|
Online edition of India's National Newspaper Friday, September 07, 2001 |
|
Front Page |
National |
Southern States |
Other States |
International |
Opinion |
Business |
Sport |
Entertainment |
Miscellaneous |
Features |
Classifieds |
Employment |
Index |
Home |
|
Opinion
| Previous
| Next
Tehelka: what next?
By Rajeev Dhavan
TEHELKA'S INVESTIGATIONS open up important questions relating to
the media. Tehelka-I uncovered incipient corruption in defence
deals through covert uses of pin-hole cameras. Tehelka-II showed
the vulnerability of army officers to Royal Stag whisky, parties
and women, supplied by the portal whilst secretly video-taping
the entire exercise. Does all this violate norms of transparency,
privacy rights and conventional journalistic ethics? Tehelka may
be a stranger to convention, but is it entitled to special
privileges simply because it uncovers big truths?
Is the media entitled to special and exceptional privileges?
Article 19(1)(a) of our Constitution guarantees ``freedom of
speech and expression'', but omits the words ``and, of the
press''. In the Burma Critic case (1914), a reactionary Privy
Council decreed that the rights of the press were no greater than
those of an ordinary person. Despite constitutional guarantees of
free speech, the Privy Council's view was repeated by the Supreme
Court in 1959 in the Searchlight case. But, if the press is to do
its job, surely it is entitled to special privileges to discharge
its duties to Indian democracy? That the media has special needs
was recognised in the Price and Page case (1962), the Newsprint
cases of 1973 and 1985 and the Broadcasting case of 1995. But,
special needs are not the same thing as exceptional privileges.
Unlike American law, Indian law was somewhat muddled on this
issue. In the famous New York Times case (1961), the American
Supreme Court re-wrote the law of defamation to permit greater
leeway to investigate and comment on public persons. It will be
recalled that Morarji Desai lost his CIA links case against
Seymour Hersch precisely because, even if untrue, Hersch's story
showed due investigative diligence. This kind of leeway protects
the press from civil (but not criminal) actions, including,
perforce, privacy violations.
But, does the media in India have special privileges? In the
otherwise not so well known but important ruling in the Printers'
Sales Tax case of 1994, Mr. Justice Jeewan Reddy gave priority
and special consideration to media needs and rights. This was
reiterated strongly by him in the Auto Shankar case (1994) in
which he felt that both the public and the media interest would
be adequately reconciled if the media acted bonafide and
reasonably diligently in its exposure of public officials.
But, matters remained somewhat fuzzy. This is self-evident from
Ms. Maneka Gandhi's case against Mr. Khushwant Singh based on the
former's privacy rights. Two incongruities have emerged in Indian
law. First, injunctive relief against publication of free speech
is freely considered and granted by courts. The Delhi High Court
did this in the Campa Cola case, and, the Kuldip Nayar case
(later compromised) concerning his, book `India House'. In the
`Beef-Eating in Ancient India' book case (2001), a munsif in
Andhra Pradesh injuncted a published book from distribution
without reading it. The film `Lajja' has been stopped in the
context of a commercial debt. Of what value is free speech as a
preferred freedom if strict scrutiny is not applied; and free
speech is injuncted when damages are the correct remedy.
Censorship by courts - as evinced also in the Reliance case of
1989 - militates against the constitutional privileges attached
to the role of the media in a democracy. Despite Mr. Justice
Jeewan Reddy's laudable efforts, Indian courts have failed to
recognise that free speech including media rights are preferred
freedoms crucial to Indian democracy.
But, this by itself, would not dispose of the issues raised by
Tehelka I and II. There is little doubt that Indian democracy is
starved of information about its own working. Indian governance
is enmeshed with corrupt secret deals; and, as the Vohra
Committee pointed out in 1995, run at various levels by hoodlums.
Indian democracy has lost the capacity to uncover these deals.
Government information is unreliable. Joint Committees - such as
those on Bofors of 1987 - distort the real truth. Commissions of
Inquiry, Lokayuktas and CAGs take too long to uncover incomplete
facts and are, in any event, ignored. Parliamentary questions
reveal little. Mr. Ram Jethmalani's `open governance' scheme of
1998 was shot down by a wily Cabinet Secretariat. Powerful
Lokpals will never be created despite cosmetic attempts since
1967. The Freedom of Information Bill 2000 is mal-designed and
frozen.
Without information, no democracy can function. In India, the
media and social groups fight the struggle for information
against impossible odds.
Tehelka raises important issues. First, the constitutional
premium according special privileges for the media includes
special investigative rights and empowerment. But, this is not an
open-ended licence to ignore or override the law or ride
roughshod over the rights of ordinary people unless special
legislation accords them this right or such investigative
privileges are read into the law, including the law of defamation
and privacy which are uncodified judicially created rights. This
is where the principles in Auto Shankar's case need elaboration.
Second, special investigative privileges for the media do not
immunise Tehelka or the media from civil suits, including those
of violation of privacy. Controversies locate around whether the
media can invoke the `public interest', `public person' or `due
diligence' defences. Tehelka - and, indeed, the media - can argue
that given the nature of the persons and the issues involved, a
public interest defence should be taken into account along the
logic of the New York Times and Auto Shanker cases. It is
unlikely that the public interest defence will even be
entertained where there is a transgression of the law or where
the acts reveal a crime that can be investigated. Such a defence
is not available for assaults, coercion, kidnapping or blackmail.
The use of women and sexual inducement to extract stories is
arguably inimical to a gender-based public policy even if the
women consent to such without pecuniary recompense.
Third, the media cannot circumvent indictment for a crime. There
is no criminal law protection for privacy. India's criminal law
on defamation does have a `public interest' exception which has
not been imaginatively interpreted by the courts - including the
Supreme Court's split decision in the Blitz case of 1981. But,
criminal law has a wide sweep. Criminal coercions are
impermissible. In the case of Tehelka-II, it is a moot question
whether Tehelka can be indicted for (a) running a brothel (widely
defined to include a vehicle) for `gain for another', (ii)
procurement for commercial gain (iii) or detention in a place of
prostitution, whether with or without consent. Although the term
`prostitution' has been used, we do not know whether commercial
gain for money was involved. There is a case for at least
investigation to determine if the facts reveal a prosecutable
case.
Finally, is the public policy issue of journalistic ethics. The
Press Council has no jurisdiction over Tehelka and the electronic
media. But, the media should evolve principles. A universalised
test has to be to applied: can we permit the entire media at all
levels in India to use Tehelka's methods of peephole cameras and
inducement through booze, women and parties resulting in possible
embarrassment and blackmail? If permitted, every local newspaper
and new found investigative journalist will use these methods
freely. There would be chaos if this kind of investigative
journalism was permissible to all.
One last point. Irrespective of how they were obtained, Tehelka's
truths go to the rotten roots of Indian governance and have still
to be answered. Nor can it be argued that Tehelka's revelations
are necessarily inadmissible in law if proved to untampered and
authentic. India does not follow the American poisoned tree
principle of 1961 that the fruits of illegally obtained evidence
must be excluded. The real controversies uncovered by Tehelka
cannot be dismissed lightly.
Send this article to Friends by E-Mail
|
|
Section : Opinion Previous : Mahanta's exit Next : ABM by other means | |
|
Front Page |
National |
Southern States |
Other States |
International |
Opinion |
Business |
Sport |
Entertainment |
Miscellaneous |
Features |
Classifieds |
Employment |
Index |
Home | |
|
Copyright © 2001 The Hindu Republication or redissemination of the contents of this screen are expressly prohibited without the written consent of The Hindu |
|