Tag: Shashidhar Nanjundaiah

  • Shashidhar Nanjundaiah: Machine learning, but are classes learning?

    Postcard from America

    By Shashidhar Nanjundaiah

     

    Shashidhar NanjundaiahMy big takeaway from 2022 is that social media and pandemic have launched a joint and effective assault on classroom learning.

     

    When I look at some social media content from younger folks, I see so much creativity and social  awareness, sensitivity and inclusion. The ability to connect dots is better than ever before, thanks to the enabling technology. So why do I see a tendency of disinterest in learning in the so-called new-normal environment?

     

    It’s nearly three years since the pandemic struck and lockdowns were clamped, and well over two since online-everything was presented as a quick fix. The quick fix may be exactly what the doctor ordered for the social media generation, born after 1995. Many people in this generation seem to be much more comfortable interacting with their smartphones than interacting with real people. In general, I have observed a decline in voluntary classroom participation.

     

    A second observation is a high level of comfort with not meeting face-to-face. I have observed this trend among the general public over the past couple of years, where clinical caution appeared to morph into a general lack of enthusiasm in meeting people face-to-face. A big litmus-test revelation came through pizza. I invited the class to the college for a pizza lunch, just so that everybody gets to know one another, mingles in a “f2f” environment, and in general, have some fun. The office manager organized the pizza delivery, the space, the napkins, all the paraphernalia was set. As it turned out, we received exactly two RSVPs out of a class of 27.

     

    My experience teaching an online asynchronous course—where students access assigned reading and videos at their own time over the week, rather than assemble in a class at the same time—revealed sometimes confusing, sometimes surprising, sometimes disappointing outcomes. The alarm bells, however, didn’t start ringing until assignments are missed, chapters remain unread, quiz output is only average. It eventually dawns on us that the learning has been anything but exemplary—raising many questions about the efficacy of our methodology. A seemingly low level of comprehension coupled with lack of the initiative to ask questions. Of course, I, self-critically, only refer to the majority. There were, of course, several sparkling exceptions, most of whom had joined college before the pandemic struck.

     

    So I repeatedly ask myself why youngsters don’t find it interesting enough to sit through classes, complete assignments, and harness their faculties in an academic environment. Is it because a class is not the real challenge and social media offers more real-life learning? Is it because they have grown skeptical of what we teach because they are learning from alternative channels that truth lies elsewhere—channels that have found enough legitimacy to be politically mainstreamed? Is it possible students are surrounded by online webinars that are more interesting than classes that seem to simulate the technology but not the interesting-ness?

     

    Or is it because the same technology is making them less fascinated by information and insight, since they have all the ready answers online, literally at their fingertips? Whether that is information or not, true or not, seems irrelevant. What seems more important is, they have answers. The challenge is not information. The challenge is to get new answers.

     

    One hypothesis I offer is that the social media accommodates the semblance of thought-provoking dialogue, debate and dialectic to younger folks who did not feel earlier that they participated enough in the society. When all the conversations are happening outside classrooms, they take away the fascination of intellectual discourse in classrooms. I’ve noticed a dramatic difference among students not just in the US, but in India, too, before and after the arrival of social media.

     

    It is hardly surprising that the quick fix is quickly becoming the new normal even after the health threat dissipates. It seems convenient for teachers, extremely comfortable for students, and of course a continued bonanza for ed-technocrats. The boxes are checked. What slips through the liminal spaces between seems to go unnoticed—for now. What began as an innovative solution in a crisis has become a continued exercise of lowered outcome expectations, and a flatter learning curve. And eventually, this crop of graduates will join the economy and the marketplace where the expectations haven’t changed.

     

    In late 2020, in a newspaper column, I had expressed scepticism about the idea. As Facebook, Twitter, Google, Salesforce, and Microsoft brought in an extended work-from-home policy that year, I had flagged the trend, pointed to the “human challenges,” and in general, was uneasy—even in the face of what was reported at that time to be an uptick in work productivity.

     

    While I hope that trend has continued, our experience with college students—before they become the workforce, that is—has been that the social media and the pandemic have worked in tandem. Finally, the younger generation understands something more than their teachers, outside the classroom environment. We need to ensure that this doesn’t lead to a widening trust deficit in academic learning. And that’s yet another reason higher education needs to see whether a new methodology of academic learning is needed.

     

    Happy New Year 2023!

     

  • Postcard from America: Acceptance of Nabeela Sayeed and rejection of Trump’s MAGA

    Shashidhar NanjundaiahBy Shashidhar Nanjundaiah

     

    This diary style in which I have been asked to write carries the advantage of a fluid style of writing and I plan to take full advantage of it. This is particularly important when offering personal insights from a country that is so well covered in Indian media that it becomes difficult to manoeuvre! Nevertheless, attempts must be made.

     

    Finally, as the Democrats do spectacularly well to retain the U.S. Senate, the rejection of Donald Trump is writ large on the U.S. electoral map. Even though the Senate is split 50:50 at present, the Vice President, currently a Democrat, holds a tiebreaking vote, so effectively, the Democrats are expected to have the upper hand, unless, of course, naysayers from within the party provide the anguish, as Kirsten Sinema and Joe Manchin have. Votes will continue to be counted into midweek, as mail-in ballots here trickle in well after the election date. (Someone must fix that lag to ensure timely results!) But it is also an extreme form of democracy, where the freedom of choice is multi-faceted. Some states vote by machine, some by paper ballots. In addition, people can vote in person, via mail, or using “ballot drop boxes”-where you can fill out a ballot at home and drop it off into a box.

     

    Such methods encourage people who might not be willing or able to travel and stand in line for hours. Recent surveys show that when images of polling booths with long lines appear live on television, they deter voters from joining those lines. So mailed or dropped ballots, which help avoid daunting queues, especially for aged and wheelchair-bound voters, have become a part of parties’ “absentee chase” programme. If India liberalised voting in similar ways, it will surely be met with suspicion, for obvious reasons. That is why, as a sceptic, I don’t want to go down that suggestion lane.

     

    The Indian news media covered the U.S. elections this time too. In historical terms, this whole elaborate interest is a relatively new trend, in which television networks have managed to create a fascination among their viewers towards U.S. elections over the past few elections. The popularity of any Indian-American in the fray adds to this media interest anyway. Five Indian Americans won, as against four last time, and the excitement among journalists over the “growing influence of the [Indian American] community in politics”. The Hindustan Times headlined the Indian American winners as the Samosa Caucus, a somewhat humorously self-deprecating term used among desi circles in the United States.

     

    Let there be no mistake. The hard political power for the Indian American community is inevitably rising-a community that enjoyed an astonishing increase of 67.3 percent from 1.9 million in 2000 to 2010, and another 44.6 percent from 3.18 million in 2010 to 4.6 million in 2021. The fact that five out of 435 members of the House of Representatives, roughly 1.1 percent, stand for about 4.6 million Indian Americans-just under 1.4 percent of the population-is impressive. This is particularly so when compared with the fact that there are a total of 16 Asian American members of the Congress (three in the Senate and 13 in the House of Representatives). The population of Chinese Americans alone is over 18 million, so their political participation by contrast is relatively low.

     

    So, let me ask, who is Nabeela Sayeed? Hint: She, too, is an Indian American, but uniquely so. The usual NDTV and a Moneycontrol here and The Quint there carried the agency report about her in bits and spurts. Meanwhile, the U.S. media is going gaga over her. At 23, Sayeed is one of the youngest ever members of the Congress to have won. She is a first-generation Indian American—in that her family moved here well after she was born. And as a Democrat, she flipped a Republican seat in this midterm election, making a significant difference to the tight race. A phenomenal success story, ignored because of the hijab around her head.

     

    Instead, we may notice that the Indian interest in identity politics is particularly strident when the candidate has a Hindu name, like Kamala. Although Harris has converted to Christianity, she still makes sure she invokes her half-Indian descent in various ways—such as her interest in the dosa—to keep the hypernationalist desi media fed with good fodder. The Indian media pretty much appropriates Rishi Sunak as our own, despite his multi-nation descent. Hence we observe the “acceptance” of Sunak as a visibly practising Hindu among India’s television channels’ hypernationalistic anchors and equally jingoistic “guests”.

     

    So, no longer do I need to explain to my semi-rural community that I use “Indian” to mean “from India” and not Native American. With 1.2 million U.S. visas promised for Indians just over the next several months, the population will rise even more steeply than it has in the past, the indications are clear: Why export jobs when we can import workers? The rapid rise in acceptance of the Indian American into the mainstream is also the rejection of Donald Trump-style Make America Great Again (MAGA) politics.

     

  • Jan 6 and the Crumbling Wall

     

     

    By Shashidhar Nanjundaiah

     

    Shashidhar NanjundaiahThere are new revelations in the storming of the Capitol building-variously termed attack, insurrection, siege, protest, or riot, depending on which side of the fence it’s coming from. In the latest development, a member of Proud Boys admitted to seditious conspiracy. In India, of course, the mention of sedition would hardly cause a flutter today. But in a country in whose legal system sedition is all but disused, it is a big deal. The Proud Boys is one such organization. A militia organisation, the Oath Keepers, who claim to uphold the Constitution, is standing trial. The guilty plea by Jeremy Joseph Burtino of North Carolina is significant because it is backlinked to Donal Trump, who allegedly used a dog-whistle method to signal the extreme-right (basically, White supremacist) organisation Proud Boys into action. It is now clear that Trump was in touch with the Proud Boys as he is stated to have told them to “stand back and stand by”, which seems like a tactical instruction. Trump and his aide Rudy Giuliani made speeches with underlying messages that may have been those triggers.

     

    In politics, it has divided the Republicans as 147 out of 213 Republicans in the House of Representatives voted to dispute the electoral college results of the 2020 presidential election, thus joining the campaign that Trump may have won. As conspiracy theories go, a mere suggestion is enough to cause the cognitive dissonance of fear or indignation or hatred or rage. This theory seemed to cause such a confusion among firm believers of the GoP—including a large proportion in the Midwestern heartland where I live. This disagreement was at the root of the January 6 event, at least in the way it was narratively constructed.

     

    For media literacy, the storming of the Capitol has been a defining moment that has further boosted efforts by several independent organizations seeking to bust fake news, strengthening legislative efforts to introduce media literacy at schools. Media consumption in the United States has never had it so tough. This year, which people may regard as a post-pandemic year, trust levels have fallen back more in alignment with the previous trends. Across the samples worldwide, only 42 percent trust news. The United States records the lowest trust, at 26 percent (also the lowest ever for the country). As many as 81 percent of respondents feared news websites will not use their data responsibly.

     

    But the alarm for the news media is that not merely trust, but interest in news appears to have fallen across the world – a plunge from 63 percent last year to 52 percent this year. Let us bear in mind that this is notwithstanding the Russian invasion of Ukraine. So, presumably, the decline would have been steeper in the absence of that sustaining media event. Incidentally, a wide gap is seen in the levels of trust in news media between Democrat and Republican voters. Surely, the January 6 incident couldn’t have helped.

     

    Either a diehard Republican in rural Illinois would be converted by the legal verdicts, or they may continue to trust Trump and discredit the interpretations by the legislative and legal systems. We teach media literacy here as though we know what’s going on. But to both an ardent Trump supporter or an ardent Democrat, the very foundation of institutional trust is in question. Someone I am acquainted with, a well-read practitioner, threw up her hands and said, “I don’t know anything anymore!” That might as well be the text of the next round of bumper stickers. The deepening social divide since the January 6 incident is indeed alarming—many people around me are worried at the trend they observe. In this trend, people have lost the ability to debate politics civilly and rationally without breaking into arguments and emotional outbursts. There is not much love going around.

     

    We are now caught in a cusp between news and narrative. Those who find themselves awakened by Trump’s allegations about the 2020 election reject mainstream media narratives. News holds no promise, no hope. On the other hand, narrative holds promise and hope. From “making America great again” to asking people to trust the idea that he won in 2020, Trump has been at the forefront of generating promise, on which trust resides. This is the vast proportion that came out of the woodwork in 2016 presidential elections, a few of whom used spectacle on January 6, 2021, using phantasmagoric attire drawing full media attention. It was a lesson in how narrative drives news.

     

    The wall of trust is crumbling. The narrative around January 6 has been the making of a new myth with deep structural foundations. We are not clear whether trust in news is being replaced with something else, or trust is no longer a factor in our consumption of content per se. And this is a media-nation whose fracture is bitter after Trump’s presidency. The divide is between the stunned and the awakened: Those that are stunned by the alleged goings-on of subterfuge and deception by the former President have tried to use coping mechanisms.

     

    Shashidhar Nanjundaiah currently lives in Illinois in the United States and likes to comment on stuff. Period. When he isn’t, he teaches and researches media literacy. Views are personal, and any resemblance to truths around you are purely coincidental.

     

     

  • Postcard from America by Shashidhar Nanjundaiah: Yogi-ism reaches New Jersey

    By Shashidhar Nanjundaiah

     

    Shashidhar NanjundaiahAn immigrant always takes a piece of culture with them. But what some people are smuggling in isn’t exactly the kind of culture you’d expect.

     

    The most significant period of advent of the Indian-American immigrant group started at the turn of the century and is ongoing. From less than 2 million in 2000, the desi population in the United States has leapt to nearly 5 million. The main reason, of course, is the IT boom that began with the Y2K bug. In the 1990s, green cards took only about two years, fresh-off-the-boat Indian students had to explain in their communities they were “Asian Indians” and didn’t really know what our race was.

     

    And as a result, the new Indian immigrant, even after decades of settling in, is under little pressure to plunge into the cauldron. Instead, the new political and liberal narrative — although the political shift from assimilation to multicultural accommodation dates back to the 1970s—expects them to bring their culture into the country. For the Indian press, a Diwali celebration at the White House is a cause for national rejoicing. The Indian stamp on American landmarks is the latest display of conquest over the West—the revenge of the desi. A 220-feet-long Indian tricolour made of khadi was flown over the “iconic Hudson river” on the occasion of India’s 75th Independence Day celebrations, brags an NDTV lede.

     

    Similar jubilation was missing in the Indian press when Bulldozer Baba made the rounds a weekend earlier on the annual India Day parade in Edison, New Jersey. Perhaps it was too embarrassing for many publications, although some of them did run it with a positive spin. The community press in central New Jersey, including the Indian-American press, which has mostly been languishing in terms of readership, seemed more startled and less amused. News 12 channel headlined the story as “Bulldozer used in Edison’s India Independence Day Parade seen as Islamophobic”. Post facto, Edison’s Mayor Sam Joshi criticised the organisers of the India Day parade for featuring “symbols of hatred and discrimination.”

     

    To me, the most significant part of this story is that most Americans do not understand its significance. A bulldozer can represent construction or destruction, development or impoverishment. So in itself, the presence of a bulldozer does not signify anything. Across it, triumphant photos of Narendra Modi and Yogi Adityanath accompanied the text in English: “Azadi ka Amrit Mahotsav” and underneath it in Devnagari: “Baba Bulldozer”. The connotation is highly contextual. This bulldozer is a celebration that the questionable justice meted out in India rendering homeless people who question authority. In that context lies the intolerance and impatience of unjust vigilantism. It is not as much a dog whistle as it is in India, since it is unlikely to rouse mob justice. Still, it is what it seems— a gesture of threat. The intolerance among sections of Indian-American community runs deep, but for the most part has lurked underneath the surface.

     

    The organisation of these annual parades is hardly a secret. It is a routine event for the Indian Business Association of New Jersey, whose president Chandrakant Patel initially refused to apologise, but did so more than a week later after the Mayor’s statement. The Mayor himself is a well-connected Indian-American. This newly emboldened stamp of intolerance is a reflection of the vigilante stamp of territory-marking we have been observing in India. The American society has lived long and painful centuries of discrimination and hatred, and is striving hard to emerge from it. The past decade has marked fresh battles for identity and respect. Will this new resonance of authoritarian values across the seas pose a new challenge to that struggle? I wonder.

     

    Shashidhar Nanjundaiah currently lives in the United States and likes to comment on eclectic, sometimes random, stuff. When he isn’t, he teaches and researches media literacy. Postcard from America will appear every month on MxMIndia, though it may well appear more often. Shashidhar’s views here are person.

     

  • The Puzzled Zombie Awakens

     

    By Shashidhar Nanjundaiah

     

    Shashidhar Nanjundaiah“So, you’re finally looking at my LinkedIn posts!” said an email subject line today. As unusual as it was, its linkage to the world’s biggest incident of the day was clear: After every Facebook-owned platform faced an outage for more than six hours, it felt like the world had come to a standstill. But when I run out of cookies in the kitchen at stealthy midnights, I invade the humble peanut jar. LinkedIn must have basked in surprise surge today as Facebook, Messenger, WhatsApp, Instagram, and Oculus fell victim to a massive outage after-as The Verge explains-Facebook’s border gateway protocol routes, which help networks pick the best path to deliver internet traffic, were suddenly “withdrawn from the internet”. The outage happened around 12 pm New York time, which is 9:30 pm IST, so the impact was understandably somewhat muffled, except for the usual night owls.

     

    It was “seize the day” time for many marketers who depend on social media platforms. Many parallel platforms promised better service. Some derived metaphors and allegories in their advice: “You should diversify your social media apps to stay connected. Similarly when it comes to investment you should diversify between equity, bonds, gold, international equity etc.”

     

    “My tip for you now is to take these 5 minutes and think about what you were going to post or what you were going to send and ask yourself, ‘what is the purpose?’”

     

    Some advice was the more familiar variety: “I am writing this while looking out of the window and the rain is torrential. So, I suggest we all look for a rainbow.”

     

    Some betrayed their schadenfreude, penning ungrammatical delight at what was surely Mark Zuckerberg’s downfall, right?

     

    And while on social media about social media, can conspiracy theories be far behind—and worse, how do we know they are conspiracy theories—about internal sabotage due to the whistleblower on CBS “60 Minutes”?

     

    It would be fallacious to assume that people were merely capitalizing on the outage by using alternative platforms, or wallowing in ennui while missing their favourite meme from their politically charged group leaders, or doing a primal scream because they didn’t know what their fave Insta influencer was doing, or feeling helpless because their timed marketing campaigns didn’t take off. Marketing campaigns can mostly wait, but our dependence on seamless communication can’t. In India, these days, many businesses communicate with their customers officially on WhatsApp. (If you don’t have a smart phone, well, you shouldn’t seize the privilege of doing business that depends on your smart phone, right?)

     

    Constant communication has become an integral part of conducting business because it is a world of mutual surveillance between us and them, thanks to the media. Indeed, a researcher says, today’s media survives on mutual surveillance. Only a few hours before this social media apocalypse, a friend told me, he had met a senior editor who was working through their meeting—on WhatsApp.  In India, we see that phenomenon all the time. Social media has made work so portable that we carry our work on our smartphones even to casual meetings. Our social media dependency—a theory that claims that we learn about our world from the social media—runs far deeper than its self-conferred role of connection and communication, or, as its marketers hope, constancy of engagement.

     

    Media scholars over the past decade have been busy writing about mediatization: One of my favourite books from the past decade is Media Life by Mark Deuze, who argues that we’re all like zombies, neither alive nor dead. We are inseparable from the media—we no longer merely “use” the media, and the media no longer “influences” us because we have integrated ourselves so much, both “immediatising” and immortalising our lived experience, while media itself becomes ever-evolving at our hands.

     

    That part is true about social media. It is constantly evolving because we’re constantly morphing it. And social media is right at the centre between the mainstream and the media prosumer—it is the amphibious media crucible where the prosumer constantly adds new stuff, constantly stirring the pot to make facts and misinformation indistinguishable. Little did scholars like Deuze know our lives would be so much more mediatized today, thanks to the pandemic—a mediated pandemic, I call it, so much are we dependent on our media to inform us about the pandemic. Over the past eighteen months or so, we have grown uncomfortably accustomed to staying virtually connected while staying physically disconnected.

     

    When that constancy breaks, it’s time for the zombie to wake up.

     

    Shashidhar Nanjundaiah has been a senior journalist and headed schools of journalism and media in India. Currently, as a research scholar based in the United States, he feels the need for better news literacy especially among younger audiences. 

     

  • Wanted: A Law to Protect Media Freedom

     

    By Shashidhar Nanjundaiah

     

    Shashidhar NanjundaiahDean Thompson, US Acting Assistant Secretary of State for South and Central Asia, testified earlier this month before a Congressional panel hearing on democracy in the Indo-Pacific region. Thompson flagged the Narendra Modi government for imposing restrictions on freedom of speech and journalists and activists as “inconsistent with India’s democratic values” [emphasis added to indicate that Thompson did not try to draw equivalence with US values].

     

    Although the statement is a significant milestone, real change back to the way things were seems unlikely. Rather, a morphing towards what seems to be the new and still-emerging normal seems probable. Our media often prides itself as the fourth pillar of democracy, along with the legislative, the executive and the judiciary. But as the executive and the legislative are often accused of veering away from constitutionally inscribed democratic practices, should the media adapt to new normal or should it continue to fight the battle?

     

    The media is often confronted with headwinds from our governments. Often, the media is the irritant in the larger scheme that a government lays out in political and ideological terms. Left to themselves, most sections of the media would steadfastly uphold democratic values as laid down in our Constitution, including the practices through which social equity and equality have been protected. To a media platform that seeks to remain loyal to the Constitution, majoritarianism should be a value to be bracketed, called out, and rejected. In that thinking, freedom of speech should be sacred, and aberrations should be flagged, criticised, raised hell out of. These practices are elements in a larger political ideology that is clearly at variance with the one we grew up on.

     

    Practice before Paradigm (Shift)

    Typically, the more controversial elements in such a scheme are rolled out in practice first, preceding the legitimacy of the constitution. Blatant violence both in action and in political rhetoric against Muslims preceded the CAA, mostly under pretexts-allegations of “smuggling” beef, inconveniencing public movement because of protests, disproportionately adding to the nation’s population. Pretexts are excuses but come in handy in creating compliance with the larger goal. Practices that are authoritarian and threaten promised freedoms must therefore be carefully packaged in sweetened chewables.

     

    One of the biggest successes of our current politics in that nudge is a massive and successful campaign for binaries: nationalism and anti-national, freedoms and security threats, the showcases and the walled-out. But these binaries are different from those that we would use in academic research, for example. These are value-laden binaries. They clearly tell the desirable from the undesirable. Who would like to be an anti-national, a security threat, or an embarrassing aberration that cannot be showcased to the world? If you are a critic, you could be either anti-national or a security threat. If you are a researcher, the government seeks to monitor the research to ensure you are not endangering the nation. If you are poor, you should ideally have a wall before you so that global audiences can’t see you.

     

    Paradigm shift comes about either through overwhelming groundswell or by top-down imposition, and the direction we are headed in cannot be achieved merely by the groundswell of ideologues.

     

    Compliant public sphere?

    How compliant has the media been in this process? Are we seeing enough media indignation in practice? Why does commentator after angry critic (and some journalists themselves) call large sections of the media lapdogs, or godi media? When a conventional set of constitutional values is at variance and even sometimes at loggerheads with the social and political practice, we expect the media to stand for the former.

     

    In reality, the media has largely provided a delightful public sphere for debate, and that public sphere is particularly important in an environment as vulnerable to change as it is currently. Speak to mainstream editors who love their job, and they will deny that an unseen political hand is armtwisting and scripting what goes on air or in print. The ones who break away from mainstream behemoths to form small but significant news portals might vociferously agree. I suspect that the new IT regulations that govern news portals could change that feistiness among some of those, to mix my metaphors, find themselves on a tricky wicket as the net closes in on them. So pliability may at least in part be an act in commercial interest, to avoid police nuisance, or of legitimate and stated editorial slant. But denial of pliability shows how deep the problem is.

     

    Would things be different we had laws specifically protecting journalists and our media? Currently, the Article 19 of the Constitution is overarching but also general in its application to the entire population without any special provisions for the media. Sweden and several other European countries protect the media through special provisions. Sweden’s Freedom of the Press was a pioneering piece of legislation that sought to protect information and thereby those who disseminate it. Significantly, the Swedish law was first enforced when the country was a monarchy-in 1766. Most of its provisions remain intact even after repeated changes and reversals to it until 1949. Foreign media, too, has pretty much unrestricted access to beam their content into Swedish homes.

     

    The recent Himachal court verdict that unshackled veteran journalist Vinod Dua has bolstered journalists’ freedoms in general. The reason public mouthpieces like Dua need special protection is not only because courts will vary in thinking and ideological influences in their interpretations, and uncertainty will prevail. It is because they provide platforms for debates. It is exactly in these times of ideological paradigm shifts that such public spheres are needed the most.

     

    Representative, not stray

    A second reason is that by picking out individual journalists, the government essentially portrays criticism as some stray individual voice—that anti-national that could be a security threat and must be walled in. Before we get swayed by the ideological strength in that action, we must remember that the media both informs and represents. A gag on an individual, however cleverly bracketed as a stray voice, represents a section of the society.

     

    Yet, this is not about the shift that the world is experiencing from a liberal democratic world to an increasingly authoritarian, autocratic, and top-down ideology. The practice precedes that shift—like the reconnoitring tentacles of an approaching octopus, so to speak. And thirdly, the media is the most vocal among all citizens. Expression is their whole job, both representing and informing the public.

     

    Undeniably, there exists some cautious scepticism about possible price to pay for any special provisions for the media. Yet, providing special protection to expression by public disseminators of information, insight and creative expression could see a major change in content, production, and commerce. That is exactly the problem for a government that is underway creating a paradigm shift in ideology. Understanding this distinction is an important lesson in media literacy.

     

     Shashidhar Nanjundaiah has headed private schools of journalism and media in India. Currently in an independent capacity, Prof Nanjundaiah feels the need for better news literacy especially among younger audiences. He writes frequently on MxMIndia. His views here are personal.

     

     

  • Twitter, the editor: What the loss of safe harbour means

     

    By Shashidhar Nanjundaiah

     

    Shashidhar NanjundaiahTwitter is no longer a common carrier or an intermediary as it lost its “safe harbour” legal cover yesterday under Section 79 of the IT Act. In real terms, this means that the social media platform will now be responsible for what the Twitterati says on its platform. It is no longer a (presumed) hubless network of global chatter. After it did not appoint a full-time officer incharge of compliances, the country managing director will now be criminally liable for inflammatory or hateful remarks that are tweeted.

     

    The loss of indemnity against what its users say means that the essence of the business model of social media has come crashing down. As with any pack of cards, this crash was waiting to happen. But the concern for the billions of social media users is much larger. Twitter and other social media giants have argued that their business is like that of a telephone company—a “common carrier”.

     

    But as intermediaries, their role is not as simple as that. If you have ever been in a situation where a post on Facebook or LinkedIn finds a high number of views and the next one is a dud, based on several algorithmic parameters, it means that the role of the social media platform is not that of a common carrier at all. There is intervention, and it is largely technological, but then what isn’t automated these days? Unlike an editor, a social media company will not edit the content of what we write. It is far more democratic that way than a newspaper. But there is intervention—like an editor who “gatekeeps” a newspaper, assigning various pages, positions, lengths, and levels of prominence to news stories. Assigning prominence is a form of editorial intervention.

     

    Editorialisation means that the social media business model that is fed to us—that the social media is the truly free marketplace of ideas—should be questioned. Users may assume that because of the sheer volumes, their posts have the same chance of visibility—and impact—as their neighbour’s. Have social media platforms been transparent with us about how it all really works, and whether it is simply an organic process like Darwin’s natural selection?

     

    In real terms, this also means that social media is finally showing that it, too, has a lifecycle. After a decade of growth-the most unregulated and unfettered among modern technological growths-things seem to be cooling off, and that is something a report had predicted, based on the trends nearly three years ago. An Oxford University-Reuters Institute for the Study of Journalism’s Digital News Report for 2018 had reported that for the first time since the social media phenomenon began more than 15 years ago among users in the 37 countries across continents that the report included (not including India, though), its use for news consumption has shown a decline.

     

    Liberal policies in a democracy implicitly must assume one factor that really is debatable—fairness. If a government tangos with private players and creates the shield of opacity from regular folks, the users, that wouldn’t really fair. On the other hand, it can’t be fair to hold a company responsible for what its consumers do, because those users are not employed by the company. For example, the bicycle manufacturer cannot be held responsible for a bicycle rider who chooses to ride illegally on the wrong side of the road. But in a social media model, the company and the user are bound by a trapeze-like relationship, bound to each other for a critical moment of use.

     

    The technical problem with the company’s responsibility is that any damage can only be mitigated, in the form of a post facto response. We have not reached the stage of technological prowess of some sci-fi films where an impending incident can be prevented. But those crucial minutes, hours or days are all-important in impact terms. So what can a social media platform do to prevent further erosion of its business model? A precautionary method could be to filter out bots and fake profiles. Another possibility is, can it delay each post and hold back a post for manual scrutiny when the content seems shady? What’s the big rush to post everything live anyway—especially if we can all agree that intervention is a reality? Surely these solutions are possible to implement?

     

    Whether the results of corporate responsibility for user content will be good or bad depends on who you are. It would be naïve to assume that everything will go according to the spirit of the law. Twitter will now be an easier target for those who find a post inconvenient, and when users find that their legal responsibility is indirect at best, one wonders whether bad content will be prone to sink even further. Twitter may need to bar many, many more people than ever before.

     

    But patriotic societies like walls. Social media platforms have been betraying the preferred strategy of how our hypernationalistic nation wants to project itself. That discrepancy is far less pronounced in countries where they don’t really care that much. For us, these platforms have been uncontrolled dhobi ghats for our dirty linen, and that is not how we prefer it.  Now finally someone will have some control on how we communicate about ourselves.

     

    Shashidhar Nanjundaiah has headed private schools of journalism and media in India. Currently in an independent capacity, Prof Nanjundaiah feels the need for better news literacy especially among younger audiences. He writes on MxMIndia often. His views here are personal

     

     

  • Shashidhar Nanjundaiah: Institutionalised media illiteracy: The deeper worry in the EC’s plea

    By Shashidhar Nanjundaiah

     

    The first serious attempt at embedding media literacy in academic curricula in the United States was in 1992. The purpose of the National Leadership Conference on Media Literacy, as it was called, was to shape a national framework for media literacy to achieve common objectives. The 25-member expert committee, comprised of educationists, professors, communication practitioners, researchers, and public media debated to arrive at why, how, and in what form media literacy should be framed.

     

    The single most contentious issue in that debate was the very definition of media literacy. The basic definition spelled out media literacy as the ability of a citizen to access, analyse, and produce information for specific outcomes. As one would expect in hindsight, the debatable phrase in the definition was for specific outcomes.

     

    The report on that meeting describes the need for a “movement to expand notions of literacy” to include the understanding, production and negotiation of meanings in a culture made up of powerful images, words and sounds. Even with such an explosion of technological change since the beginning of the 21st century in the way we communicate, not much has changed in that objective with the single and most powerful exception of what we may describe as “mass interactivity”, including exchange of ideas on social media.

     

    Apart from technological changes, politics has changed drastically this century from a blind faith in liberalism in the post-globalisation era to a sharp scepticism of it, thanks to the global financial collapse in 2008. But the phrase “for specific outcomes” remains problematic. The idea that mediated communication reflects constructed realities, and that they have commercial, ideological and political implications, is indisputable. But if the narrator of messages deliberately controls meanings while addressing her audiences, what ideological, political, commercial implications does that control have?

     

    This is so especially in the case of news. Indeed, it is possible to propose that bracketing news as outcome-driven changes the entire media model that has been operational in post-liberalisation India. Although most news platforms strategise which stories go in and out, where or when stories are published, and what approaches to take within each story, it is possible to reject the idea that news itself is strategic—i.e., driven by specific outcomes—because that would, arguably, make news by definition both a tool of manipulation and itself subject to manipulation. So, while media literacy is needed precisely to understand the manipulation of news in practice, this problematic nature of the definition must be called out.

     

    Last week, the Supreme Court (SC) rejected an Election Commission’s (EC) claim early this month. The EC was reacting to an earlier oral remark by judges of Madras High Court (HC) that the Commission reneged on its duty to protect voters from the pandemic. Most of us would empathise with the court’s anguish at the EC’s inaction over the massive, unfettered super-spreader events. The Madras HC went on to orally remark that the EC should be “probably put up for murder charges” for its “wanton abuse of Covid-19 protocol” during election rallies.

     

    The EC pleaded with the SC that the media should not be allowed to report oral remarks of a court. In their verdict, the judges suggested that the High Court’s clickbaity remarks were harsh and highly avoidable. On the other hand, the SC quashed the prayer that the EC raised—that of seeking a restraint on the media on reporting court proceedings. The apex court ruled that an open court proceeding ensures that the judicial process is subject to public scrutiny. The judges went on to cite larger public interest as a justification of the Madras HC’s observations.

     

    To a student of communication, this reminder of constitutional democracy in the age of intrusion is a sharp reminder of whom the institutions should be truly serving. That interest is as wide an outcome as ever of the actions of an institution. The use of the term “for specific outcomes” became a point for much debate around the interest of media literacy in its nascence.

     

    In the SC’s judgment, the judges remarked that the media should be enabled to help create accountability. But if it all boils down to which individual judges preside over these proceedings, institutions will keep pushing the envelope, sometimes seeking to taking away freedoms and to reduce their own accountability to the public. So, notwithstanding the SC’s scathing verdict, the EC’s plea should worry any real communication professional. The very idea that people should not know the opinion of a public court when a constitutional authority’s wrongdoing is spotlighted is nothing short of appalling. At best, the EC’s plea in the Supreme Court reflects institutionalised media illiteracy. At worst, it could lead to an impression that the EC is being dictated by expediency. The institution’s concern for its own image does not provide a convincing impression of a belief in constitutional freedoms.

     

    More broadly, it tells us in what direction assumed privilege can lead a constitutional institution in a democracy. News of all hues provides us the well-rounded worldview we need, and we already have a political party at the helm that routinely seeks to thwart it. That is why an institution that seeks to censor information is exactly an example of why the term for specific outcomes is dangerous: It could legitimise the act of nudging citizens towards specific political, ideological or commercial goals that can be very different from those that a nation is supposed to follow.

     

    In the current environment where fake news can actually aid governments to push their political agenda, it is increasingly doubtful whether governments such as ours will seek to build media literacy in academic curricula. If that inaction means that our constitutional institutions will also seek to wall themselves into a media-protected enclosure, we are looking an institutional display of media illiteracy that can lead to the institutionalisation of media illiteracy.

    (more…)

  • The Hyperlocal Exposure of Covid Truths

     

    By Shashidhar Nanjundaiah

     

    Shashidhar NanjundaiahA sensational headline from The Guardian that’s doing the rounds these days reads, “The system has collapsed: India’s descent into Covid hell”. To this dramatic text, a friend and a media lecturer from Patna, Rajeev Sharan, remarked that the famed UK daily’s headline is just being charitable. “Actually, the system has not collapsed. It just stands exposed. This is the system here.”

     

    “Meanwhile, people are asking where their vaccine dose is,” the story by BBC’s India correspondent Yogita Limaye concluded. After presenting the ugly political bickering around vaccines in India, that was the bottom line-their immediate, proximate reality.

     

    People in a crisis mostly care about the truth that they need-blood, oxygen, vaccines. People whose relatives are dying in hospitals often blame the system for their fate. “The doctors are helpful, but government is not helping.” Blame goes onto a distant, unreachable entity that we call the system. Yet it is the local, a-systematic entity with tremendous reach and is yet very local that often cuts through the red tape and helps.

     

    It is fair to assume that many of the people whose relatives are dying are surely those who are also intemperate in their hypernationalism and protecting national image, which, hitherto, was more important than reality. Yet, the same technology-enabled social system comes to their rescue when the need is immediate and critical.

     

    As a system, the social media has proved that is both a boon and a curse in these trying times of Covid 2.0. On the one hand, it is replete with nationalistic “triumphalism” and booster doses for Modi’s image. Much has been documented and argued-including by this author-about the perils of such ongoing government-induced, often unscientific euphoria that has caught the fancy of politicians and the social media distributors of their messages.

     

    So it is evident that a system of fake news has arisen right before our eyes. To that extent, sections of our media that do question the system-however raucously and irritatingly-drill down the bottom line, that people are at the bottom of it all. They remind us that the system is not “the other”-we are the system. Yet by being selective in accountability-seeking, they are exposing the media’s own system.

     

    Yet, on the other side of that disturbing new social system is a much more heartening alternative of how the social media is doing what our media has largely failed to do: help people. This kind of crisis is where the word “social” in the term social media is validated. Geographically apart strangers are helping one another, appealing for blood donation or oxygen.

     

    Although its meaning is obvious and un-tricky, hyperlocal has taken on a new meaning. This new definition is about not the reach but the origin. It means hyperlocal is not about geographic proximity, but about the dissemination of a reality from a locality. An important book, self-explanatorily titled Hyperlocal Journalism: The Decline of Local Newspapers and the Rise of Online Community News by David Harte, Rachel Howells and Andy Williams (2019), albeit largely in a west European context, includes a pertinent discussion around “excessively local”-so local that local, crowdsourced information is too culturally specific for its mass distribution to bear the right connotations.

     

    One argument can be that such news is too mundane, too ordinary. But like all news, it is at times of crisis that its true relevance and value kick in. The hyperlocal nature of social media lends that personal touch to a global technology, and in a sense, it defies what system is. Even the most local of the so-called mainstream media must resort to anecdotal evidence or broad generalisations. It is only the sum of all anecdotes that can make the reality emerge as it stands, devoid of headlines and bottom lines.

     

    It should be evident, therefore, that hyperlocal news is both informational and cultural. It is informational when it is immediate and proximate, and a cultural informant when it is not. Last Saturday, the first weekend of a curfew in the Garden City, The News Minute published pretty pictures of a few leafy streets to support the headline “Roads deserted, shops shut during Bengaluru weekend lockdown”.

     

    Let’s think about the political, social and cultural undertones in that news item. What this headline will not tell us it is showing only a part of the reality. It would be fallacious for the reader to assume that all roads are deserted, all shops shut. (Clearly, they were not.) The headline is important for a variety of reasons, after all-they tie together an un-complex form of truth, providing a conveniently one-sided evidence for newspapers and portals to evidence a strict weekend curfew, individuals point out that traffic is almost normal in their neighbourhood. Additionally, to someone who is geographically removed, it connotes-falsely-that the city has been totally compliant and disciplined.

     

    That is why it is the social media that can provide the actual truth-whether it is in the form of exposing the underbelly of our society or our minds, whether it is depressing for many of us to know how much hatred there is, or whether it is delightful to know how much compassion there is. Where there is no hatred or compassion, there is pretence of either—which is also a reality. It is what people want to convey about themselves. Like its mainstream counterpart, this crowdsourced messaging is best at, and worst at ‘news you can use’. It could lend itself to use or misuse, but hyperlocal is the most organic counter to hypernational.

     

    As the founder of Being Responsible, the author, Shashidhar Nanjundaiah, is attempting to build awareness via Responsible Media Literacy. Prof Nanjundaiah has led media institutes to positions of repute and leadership. You can reach him at shashi.nanjundaiah@hotmail.com. His views here are personal.

  • April Fool Prank or Fake News

     

    By Shashidhar Nanjundaiah

     

    Shashidhar NanjundaiahI hope we all had fun on April 1. I remember playing—and being played–dumb pranks at school on April Fools’ Day, back in the 1970s. It is so heartening (not really) to see that the tradition of schoolboy pranks lives on in adulthood. It gets sillier when the media plays pranks with us. Eyeball-roll level silly.

    Newspapers have traditionally remained elevated on the no-nonsense pedestal, often to the point of snootiness. We expect news to have little sense of humour apart from the organic-wry type—when the news itself is ironically funny. One that I chuckled at recently was even as Mamata Banerjee was pivoting her campaign by calling BJP leaders “outsiders” to her home state of Bengal, her party colleague Mahua Moitra fell for a typical rhetorical trap and tweeted that her party leader would consider contesting elections from Varanasi in Uttar Pradesh. That remark gave Narendra Modi and other campaigners delightful fodder for counter-rhetoric. Nobody would really take either Moitra’s tweet or the riposte seriously because we have become literate enough to take campaign rhetoric with a grain of salt.

    On the other hand, third editorials and guest columns aside, when newspapers try to be funny, they risk being seen as lacking practice and expertise. When one of the most reputed newspapers in the country ran an April Fool’s prank online, it stuck. In its compulsive fervour, the headline ran: “TD merges with BJP, Naidu finalises deal”.

     

    The “report” went on to provide a file photo of Telugu Desam’s (TD) leader Chandrababu Naidu with Prime Minister Narendra Modi, and an intro lead-in that stated:

    It could not be independently confirmed if any of the former TD Rajya Sabha MPs who joined the BJP acted as facilitators.

    The story began:

    Hyderabad: In a development that marks a tectonic power shift in Andhra Pradesh politics, Telugu Desam (TD) chief and former three-term chief minister N. Chandrababu Naidu has decided to merge his floundering party with the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), bringing to an end the saga of a regional entity that had seen a meteoric rise in the country.

    TD leaders reportedly felt the party has lost its verve and there is little hope of reinvigorating the party within the next three years and wrest power from the YSRC in the next Assembly polls.

    Did anything jump out at you as fake?

    Exactly.

    Nothing. The news piece continued in the way any news item would, even specifying timeline—a month—for the TD-BJP merger. The last sentence of the piece was a half-disclaimer at best (never mind the English):

    A political analyst said, “Readers must carefully look at today’s date. They would realise the right conclusion to come to is April Fool’s Day.”

    Now, that disclaimer could have meant anything. Let us give the mirthful writer and their editor the benefit of doubt and claim they did their job by carrying it, albeit in all its ambiguity. But the assumption that like the writer and the editor, the reader is somehow obligated to read a news item until the last line is fallacious. It is a technicality that does not take in account reader habits.

    That is likely why the already beleaguered Chandrababu Naidu’s Telugu Desam Party promptly wrote to the Editors Guild of India, objecting strongly to the piece. The Guild stands by its editors to the extreme, sometimes to a fault, while protecting their freedoms—so silence would be an expected outcome there. To the party, it must have felt as though the editor was kicking someone who’s down. Being a political party, it also seized the opportunity to seek political mileage, by stating that the article “reeks of agenda, and the timing [just after the TDP badly lost urban local body elections] makes it abundantly clear that the author has allowed his personal interest to influence his professional duties.”

    It was a needless controversy, but is it fake news? That depends on how media-literate we are. The expectation that all or most readers are—or ought to be—somehow fully aware of editorial subtleties is unfair. A look at the social media reactions to the piece tells me most people did not read the article to the last line. Many digital non-native writers habitually keep their punch lines until the end. But articles are not like breathtaking videos. I am reminded of a recent viral video that showed a plane seemingly landing on the divider of a highway, in the end frame anticlimactically stating that it was all a trick at the editing table. In the case of that video, the viewer is much more likely to watch until an anticipated climax, and I would not call it a fake.

    As to the fakeness of the article, the answer in my dictionary is, yes. An April Fool’s prank is meant to make the butt of a joke feel a little silly. It is meant to be humour that causes momentary anxiety before the truth is revealed. It is its own form of satire, and satire is universally accepted as a kosher form of fakeness. But the distinguishing passcode is whether it is recognised by a typical reader or audience as such. In the absence of that receiver-confirmation, fake appears real—the very definition of fake news.

    The responsibility of eyeballs-seeking editorial clickbaits lies in being brilliant enough to discern between humour and fake news—unless the publication is itself biased and blinded by agenda. That may be unlikely in the above case, but look what the irresponsible cat dragged in. The presumption of media literacy is another level of editorial snootiness.

     

    As the founder of BeingResponsible, Shashidhar Nanjundaiah author is attempting to build media awareness among school- and college-goers via Responsible Media Literacy. Prof Nanjundaiah has led media institutes to positions of repute and leadership. He is also an editor. You can reach him at shashi.nanjundaiah@hotmail.com.

     

     

  • Free Discourse in the Age of National Threats

     

    By Shashidhar Nanjundaiah

     

    Shashidhar NanjundaiahThe Twitter-Indian government war is gaining unprecedented but expected proportions. After BJP IT Cell head Amit Malviya’s tweet on the farmers’ protest was called out in early December by Twitter as “manipulative media”—its first ever time to do so for all the claims about Malviya as a repeat offender, the micro-blogging company now finds itself in trouble with the BJP government.

    If we must redefine our freedoms, and social media has defined it in its own way, there will be conflict. For the moment, this is a conflict of survival. And Koo comes as a great alternative.

    For the longest time, I have been uneasy with the term “social media”. Can we call it media, I would brood and ask myself. The reasons for my doubt were founded in the definitions we learnt about media. Of course, we have parsed and we have intellectualised it in technology terms—“the plural of medium” is the most common—to its description as “a marketplace of ideas” and most recently, as the non-common carrier of information and insight. For the longest time, the media had been regarded as innocent common carriers of information, much like the telephone.

    Not any longer. Editorial intervention in news still lends it the diversity of voices we have grown to expect it—at least it does so in theory. What Twitter and Facebook did not foresee, however, was that they, too, would be measured with the same yardstick. Surprised, young content moderators are now editors who must determine whether the liberation of expression they had envisioned for their users was too much.

    The less glamorous news item last week was that an Editors Guild of India webinar was cyber-bombed by a number of people who thought the topic—reporting from Naxal areas—was not convenient. Public webinars on platforms such as Zoom always held the technological peril of potentially being hijacked by disruptors. With social media, though, the disruption is a part of the very soul of the technology.

    But as diverse its voices are in principle, organisation remains the very soul of social media, along with its partner-function, transaction. Just as advertisers will take advantage of the big numbers—the soul of the economy of social media—so will organisers seeking to mobilise. If we trust individual minds to determine for themselves what their story should be, there are plenty of opportunities—free of charge—to affiliate with or endorse organised campaigns.

    So while technology has changed, not much has changed in the principle of organised campaigns. Whether it was India’s independence movement or Jayaprakash Narayan, galvanising likeminded people to voice their opinion has been central to change. Social media does beat geography in the mobilisation. Still, like Arab Spring, the real movement is on the ground for any real change to happen.

    That is why, whatever mobilisation of the farmers’ protest may have happened through hashtags, on-ground presence was always going to be critical. The Nishaan Sahib flag (not the Khalistan flag—that, indeed, is fake news that should have been shut down by the government) that fluttered atop India’s best symbol of our freedoms, the Red Fort, is far more emblematic than any hashtag. So while a crackdown on Twitter is underway, a person climbed a Red Fort flagpole at ease on Republic Day, and hoisted a Sikh flag. Police personnel, very much around the place, watched. How difficult was it for the police to prevent a single man from climbing on a flagpole? Questions are being raised whether actors and non-farmers joined the protest. Later, Delhi Police dug trenches and set up barbed fences on roads leading to the capital, and armed themselves with steel batons. It was given much media publicity, as though it were a larger warning. So on one hand, farmers physically violated norms in the capital and the police admitted them on routes that were not permitted.

    On the other, there were online voices that were protesting. While online mobilisation and endorsement was rife—some even calling Prime Minister Modi a potential perpetrator of genocide—this was no longer about the three contentious farm laws. Can such a movement, even considering “Khalistanis” are supporting it, be a threat to the government? Or would the government be better off acting confident of quelling such an attempt? Shouting angrily at Twitter and acting spooked at self-perceived “threats to security” are laughable, puerile actions.

    It all seemed topsy-turvy: the virtual was real, and the real, virtual. Twitter is defending free speech, and a democratic government is shutting it down.

    That is why the homegrown Twitter clone, Koo, comes as a big relief for the government and its political party. Tech-savvy and quick to turn opportunities into advantages, the government has claimed the Koo space to mobilise and co-opt it as a nationalistic platform. For “free discourse,” of course.

    When the US Democrats found that they did not have a strong enough point to claim that Trump instigated violence on the Capitol on January 6, they said simply that he was “responsible”. After Trump was acquitted this week after impeachment proceedings, even Republican leader Mitch McConnell joined the chorus to state that Trump did not do enough to stop the violence. It is reminiscent of what IT Minister Ravi Shankar Prasad and others in his government are doing: They are accusing Twitter of not doing enough. Maybe that is fair.

    But to claim that Twitter must editorialise to suit the government, weeding out inconvenient voices while the government’s own party routinely uses Twitter to spread fake news, is not fair. One is false narrative, the other is fake news. A media-literate government must understand that while we still don’t have laws to protect us from fake news, false narrative is not something you can censor. People at large and political parties and leaders are using instigating language on social media because it sells. Going after Twitter is tantamount to killing the messenger.

     

    As the founder of BeingResponsible, the author is attempting to build media awareness among school- and college-goers via Responsible Media Literacy. Prof Nanjundaiah has led media institutes to positions of repute and leadership. He is also an editor. You can reach him at shashi.nanjundaiah@hotmail.com. His views here are personal.

     

  • Pride, Euphoria & Epicaricacy: State of Indian Media on Biden-Harris inauguration

     

    By Shashidhar Nanjundaiah

     

    The power to select is a privilege that we social media denizens have appropriated while airing opinions. The albatross around a mainstream media editor’s neck, though, is taking responsibility for that power to select in an age when content management beats that privilege. Content management is akin to what surveillance agencies do, listening to chatter between individuals and between groups to determine what content should go into mainstream media based on the popularity of words and phrases. In the world of content management, what’s unpopular is inconvenient, but even more so, what’s convenient must be made popular. I would like to cite three samples—retaining, of course, the privilege to be selective-from Indian media’s narrative of the US Presidential inauguration on January 20.

     

    The inauguration of the Biden-Harris government in the United States was met with great celebration in the Indian media. Our raucous news television channels are the usual suspects, and much of this celebration may sound muted when you consider the biggest newspapers, but it is very much there. Let us not forget how content is the biggest rediscovery over the past decade, and the online news desks of newspapers and news channels have milked it impressively. Not story, not news, but content. Management of content entails much listening: Listening through spreadsheets of analytics and trends, that is. What runs these days as soft stories as the spokes of an umbrella “hub” story are those that gain virality. Soft stories have soft power.

     

    The 1.38 billion of us Indians form a sixth of the whole world, so the strength in social media numbers is enough to make Indians win popularity surveys and to project Indians as the holders of the world. If social media is a leveller, the mainstream media is its amplifier. Our content management teams listen selectively and cover selectively, because selection is the privilege mainstream media would like to continue to exercise. When it does not come in the way of a media platform’s own political agendas, affiliations or compulsions, selection is obvious.

     

    The Indian media’s coverage of Trump’s bumbling policies and even worse rhetoric caused much glee in the Indian media because they were picked up from the average Indian social media user’s schadenfraude—a word that is too commonplace for Shashi Tharoor, who must call it epicaricacy. Trump gave Indians great opportunity to claim one-upmanship over the White man. Brown and proud, one Indian Twitter user’s handle reads. It’s a running theme.

     

    That is why Kamala Harris, the desi, came as a vindication for them. The media must join the mirth of the galleries in proving to each other that the US Vice President is Kamala Devi first before she is Harris.

     

     

    Kamala’s saree

     

    You can’t get more Indian than a saree. old picture of the Vice President in a saree with her Indian kinfolk. Television cameras reached Thulasendrapuram, a village in the coastal district of Thiruvarur in deep-south Tamil Nadu, where Kamala Harris’s relatives gathered around a public television set, reminiscent of the quaint Hum Log days, telling the reporter how excited the village was. Harris, on her part, had great fun with the Indian self-obsession, invoking chittis and her Indian tradition, knowing behind her full-throated laugh she was setting the Indian media on fire with those statements. “Will Kamala wear a saree to the inauguration?” was a serious question doing the rounds.

     

    The Indian Express, Lifestyle, 19 Jan

     

    As desi netizens “wondered”, mainstream media platforms were quick to jump on the question themselves, leaving out the “netizens speculate” part or words to that effect. After all, if netizens speculate, so must we.

     

    India.com, Lifestyle, 18 Jan

     

    Of course, it was about honouring her heritage. In response to an actual question at a media conference even before election results were in, Harris had skirted the question—pardon the pun—and had worded her response judiciously, “Let’s win first. My mother raised us with a very strong appreciation for our cultural background and pride. Celebrations that we all participate in regardless of how our last name is spelled. It’s the beauty of who we are as a nation.”

     

    From a lifestyle/fashion question, it turned into a question for the “World” section—perhaps because it was a question about India’s prestige, somehow.

     

    DNA, World, 19 Jan

     

     

    Kamala and Kashmir

     

    When such serious questions were being explored, only the boring regulars had space or time for the less widely popular subjects. Far less articulated, for example, was the fact that both Biden and Harris have taken a stance that will raise human rights issues in Kashmir. In the absence of a direct connect with Kamala Harris on the issue, the Indian media made do with statements from her desi relatives living in India. Some online portals, known for their more open stance on subjects inconvenient to the Modi government, speculated that the Biden-Harris government won’t go easy on the Kashmir issue.

     

    Lo and behold, one of the early nominees in the administration included Sameera Fazili. News18 was among the few platforms that did pick up the wire on that news item, using a PTI story to inform us about pride and happiness—how happy her family was, how happy everybody in Kashmir was, and that she was a “bright child and brilliant in her studies” and “a very active person who loves skiing, swimming, tennis and travelling”. The news item kept out Fazili’s connection to the Kashmir issue. She and her sister had intervened in her cousin’s arrest under the Public Safety Act after the 2019 clampdown. Sameera’s sister Yousra Fazili gained fame after she testified vociferously in November 2019 against the arrest of their cousin Mubeen Shah.

    But that would be inconvenient and perhaps ill-timed for our media to disclose. Perhaps it would put a sense of bonhomie that prevails in the world of articulation. World of diplomacy, another story.

     

     

    Biden vs Hindutva

     

    Another inconvenient issue is the Biden-Harris administration’s stand on Hindutva. In the United States, Indian Americans are not all techies. There are politically active community groups, too, and some work in affiliation to or support of the RSS, the VHP, and other Hindutva-affiliated associations.

     

    That is why the omission of two prominent Indian American names in the list of 21 (and growing) Indian Americans in the Biden administration is news. Shah was part of the Barack Obama administration, while Jani worked as a Muslim Outreach Coordinator in the Biden campaign before the campaign managers learnt of his proximity to Narendra Modi and other BJP leaders. He was reassigned as National Asian American and Pacific Islander Director. Sonal Shah, with historical links to the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP), is the daughter of the founder of Ekal Vidyalaya, the RSS-run school in the United States.

     

    As many as 19 Indian American organisations had written to Biden during his campaign, pointing out that many individuals with ties to far-right Hindu organisations are affiliated with the Democratic party. While such an affiliation itself is ideologically paradoxical, community groups that work on the Hindutva agenda in the United States do not always showcase themselves as such, but often blend in through political or business systems. That is why it appears that the Biden administration is being cautious and thorough in its vetting process, something some experts say was not the case earlier.

     

    But as Democrats under Biden and Harris continues to vet for more than 600 people in the administration, only a precious few media outlets—led by The Tribune—picked up the story. Kamala Harris has roots in India, and that familiarity only adds deeper, more critical insights with values that conform to global standards. This means the Biden administration is more, not less, likely to be more critical of internal strife in India.

     

    Why talk of it when Twitter is exploding with jubilation and the numbers are up, and when a resurgently jingoistic Hindu majority does not want negative news about itself?

     

     

    Mediated gap

     

    There is a “mediated gap” here—a gap fuelled by the media based on false euphoria among denizens of the social media. It is giving us the assumption of a clever but false equivalence that in Biden’s and Harris’s eyes, what’s good for the Indian government is good for Indian people. All good, except that the idea of human rights doesn’t work like that, and of course our media knows that well.

     

    It is more or less clear that the administration will work closely with Indian Americans and work to further ease up immigration norms. But that means the administration will welcome, work with, and sympathise with individuals who want to emigrate from countries like India to the States. Even the Indian government is working with the US government to ease H1-B visa norms that doesn’t really do much for India other than fuel further brain drain.

     

    But apparently, pride and honour are the popular cultural triggers to exploit. While also intelligently tucking away real news in the annals of print pages, the Indian news media knows what to play up—vicarious pride and cultural honour. That’s what sells in India. The Indian media in the Modi tenure resembles American television and advertising content in the 1950s, selling muscular pursuit of happiness and euphoria and hiding the worst kinds of discrimination and social injustices. Exposing selected facts shows hypocrisy, because it means we don’t have the courage of conviction or the faith in people’s discretion of opinion.

     

    As I said before, selection is a privilege the mainstream media loves to protect. In India, often that selection is unstated—but as a nation, our media literacy is growing to discern selectivity. Selective exposure, selective perception, selective listening, and selective coverage are a formidable ballgame to play.

     

    As the founder of BeingResponsible, Shashidhar Nanjundaiah is attempting to build media awareness among school- and college-goers via Responsible Media Literacy. Prof Nanjundaiah has led media institutes to positions of repute and leadership. He is also an editor. You can reach him at shashi.nanjundaiah@hotmail.com. His views here are personal.