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He who pays the piper
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Nothing is off limits for advertisers looking to promote their brands, no cause or movement sacrosanct, writes C.K. MEENA
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Photo: K.K. Mustafah
Cash-strapped government departments gladly accept sponsorship of traffic signs, traffic islands, tree guards, and lampposts.
AND NOW, a word from my sponsor. Are you feeling down in the mouth? Have your pearly whites ceased to shine? Chamak Herbal Tooth Powder is the answer to all your dental problems. FYI: My column has been renamed "Chamak City Lights" which is so-o fitting, don't you think, since few objects glitter in a more chamkeen fashion than night lights in a metropolis.
If you think I sound patently ludicrous, let me tell you I've heard worse. At least 25 years ago there was a news snippet on BBC Radio about McDonalds having funded the renovation of an old church (if memory serves me right). The company, which had put up stalls and banners on the premises, had one tiny request. Just a trifling change in the Lord's Prayer during the inaugural service: "Give us this day our daily hamburger."
Nothing is off limits for advertisers looking to promote their brands, no cause or movement sacrosanct. (Remember how male models wore olive green fatigues in a fashion show while the Kargil war was on?) We've become shockproof to their salesmanship. I wouldn't turn a hair if a cigarette company said it wanted to fund the Narmada Bachao Andolan. "We've re-invented our brand, ma'am," I can hear them deliver their pitch to the COO of NBA. "We're all about clean air and preserving the environment. Together we can form a great partnership." The payoff: her approval to peddle their cigarettes among the tribals.
"Struggle" is an old-fashioned word. We all have personal memories of people who toiled hard to start a venture, creating it stone by stone, grain by grain. They staked their property, borrowed from friends and strangers, risked everything for what they believed in. How antiquated that sounds. Today, smart people mould their objectives to fit their sponsor. Let's say you have a project in mind. You scout for funding agencies and find that they come with a whole range of agendas. You project your project in a manner that appeals to the agency you're petitioning, changing the angle to suit the feminists, the secularists, the greens, the human rights groups, and so on. Did someone say the word "compromise"? You say, no, it's being practical. But you must be aware that he who pays the piper calls the tune. The moment you accept largesse from a godfather, he's got you by the short and curlies. You can forget your independence.
Now, many of you might complain that I'm needlessly pillorying a concept that has become inevitable in today's world. Television was the first arena to be hijacked by sponsors, and in television, sport was the first to surrender. Every popular programme these days — quizzes, serials, singing competitions, even the weather report — has a sponsor. Names of programmes are preceded by names of sponsors. Cricket matches are chopped into segments and sold to advertisers. In fact, brand names follow us from the living room out into the streets. Cash-strapped government departments gladly accept sponsorship of traffic signs, traffic islands, tree guards, and lampposts, which are then emblazoned with company emblems. So accustomed have we grown to the notion, that if we want to put up a play, screen a film, hold a concert, open a school, start an organisation, or raise funds for sick children, we automatically look for company funding. Direct contact with the public has become rare, and nobody in their right minds would trudge about with a bag, a receipt book, and copies of a mission statement.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but I feel it's time to worry when our temples of learning turn into salesmen's dens. Heads of educational institutions indiscriminately open their doors — or tollgates, rather — to sponsors and advertisers. Even a simple painting contest is an ad in disguise. A foreign bank, paying schools who-knows-how-much for easy access to pupils, has been handing out application forms to them, urging them to ask their parents to open accounts. It is quite the done thing for companies to spend several lakhs on school and college festivals, a small price to pay for such huge, captive markets. One soft drink company bribed a college not to sell its rival's product on campus. The smell of money hit me while I was walking up the stairs of a very middle-class boys' school during the annual celebrations. From the loudspeakers came an announcement for first prize in the school raffle. In my day, school raffles offered gifts of cheap toys or plastic plates. This was an air ticket for two to a foreign holiday destination.
We are not alone. A teenager from a neighbouring state unwittingly provided a similar example. The girls' school where she studied had sex education classes, she said. Marvelling at such progressiveness, I asked her if the lessons were fun. She sounded bored. All that happened, she explained, was that a particular sanitary napkin manufacturer would send a van to the school. Company reps would distribute free packs to the students and show them how to use the product.
Cynics would say, when education itself has become a business why not carry on a business in a place of education? And principals would say, if parents don't object what's the problem? I say, if parents remain passive their children will, one day, walk around with advertisements on their foreheads. For Chamak Herbal Tooth Powder, no less.
Mail your feedback to ckmeena@rediffmail.com.
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