by Karan Thapar
‘The problem with anchors,’ this answer begins, ‘is that they have to sound as if they mean what they are asking. So even when the question is patently silly the voice behind it is full of conviction and belief.’
Now, on the surface that appears to be a compliment. It’s like saying you make the most damned fool question sound credible. The only problem is that the question itself is of your own devising. So, if you are asking it you – and you alone – are responsible for doing so. In fact, the implication is that if you had realized it was a foolish question you wouldn’t have asked it in the first place. The fact that you did proves that you too are a fool.
This is the sort of beguiling explanation most anchors usually find themselves initially agreeing with until it is too late. By then it is so self-incriminating that all you can do is smile and slink off.
However, it is the third response that is the most devastating. It floors me each and every time. Actually, that’s a euphemism; I’m knocked out by it.
‘The problem with interviewers,’ this final answer goes, ‘is that they are all the same. They are argumentative and they always look aggressive. Why can’t you people be less of one or the other? Let the conversation be less argumentative or your manner less aggressive.’
At first hand even I would agree with that. It sounds so reasonable. So eminently sensible. But if you think about it you’ll realize how deeply subversive the comment actually is.
The first suggestion is that interviewers are both argumentative and aggressive by design. Yet the truth is they are not. The second is that their argumentativeness and aggressiveness is put on and can, equally easily, be switched off. But that’s not the case and it never could be. The final assumption is that both the person and the job he or she is doing require that argumentativeness and aggressiveness be a part of it. No doubt that could be the case on some occasions but equally there are many when the opposite is also true.
No, the fact of the matter is that some interviews require argumentativeness and aggressiveness and others don’t. Which is determined more by the interviewee than the interviewer. To blame the latter for the outcome is a teensy-weensy bit like criticizing the messenger for the message. Of course, we all do but that still doesn’t make it right.
So, to return to the original question and to try and answer it personally: am I putting on an act when you see me on the screen? The answer is both yes and no. And that’s not being facetious or flippant but the honest truth.
Of course anchors are trying to convey an image. They all do. When they succeed you don’t see it as an act because it has worked. When you see through it, it has not. But on both occasions it is a performance. Or else how do you account for the fact that an anchor can interview a friend toughly and carry on as a pal thereafter or be seemingly sympathetic with a person he actually cannot abide and then coldly ignore him once it is over?
Incidentally, writing is also, if not equally, an act. But can you see through it? Try by reading this piece twice!
22 November 1999
Are We Peeping Toms?
These days it’s not unusual for the phone to ring at midnight. Although I must admit I was taken aback the first time it happened. It was my colleague Ashok. He never fails to alert me when something unexpected occurs. But even he was uncharacteristically excited.
‘Guess what?’ he began. It was an odd start to the conversation.
‘You tell me,’ I replied, trying to be cool and collected.
‘They’re making love on TV!’
‘Who?’ I shouted. I’m afraid my voice betrayed my surprise. ‘Where?’
‘On India TV. Rajat Sharma’s channel has tricked some MLAs in Bihar. It’s a sting operation and he’s showing it no-holds-barred.’
That was enough for me to switch on. For the next forty-five minutes I sat glued to the box. I knew what I was seeing was deplorable but it was also irresistible. I decided to reproach myself in the morning but carry on for now.
It was hazy, unclear and the best bits were covered with a mosaic pattern which made them hard to see. Yet it was obvious what was happening. Poor sods, I said, but kept watching. After a bit it wasn’t curiosity or even the ‘pornography’ value that retained my attention but schadenfreude – a sadistic pleasure in other people’s misery. I hated myself for it but I could not stop.
A few days later Ashok rang again. Not surprisingly, at midnight.
‘Switch on India TV’. But this time he sounded less excited. ‘They’ve done a sting on Shakti Kapoor. The poor chap’s been caught trying to seduce a girl who wants to be an actress.’
I watched for half an hour. This time it wasn’t someone clandestinely filmed making love but a middle-aged man embarrassing himself as a young siren egged him on. Ashok tells me that India TV plans to similarly expose other Bollywood and television stars. In fact earlier they showed priests at it. I get the feeling it’s become part of their weekly schedule; if it’s Sunday, it’s some luckless fool caught in the act!
I suppose from Rajat Sharma’s point of view this is a clever ploy. Behind the claim of good quality investigative journalism he’s broadcasting a diet of pornography, schadenfreude and famous people tricked into carelessness on camera. For a while, no doubt, people will watch. But the question is how often? And will this win their admiration and respect?
The answer turns on three issues.
First, what do you prove when you show people can be lured by sex? Nothing, except they’re just like the rest of us. Offer a man a woman and a chance to make love without obvious risk or a price to pay and most of us would accept. Some might pause a bit, others look over their shoulders, a few ask for reassurance but then, once fear and doubt have been laid to rest, many would say yes. That’s what the priests and MLAs did. That’s even what Shakti Kapoor thought would happen although, in his case, he seems to have created the opportunity for himself. But are any of them worse than us? In their place might we not have fallen into the same trap? Their problem is not their lapse but that they got caught.
Second, falling for sex is not the same as accepting a bribe. It’s weakness of the flesh not proof of moral infirmity. Maybe in a priest it’s also hypocrisy but that’s hardly a cardinal sin leave aside a crime. And in a Bollywood actor/producer it’s probably a necessity.
Third, do these exposes matter? No doubt they’re titillating but what do they amount to? We’re watching ordinary people who’ve been tricked into making a display of themselves. Quite frankly, I feel sorry for them. We can all be tempted or trapped into doing something silly and if someone broadcasts it he only shows that we’re human. Of course, he also proves he’s a monster – and I use the word advisedly!
In fact, I would add a fourth issue. After hours of watching India TV if I’m left thinking of such concerns I can’t help feeling I’ve wasted my time. Would I therefore want to re-visit the channel?
I put that question to Ashok but his reply took my breath away.
‘Oh no doubt you will,’ he laughed. ‘Every time I ring you’ll switch on but I can’t guarantee for how long.’
Does that mean Rajat has got the better of me? Or is the word better the opposite of what I mean?
17 March 2005
Listen to Yourself!
I often wonder if our media is schizophrenic? On the one hand if you stand back and observe how we respond to situations you’ll notice that, more often than not, we jump to extremes. Whether its adulation or criticism, we opt for the hyperbolic. Measured, balanced, judicious, well-considered comment eludes us. A string of adjectives trips off our tongues – or our pens – and then, like children, we start to compete and outdo each other.
Yet the amazing thing is somewhere at the back of our minds – or deep inside our hearts – we know we’re overdoing it. Whether its speech or action, we know when we’ve spoken or done too much. At times we’re even capable of stepping outside our skins and commenting on ourselves. Like two different people, we can judge each other yet
not stop the errant behaviour.
An email from Vishal Pant, hours after Abhinav Bindra’s Olympic gold, captures this Janus-headedness. Writing about the explosion of attention on TV – and anticipating the next day’s papers – he says: ‘A country of a billion is celebrating as if we have won the maximum golds at the Olympics! I hate to sound like a cynic but I get amazed when I see this kind of reaction. For God’s sake even countries like Ethiopia and Surinam have won golds. Hats off to Bindra – a huge achievement – but why are we going beserk?’ For my part, I doubt if the American media greeted Phelps’ record-breaking tally of golds with similar glee!
The paradox is that Vishal is a senior producer at Times Now, a channel as guilty of going beserk as any other. But Vishal’s response would not have been out of place at any of the competitor channels. Each of them has a handful of producers who lament their lack of balance – yet are unable to do anything about it. In fact, not just unable, even unwilling. They know their channels often lack perspective and balance but they accept that, even defend it, whilst admitting its wrong. Now, isn’t that schizophrenic?
What surprised was that television anchors were so swept off their feet they failed to recognize Abhinav’s modesty. When he responded to that ceaselessly-asked, unimaginative old-chestnut ‘how do you feel?’ with a gentle reticent ‘there’s not much to say … for me life will go on’, one concluded he was ‘blasé’ whilst another commented ‘he seems to be taking it in his stride.’ Tell me, is that such a bizarre thing to do?
Yet the sad part is this extreme response to Abhinav’s achievement is a belittling of journalism. If a single gold medal – even if it’s the first – can push into the background the crisis in Kashmir, the rising rate of inflation and the cash-for-votes corruption scandal then, surely, we are either a media that has its priorities upside-down or is desperately running away from bigger issues? Either way, that’s what you expect of a comic state in a Verdi opera not the world’s largest democracy.
But why single out this week’s coverage of Abhinav? Was the treatment of the Arushi murder, the Scarlet Keeling rape or the Delhi gay killings any different? In fact, you can find several examples each year stretching all the way back to Ganesh statues drinking milk! Exaggeration is our forté.
I suspect television news channels started this slide into madness. Their competition for eyeballs is in danger of converting journalism from all that you ought to know into all that you want to know and, even, all that you will readily and happily watch. Today, ten years later, our papers have caught up. They’ve dropped their commitment to high standards. Instead, they’re racing down the same low road to cheap popularity and tabloid success.
So, here’s my reply to Vishal – and all the others like him, hidden and unheard inside television and newspaper offices: ‘India is not going beserk but perhaps you guys in TV and the papers are. It’s time for you to do more than SMS. It’s time to act. If you don’t, you could drive the rest of us insane!’
14 August 2008
In Defence of Politicians
‘Poor you! I simply don’t know how you stand it.’
It was an odd way to start a conversation and it took me aback.
‘Stand what?’
‘The politicians you meet and keep interviewing.’
‘Why?’ I asked, still perplexed. But the lady looked at me as if I was the one who wasn’t making sense. She puffed on a long cigarette, blew the smoke stylishly over her shoulder and turned to explain. We were guests at a party last weekend. She was dressed in large white pearls and a transparent skimpy saree. However, I shall be discreet and hold back her name.
‘They seem such ghastly people. They come across as selfish, quarrelsome and full of themselves.’
Her vehemence surprised me. Whilst a few politicians may be like that the vast majority are not. Of them my opinion is very different. But that only meant I found myself locked in a long argument. It developed into a regular ding-dong but I’m not sure I convinced her. However, I did realize that television is partly responsible for conveying this false impression. Most of you who don’t know politicians judge by the way you see them. But the presentation is neither wholly accurate nor truly fair. Today I want to make amends.
The problem begins with our television talk shows which encourage politicians to quarrel. It’s not that left to themselves they would be sedate and calm, reasonable and reflective, but that we’ve convinced them and probably entrapped them into believing that the fight is more important than the argument. The fault lies in the way such shows are conceived. They seek to portray the tamasha of politics – its theatre and spectacle rather than its content and substance. They generate heat but they don’t shed light.
Unfortunately most politicians willingly play along. Once the cameras roll they slip into a role, perform to a preconceived script. The result is quarrelsome shouting matches which lead nowhere and are usually an end in themselves.
This is tragic for at least two reasons. Firstly, it demonizes politicians. In fact, it panders to the already widespread opinion that they are a base tribe. People readily accept what they see because it bolsters their already biased view.
More importantly, it wastes politicians. The object of a television talk show is to inform and to learn. This can be done in many ways. By explaining issues, by discussing differing views, by seeking answers, by carefully analysing. But each of these require that we listen and to listen we have to care about what we hear.
That’s where our problems start. Channel heads believe audiences don’t care about the discussion. They claim most subjects bore them. Worse still, they don’t think audiences can be made to listen. In their opinion serious conversation is a switch-off. Rather than risk that they blend it with drama. Create a storm in the studio and the thunder and lightening will hold the audience. It doesn’t matter that the atmospherics are simply a waste of time. Or that politicians are used as objects to laugh at rather than people one can learn from.
Fortunately, the solution is simple. It would follow automatically if we change our attitude to news and current affairs. So far we judge these shows by their ratings. We assume they are products for a mass market. But they’re not, nor should they be. News, and more so current affairs, are only for those who want to know and, dare I say it, care to. They are not vehicles for delivering eyeballs to advertisers. Yet when they are treated as such it becomes inevitable they will be designed primarily to capture attention. That’s why channel heads are scared of demanding concentration and, instead, lure with cacophony.
Yet we have producers, editors, cameramen and even anchors who could comfortably take on the BBC and CNN. We could easily deliver a comparable product for ourselves. The reason we don’t is because those who run channels either don’t trust the audience or don’t know how to differentiate it. They fear that if they make you concentrate you will run away and they don’t have the confidence to realize that if you do it won’t really matter.
So this is not a case of getting the programmes we deserve. Clearly we deserve better. This is a case of receiving the type of programmes our channel heads think we will accept. The question is: how do you change that?
That’s the challenge the lady I met last weekend should address. Unfortunately, that’s also the bit of the conversation she found most difficult to follow. But I can confidently predict that if she succeeds she will discover that most politicians are very different to the impression she has of them.
Now, wouldn’t that be a pleasant surprise?
31 March 2003
The Press and Punishment
How good is Indian journalism? It’s a question the prime minister asked last weekend and in answering pointed out critical, if not damaging, lapses in accuracy and methodology and, most importantly of all, the willingness to take corrective action.
There’s no doubt ours is a free press, often though not always fearless, and usually entertaining. But how well informed is it? How reliable? How reflective o
f India’s complex, even conflicting, concerns? And how responsible? Only if the answer to these questions is yes can we claim Indian journalism is good and on par with the best in the world.
Sadly, that’s not always the case. As the PM put it, ‘In the race for capturing markets, journalists have been encouraged to cut corners, to take chances, to hit and run.’ We do stories without checking all the facts or giving ample opportunity to the affected people to answer the charges we’re levelling. We accept material from vested interests without hesitation and claim it’s reliable. We damage reputations without concern for individuals in the spurious belief there’s a greater national interest involved. And we’re obsessed with the world of urban glamour and reluctant to look beyond it. Often politicians and businessmen set our agenda. In response we become a part of their tu tu mein mein rather than look for the big picture.
However, the nub of the PM’s point is the question: ‘How many mistakes must a journalist make, how many wrong stories, how many motivated columns before professional clamps are placed?’ It’s not an easy one to answer. Certainly journalists must face the consequences when they’re wrong. It’s a way of guarding against casual carelessness. But what’s the appropriate punishment?
For instance, when a well-known TV channel recently claimed Sania Mirza was the first Indian to make it to round four of a grand slam, forgetting that Ramanathan Krishnan had entered the semis at Wimbledon and his son, Ramesh, and Vijay Amritraj had made it to the quarters, it was a mistake which called for a reprimand and a close watch on future work to ensure such carelessness was not repeated. But that’s all. Yet when a major business daily based a front page lead story on the claim that the PM had held meetings with SEBI, RBI, CBI and IB to look into the phenomenal rise in Sensex, and it turned out to be completely untrue, it called for sterner measures.
