The migrant journalist

BY Aloke Thakore| IN Opinion | 21/11/2006

Hammer and Tongs

ALOKE THAKORE

If journalism is a conversation that a society has with itself, is it possible for migrants to ever actively participate in the making of such conversation if they are denied the opportunity to be part of that society? This is a question that pops up daily as one tries to fathom the reporting and editing in the English-language press in the Arab world, where migrant journalists ply their wares.

Journalism is intimately connected with the nation and to a large extent it maps on to national boundaries. Even when journalists espouse internationalist concerns, it is never easy to sever the idea of the nation and nation-state from the way events are covered. The idea of an Arab press is possible because the idea of being Arab in a way that transcends national boundaries is admissible to some extent among the people. But to think of a pan-Arabic English press is not possible. The English-language newspapers in different Arab countries answer primarily to the needs of the expatriate population in these countries.

But while the readership is an expatriate one and those producing it are expatriates, the owners of these newspapers are locals as necessarily are the events that need to be covered. This would have been perfectly fine if the expatriates in the newsroom were in the process of becoming full-fledged citizens of these countries. But the nations refer to them as migrant workers who are there to fulfill a need, scarcity of labour. Unlike construction workers or accountants or porters or engineers whose basic unit of work remains the same across nations, the work of journalists is determined by the community and milieu that surrounds them. A sense of belonging and ownership of the community is a pre-requisite to adequately covering the place. In many ways the affective element in journalism is ignored. Can I write about a place that I only know, but for whom I have no sense of belonging? It is possible to be a foreign correspondent in a place. And even then stories of people from this tribe having gone native are dime a dozen. But what if the society actively restricts this possibility with laws in place to ensure that the journalist never forgets that she is there to work, save, enjoy, and return.

The journalistic practices that such an employment condition engenders can only be imagined. The practice of ethics, the courage to confront  power with truth, and the ability to criticize are all imperiled in such circumstances. And there remains the constant fear that writing something inimical to the regime might get rewarded with an exit stamp on the passport. One often hears journalists say that they have come to earn and save, and it is best not to get into trouble by writing problematic pieces. Journalists often bend over backwards to sing paeans in praise of one ruler or the other. Such becomes the devotion that one journalist with a nationality other than that of the UAE exclaimed how a neighbouring ruler was imitating `his` ruler. Such use of the possessive by this journalist is not just any error. The identification of the ruler as his ruler is not the same as having a sense of belonging that would make criticism possible. One could in other countries legitimately claim the prime minister to be one`s own and then proceed to demolish his policies or ideas. In this curious case that one happened to hear at a dinner, it was an example of mental servitude that often accompanies migrant intellectual labour.

Unfortunately, though, it is not something that allows for the practice of journalism. The English-language press is witness to this. It has a lot of stories and the usual beats of crime, courts, municipality, water and electric supply are covered. There is the usual what, when, where, and how. But the questioning why is missing in the story. There is no political reportage. In fact, the meetings and addresses of rulers are what pass off as political reporting. Linguistic barriers add to this problem. And if there is any desire to push the envelope, one can be sure to hear that the culture of the country does not permit such reportage. And since one can only marginally be a part of that society, the defences can only be feeble.

 It is not surprising to find the Indian, Pakistani, British journalist treating appointments here as a way to a comfortable life. Unfortunately for journalism, the feeling of discomfort with the community one lives in and is a part of is a necessary condition to the practice of this trade. To be a journalist is to be a dissident, at least of sorts. But one can only be a dissident in a land that one can call one`s own. Migrants are not allowed that luxury.

Aloke Thakore is a media consultant, journalist, and teacher. He can be reached at hammerntongs@fastmail.in