From Narasimha Rao to Niira Radia, it’s been an eventful 16 years
For me, personally, the period from 1989 to 1995 resembled a tsunami. In those six years I became at once a fugitive editor and a figure of fun. Resigning (in some cases sacked) from a succession of dailies—The Indian Post, Independent, The Pioneer—caused my professional reputation considerable damage. Some thought irreparable damage. Napoleon, while selecting a suitable general for a crucial battle, asked his aides, “I know he is a good general, but is he lucky?” While my ability to successfully launch newspapers and periodicals was not in doubt, a big question mark hung over my staying power. Not just enemies, I myself felt I had some genetic or acquired deficiency which made me something of a rolling stone. Lucky I was certainly not.
Thus, it is with a measure of agreeable astonishment that I look back on the past 16 years. Mind you, I was not always hopeless, I started off rather well. Seven years in Debonair, nearly eight in The Sunday Observer. So, whatever inadequacy subsequently accompanied me, I could console myself with the satisfaction of being like the proverbial curate’s egg. Professional longevity does not necessarily go hand in hand with professional competence, not just in journalism but also in babudom and in the corporate world.
Not to put too fine a point on it, 16 years is a hell of a long time. From P.V. Narasimha Rao’s scooped sexy novel (The Outsider) to the scooped Niira Radia tapes, in a manner of speaking. Meanwhile, India has changed, Outlook has changed. The arrival of 24x7 TV news, Facebook, Twitter, blogs...herald the dawn of a brave, new world in journalism and communication in general. I have been fortunate to sample both the old and the new.
The poet William Wordsworth believed “youth is wasted on the young”. In our 16th anniversary issue, we examine and refute the poet’s proposition. The demographic dividend politicians incessantly talk about, yet do nothing to encash, is an irresistible force. It is unignorable.
Via this anniversary issue, we hope to discover the diverse aspirations of India’s youth. Sigmund Freud famously asked in frustration, “What do women want?” One positive outcome of the Anna Hazare anti-corruption campaign is that it has blown away the myth of urban, middle-class twentysomethings’ interests being restricted to celebrity, entertainment, fashion, fast cars and partying. Instead, one finds they are well-informed, idealistic, purposeful and eager to engage in the national discourse—but on their terms. Those who have hitherto exercised control over our destinies are woefully out of touch with this narrative.
For the media, especially the print media, this is a moment to be seized. In liberal and not-so-liberal societies, the obituary of newspapers and general interest magazines is either being written or kept ready. Bad news comes to us almost every six months. The need to reinvent our identity and rethink our mission is easier said than done. Nevertheless, it has to be done. Which makes the task more challenging. No one has the magic formula. I have been a print editor for close to four decades—and I am still learning. Still being surprised by technological innovation and ingenuity. The next decade will decide if the print media remains relevant. Or perishes.
Cutting-edge interactive networks are the stuff of revolutions. Without Facebook and Twitter, we would probably have had no Arab Spring, no Occupy Wall Street, no candle-light protests at India Gate and maybe the Anna Hazare phenomenon would have fizzled out after a promising start. If the one-party dictatorship in the People’s Republic of China is to be replaced by some form of participative democracy, the internet rather than another Tiananmen Square is likely to bring about the change.
How much of this change will I see? I hope I can catch a glimpse before I put my feet up.