The media could not cover the Assam riots like Gujarat 2002. This is not
because of any religious bias but because the riot-hit areas were inaccessible
In an emotionally surcharged and polarised polity, even riot
politics can become a zero-sum game. So any television debate on Gujarat 2002
must necessarily draw an analogy to the 1984 anti-Sikh riots. Failure to do so
opens one to the charge of bias and worse. It’s almost as if the opposing sides
are suggesting that, “My record in handling riots is better than yours because fewer
people died in ‘my riot’.” It’s almost as if a collective sense of guilt at one
horrific act of violence will be erased only by equating it with another.
Shockingly, the fact that every human life lost in any riot should be seen as a
blot on the country is lost in the cacophony of a studio.
The latest comparison being drawn is between Assam and Gujarat. ‘Why hasn’t
the media covered the Assam violence with the intensity that Gujarat was
reported?’ is a question that has been raised in several fora in recent weeks.
At one level, it’s a legitimate question to ask in the era of 24-hour news
channels. But at another, there is a more sinister subliminal message which
suggests that a ‘ pseudo-secular’ media will not cover Assam because Bodos are
involved, while it covered Gujarat because Muslims were being killed.
The truth is very different and rather more prosaic. Kokrajhar is at least
150 kilometres from Guwahati. No national channel has an OB van in Guwahati. As
a result, by the time most reporters reached the worst affected districts, much
of the violence was over. By contrast, Gujarat 2002 took place in the heart of
urban centres like Ahmedabad and Vadodara, in many instances just a few
kilometres away from news organisation offices. The horror was easily
accessible, it could be captured on camera almost as it happened. Delhi 84 took
place in the pre-24-hour news network period. I have little doubt that had
similar rioting taken place today, the Congress goons who led the mobs would
have been exposed in the same manner as the Sangh parivar groups who targeted
Muslim homes in Gujarat.
This is not to offer an excuse for the more limited coverage of the Assam
riots but to try and explain that not just Kokrajhar, but indeed the entire
North-east suffers from the ‘tyranny of distance’. Only a few weeks before this
latest cycle of violence, more than 100 people died in floods that left more
than half of Assam under water. Did we see any coverage on the scale we see
when even one little helpless child is trapped in an open drain in a
metropolis? It requires a Mary Kom to put Manipur on the national map, a
100-day blockade that saw the price of petrol go up to R140 per litre in Imphal
and LPG cylinders cost R2,000 scarcely got a mention. Unfortunately, instead of
focusing the debate on the underlying reasons for the limited media coverage of
the North-east, the Assam violence has provided another opportunity to shoot
the messenger by accusing the media of making editorial choices based on the
religious identity of the ‘victim’.
Even here, Assam presents a more complex scenario than what the bigoted
minds who operate in black and white terms would have us believe. As reporting
becomes more exhaustive and the real tragedy unfolds through the terrified
faces of the many thousands in relief camps, it is apparent that this was no
one-sided riot: Bodos, Bengali Hindus, Adivasis and Muslims have all suffered
in the melting pot of a diverse, multi-ethnic society. In fact, official
statistics suggest that there are far more Muslims today in relief camps than
other communities. Yet, if one were to hear the strident voices across media
platforms, then it would seem that only one community has suffered. Bodos have
lost their land, so have Muslims, but somehow in the popular imagination there
is only one aggressor.
Indeed, what unites every riot is the constant search for the ‘ enemy’. In
1984, the assassination of Indira Gandhi by her Sikh bodyguards led to the
labeling of every Sikh as an anti-national. Almost overnight, a proud and
patriotic community found itself being targeted. In 2002, the killing of kar
sevaks in the Sabarmati Express created a desire to seek revenge for the act by
singling out every Muslim in Gujarat as a ‘terrorist’. Assam 2012 is again more
complex: it is still unclear what the real trigger for the violence was since
the Bodos and the Muslims of the region have a long history of animosity,
aggravated by the formation of the Bodo Territorial Council in 2003, and there
have been a spate of attacks by well-armed militant groups on both sides in
recent months.
And yet, in Assam too, the ‘enemy’ has been found: the ‘illegal Bangladeshi
immigrant’ is today a euphemism for almost anyone in lower Assam who is seen to
belong to a particular religious community. The historical fact that labourers
from then East Bengal had been migrating from the beginning of the 20th century
is ignored. The fact that the census decadal growth figures have not revealed
any dramatic rise in Muslim population is contested. Instead, a fierce
propaganda machine has been unleashed to suggest that Assam has been ‘swamped’
by Bangladeshi Muslims.
Yes, there is a growing problem of porous borders and a weak legal regime
that has made Assam vulnerable to an influx of economic migrants from across
the border. Yes, there are political parties who see religious communities as
vote banks. Yes, there is a fierce battle for land and scarce resources, which
gets magnified when demographic patterns alter. But the solution isn’t to stoke
the flames of hatred and mistrust. The scars of riot victims are healed by
sensitivity, not prejudice. That is true of Delhi 84, as it is of Gujarat 2002
as of Assam 2012. Rajdeep Sardesai is editor-in-chief, IBN 18 Network
The views expressed by the author are personal
