Comment in chains

IN the midst of the Trump thank you, the rains, and many new ministers, the apologies crept up on us, quietly, taking us all by surprise. No one was really expecting them, though we were all aware of renewed pressure and stricter guidelines.

For those who don’t make a living from the press and hence don’t follow what happens in the industry, let me explain that in recent days, apologies were offered with regard to two talk shows.

In one, the host apologised for remarks made by guests in recent programmes and in another, the apology offered was for the commentary by the talk show host — intro, commentary, ibtedaiya, whatever one calls it, but it’s what kick-starts the programme and lays out what the ensuing discussion will focus on.

The weather is changing not only in the capital but also in the studios.

In these difficult times, where the press surely is under attack, to use a cliché, these apologies struck a nerve. Not because journalists can’t be held responsible and not because mistakes can’t be corrected and acknowledged but because of what the apologies were for. They were offered for opinion.

After all, for months now we have been told that the source of all evil in Pakistan is #fakenews as social media allows people to make up stuff, facts and events. And these lies and mistruths are what is causing discontent in society along with the defamation of ‘good’ people. And that these mistruths can only be stopped by bans and straitjacketing social media where the ‘lies’ run amok.

If even opinion is unacceptable, where does this leave us as a people?

But if the problem was incorrect facts then why are apologies now being offered for opinion? And if even opinion is unacceptable, where does this leave us as a people?

After all, comment, as The Guardian says, is free and it has been freely available and shared in Pakistan for decades. Even during martial laws, opinion always had more space than hardcore reporting. This is why among the big names that emerged in journalism from the Zia years were Ardeshir Cowasjee and Irfan Husain; their opinions catapulted them to fame.

But in this age of Pakistani politics, even opinion it seems is far too much for those who lord it over this country — opinions of not just the journalists but also guests on talk shows. However, the burden falls on journalists only, who do far more than apologise for their views as well as of others.

The past week there were hushed whispers about some anchors being taken off air. Some, we were told, just didn’t get the ratings, others were not a good fit, and still others left of their own accord. Perhaps these reasons were as reliable as they were earlier when journalists were removed from air during the PTI days. After all, why should anyone assume that only the ire of someone powerful is the reason for the removal of journalists? Not back then and not now.

But the whispers and apologies do lead to a simple question. If a set-up has so much going for it (as we are always being told) why this level of nervousness? The judiciary is now tamed; most coverage is managed via WhatsApp messages; the opposition is hopelessly divided. Even the new American administration is now happy with Pakistan. Why then do a few comments cause so much offence?

One hears that this nervousness or laying down of the parameters afresh (which might cause less offence) is because of that infamous lack of bayaania (narrative) at the other (the government’s) end, which is why perhaps even opinion that expresses scepticism or criticism of the present state of affairs stings more than it should. But if those who make the rules did some introspection, they might realise this failure is theirs more than the journalists’.

Partly this is due to the credibility crisis of mainstream media, which, too, has been created by the state. The heavy-handed censorship, the limited reporting and even the efforts to ensure one-sided commentary has convinced many that mainstream television channels no longer provide the correct picture. The people of Pakistan have mostly stopped listening and they have stopped being convinced.

On top of this, the state’s choice of people for TV screens also faces a crisis of credibility, and not just because so many of them are new to the job. More importantly, it seems that most of them are compelled to provide such a one-sided account that they are criticised for behaving more as messengers than journalists. Still others are seen to have vested interests. It is as if there is little value in cultivating credibility and trust. And this is a major reason why there is constant talk of the failure of PML-N to build a bayaania (the lack of one is not just a crisis for the ruling party).

But this is not to say that credibility alone can address this problem. There is a limit to the ‘stories’ that can be sold through the media if they bear little resemblance to reality. This is as true of the claim of inflation having been defeated as the notion that this government is a democratic one, when protests by political parties or students or just ordinary citizens are met with unwarranted violence and arrests. No one is going to believe that they are living in the proverbial land of honey and milk if they can witness police raids in the house next door.

The pressures on the media to present a better picture remind me of a proverb about a mirror and an image but in this season of apologies, it is best not to repeat it here.

Suffice it to say that these past couple of weeks, the old Hindi film, Amar Akbar Anthony, has been playing in my head; in what is now an iconic scene, an inebriated and badly beaten up Amitabh Bachchan places a bandage on the mirror as he checks out his bruises in the reflection. We all laughed because we knew the bandage was not going to help.

The writer is a journalist.

Published in Dawn, March 11th, 2025