out in a magazine article, conform with the provisions of the sexual harassment law. According to the law, a committee investigating a charge of sexual harassment must include an outsider. The three-member committee consists of judges.
Of course, we cannot single out the courts on this issue. If a survey were done of institutions across the country that have not followed the provisions of this law, the list would be long. Among others, it would include most media houses.
At a time when there is an increasing focus on violence against women in the public space, it is essential to realise that sexual harassment at the workplace is also another kind of violence. It might not always lead to physical harm. But it destroys a woman’s sense of self. Women who speak out against sexual harassment are rarely believed. Quite often, their colleagues turn on them, blaming them for unnecessarily rocking the boat. In the ultra-competitive environment in which most professionals have to work, no one wants to rock the boat. Thus, for every complaint that comes out in the open, there would be dozens that never see the light of day.
Both women and men will begin to have faith in the law if the upholders of the law demonstrate their own commitment to it. This is why this particular case has a wider significance.
(To read the original, click here.)