Journalism and journalists have made news this last fortnight.

The recognition by the Supreme Court of the work done by a journalist in exposing the way caste operates within our prison system is significant for several reasons. It underlines the importance of this kind of deep-dive socially relevant journalism, it illustrates the process that journalists must follow to ensure that their revelations make a difference, and it reminds us that unfortunately, ultimately one must often turn to the highest court even though the matter could have been settled outside the judicial system.

Sukanya Shantha wrote a revelatory article for The Wire in December 2020 that exposed how caste-based discrimination in allocation of work in Indian prisons is endorsed by official prison manuals. Shantha spoke to former prisoners and examined whether the problem was restricted to a few states. She found that it was virtually universal, in that all states in India followed this norm. Prisoners from marginalised castes were given work like sweeping, cleaning toilets and even sewers while the more privileged castes were assigned duties as cooks or in the office.  

The court ruled this unconstitutional and directed that it be removed from prison manuals. It also ruled that the caste of prisoners should not be recorded when they begin their incarceration, something that the petitioner had not asked for. It remains to be seen whether the spirit of the judgment will be followed in prisons or if jail authorities will find ways around it.

But to come back to the journalistic work of Shantha, her investigative story is the kind that requires time, work and investment. She was able to devote seven months to the story with the support of funding from the Pulitzer Center for Crisis Reporting. The platform for which she writes, The Wire, would not have had the funds to support such journalism. 

However, well-endowed media houses do have the money to invest in such reporting but do not bother in the current mediascape that prevails in India. They hesitate either because they are playing a balancing game to ensure that the government stays off their backs, or for crass commercial reasons where there’s place only for news that sells their product. The conditions of poor, marginalised caste prisoners are obviously not a selling proposition.

Shantha’s story did not go entirely unnoticed. Within a few months of it appearing, the Jodhpur bench of the Rajasthan High Court took suo motu cognisance of it and asked the state government to make the changes in its jail manual. A couple of other states, such as Goa, also did this quietly.  

While Shantha had hoped that some of the groups concerned with prison reforms might follow up by taking the matter to court, this did not happen. That is when she decided, in December last year, to file a petition in the Supreme Court. Fortunately for her, she had lawyers willing to fight the case pro bono. 

What this case, and the Supreme Court’s ruling illustrates is that doing a well-researched explosive investigative piece for an independent platform is not enough to lead to policy change. Perhaps, if one of the national newspapers had published her story, there would have been a quicker response. But that too is not guaranteed given the tone-deaf attitude of most governments to media reports on social and human rights issues, particularly when they touch on caste. 

In the 1980s, in the post Emergency period when the Indian media woke up to human rights issues, some of the journalists who broke these stories also followed up by petitioning the Supreme Court. For instance, in 1984, well-known journalist Neerja Chowdhury filed a case against the Madhya Pradesh government based on a series she did on bonded labour. 

While Sukanya Shantha is in the news for exposing caste-based discrimination in Indian prisons, another journalist was fleetingly in the news for something more superficial. Abhishek Upadhyay reports from Uttar Pradesh. An FIR was lodged against him by another journalist, Pankaj Kumar, for a post by Upadhyay on social media platform X alleging that the state government favoured people from a particular caste. 

On the surface, this seems a petty matter. But Upadhyay had to turn to the Supreme Court for relief. In its October 4 interim ruling (the case is still being heard), the court stated: 

“In democratic nations, freedom to express one’s views are respected… The rights of the journalists are protected under Article 19(1)(a) of the Constitution of India. Merely because writings of a journalist are perceived as criticism of the government, criminal cases should not be slapped against the writer.”

This appears like stating the obvious. Yet, the very fact that the highest court in India has to reiterate this illustrates the constant hazards journalists face if they choose to criticise the powerful, even casually.  Even if nothing comes of such cases, the process itself is the punishment. The only way to escape this is to keep quiet, and not stir the waters. 

The third journalist in the news is senior assistant editor and Gujarat correspondent of The Hindu, based in Ahmedabad, Mahesh Langa. On October 8, he was remanded to 10 days in police custody for alleged involvement in a GST scam. Langa is a well-respected journalist who has filed stories on Gujarat that have exposed the hollowness of some of the state government’s claims. While this case is still unravelling, it was notable that Langa was picked up even though his name is not mentioned in the FIR. While several journalists organisations issued a statement saying that his 10-day remand was “judicial overreach”, his own paper was more cautious in its response. 

The reason for concern in Langa’s case is obvious. Given the past record of the BJP-led central government and its counterpart in Gujarat, journalists can be charged with crimes that have nothing to do with their work but can tie them down to a point that they cannot continue to work. 

What these three disparate stories tell us about the status of journalists in the media today is that you have to be persistent and committed to ensure that your exposés lead to change, that even casual criticism of the government in some states, like UP, can lead to legal tangles, and that even if you work for a leading national newspaper, you are not protected from the State if it wants to send a message.

A noisy Indian media ought not to distract us from the reality that journalists trying to do real journalism face every day. Their freedom to report without fear or favour extends only to the boundaries set by those in power. 

I end with a quote that relates to another country, the United States, but could well apply to us here.

In a newsletter sent out to subscribers of New York Times, investigative reporter Michael Schmidt quotes Ian Bassin, executive director of a nonprofit group called Protect Democracy. In the context of the attitude of former President Donald Trump, and currently a candidate in the upcoming presidential elections, towards his opponents, Bassin told Schmidt: “The very definition of freedom is to be able to do those things without retribution or even just fear of retribution by the government…Once the government has made clear it can and will attempt to use the awesome power of the state to seek to punish you based on who you are, what you think, how you’ve exercised your rights or whether you’ve shown sufficient fealty to the leader, you are no longer truly free.”

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