Behind the News: Voices from Goa's Press

To quite some extent the problem with contemporary Goa's journalism is governments who don't like criticism and therefore target certain newspapers or journalists. But this is not the entire story. Managements who seek to use their papers to get undue favours, licences, or whatever are another part of the problem. So are us journalists who don't carry on our job neutrally and without quid-pro-quo motives. But the editors who have long been acting as censors, and implement the agendas of the first two categories above, are also part of the problem. Unlike in the 'eighties, you can hardly expect an editor to stand up for you in today's Goa.

Journalists in Goa are facing a situation where space to write the truth is increasingly shrinking; and editors, including Rajan, have also played their role in making this happen. At another level, the State is working overtime to incorporate journalists, promote 'friendly' publications and thus indulge in other means to control opinion. While Rajan Narayan has undeniably been one editor who was willing to say the things others were simply not willing to say, this was done not very consistently. Quite a few who worked under Rajan would probably have their own story to tell. It would really help if the average Goan was less gullible and didn't judge issues along emotional lines alone.

The plus side also needs to be taken into the equation.

It was Rajan who pointed out to the importance of the readership of government employees and pensioneers; to the fact that international news needed to be focussed on countries which Goa had long links with, or had large Goan expat populations. He told his staff something that seems to be beyond the comprehension of many Goan editors: "There is also considerable interest in Portugal. An election is scheduled in Portugal soon. Let us keep track of the election and other developments in Portugal."

(But one should not get misled into thinking that those working under Rajan always had clear policy guidelines to work under. Most of our time at least, policies were based on whims and fancies, to gauge the rationale of which often left one bewildered.)

He was also among those to try and shift out of the protocol reporting – an attitude which says 'this report has to be there, because it has to be there' – that journalism in a Navhind-defined Goa was notorious for.

But then, implementing this vision was a problem. For one, Rajan himself didn't consistently follow up on it. Secondly, he didn't seem to believe in having competent persons around him and preferred to work with someone who was less likely to pose a challege in the years to come. In addition, a considerable time was spent in politcking, both within the organisation and beyond.

Working under Rajan meant coping with the unpredictable.

In many cases, Rajan didn't quite give other journalists the impression that they were welcome to contribute to the Herald. (As an aside, one of those asked to contribute a chapter in this book, a senior Goan journalist who has written for a number of national and international publications, misunderstood that the invite was to write for the Herald. The journo simply wrote back a two-liner to declining saying that apart from the lack of time, "Rajan won't accept my name in his paper.")

In one of my freelance stints there, a curious case pertained to a curious firm selling matresses at the price of Rs 60,000 to a 100,000 and more. They claimed all kinds of near-miraculous properties went along with the matresses. Concerned citizens drew one's attention to this issue, and after researching the issue, one wrote one's report on the issue. Rajan was furious. He accused this journalist of "not checking the other side of the story". In reality, the firm refused to let anyone come to their demos, unless they were duly introduced by someone already caught in the costly-matress trap. It later turned out that the persons running the operations in Goa were linked to the family of the publisher that brought out a magazine Rajan had earlier worked for! When this issue was raised during a recent journalist debate, Rajan side-stepped it by raising the issue of whether one was a staffer or freelancer while writing for the paper. He generally confused the issue in some barely-relevant detail, ignoring the questions of there was a clash of interest in his role as editor here, as in many other issues he has faced questions over.

Perhaps the most curious experience for this writer was the one related to "Raul Gonsalves".

Sometime in the late 'nineties, a number of prominent editors in Goa decided to impose a private 'ban' on the writings of that abrasive but persistent letter-writer M.K.Jos . Jos had the style of targetting editors and journalists, which was obviously earning him influential enemies. One may not be a fan of Jos, but clearly a blanket ban on an individual is something very unbecoming of a supposedly democratic society. This writer's feature, focussing Jos with his plusses and minuses, appeared in the weekend magazine section of Herald, then looked after by Ethel da Costa. Retribution was quick to come. A long piece was published, in the same columns which this writer was a contributor to, trying to drag this writer into a fictitious controversy. It also sought to give a veiled 'warning' that anyone mentioning Jos could himself lend in trouble. It later emerged that the article itself was pseudonymously written by the editor of a rival newspaper, claiming to be 'Raul Gonsalves'. Editorial staff of the section confirmed that the contentious article had been published at the behest of Rajan himself.

It could be argued that if Rajan has built a larger-than-life image of himself, that has been premises on the blocking out of a generation of young journalists, whom he himself ironically had a hand in creating. Today, Rajan's indespensibility to the Herald stems from both a perception, not wholly true, that he single-handedly built the paper, and the fact that virtually nobody else in the organisation has been trained or encouraged to write editorials.

To some measure, everyone who shares the above grouse with this writer must be thankful to Rajan. Being pushed out of local opportunity has helped many to get access to wider fields. Today, Goan journalists are employed in a number of places – scattered across the Gulf, to Singapore, Australia, Canada and beyond! Even for those of us opting to remain back home, the hard work involving in 'proving oneself' has helped to open up new doors. Had it not been for such 'push' factors, this writer would have probably been doing a boring job just as a deputy news editor in some local newspaper.

Working in a Rajan-headed establishment also can cure you of ambition. It was simply not worth the heart-burn and infighting to rise to the level of a humble chief-sub. This has helped convince this writer that it's probably worth staying a humble correspondent – possibly even freelance – the rest of one's career, rather than succumb to an ambition that takes bitterness, rancour, cutthroat competition and so much energy just to get a post in which one has to act more as politician or manager rather than an effective journalist?

Needless to say, on the other hand the younger generation of journalists can indeed learn from some of Rajan's good points. In many cases – though not all – he would be quick to highlight criticism of himself, in the paper he headed. His ability to bestow confidence on his juniors helped some to grow. (But, this was upto a point. Also, his criticism and barrage of memos seemed to be more linked to whether he liked someone or not, rather than one's qualities and abilities to put in hard work as a journalist.)

As for the writer of this chapter, one carried on writing… and enjoying it immensely. But for most of the past 20 years, that has been for an audience largely outside the Herald. By some quirk of fate, one managed to leave the Herald exactly after four years, as planned. (Thanks to statehood, the Deccan Herald decided to have it's first full-time staff correspondent in Goa. Work on the news-desk was fast ceasing to be a challenge, and the politics on the job also made life difficult, even if the team that worked there had a good team spirit and a youthful have-fun attitude towards life.) Also, as planned, one put in a two-line resignation letter.

As anticipated, my absence there was not viewed as a loss; anyone who stayed on too long got the feeling he or she was becoming a liability – or that the law of diminishing returns were applying. Whatever may have been my failings, some of my colleagues pointed to the fact that this writer was one of the few who had been around from Day One, and was known for his attempts to bring out a good product. Paste-up artists would comment, "The day you leave, there will be a lot of disappointment." I suffered from no such delusions. In part, because nobody is indispensible. In greater part, because one was aware of the attitude of Rajan Narayan towards anyone who might one-day be competition.

Right I was. When I told Rajan of my decision, he had just one question in mind: where are you going? On being told that it was the Deccan Herald, a visible sign of relief appeared on his brow. Not only was one not joining the Gomantak Times, then viewed as the looming-on-the horizon competition, but also another journo was getting out of the way. Or at least, that was how one intrepreted it.

Perhaps one was not wrong. Since then, one was at Deccan Herald for the first seven years, a period during which staffers were not officially allowed to write for other publications. But, since 1995, when one went into full-time freelancing, never did one feel welcome to write for the Herald, whenever Rajan Narayan was around. On the contrary, doing this would make one feel like an encroacher or illegal alien overstaying his welcome at a place not wanted.

At one stage, Rajan Narayan went for his lengthy treatment, leaving behind no editorials for the paper. Having never apparently encouraged anyone to rise to the task of writing editorials, he apparently often used this as his bargaining chip (as has happened recently). Unlike in other papers, where the middle-level journalists write the editorial, here the space was very much Rajan's fiefdom. Being into freelancing, and wanting to take up the challenge, one wrote a set of 50 or so editorials during one of his periods of extended absences during the 'nineties. This was done at the request of the newspaper management, and the staff apparently appreciated the move. Yet, on his return, and probably realising that churning out this many pieces – that too, all on issues related to Goa – could be done by someone else too, Rajan went on to write his editorial which claimed "friends in Goa and Bombay are eager to bury me…" . Or something to that effect. The "friend' in Bombay was, one guesses, Alwyn Fernandes, a former Times of India journalist, who at one stage was actively considering taking over the editorship of the Herald.

(At a later tenure, after the Herald faced a crisis when chief reporter Julio Da Silva suddenly opted for contesting an assembly election on a BJP ticket, rather than staying on in journalism. Since one had turned to freelancing, contributing to a local daily sounded a good idea. This continued for some time, till, again, Rajan Narayan's return resulted in getting the feeling of being unwanted.)

At the end of the day – though nobody should try to write a premature obit for his influence on Goan journalism – Rajan will probably be known for what he has written. Not for what he made sure didn't surface. In this context, it is perhaps important to put down these perspectives on the record, so that the future could have other views from which to judge contemporary journalism in Goa.

Chapter 8: Rural Goa, unheard, unsung…

Melvyn S. Misquita

Melvyn S Misquita represents a trend among some of the younger journalists – well-educated (he holds two M.A. degrees), Net-savvy, and eager to extend the boundaries of journalism in Goa should be looking at, apart from just the Secretariat. Recently, his work made it to the news in a major way, when the Indian Express carried a large spread in its national-edition on how Misquita had traced the strange story of the sinking of a World War II British passenger liner, BritanniaIII, which had dozens of Goans (including one of Misquita's grand-uncle's) on board.

If my entry into journalism was accidental, working with rural correspondents in Goa was equally unexpected. One morning of May 1998, then editor of the Gomantak Times, Ashwin Tombat, asked me to handle local correspondents who were contributing to the newspaper. He assured me that correspondents were an integral part of the newspaper and, that, a strong network would play a vital role in strengthening the newspaper.

While Tombat's ability to put forth persuasive arguments eventually convinced me to accept this task, I was determined not to remain 'stuck' with correspondents for long. There were many reasons for this. Firstly, working with correspondents invariably meant that one would end up merely re-writing their stories and would not have much time to work on my own stories. And with barely two years of journalism under my belt, there was no way I would allow my ambition be condemned to the mere restoration of correspondents' news items.

Secondly, co-ordinating with correspondents involved vast amounts of patience, as each correspondent had to be handled differently. Moreover, since most were part-time correspondents and could devote only a few hours to the profession, I could only expect them to function for a brief part of the day. Then again, these correspondents were based in different parts of the state and my interaction with them was largely dependent on telephones and other means of remote communication.

The correspondents were certainly happy to have me around, as till then their complaints seemed endless. "Our stories don't appear promptly in the newspaper and, sometimes, they don't appear at all. People in our locality then get upset and complain that we are not sending in their stories," was a commonly echoed grievance. "No one attends to our telephone calls and, when they do, they keep transferring our calls from one person to another and they finally disconnect the phone," was another general complaint.

Their complaints certainly had some degree of legitimacy.

It is a common perception – especially among English-language newspapers in the state – that correspondents are third-class passengers, who deserve little or no decent treatment. Let me cite two instances to prove this point. In one English-language newspaper, a correspondent sent me a crime report, which, under normal circumstances, should have been carried the next day. To my surprise, the report was not published for the next two days. The correspondent called me and sought an explanation for the delay. Unable to give him a suitable reply, I transferred the call to the concerned sub-editor, who simply snapped back and insisted that the correspondent need not bother about his report and, that, the report would appear only when there space was available in the paper!

Some time ago, a Vasco-based couple died in a road mishap in Porvorim and the correspondent promptly sent in the report. The next morning, I was taken aback to find the item in a single column, virtually hidden in the section for continued items on Page 4. Incidentally, the distribution of saplings by an MLA not only merited a double-column spread, but also a decent photograph – ironically, just alongside the news item reporting the tragic deaths. The sub-editor's reply, like his news sense, left me baffled. "So what? So many people die almost everyday. What was so special about these deaths?" Unfortunately, the sub-editor failed to acknowledge the fact that the same news item was prominently displayed in the other two English-language newspapers.

A former colleague once aptly described such an attitude as "'news sense' value which gets transformed into 'nuisance value'."

In most cases, those serving on the news desk in English-language papers have never worked as rural correspondents and are, hence, unable, or in some cases unwilling, to understand the intricacies of collecting and sending news items. Confined to the four walls of the newspaper office, some members of the news desk play a role similar to that of a cook in the kitchen; while rural correspondents are the waiters who have to constantly interact either with an unhappy customer or, in some cases, a satisfied customer. The news desk essentially plays a vital role in the making or breaking of a story sent by rural correspondents.

But then, the news desk is faced with pressures of a different kind, which are not always understood by rural correspondents, based as they are in remote corners of Goa, who rarely witnessed the hectic activity at the news desk, moments before the deadline. On numerous occasions, news items placed on the page had to be removed at the last moment to accommodate late advertisements. As such, rural reports, no matter how essential, simply couldn't find the space in newspaper.

Moreover, many correspondents are convinced that their news items are more important than the others, so much so that they cannot bear to find their reports delayed even by a day. Quite often, their unhappiness over the delay in printing their reports would become more vocal with each passing day and, invariably, I became their punching bag. This was largely because some of the rural correspondents are considered important members of the public in their locality and, at times, their prestige and financial gains in journalism would often be at stake with a delayed publication of their reports.

It must be admitted that over the years, journalism has been turned into a prestigious and lucrative part-time option for many of the rural correspondents. A few years ago, a former editor mentioned to me that he was on a trip to a remote village in Goa, when he decided to attend a function in the locality. The place was packed to capacity and he was forced to stand behind occupied chairs. To his surprise, the chief guest happened to be the local correspondent of his own newspaper!

This enthusiasm towards 'extra-curricular' activities sometimes translates into political affiliation. In a recent event which established the BJP-journo nexus in Sanguem, a correspondent with a Marathi newspaper and member of the Sanguem Patrakar Sangh was been unanimously elected president of the Sanguem Unit of the BJP. Similarly, the president of the Sanguem Patrakar Sangh and a correspondent with an English-language newspaper, was appointed the BJP booth president of Tarimol-Sanguem. In most cases, reports sent by correspondents to the news desk, in the past, specially when there was no one in particular to look after this responsibility, simply lacked form and content. Illegible words either scribbled on scraps of paper or sent as distorted faxed messages were among the most popular methods deployed to communicate their reports. In some cases, only a skilled pharmacist could decipher the words used by some correspondents. Under such conditions, the sub-editor assigned to such reports had the arduous task of converting them into decent stories. Quite often, the easiest way out would be to forward the raw report to the dust bin. A sub-editor flooded with such reports and working under pressure would invariably exercise this option with considerable frequency.

Then in June 1998, it was my turn to handle the correspondent network under the fancy and wordy designation of "Chief of News Bureau". In reality, I had to play God in the laboratory. This meant subjecting numerous correspondent reports to various quality control tests each day and, in some cases, creating sense from nonsense, before they were ready to be read by thousands of readers in and around Goa. Under such circumstances, I had anticipated that my association with correspondents would not to last long, that is, if I wanted to maintain my sanity in the profession.

But this was not meant to be.

The days turned to weeks, months and eventually years. And, before I knew it, my interaction with rural correspondents went on to complete half a decade. I have since handled thousands of reports either sent to me through post, fax, emails or even dictated over the phone. In most cases, the reports may have initially appeared trivial or insignificant, but a little refinement and some cut-paste commands have succeeded in giving a new look to the report. And with encouraging results.

In a recent case, the Pernem correspondent sent me a report on action initiated by the local health authorities, in view of the outbreak of viral hepatitis in the state. In the second last paragraph of his report was a mention that the authorities had decided to shut down the Pernem police station canteen for operating under 'unhygienic conditions'. In my view, this was most significant and I refined the story with this angle as the lead. Taking cue from the news item, the Director General of Police issued a memo to the Pernem police inspector, seeking an explanation for the unhygienic conditions in the police canteen. Incidentally, Herald was the only English-language daily to carry this report.

Over the years, I have not only succeeded in building up my tolerance level to the specific demands of correspondents, I have also learnt to appreciate the crucial role of those eyes and ears spread all over the state. This experience has led me to believe that a local newspaper which ignores rural news content will be as effective as an orchestra playing music before a deaf audience.

While there is consensus on the value of local news content, the importance of rural correspondents has not always been appreciated by the powers that be in the newspaper. A correspondent is often treated like the spare wheel of a vehicle, detachable and to be ignored under normal circumstances. The merit is only recognised in times of emergency, when a big story breaks out in areas represented by correspondents. Then too, it is a common trend that newspapers would prefer to send its full-fledged staffers, often from Panjim, instead of relying on part-time rural correspondents, to cover the event. This is not to suggest that full-fledged staffers have no right to tresspass on the territory of correspondents, as it were. Rather, a staffer would benefit a great deal by utilising the expertise and local knowledge of a rural correspondent to ensure an effective story.

To cite an example, a staffer was recently asked to interview noted people in connection with a prominent cultural festival in a village. The staffer was unaware that the same festival is celebrated separately by two groups in the village and, that, the article would need to carry the comments of people from both groups. Instead of seeking the assistance of a correspondent from the area, the staffer went ahead and interviewed five persons from the village. Eventually, the staffer realised that four persons interviewed represented one group, while the sole personality interviewed from the other group went on to criticise his own group! The article was published and the damage was done. Organisers of the second group were aggrieved and threatened to withdraw advertisements to the newspaper. The issue was finally resolved when the local correspondent carried a series of reports to clarify the position of the organisers of the second group. Had the staffer sought the assistence of the local correspondent, the issue would never have been blown out of proportion.

Then again, the 'who-has-written' preference over the 'what-has-been-written' has plagued many English-language newspapers and this has largely contributed to the 'City-Centric Syndrome'. There have been instances to suggest that a news report filed by a staffer has been accorded more prominence – both in space and display – than a report sent by a rural correspondent. Recently, tension flared up along the Tuyem -Camurlim ferry route, after the river navigation department wanted to shift the lone ferry to Tar-Siolim for the five-day Ganesh immersion ceremony. An MLA, sarpanchas of two village panchayats and over angry 200 people prevented the movement of the ferry. The correspondent promptly sent the report and the item could only find place in the lower portion of page 7, normally reserved for routine and unimportant news items.

The controversy then erupted again for the nine-day Ganesh immersion ceremony, when authorities finally shifted the lone ferry from the Tuyem-Camurlim route to Siolim. Commuters were unhappy to travel by the free canoe service, while those travelling in vehicles were forced to take a lengthy detour. On the other hand, people in Siolim had the luxury of a ferry to assist them in a religious ceremony. The correspondent sent me the report but, this time, the item was published on page 4, normally reserved for stories which have been continued from page 1. Incidentally, six of the eight news items which appeared on page 3 – the most popular 'inside' page for Goa news – were Margao-based news items. "At least, you people carried the ferry story. I sent the same story to my newspaper. But I did not find my story anywhere in the paper the next day," remarked an unhappy correspondent of another newspaper.