Praveen Swamy on the the Azam Khan ‘sting’ // Muzaffarnagar riots & viral video: Why social media isn’t the villain
“Cops expose Azam Khan’s role in Muzaffarnagar violence” reads Headlines Today’s story on the western Uttar Pradesh riots. “In this sting”, it kicks off by saying, “you will see the officers talk about how Azam Khan called them and told them how the rioters should be freed and that other people needed to be booked. He put pressure on them that people from one community should not be touched”. The thing is, the story just doesn’t have what the label on the tin says. There isn’t one person who even says that Azam Khan actually called her, or him—let alone telling them directly to let anyone off. There are a bunch of lower-level officers who talk of bias and interference in general terms, but there isn’t one clinching line
.
Khan may indeed be an odious communal low-life—and there are probably few people shedding tears that he’s been fixed. I am, though, and not because I like Khan. It’s because this has implications for our public life that are far more important than him. Ever since Tehelka magazine’s Gujarat exposé, sting journalism has become a central part of the fabric of investigative journalism. It’s proclaimed to tell the truth—but in my view, is actually undermining journalism. First up, the revelations in the sting aren’t really revelations at all. The Hindustan Times’ Rajesh Ahuja had all the key facts out on September 10, as did Firstpost’s own Raman Kirpal, with more details, on 16 September. The stories, in essence, revealed that Muzaffarnagar Senior Superintendent of Police Manjil Saini, an officer with a stellar record, had arrested the men involved in the killings which set off the riots. For her pains, she was transferred out of the district. Now why, you might ask, is it bad to have further evidence on this outrage? Surely it’s important that we’ve heard first-hand from police officials that they were put under pressure by politicians?
The thing is, the addition to public knowledge is marginal—and it comes at a price. All sting journalism involves the violation of fairly fundamental tenets of media good-practice. Though pop film and egomaniacal hacks might have led their audiences to believe otherwise, journalists aren’t undercover criminal investigators or social reformers. They don’t—or, rather, ought not—bug people, bribe them, entrap them or or pretend to be someone they’re not. It doesn’t take a lot to see why these conventions should be respected. From Watergate to Bofors, almost every great investigative project has involved a covenant of trust between reporters and sources. If sources think the journalists they’re speaking to might be carrying hidden cameras, they’ll just stop talking. The cost might be worth paying where there’s an unequivocal public interest—but it’s hard to argue the Muzaffarnagar sting meets that test. It’s interesting to contrast the rigorous, fact-based reporting of the local television station on the first day’s violence with the hyperbole on national television, to contrast which actually provided more credible information. In my view, there’s no contest. Read more:
http://www.firstpost.com/living/muzaffarnagar-why-we-cant-trust-the-azam-khan-sting-1121739.html
Roy Greenslade's essay proposing ethical tests for stings
Muzaffarnagar riots and viral video: Why social media isn’t the villain
First, there is zero evidence on causality. No one has data to bear out the claim that the Muzaffarnagar perpetrators — or any other communal perpetrators — killed because they saw the video. There’s no way of even knowing how many people have even watched the video, which is alleged to have circulated through CDs, nor how many took it seriously. There’s no way of knowing whether it was a cause of hatred, or only found credible because of the charged climate. Second, there’s no evidence at all communal violence has become worse as a consequence of the growing reach of social media. The Ministry of Home Affairs’ annual reports, the sole official data-set on communal violence, doesn’t suggest there’s been any kind of trend in violence since 2002, as the social media has expanded. Last year’s exodus of North East-origin residents of Bangalore and Mumbai shows how multiple forces collude to create crisis. In early April, 2012 graphic — if fabricated—images of anti-Muslim violence in Myanmar and the North-East began to circulate on internet websites. The images fuelled anger among some young Muslims. In Mumbai and Allahabad, the targets were the police and the state. Bangalore and Pune witnessed brawls. Mysore saw a stabbing. It isn’t clear, though, if the killings had anything to do with the online campaign — or even, in fact, if there was a campaign. For all the dark hints of a cyber-jihad, investigators who ploughed through some 5 million text messages and tens of thousands of websites found no hint of single-point authorship or direction...
.
Khan may indeed be an odious communal low-life—and there are probably few people shedding tears that he’s been fixed. I am, though, and not because I like Khan. It’s because this has implications for our public life that are far more important than him. Ever since Tehelka magazine’s Gujarat exposé, sting journalism has become a central part of the fabric of investigative journalism. It’s proclaimed to tell the truth—but in my view, is actually undermining journalism. First up, the revelations in the sting aren’t really revelations at all. The Hindustan Times’ Rajesh Ahuja had all the key facts out on September 10, as did Firstpost’s own Raman Kirpal, with more details, on 16 September. The stories, in essence, revealed that Muzaffarnagar Senior Superintendent of Police Manjil Saini, an officer with a stellar record, had arrested the men involved in the killings which set off the riots. For her pains, she was transferred out of the district. Now why, you might ask, is it bad to have further evidence on this outrage? Surely it’s important that we’ve heard first-hand from police officials that they were put under pressure by politicians?
The thing is, the addition to public knowledge is marginal—and it comes at a price. All sting journalism involves the violation of fairly fundamental tenets of media good-practice. Though pop film and egomaniacal hacks might have led their audiences to believe otherwise, journalists aren’t undercover criminal investigators or social reformers. They don’t—or, rather, ought not—bug people, bribe them, entrap them or or pretend to be someone they’re not. It doesn’t take a lot to see why these conventions should be respected. From Watergate to Bofors, almost every great investigative project has involved a covenant of trust between reporters and sources. If sources think the journalists they’re speaking to might be carrying hidden cameras, they’ll just stop talking. The cost might be worth paying where there’s an unequivocal public interest—but it’s hard to argue the Muzaffarnagar sting meets that test. It’s interesting to contrast the rigorous, fact-based reporting of the local television station on the first day’s violence with the hyperbole on national television, to contrast which actually provided more credible information. In my view, there’s no contest. Read more:
http://www.firstpost.com/living/muzaffarnagar-why-we-cant-trust-the-azam-khan-sting-1121739.html
Roy Greenslade's essay proposing ethical tests for stings
Muzaffarnagar riots and viral video: Why social media isn’t the villain
First, there is zero evidence on causality. No one has data to bear out the claim that the Muzaffarnagar perpetrators — or any other communal perpetrators — killed because they saw the video. There’s no way of even knowing how many people have even watched the video, which is alleged to have circulated through CDs, nor how many took it seriously. There’s no way of knowing whether it was a cause of hatred, or only found credible because of the charged climate. Second, there’s no evidence at all communal violence has become worse as a consequence of the growing reach of social media. The Ministry of Home Affairs’ annual reports, the sole official data-set on communal violence, doesn’t suggest there’s been any kind of trend in violence since 2002, as the social media has expanded. Last year’s exodus of North East-origin residents of Bangalore and Mumbai shows how multiple forces collude to create crisis. In early April, 2012 graphic — if fabricated—images of anti-Muslim violence in Myanmar and the North-East began to circulate on internet websites. The images fuelled anger among some young Muslims. In Mumbai and Allahabad, the targets were the police and the state. Bangalore and Pune witnessed brawls. Mysore saw a stabbing. It isn’t clear, though, if the killings had anything to do with the online campaign — or even, in fact, if there was a campaign. For all the dark hints of a cyber-jihad, investigators who ploughed through some 5 million text messages and tens of thousands of websites found no hint of single-point authorship or direction...
