So long, the idealist

Pride in quality work, the spirit and energy of a newsroom and the sense of participation in big events made it worth being in journalism

A  few days ago, I was mauled on one of the news channels. I was defending the organisation I work for and the interviewer was uninterested. The exchange was nasty in the way that viewers of such media — and I am no longer among them — will know. A while later, one of the network’s reporters came up to me. “Why did you go on?” the individual asked, and gave me a set of rules of what to not do when given an invitation to the news channels (Rule No 1: never go on live).

Clearly, the individual was concerned that the organisation she worked for was ambushing people and not doing real journalism. What interested me, and what I did not ask her because she meant well and it would have been impolite, was: why work in such a place?

I ask for two reasons. The first is the obvious one and also the less important one. If one is disapproving of the manner and ethics of an organisation, then one shouldn’t work there. The second reason, the more important one, is that I have always felt that journalists love their trade.

You will notice that I have not used the word profession, but something slightly lower down on the scale. A profession the dictionary describes as being “a paid occupation that involves prolonged training and a formal qualification”. And so, doctors, lawyers and engineers would be professionals. A trade, on the other hand, is described as “a job requiring manual skills and some training.” This would apply to carpenters, plumbers, electricians and journalists. This is particularly so for people like me, freelancers who ply their trade without fixed income.

What is the limited skill required for being a reporter? Being able to frame precise questions and being able to take down accurately the answers. Yes, some additional things are needed, like knowing the background and being able to connect with the right people. However, such things, as in all jobs, happen with immersion. It is those two, quite limited, skills that make a reporter. If one is an editor on the “desk”, meaning someone not on the field, other than language skills, little else is required. A little over two decades ago, software was developed to make page-making a function on the computer. Some papers experimented with sub-editors (the lowest in the rank of the desk folks) also designing and making the pages. I do not know if this is still the case but that was the only additional bit of skill they needed to pick up.

Journalists were expected to be objective and this was assumed. Editors would be astonished if copy would be submitted with even a whiff of a slant. Opinion was corralled off into a fixed space: editorial and opposite-editorial (Op-Ed) pages. Everything else was objective.

My point is this: when there is only such a limited scope to exhibit competence, quality and ethics in journalism, how is it possible to be in this trade and not follow even those basics? Indeed, to be able to recognise that the organisation is indulging in something that is outright wrong, and still being fine with working for it? I find this difficult to negotiate.

Is it only about a job? I am not sure, and perhaps it is. Because no particular training or skill was required, and also perhaps for other reasons, journalism did not pay well. My first salary was Rs 1,700.

And though that amount bought a lot more in 1995 than it does today, it was not a living wage. Journalism was the lowest paying white collar job one could do in India. That is not the case today and editors and anchors can get paid in crores. However, entry-level jobs are still not that attractive and perhaps that compounded with the fact that one has no particular skill means that the options are limited.

However, even though the pay was low, there was great pride in being a journalist. Readers will forgive me for being maudlin, but this is absolutely true. I came to Bombay (as it was called then) in 1994 to do something in the import-export business. One afternoon, having been jobless for a few months, on the local train I noticed a classified in The Times of India. It went something like: “Aardwolf: a nocturnal animal that feeds in the dark hours,” et cetera. It was an ad for a tabloid looking for reporters. I applied to the office, which was in a liftless building in Fort’s D N Road, and was astonished to be told that I was hired (I was the only one to have applied).

Leaving the building, I had to hold on to the bannister because my legs were trembling with excitement.

My first business card (“Aakar Patel Correspondent”) I took enormous pride in proffering to strangers. Recognition for reporters was rare and it was only the exceptional story that carried a byline, meaning crediting the correspondent by name. Reporters would stare long at the newspaper with their story when it was published on the front page, I certainly did. I imagine this is the same feeling that a carpenter might have on doing a particularly good job on a chair.

These were the things: pride in quality work, the spirit and energy of a newsroom and the sense of participation in big events that made it worth being in journalism.

This is what those reporters who work for the news channels today are missing or have given up. They are participating in something fraudulent and often violent. Is it worth it for them? And if so, how? They must surely all have been atremble when they first entered the trade. Journalists are drawn to idealism. So how did they handle the total reversal, from idealism to naked and nasty profiteering? As a reporter, it would be fascinating to know. Perhaps I should interview some of them. Objectively, of course.