| O |
n December 10, 1948, the United Nations General Assembly adopted the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Coming on the heels of the World War II that brought death and destruction to millions of people, including the annihilation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the guilty leaders of the powerful nations promised a heaven on earth. Gathered at the Palais de Chaillot in Paris, these men not only promised a future free of war and atrocities but also assured basic human rights to global citizenry.
Thus, the Article 19 of the Declaration said that “everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers.”
World history, however, has taught us through many an example that promises made by the powerful to the powerless are seldom meant to be fulfilled. How could Article 19 be an exception?
When the European colonial stranglehold started to loosen in the post-war years, independence was selectively awarded to various Asian and African nations, though freedom was denied. Raised by the colonisers in the perpetual tradition of oppression and suppression, civil and military bureaucrats made sure that the ordinary citizens stayed gagged.
One specimen of that drill is reflected in the Pakistani version of Article 19 that also reiterates the UDHR promises of freedoms of speech, expression and the press, as long as these freedoms are exercised “subject to any reasonable restrictions imposed by law in the interest of the glory of Islam or the integrity, security or defence of Pakistan or any part thereof, friendly relations with foreign states, public order, decency or morality, or in relations to contempt of court, [commission of] or incitement to an offence.” The rider reads like a joke. The conditional nature of the national Article 19 clearly warns both the people and the Press that ‘freedom of expression’ and ‘freedom after expression’ are two vastly different ideas.
Towards the late 1990s, a leading media house in Pakistan was trying to launch an independent news TV channel. The government was reticent in permitting such adventures. I remember cornering the then minister for information and broadcasting at a reception in Lahore and asking him why a democratically elected government was unwilling to allow independent broadcasting. “Over our dead bodies. Abhi to akhbar qaboo naheen aa rahay [We can’t even fully control the papers]. And you’re asking for independent television. Forget it.” The gentleman was one of the best known media persons in the country. He still is.
One side of the story of the Pakistani Press and the media has been a sorry tale from the word go. Successive governments have tried in every possible way to suppress the freedoms promised by the constitution. Newspapers were shut, news TV networks were disallowed broadcasting, journalists were abducted and tortured; even killed. Media owners were incarcerated on trumped up charges – all in the name of the “larger interest of country’s safety or security.”
The other side is a saga of bravery, boldness and bravado of journalists, who believed in the potency of their pen, Dictaphones and cameras. They really believed that there existed a ‘fourth pillar,’ even if a standalone column, outside the tripod structure of any government. They believed that they represented the public interest and trusted the idealism of their mentors more than the theories propounded by professors in far-off lands.
It can be argued that the days are long gone when journalists were supposed to read up on the history of their profession and the professionals’ aspiration to be the watchdogs of the rights of the underdog, the powerless and the commoner. Still questioning if the term ‘fourth estate’ was first used by Edmund Burke in parliamentary debates in the second half of the 18th Century, Oscar Wilde wrote about the rising power of journalism towards the end of the 19th Century saying “It has eaten up the other three [estates – the clergy, the nobility and the commoners]. The Lords Temporal say nothing, the Lords Spiritual have nothing to say, and the House of Commons has nothing to say and says it. We are dominated by journalism.”
There is no denying that challenges for independent media have risen in the last three to four decades. These tests are both external and internal. Governments and authoritarian regimes are arrayed on one side and technological advancement and consumer confrontation occupies the other end. But somehow, watchdog journalism remains an utmost necessity. The state and the government will always twist arms to secure propagandist journalism and the corporate and vested interests lure media owners with financial favours; investigative journalists must, however, keep sniffing for conscientious insiders, whistle-blowers and informed sources.
Smart technologies and AI madness may be undermining serious journalism. But we are also transitioning fast from the proverbial fourth estate – traditional media consisting of newspaper and TV networks – to the ‘fifth estate,’ a relatively new term and not treated at par with the ‘fourth power.’ This new challenger consists of vloggers, bloggers, influencers and social media users of online platforms. Most of them are in the game for personal fame or financial. Their reach may be global but if it comes from sharp, sleazy commentary, they can never replace the old-school investigative journalist.
The byline buzz can only be matched by a hardcore social media operator who has studied the subject, put in hours, invested in new technologies and roams like a bloodhound, sniffing for stories.
The writer is the resident editor of The News at Islamabad/ Rawalpindi