Pride Under Water

The Kursk tragedy could so easily have happened in India. Now that’s the kind of statement bound to agitate some Indians, especially nris with a glorious image of Mother India and intolerant of any comment that could malign the homeland. But even the "India is the best" brigade that has literally swamped the Net must accept such tragedies can happen in India.

Tragedies can happen any time, any place to anyone. The point is to learn lessons from them. Sure, we’ve to shed our complacency and arrogance if we are to make an honest attempt to prevent such catastrophes. Still, accidents happen even to the most vigilant and well-prepared. In fact, the bigger lesson to be learnt from the Kursk tragedy is not how to prevent such a disaster but how to tackle the aftermath of a tragedy. The Russians showed us just how not to.

Our defence and political leaders must recognise the immediate need for a media strategy when such a catastrophe unfolds. And it should be put into place as quickly as the rescue effort. The crux of the media strategy should be to ensure visibility and provide information. Today, people want, in fact demand, information. But authoritarian and socialist regimes are unwilling to give information, a predilection that equally afflicts many democracies with socialist hangovers. Authorities are obsessed with secrecy in the so-called interest of national security. But we all know this reluctance to part with information stems more from corruption and incompetence than security concerns. Earlier, these regimes got away because people were powerless to do anything about it. Even the victims’ kin were powerless to break through this barrier of concealment.

But big TV networks are not. They are hungry for information and need to come up with new nuggets every hour, on the hour, to sustain viewer interest. When networks are unable to come up with fresh video or new information, it translates to the local authorities not doing anything or enough about the crisis. In a matter of hours, even strong states can acquire an international image of being weak, callous and incompetent.

In the early days of the Kursk’s sinking, information was sketchy, deceptive and misleading, revealing the leftover Soviet tendency to hide rather than share facts. And then there was the unseemly spectacle of conflicting information as senior defence officials and politicians contradicted each other on the Kursk’s fate. The lesson is evident: when disaster strikes, a media spokesman has to be designated through whom all information is relayed so there is a coherent and unified structure for the dissemination of information.

Once the British and the Norwegians took charge of the rescue effort, the information flow became fast-paced, professional, credible. Good quality information only enhances the reputation of the authorities. This is the Information Age and for those who play by the new rules, the media is a powerful ally, not a dreaded foe. Officials who cling to old mindsets are suddenly left with the additional burden of tackling personal disasters of their own making.

As important as flow of information is visibility. It’s not enough for the government to tackle the crisis on various fronts - they have to also be seen to be taking command of the situation quickly, effectively and, most importantly, humanely. Leaders must symbolise the nation’s grief, not remain aloof as Vladimir Putin was, choosing to continue with his vacation instead of rushing to lead the rescue effort. When he came to power, Putin was seen as a sharp, tough, efficient leader. But it took just a few days of non-visibility and silence to sink his reputation lower than the Kursk. Far from compensating the initial omission, Putin’s subsequent televised display of contrition - choked voice, downcast eyes, sorrowful words - seemed so contrived and calculated that it only exacerbated people’s anger.

A nation must handle a crisis with action and compassion. And then, it is crucial to launch a planned, well-coordinated media effort to convey that message, since catastrophes are now transnational. Kursk was Russia’s tragedy but the world was the spectator. The site can be as far as the North Pole and as deep as 300 feet below a turbulent ocean, but TV channels can transmit a blow-by-blow account of a sunken submarine’s ill-starred fate. Bad news is good news for the media. Crisis and catastrophes help TV ratings: for this is drama, tragedy and suspense involving real people. Besides, nobody can predict the outcome till it unfolds. Television catches all the twists and turns so you watch the opening of the escape hatch in the sunken Kursk coincide with the release of pent-up Russian anger at Putin for the delay in summoning international help.

And then there is this whole issue of national pride, the ostensible reason for Russia’s delay in getting international assistance. Again, that’s just the kind of thing that could happen in India. Such notions of national pride are misplaced. We’re a big nation, sophisticated in many respects but we also have many deficiencies. It is not possible for even advanced nations to be the best in every line of human pursuit. So while we have the capability and experience to deal with terrorist strikes, we may sometimes lack the sophisticated equipment and skills for risky rescue efforts. At such times, it’s not a matter of national shame to seek global expertise. In a crisis, defending mistaken notions of national pride instead of saving lives only compounds the disaster. It is only nations and people with inferiority complexes who strut about pretending they are the best. Strength lies in facing reality without any pretensions. Accepting our limitations does not demean us. But blind arrogance does. And then, eventually, our national pride would meet the same fate as the Kursk: abandoned, broken and sunk.

(The author can be contacted at anitapratap@journalist.com)