For as long as it can be remembered, the people of Nagaland have lived and survived in the margins. To say that it is not an easy thing (to survive in the margins) will be a gross understatement. From daily experiences, we can say with unerring certainty that survival in the margins require the highest sets of skill, in every sense of the term, and in every aspects of life. More than anything else, it demands flawless navigation skills guided by an unwavering moral compass. This is where the real battles occur – between the navigation and the compass. More often than not, we find that the margins are littered with landmines.
To be a journalist in such a context is almost an impossible job. It is the navigation that kills you, every single day. Latest available date informs us that there are more than 19 lakh people living in Nagaland. And every single one of them belongs to a tribe and a village. By this association, in the context of Nagaland, the identity of the inhabitants becomes an extension of their tribe’s or village’s. Everything and everyone is an extension of a wider identity. And to be a journalist in the midst of this labyrinth is, at the risk of understating it, no easy task.
So, against this backdrop, for the journalists of Nagaland to assemble on November 16 last at Dimapur to celebrate National Press Day is indeed a good thing. As expected, the occasion called for introspection and retrospection among a group of people who have chosen to represent the voice of the marginalised. It is without doubt that journalism in Nagaland needs much improvement. The press personnel are expected to be more than just producers of statements from elite and the powerful.
While discussing the competence, or the incompetence, of journalists in Nagaland, the normal tendency is to turn the microscope on the reporters. This is even more so, when people outside the media industry have their say on the issue. This is quite understandable because, in so many ways, reporters are the first contact – and thus represents the image of the newspapers in a way that the people working at the desk does not. It goes without saying that our reporters have much to learn, just like the rest of us have to, in our own respective jobs.
The inadequacies are beyond argument, but sometimes – if not always – the common tendency to focus on the shortcomings of the reporters tends to result in the shortcomings of the editors being overlooked. This is where brutal honesty is called for, if we are really serious about improving the standard of journalism in Nagaland. We have had editors who thought filing an RTI application is a “waste of time and money.” An officer from the Under Development department had the audacity to say that “women are seen as the weaker sex because God made you so”, in front of an entire only-girls college. This was dismissed as “stale news” by an editor. The list of stories killed by editors is quite long.
Conversely, an editor also has assigned his reporter to file the same story twice – for consecutive days – simply because the manager of the company whose product was being launched did not feature in the picture on the first day. Needless to say, a member of his family is marketing the product in Nagaland today. These are simply few instances, and exceptions, of course. Some of the editors have been no less than exemplary and inspiring.
The questions over the standard of journalism in Nagaland will remain so long as these “overlooked” issues are not addressed honestly. Almost all the newspapers in Nagaland have editors who are proprietors too. This is in no way to suggest cross connections. As mentioned earlier, some have been unwavering in their principles, thus inspiring the younger lot.
But when the discussion is on improving the standard of journalism in Nagaland, it must be all-round. After all, a reporter – at the end of the day – is only as good as his/her editor allows him/her to be. We can and must grow, but only together.
