Vinod Jose: The institutional degradation of journalism
...This decay has taken place at both a personal level, among individual journalists, and at a proprietorial level, among those who own and manage newspapers, magazines and television channels. Together, they raise a depressing cloud over the institution of journalism, even as the media industry grows. Among individual journalists, the definition of “success” has become increasingly problematic; too often it has less to do with the journalism one produces and more to do with the influence one wields. The ostensibly successful journalist is the one who uses the profession to become something more than a journalist.
Like the successful journalists who really wish to be politicians, brokers, or celebrities, too many media owners are eager to seek their fortunes elsewhere. And they are all too happy to use the influence of their news operations to leverage other investments. In the recent “Coalgate” scam, for example, at least three print publications and one electronic channel have been identified as beneficiaries of questionable allocations of mining blocks.
Only two of these companies have been named in news reports: the largest-selling Marathi newspaper group, Lokmat, with a readership of 24 million, and the Hindi newspaper group Dainik Bhaskar, with a readership of 20 million, are both being investigated for cheating and corruption. Lokmat’s owner, who has been a member of Parliament in the Rajya Sabha since 1998, and his brother and co-owner (also a politician—he is the Education Minister in Maharashtra) provided patronage to a construction company in securing government licenses to coal blocks, and subsequently, the Lokmat owners invested money in these companies. Within months after investing, they began selling each of their ten-rupee shares at a windfall profit of Rs. 8,885. Dainik Bhaskar, on the other hand, floated its own power company, DB Power, and bagged blocks worth 67 tonnes, and retained the blocks untapped. While the criteria for awarding the minefields were supposed to include prior experience in the sector, the newspapers had nothing remotely linked to mining or power—except, ironically, the power of the media.
There’s a long history of businessmen from other sectors becoming involved in the media: from construction magnates to pickle manufacturers to liquor barons, many of them undoubtedly motivated by the visibility and influence that accrues to men who buy ink by the barrel. A more recent trend has involved media owners desperately trying to augment their own riches by expanding into other sectors. Most recently, the owners of the Deccan Chronicle invested in unrelated businesses like the Indian Premier League and civil aviation, and now find themselves deep in debt, while also facing charges of fraud and forgery.
The expansive appetites of media owners for success in other sectors causes two problems: for one, these risky investments undermine the health of the media institutions; at the same time, they throw up more and more possible conflicts of interest. The Times of India has been the most prolific innovator when it comes to rearranging the lines between journalism and commerce—but as the profile of Samir Jain in this issue demonstrates, rival media houses have been all too quick to follow in Jain’s footsteps. The Times’ “Private Treaties”, which allow companies to swap equity stakes for advertising space, are undoubtedly a clever business practice, but they have multiplied the potential conflicts of interest a hundredfold. So much so that the Securities and Exchange Board of India felt it necessary to intervene and warn media houses that they should disclose these holdings when reporting on companies in which they own stakes. It is to the great shame of Indian journalism that the government’s stock market regulator has been forced to play the role of ombudsman, since the media houses themselves have abdicated any responsibility to police their own ethics. These innovations may bring in enormous profits in the short run, but in the long run they will undermine the stature of all journalism—in the eyes of both readers and advertisers. These aggressive new tactics for boosting revenues look attractive now, but in the long term they become pernicious—to misappropriate a Malayalam proverb, it is akin to scrubbing a baby so clean that the baby disappears... Read more:
http://www.caravanmagazine.in/perspectives/success-ethics
The list of top editors who have leveraged their high offices, and the legitimacy and influence they carry, to advance their careers outside of journalism is a very long one in India. There’s a familiar pattern to these trajectories: many of them start by getting close to particular politicians or parties, and soon they enjoy such privileged access that the journalists become confused about the nature of these relationships. An admiration or a loyalty develops. In daylight, journalists demonstrate their allegiances by acting like spokespersons for their political masters inside newsrooms; in the dark, they serve those same masters as stenographers, taking dictation for press releases. These journalists soon double-up as messengers between political leaders, and sometimes even as lobbyists; some get rewarded with seats in parliament or even in the cabinet. Of course, anyone has the right to change careers, and in a democracy, anyone is entitled to enter politics. But the trouble starts when a journalist begins his political career before ending his career in journalism, thereby abusing the legitimacy, access and power of a journalistic institution and treating it as a stepping-stone to bigger (and more lucrative) endeavours.
There is another set of editors who have no desire to enter politics per se, but who happily deploy their editorial influence to help their proprietors obtain benefits from the government—from land to machinery to Padma awards. The more favours you do, the further you get hoisted up within the organisational structure.
Then there’s a third set of editors who fall for relatively frivolous things in life. For example, a senior leader of one political party—who is considered a potential future prime minister—is in the habit of lending out his official residence in Lutyens Delhi to senior journalists for the wedding parties of their sons and daughters. And when an editor compromises his integrity on a matter as sentimental as a child’s wedding, it undermines the independence of more than one editor: a few hundred journalists in the editor’s employ will now think twice when it comes time to write about that important politician, and will pay special attention when he calls up to suggest a story...
Like the successful journalists who really wish to be politicians, brokers, or celebrities, too many media owners are eager to seek their fortunes elsewhere. And they are all too happy to use the influence of their news operations to leverage other investments. In the recent “Coalgate” scam, for example, at least three print publications and one electronic channel have been identified as beneficiaries of questionable allocations of mining blocks.
Only two of these companies have been named in news reports: the largest-selling Marathi newspaper group, Lokmat, with a readership of 24 million, and the Hindi newspaper group Dainik Bhaskar, with a readership of 20 million, are both being investigated for cheating and corruption. Lokmat’s owner, who has been a member of Parliament in the Rajya Sabha since 1998, and his brother and co-owner (also a politician—he is the Education Minister in Maharashtra) provided patronage to a construction company in securing government licenses to coal blocks, and subsequently, the Lokmat owners invested money in these companies. Within months after investing, they began selling each of their ten-rupee shares at a windfall profit of Rs. 8,885. Dainik Bhaskar, on the other hand, floated its own power company, DB Power, and bagged blocks worth 67 tonnes, and retained the blocks untapped. While the criteria for awarding the minefields were supposed to include prior experience in the sector, the newspapers had nothing remotely linked to mining or power—except, ironically, the power of the media.
There’s a long history of businessmen from other sectors becoming involved in the media: from construction magnates to pickle manufacturers to liquor barons, many of them undoubtedly motivated by the visibility and influence that accrues to men who buy ink by the barrel. A more recent trend has involved media owners desperately trying to augment their own riches by expanding into other sectors. Most recently, the owners of the Deccan Chronicle invested in unrelated businesses like the Indian Premier League and civil aviation, and now find themselves deep in debt, while also facing charges of fraud and forgery.
The expansive appetites of media owners for success in other sectors causes two problems: for one, these risky investments undermine the health of the media institutions; at the same time, they throw up more and more possible conflicts of interest. The Times of India has been the most prolific innovator when it comes to rearranging the lines between journalism and commerce—but as the profile of Samir Jain in this issue demonstrates, rival media houses have been all too quick to follow in Jain’s footsteps. The Times’ “Private Treaties”, which allow companies to swap equity stakes for advertising space, are undoubtedly a clever business practice, but they have multiplied the potential conflicts of interest a hundredfold. So much so that the Securities and Exchange Board of India felt it necessary to intervene and warn media houses that they should disclose these holdings when reporting on companies in which they own stakes. It is to the great shame of Indian journalism that the government’s stock market regulator has been forced to play the role of ombudsman, since the media houses themselves have abdicated any responsibility to police their own ethics. These innovations may bring in enormous profits in the short run, but in the long run they will undermine the stature of all journalism—in the eyes of both readers and advertisers. These aggressive new tactics for boosting revenues look attractive now, but in the long term they become pernicious—to misappropriate a Malayalam proverb, it is akin to scrubbing a baby so clean that the baby disappears... Read more:
http://www.caravanmagazine.in/perspectives/success-ethics
