Broken News
Link: https://www.newslaundry.com/2020/03/12/why-the-media-cant-let-delhi-2020-slip-off-its-radar
(Published on March 12, 2020)
(Published on March 12, 2020)
The aim of the carnage was to send out a
message to Muslims that there’s no space for them in the public square. We, as
journalists, can’t afford to miss such a message.
The violence that convulsed North East Delhi in the last week of February might have slipped
off the front pages of newspapers and
disappeared altogether from television news channels. Yet the story about Delhi
2020, as the violence over those days is now being called, is far from over. In
some ways it is just beginning.
Unfortunately, a major weakness of the media in this
country is its unwillingness to follow up on
issues. Only a few dogged reporters persist,
often struggling to get their stories featured in mainstream media.
At such a time, it is gratifying that some digital news platforms,
even those struggling to stay afloat financially, and a few newspapers are
doing detailed reporting from the ground of what exactly happened over those
three days. And the stories are horrifying. This, this, this and this are just a few
such reports. They are important because they inform us about what could
happen in the future. And there’s little doubt
that there is a future for such conflagrations given that there has been no
word of sympathy for those who suffered from the governing party at the Centre.
The most chilling of the recent reports from North East Delhi after the killings ended is the one by Arunabh
Saikia of Scroll titled “‘I coloured my
sword red’: Meet Delhi rioters who say they killed Muslims.” Saikia managed to speak to several men, including one who
boasted about killing three Muslim men. Here’s
an excerpt that gives a flavour of the article:
At around 10 am, Kumar said he
got his first hit. “The Mohammadan was running,” he recalled. “The Hindu public
was chasing him. I was leading the pack.”
“I was the first to catch up
with him, and hit him with my rod on his head,” he continued, his voice turning
shriller and his hands mimicking the strike. “Then he fell down, and the public
pounced on him after that…de dhana dhan dhan.”
The story illustrates why what happened cannot be viewed as an
aberration, a one-off that will not repeat itself. It underlines that such
violence is not the result of one provocative speech, even if the BJP’s
Kapil Mishra has to be held to account for the outright provocation in his
speech of February 23. It tells us that the seeds of such visceral hatred that
can send a man to kill strangers, men he does not know, only because they are “Mohammadan”, were laid
over time. And the fruits of that effort are now evident.
A tangential but important detail in the story is the reporter
acknowledging that these men spoke openly to him because they identified
him as a Hindu by the thread he wore around his wrist.
Should journalists use their religious identity in such situations
to gain access? This is not to say Saikia deliberately wore the thread around
his wrist. But should journalists reveal their affiliation or
identity, and use it to their advantage in certain situations? During the Delhi
violence, many journalists were questioned about their religious identities.
Others were simply attacked because they were journalists, irrespective of
whether they were Hindu or Muslim, as reports on Newslaundry and other platforms have
confirmed. But reporters covering
communal conflict often face this dilemma.
Another reality that is only just emerging is the impact of communal
conflict on women. The stories of what they face often take time to emerge.
Women do not speak easily about this, particularly when entire families and
neighbourhoods are traumatised and displaced.
But the stories emerge over time as this report suggests.
The details recounted in these reports filed after the violence
ended allow us as mediapersons, and readers, to place Delhi 2020 within a
larger perspective. For it is not the period of time
over which the killings and arson took place, or even their location, but what
the pattern of violence tells us about this particular conflagration and what it
portends for the future.
Another vexing question that journalists, and media houses, face
is the terms that should be used to describe what happened. In Delhi last
month, as in several other conflagrations around India, it is virtually
impossible to arrive at a definite term. It takes scholars and academics time
to study the developments and then decide whether what happened should be
described as a “riot”, “communal violence”, or a “pogrom”.
The discussion has already begun and many different perspectives
have been articulated even as terms like riot, or pogrom, or sectarian or
communal violence are used, often interchangeably, in the same piece.
Ashutosh Varshney, writing in the Indian Express, suggests that the first
day of Delhi 2020 was a clash between two groups, pro-CAA and anti-CAA, and
thus could be termed a riot, while day two and three “look like a pogrom, as
the police watched attacks on the Muslims and was either unable to intervene,
or unwilling to do so, while some cops clearly abetted the violence”.
The sociologist Satish Deshpande, on the other
hand, in a powerful piece in The Hindu
argues that what happened was neither a “riot”, nor “communal violence” nor a
“pogrom”. He writes: “The truth is that
we do not have a single word or phrase yet that can name this phenomenon
because it is really the newest stage of an ongoing project rather than a
standalone event.”
By “ongoing project” Deshpande
is referring not just to the period immediately
before the violence erupted, but going back to
when a justification started to be created for
demonising and attacking a particular community, in this case Muslims.
Apart from finding the right term – it’s important
and likely to be the subject of considerable debate and difference for some time
to come – it is essential that the media
unearths all aspects of those terrible three days in Delhi. Given that there
are reports that the Delhi police appear to be
actively discouraging reporters, and even relief workers, from visiting the
worst-affected areas as reported here, there’s
more reason to continue digging.
We also have yet to find a reasonable explanation for that
strange action by the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting against two
Malayalam television channels Asianet
News and Media One for reporting
what they saw during the violence. These channels made no bones about explicitly stating the
nature of the structures that were attacked, such as mosques. They also
reported that the police stood by and did nothing, a fact noted and reported by
several others, including the BBC. But by doing
this, the ministry’s order stated, the
two channels apparently violated “Rule 6(1)(c) of the Cable Television Networks Rules, 1994,
which says that ‘no programme should be
carried...which contains attack on religions or communities…’ and Rule 6(1)(e) that says “no programme should be carried...which is likely to encourage or incite
violence…’,”
according to a report in the Telegraph.
The I&B minister, Prakash Javadekar, claims
the decision to suspend the two channels for 48 hours was taken without his
consent. One of the channels, Asianet
News, is owned by Rajeev Chandrasekhar, a BJP Rajya Sabha member, who is
better known as the owner of Republic TV.
After Javadekar’s intervention, both channels
were restored.
But who gave the order? An overzealous babu? Why was it done in
the first place? To send out a message that if the government chose to act in
this way, it had the power to do so?
Delhi 2020 is a story that is far from over. From the reasons for
the visible civic neglect as reflected in the drains where dead bodies were
discovered to the unplanned manner in which such areas grow and flourish even
as the rest of the city receives the munificence of tax funds, there is much
more to investigate apart from the actual events over those days in
February.
As Satish Deshpande has emphasised, this is not a one-off
event. The media needs to be conscious of this. If this is the one lesson to
draw from Delhi 2020, it is this. That those days in February might well be the
precursor to the days ahead, as the political mood in the country shifts
perceptibly towards accepting that the aim of creating a Hindu Rashtra might already have been
achieved.
When I asked an elderly Muslim taxi driver in Mumbai who had come
to the city from Bihar in the 1980s what he was feeling after hearing about the
violence in Delhi, he said, “Behen,
what can I say? The Hindu Rashtra is already here. People like us have no place
in it.”
To me, that was the aim of
Delhi 2020. To send out
that message to Muslims, especially those who had
found the courage to take to the street to protest against the CAA. That there
was simply no space for them on that street. We, as journalists, cannot afford
to miss such a message that speaks to us during and after such tragic events.