Celebrity, Media and Politics: an Indian Perspective

Celebrity, Media and Politics: An Indian Perspective

BY JAIDEEP MUKHERJEE

IN the summer of 2003, the massive media coverage of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s announcement of his gubernatorial ambitions, juxta- posed against the concurrent, but limited, media attention on Glenda Jackson’s scathing attacks on Blairite politics, policies and path to the Iraq war present an interesting set of parallels, reFecting the media’s obsession with celebrity — including news of it within what is considered ‘political’— in the annual silly-season that blights the British news media. Whilst Schwarzenegger’s plunge into the race to become California’s ‘Gubernator’ (as The Economist termed the position, in reference to the Terminator series of flms and his campaign promise to eliminate the state’s budget defcit) attracted an incredible, perhaps undeserved, volume of media scrutiny for a fading star; yet Glenda Jackson’s attack on Blair, perhaps representative of many disaffected Labour supporters and most of the Opposition, seemed to get media coverage more for who she was and less for what she was saying (a former actress and winner of two Academy Awards. She is presently Labour MP for Hampstead and Highgate (London) and ran an unsuccessful campaign for Mayor of London in 1999). In the midst of such maelstroms of media attention and academic analyses that invariably follow, the evolving role of ‘celebrity’ within Indian politics has remained woefully under represented. In ffty-six years of independence, the world’s most populous democracy has elected over ffty actors and actresses, twenty sportspersons, hundreds of India’s erstwhile royals and one infamous ‘bandit queen’ to offce. Beyond those estimates are many prominent businessmen, intellectuals and performing artists who have either held elected or appointed positions or have moved from their earlier careers of renown to prominence in politics. Among the incumbent political leadership, the President, Dr A.P.J. Abdul Kalam, was a missile scientist and one of the brains behind India’s nuclear programme before being nominated — and elected unopposed— to the presidency. Prime Minister A.B. Vajpayee enjoys public adulation as poet of some repute. Contemporary trends in Indian media show politicians to be in competition with other ‘celebrities’ for media attention. This article will distinguish trends of celebrity involvement in Indian politics, whilst examining the changing nature of ‘celebrity’ in the Indian public sphere—from the enlightened and conscientious pre-independence activist, through the self-engineered overtly-political media images of Parliamentary Affairs Vol. 57 No. 1, 80–92 © Hansard Society for Parliamentary Government 2004; all rights reserved 10.1093/pa/gsh007 India 81 stars, to the contemporary politician in the media spotlight alongside stars of showbiz, society and sport. It brings together a key stream of thinking on the nature of India’s media, politics and celebrity. Whilst exploring aspects of the history of Indian media, it will juxtapose some of the seminal moments with parallels in celebrity involvement in politics. It considers the fndings of a small survey of people on their impressions of who they think are featured as celebrities in politics by the Indian media. Bearing in mind the incredible diversity that is India, it aims to extend the boundaries of debate on the role of media and celebrity in the politics of India. Who then, have been the recipients of the Indian public’s idolatry and what has been the nature of their relations with the political sphere? We begin by examining the evolution of the concept of ‘celebrity’ and its positioning in public life. For that, one must note the different ways in which celebrity and politics engage.

Indian celebrities endorsing political positions. Many celebrities, particularly performers, are drafted in especially during election campaigns to front the political message through advertisements, rally appearances and meetings, promotional flms, songs and music videos. The most signifcant endorsement was possibly made by key cast members of the television version of the Hindu epic Ramayana, then being serialised on India’s public service broadcaster Doordarshan’s network. Much has been written about the chain of events that were initiated with the telecast of the Ramayana serial, and the fact that, among other things, it ushered in the frst phase of the widespread acceptance of an overt, pre- dominantly non-secularist (i.e. pro-Hindu) political agenda of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP).1 In the actual celebrity-endorsed campaign engineered by the Congress party initially, it was the appearance of the actors and actresses in costume, making them instantly recognisable as key religious fgures of the Hindu pantheon, that made rallies and campaigns featuring them incredibly popular.

Celebrity-turned-politicians in India. These individuals are celebrities who have taken their political participation into the electoral arena, as candidates for offce themselves. In most cases it is through their public image and standing that they are able to strengthen the political platform they represent and successfully transform their artistic, sporting or literary popularity into electoral success through public support. In India, flm actors and members of India’s erstwhile aristocracy have often used their popular and elevated, almost reverential, public standing to contest elections. Some stars of south Indian cinema (examined below) have been known to actively fashion political personas through the characters they portray, in order to route their transition from screen to political stage. Also, in a country where the mass following of cricket presently, and hockey earlier, have been prime defners of 82 Parliamentary Affairs nationalist sentiment, several sporting icons have made successful transitions into politics. Kirti Azad and Aslam Sher Khan, both at best moderately successful players, used their membership of World Cup winning teams of 1983 (cricket) and 1975 (hockey) to win elections and carve out high-profle political careers. Yet the cricketer with most wins as India’s Test captain — the Oxford-educated, erstwhile royal — Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi never tasted political victory despite two high-profle campaigns for Parliament in 1971 and 1992. In fact, his 1992 campaign —where his wife Sharmila Tagore and son Saif Ali Khan, both popular stars of Bollywood, camp- aigned for him — was less of a rout than his 1971 loss. During the 1998 elections, when India’s Prime Minister Vajpayee was asked about his party’s (BJP) dependence on regional cine-stars to front campaigns and contest elections in key opposition strongholds in the south Indian state of Andhra Pradesh, he suggested, as only a poet can — ‘When stars descend to the earth, there will be light’, reiterating the political impact of the immense reverence in which celebrities in India are held (India Today, 16.2.98).

Celebrity politicians in India. This is perhaps the most recent and rapidly escalating trend, where individuals involved with politics, with little or no renown as anything else approaching celebrity in their pre- political lives, have emerged or actively positioned themselves as celebrity politicians. It is their role within politics that makes them the celebrities they are — as they compete for media attention to further their careers. This trend also serves to highlight the role of the media in bringing the political sphere and its participants into contention for media space with those from other walks of life already celebrated and scrutinised there. This will be examined in greater detail below. To put this in con- text, one must frst examine some trends in India’s recent media and political histories.

Politics and the media in India: four phases of engagement India is an unique example of a nascent democracy in the emerging world, with over fve decades of uninterrupted democratic rule, overseen by a free judiciary, a fne record of commitment to a free press, a bur- geoning flm and television industry with global reach and a world-leader in parts of the ICT sector which is redefning the way media products are created and consumed. In India’s case the seminal position of flm in its media culture, is crucial to understand the cult of the Indian celebrity. In the history of India’s news media there are four overlapping phases—the activist, endorsive, oppositional and commercialised stages—examined in turn here. The frst Indian publication can be dated back to 1780, after which the colonial press mushroomed with India 83

English and vernacular newspapers. Within a hundred years, Indian industrialists and those later to emerge as leaders opposing British rule saw the press as a catalyst of change and started their own newspapers or edited publications, with clear anti-colonial positions. Most nationalist leaders had experience of activist campaigning journalism. By the 1930s the government-controlled Indian State Broadcasting Service to be christened All India Radio after Independence (or Akashvani, as it is locally known) had become a popular medium, as had the entirely privatised, nascent regional language cinema industries. One of the crucial factors in the parallel growth of radio and flm as the most popular media across India was the fact that literacy was not a prerequisite. Though some content on radio, cinema and early television reFected a degree of social concern, cinema was the frst to veer away towards a preponderance of formulaic, literary and mythological themes created with an eye on commercial success. The flm industry, carved out lucrative niches in the mainstream, Hindi-language (referred to as Bollywood) and vibrant regional-language production centres. By 1941, about 4,000 newspapers and magazines were in print in 17 languages, including English—all precipitating the end of colonial rule. With independence in 1947, the activist phase gave way to an endorsive phase in Indian media. The primary objective of the Indian press until independence, was assisting in attaining freedom. Coupled with the history of its early stewardship by the nationalist leadership, this made it a vocal adherent of Nehru and other leaders, and precluded it from criti- cism of the government’s post-independence policies. The oppositional phase set in with the coming of age of a new genera- tion of journalists in the late 1960s, particularly in the press, who neither professed blind faith in the Nehruvian nationalist ideal nor considered it their duty to endorse government policy. Also, Indira Gandhi, who succeeded Nehru as Prime Minister, took a sharply contrasting and much less benign view of the media—where she sought to curb their relative freedom in a bid to manipulate it for her own political ends. The government already controlled radio and television through its ownership of public service broadcasters, while cinema had always been a privatised enterprise in pursuit of commercial rather than social ends. Her relation- ship with it was further strained during the 19-month ‘Emergency Rule’ (1975–77) when censorship was rife, 253 journalists were imprisoned, several foreign correspondents expelled and India’s Press Council dissolved. Mrs Gandhi’s loss of power in the post-Emergency, 1977 elections allowed for the mushrooming of several smaller, highly professional, market-oriented media companies. Along with it came a new style of hard-hitting journalism that did not hesitate to challenge the government’s line in the form of specialist magazines such as India Today. The other area of specialisation was the focus of some of these new publications and supplements on areas like sports, entertainment, gardening, education, 84 Parliamentary Affairs and engineering. The oppositional phase, strengthened by cross-media ownership and the journalistic forcefulness of the new publishing houses, also allowed for a strong voice from regional-language media (mainly in print), in resistance to the state-run public service broadcasters in the early 1980s. Yet resistance in large sections of the press continued in tandem with an endorsive mode on the radio and television networks, which continued to act as mouthpieces for the state for the next two decades.2 This emergent media formation is free and functional as any, and is representative of successful implantation of modernity in a traditional society. Its size and structure implies a key function in Indian democracy and public life, even though it cannot be characterised as the most important means of communication in a society that presents widely varying levels of literacy and media usage. Nevertheless, dominance of the power structures by the formally educated means that the written word carries weight out of proportion to its reach. The press has always been, and continues to be, crucially inFuential among the networks of landowners, industrialists, bureaucrats, commercial executives, politicians and intellectuals who constitute the large Indian upper- and middle-classes. Whilst evoking gaudy, gyrating, sequinned and stylised images that peddles slick but Fuffy escapism to the Indian masses and entertains the Indian diaspora worldwide. With a growing crossover appeal and entre- preneurial productivity, churning out over a thousand flms annually, it has not only developed a distinctive style, but has emerged as a prosperous enterprise of a great size encompassing music, television software, publishing, online content and touring stage-shows. India’s recent emergence as a key provider in the ICT sector has also led to the flm industry’s diver- sifcation into production units for high-end IT applications for global corporations, creating specialist service-provision markets for Indian media (special effects and animation in Hollywood flms are now routinely produced in south India). Indian television started life in 1959 as a series of regional units pro- ducing linguistically-specifc programming, as part of the state-run public service broadcaster, Doordarshan, mainly promoting government policy and social welfare. TV as a mass medium began in 1975 with the Satellite Instructional Television Experiment project as part of which community television sets were set up in rural areas. In the last two decades growth in the number of television receivers has accelerated dramatically to reach 65 million households and over 20 million cable subscribers. Television expanded its frontiers of content, exploiting synergies of programming with cinema and televising sport, to emerge as the most commercially successful component of India’s media industry.3 It was at the cusp of this set of proftable media conFuences, that a commercialised phase set in, beginning in 1991 with the ‘liberalisation’ of the Indian economy. Indian TV networks (unlike the press) were open to investment and ownership by foreign corporations. This India 85 led to a boom in the 1990s which blew the lid off state control of television. Radio was soon to be overhauled through a similar set of investment opportunities, creating competition for the public-service broadcaster—beginning with the opening up the FM band for private networks in the metropolitan areas and, crucially, the press was to follow suit. In the heat of increased competition, most privately-owned media groups began to run with the momentum of the markets; standards of activist and public service journalism took a back seat. This redefned of the concept news in India, which has been termed ‘Murdochisation without Murdoch’. ‘Murdochisation’ means the dismantling of the media as responsible institutions that disseminate information and promote debate, and the end of any distinction between editorial and business functions in media production. Three of India’s largest media groups (the Times Group of Newspapers, the Indian Express Group and the Hindustan Times Group), all with signifcant interest in television and radio, put into practice, the editorial policies which characterise ‘Murdochisation’. Editors were instructed to make content light, marketable and friendly to the ruling elites. In commercial terms, news was increasingly seen as a commodity, no different from any consumer durable, and marketing advertising space or time became the dominant leitmotif. Journalistic standards, particularly in the news media, dropped rapidly as a result and the 1990s witnessed a sharp decline of the press as a public forum. This has been attributed largely to the relentless corporatisation of the Indian press and a growing oligopoly of ownership. Most media groups eagerly followed this lead. Media organisations were run as businesses like any others rather than as public forums, institutionalising a set of values entirely at odds with their traditional roles. In Mumbai for instance, The Times of India, which had a strangle- hold on the English-language readership, was clear and unequivocal in its priorities: news of Indian triumphs in beauty pageants making the front pages and drought-stricken farmers committing suicide by the hundreds not considered newsworthy. In the commercialised mantra of India’s media, sport has played a key role, becoming a dominant supplier of content. Beginning with India’s shock victory in the World Cup of 1983, cricket and cricketers have become a dominant feature in the nation’s imagination. The obsession has reached such a pitch that over two hundred games—more than two-thirds of which do not feature India—are telecast annually. Indian cricketers have transcended the cultural compartmentalisation of regional or national sporting iconography to become instantly recognisable and immensely valued international gladiators endorsing a wide variety of products. What was born as an agency of activism in the colonial state and had grown into a public service network of an emerging nation, turned itself within ffty years into an unstoppable commercial juggernaut—which straddles an incredibly large domestic market and is galloping towards 86 Parliamentary Affairs global reach. In the process, India’s media have set themselves apart from the scores of limited-capability and dependency-inFicted systems that dot the rest of the emerging world, becoming key competitors for global conglomerates. To appropriate one characterisation of the con- stituent parts of India’s media—Rip van Winkle had awakened into an ‘electronic empire’.4 Who is the Indian celebrity? Commenting on the key ingredients that constitute the Indian cultural space, one source suggests, ‘Along with cricket and voting (in elections), the cinema is among the most important collective experiences that Indians have’ (The Hindu, 1.9.02). Though this does not take into account the impact of religion in a professedly secular nation plagued by religious strife, it sums up the major cultural and political forces that dominates media content and shapes the Indian public’s view of who and what is prominent and important. The marked decline in deference with which the media view the political sphere and the key actors within it, has been noted. But is this develop- ment also reFected in the public perception of who the prominent players in politics are? A small group were asked by the present writer, ‘who do you think are the persons prominently featured as a celebrity in politics by the Indian media?’ They were asked for twenty names and asked to classify these as either a ‘celebrity endorsing a political position’, a ‘celebrity-turned-politician’ or a ‘celebrity politician’. Though a informal exercise the responses are insightful.5 The presence of high-profle politicians (from freedom-fghters to contemporary holders of political offce), actors, sportsmen (mainly cricketers), academics and businessmen, active in politics, was expected. Most surprising was the appearance, with unusual regularity of persons who could, at best, be placed at the fringes of the national or regional political mainstream and some who were regularly featured prominently in the media but had little or nothing to do with politics, except sharing the media spotlight. The ‘celebrity politician’ category is explored later; frst the other categories of individuals listed by respondents are examined. The most numerous was the ‘celebrity-turned-politician’. All were prominent in areas of political, social or cultural life—the public awareness, support or popularity of which provided them a platform to enter politics. Many were former actors, freedom fghters, sportspersons and members of India’s royal and politically active families. To illustrate the differences between such backgrounds, they are here discussed under three subcategories of ‘activists’, ‘inheritors’ and ‘image-engineers’. The ‘activists’ were leaders of the freedom movement who entered electoral politics at the time of independence. All had moved from their original professions and positions of prominence (like lawyers, educationists, doctors, journalists). The ‘inheritors’ were persons already active in public life, who entered politics on the basis of the goodwill, public India 87 support and image built up previously. It is the ‘non-political’ nature of their previous careers, which distinguishes them from the ‘activists’ above; they were also not known to manipulate their public images in politically active way, as the ‘image-engineers’. They were mainly actors and actresses, sportspersons and scions of India’s erstwhile royal and contemporary political dynasties. Screen-icons turned their fan following into electoral support for the parties they represented; as did two cricketers Kirti Azad, Chetan Chauhan and hockey stalwart Aslam Sher Khan. A notable presence was the former outlaw, Phoolan Devi, whose rehabilitation in prison inspired several flms, specially Bandit Queen and books: the media sensation led to her winning two consecutive terms as an MP representing some of India’s depressed castes.6 For India’s erstwhile aristocracy, and the rulers of the princely states there was no constitutional provision for representation as in the UK House of Lords. Many were encouraged by the political parties of inde- pendent India to transform their leadership birthright into the demo- cratically elected political representation of constituents, when their former territories were recast as constituencies. Other royals, as their pri- vileges were being whittled away, chose to confront this by seeking elected political offce. Many royals-turned-politicians had near-unchallenged electoral success in areas their families once ruled. In contrast, ‘dynastic’ succession within the politically prominent families of India has also been a major source of celebrities turned politicians. The practice of installing family members of deceased, retired or even disgraced politicians in their positions, irrespective of political experience, to ensure a continuation of public support or reap maximum beneft from a ‘sympathy wave’ is commonplace. In over ffty years of self-rule it is perhaps one of the more disappointing aspects of India’s democratic experience. Generations of the Nehru-Gandhi family, the Abdullah family in Kashmir and, more recently, the Thackeray family in Maharashtra are examples that the respondents listed. The fnal subgroup are ‘image-engineers’ who actively developed social or political media images through their work in cinema or other felds, and later used this to win support in elections. An example is Marudur Gopalamenon Ramachandran, who made his frst screen appearance in 1936 but had his frst major hit with the ‘mythological’ fantasy Rajakumari in 1947. By the 1960s Ramachandran featured in more ‘realistic’ fantasies, mostly in contemporary settings, often playing someone from the oppressed classes—a peasant, taxi driver or fsherman. For millions of fans, his image as the knight in shining armour, saving damsels in distress, totally dutiful towards his mother was in fact a reality. The primacy of the mother tongue, the service of the motherland and sanctity of motherhood were three key cornerstones that marked his characterisations. One Indian sociologist suggested, that the social universe of the Ramachandran flm is one of conFict between the upper caste/class oppressors and the actor as a subordinate, its resolution forming the 88 Parliamentary Affairs core of the flm. In the course of the conFict, Ramachandran appropriates several symbols of authority from those who dominate (including the colour patterns, black and red being the colours of the DMK the party he helped found) and masquerades—often in double roles of oppressor and oppressed—to construct this universe. In the flm Engal Thangam (1970) for instance, he played a truck driver who fghts, sings, cares for the poor and preaches against smoking or drinking. The DMK colours, black and red, are frequently featured in the costumes he wears in the flm.7 The actor’s larger-than-life image was reinforced in his campaigns by the use of huge lifelike images held on wooden frameworks, often over a hundred feet tall. Such images originally used in Hindu festivals to portray religious fgures presented a ‘divine’ image of Ramachandran. Most uniquely, a major phase of Ramachandran screen career ran concurrent to his political career. His membership of the DMK party from 1953 to 1972 included a spell as member of the state legislature and party treasurer. Throughout this period he produced, directed and acted in flms, most of which continued mythologise him and promote the DMK’s message. His ideological fallout with the DMK leader resulted in Ramachandran using the DMK’s propaganda idiom against the party itself in his flm Nam Naadu (1969). In 1972 he set up a rival party which in 1977 obtained a majority at the state elections, in alliance with the Congress Party, raising him to Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu, a position to which he was later re-elected for three consecutive terms. As Chief Minister, he crackdown on all political dissent, while intro- ducing populist schemes such as the ‘Chief Minister’s Nutritious Meal Programme’ in schools. Having survived an assassination attempt in 1967, and a paralytic stroke in 1984, he survived for a further three years, thus becoming popularly known as ‘thrice born’; in 1987 during a critical illness, 22 people took their own lives in the hope that their sacrifce would prevent his death; and when he died in 1987, over two million people attended his funeral and a temple has since been built with Ramachandran as deity. A slight twist to established practices of ‘image engineering’ through cinematic portrayals is evident in a certain genre of Indian cinema which followed a political phase in the 1980s and 1990s, when allega- tions of corruption seriously endangered the stability of governments. In such flms, politicians and those associated with politics were por- trayed as corrupt, power-crazed and depraved individuals whose leadership was causing more harm than beneft. Conversely, the popularity of such caricatures, painted with broad, also allowed the portrayal of ‘good’ subalterns who stood up to the ‘evil’ state and ultimately brought about positive change. Several actors later to join politics, used their popularity in such roles as a springboard into politics itself. Two distinct streams of thinking can be clearly discerned from the respondents listing of ‘celebrities endorsing political positions’. One is those people who can be called ‘attractors’, whose political function is to India 89 draw voters through their endorsements of candidates or parties, as was the case of the cast of the TV epic Ramayana referred to earlier. The appearance of Arun Govil, the actor who played the god Rama, in political rallies for the Congress Party in ‘divine’ costume, may have won votes. To a largely illiterate electorate, Govil’s endorsement appeared as a divine instruction. This started a trend of actors featured in flms or TV serialisations of Hindu epics like Mahabharata and Jai Shree Krishna to become prominent campaigners and in some cases enter politics as those discussed in the ‘inheritors’ category. Nitish Bharadwaj (who played the god Krishna), Dipika Chikhalia (who featured as Sita in Ramayana) and Arvind Trivedi (who was Ravana) all had spells as MPs in the 1980s and 1990s and were listed by survey respondents. Another group is that of ‘endowees’. These are nominated members to the upper house of Indian Parliament (the Rajya Sabha), where persons of prominence from different walks of life are nominated by the government of the day for a fxed term. Such state patronage is nor- mally reserved for individuals of exceptional merit or renown (the Constitution provides for 12 of the 250 members to be persons having a special knowledge or practical experiences in respect of such matters as literature, science, art and social service).8 Several persons listed by respondents—two journalists, two literatures, two flm stars, three econo- mists, two scientists, two former civil servants, a singer, a flmmaker and a musician—entered politics this way rather than through elections. The fnal category is ‘celebrity politicians’, who feature prominently in the media on account of their politics but not necessarily as part of political coverage. Respondents also listed several politicians ‘visible’ in the media due to their roles as spokespersons for parties or governments. With the debate about the public agenda between governments, parties in opposition, pressure groups and the media being played out in print and on screens and airwaves—the packaging and presentation of policy has acquired great import. Every interest group has ‘regulars’ who function as spokespersons—setting the tone, making the rebuttal and in general being the ‘face’ in the media. That aside, the most signifcant trend detected from the responses is the mention of people some of whom are current or past MPs, by election or nomination, whilst being celebrities in their own right with a high media profle. Also listed were prominent activists—like author Arundhati Roy, environmental activist Medha Patkar and the scientist Vandana Shiva, who act as spokespersons for causes they espouse. Yet others, for example like Shobha De, a former model turned popular author; or Nina Pillai, a prominent socialite, have little to do with politics except sharing the spotlight with politicians at media events. In India Today’s story on the ‘ffty-six events that changed India’ to commemorate the 56th anniversary of Indian independence, placed chronologically at number 50, and dated to originate in the mid-1990s, was the phenomenon of ‘P3P’—which is known in Indian media as a 90 Parliamentary Affairs

‘Page Three Person’ (not to be confused with ‘page 3 pin-ups’ in Britain’s Sun newspaper). This type of ‘news’ was frst observed on Page 3 of the city supplements of the Times of India’s Mumbai and Delhi editions, in the mid-1990s and other newspapers soon followed suit. Coverage included private social events like product launches, fashion shows and even private parties on a daily basis, with photos of the ‘glitterati’ attending (India Today, 18.8.03). Eventually, readers were bombarded daily with news snippets, gossip about, and pictures of authors, artists, models, designers, corporate executives, business people, actors, politicians and anyone who pur- ported to be a ‘celebrity’. Presently, one of India’s most popular news channels features a hour-long news show on weeknights (Late Night Live) which focuses on exclusive coverage of social events. At one level, it represents the ‘dumbing down’ of newspapers catering to its readers appetite for celebrity gossip—a trend followed by the vernacular press in the metropolitan areas and mainstream TV channels. At another level it appeared to fulfl Andy Warhol’s prophesy about everyone get- ting their 15 minutes of fame, or 15-column centimetres and a colour photograph or a ten second ‘news’ mention. The race to make ‘Page 3’ and its television equivalent—celebrity interviews and info-tainment shows—became a virtual stampede. Though there is evidence of several Indian publications, particularly those focusing on flm, that routinely cover ‘news’ stories of parties, launches and fashion shows, politicians are rarely featured in them as their participation is limited to cutting the inaugural ribbon or making the vale- dictory speech. Contemporary coverage would, for instance, show a fash- ionably dressed politician with a drink in his/her hand, photographed alongside other celebrities attending the gathering and the accompanying write-up might even cite the brand of drink that the politician held. One politician, Subramani Reddy, regularly featured in various ‘Page 3s’, on being asked why he attended such gatherings remarked, ‘People throw parties for me because they love me’ (India Today, 18.8.03). It has also been suggested that there has been a distinct evolution of ‘the politician’—from the spartan, Gandhi-inspired, home-spun-cotton-clad, politician of the 1950s to a more trendy, well-groomed and media- savvy individual—reFecting change that has affected every other aspect of Indian life. Another prominent MP, media spokesperson and ‘Page 3’ regular, argues that ‘just because you are the peoples’ representatives, doesn’t mean you can’t wear good clothes’. Several other MPs, with longer innings in public life behind them felt that the changing eco- nomic and professional background of contemporary politicians has led to their becoming more conscious of their dress and appearance, as has the fact that they appear on the media much more often than politicians in the past ever did (BBC News UK Online, 22.7.03). Recent developments in India’s public life and media functioning should however have prompted a rethinking of issues like the conduct India 91 of politicians and public fgures, as well as issues of privacy, media ethics and new possibilities for news in an interactive age. In 2000, journalists belonging to the news portal Tehelka.com, masquerading as representatives of a British arms dealership, conducted a sting operation, where they offered cash kickbacks and favours to defence offcials and politicians while secretly flming them. When the story broke, the political establishment was badly shaken—with the president of the BJP, the leading party of the coalition, and the Defence Minister forced to resign and the government itself tottering on the brink of collapse with several coalition partners threatening to withdraw support. The journalists and the Tehelka.com’s editor had with the highest profle possible, exposed corruption in public life—something that the Indian public had long been aware of but tacitly condoned and that the politicians had forever refused to acknowledge. The editor remarked that as journalists they had seen ‘the focus of journalism drift from hard news and daring investigative work to entertainment, just to write pretty profles of pretty stars’ (Guardian, 4.6.01). The Internet, he said, provided more editorial freedom to pursue these goals than might have been possible on radio, television or in the press—where commercial and state interests are more embedded and in control of the agenda. Also, in a sharp departure from the trend that had been apparent in the rest of the media’s content, obsessed with celebrity and the growing incursion into the private aspects of public life—Tehelka claimed that neither this exposure nor an earlier one on match-fxing and bribery in international cricket, had touched ‘anybody’s private life’. All the investigations had done was ‘expose the misuse of public money, by public fgures’ in places of responsibility. The scandal ushered in a mood of national catharsis for a public tired of offcial corruption, and as Tehelka.com won popular acclaim—with weekly ‘hits’ on the site touching 30 million—the Indian state unleashed its full might against an organisation that dared to embarrass it. The com- mission of enquiry set up to investigate the exposure, did not cross- examine a single person caught on camera in the act of accepting bribes or favours but chose to question the journalistic methods used by the Tehelka team. The state’s inland revenue, it’s enforcement directorate and intelligence bureau started a series of investigations and raids on Tehelka, which found little evidence of malpractice but left several journalists, fnancial backers and supporters of the portal being jailed on suspicion. Despite public support from intellectuals like V.S. Naipaul and Salman Rushdie, India’s civil society reacted with an awkward silence to the state’s treatment of Tehelka and its subsequent bankruptcy. Earlier this year, a BJP MP and spokesperson, himself a former journalist, claimed in the press that the government had nothing to do with the collapse of the portal. ‘Just because you do a story exposing the government doesn’t mean the gods make you immortal. Many other portals have closed down. The internet boom is over’ (Guardian, 6.1.03). 92 Parliamentary Affairs

The Indian media, irrespective of sector, size, language or location, has never, as is the case now, focused on the private lives of public fgures, except, very occasionally in pursuit of an investigative story. Historically, key political interventions in the Indian media and its subsequent evolution—through activist, endorsive, oppositional and commercialised stages—coupled with the milieux, of renown and reverence from which the political leadership of India emerged, explain the high esteem in which politicians were held by media, and society in general, making any interest in their private lives effectively out of bounds. As a result of the ongoing processes of commercialisation (or what is termed, ‘Murdochisation’) media coverage of politics increasingly equals the ‘celebrity-isation’ of politicians. Alongside this, the ongoing reconstruction of the idea and image of ‘celebrity’ in India, and within it the shifting perception of politicians, who are now being focused on dif- ferently by the media, just as they are using the media in new ways themselves, this is reframing aspects of the debate on media freedom and the state’s position in relation to it. Newfound technological gateways operating outside traditional media structures, providing opportunities of instantaneous and global access, are also beginning to challenge to the pre-eminent position enjoyed by the established media, state actors and those in positions of power or prominence. Yet widely varying levels of literacy, media access, political awareness and engagement continue to challenge attempts at a single reading of the situation. Notwithstanding the coexisting factors of high technological adaptability in the media with low levels of literacy and media socialisation, the mediated culture of ‘build- them-up-and-then-put-the-boot-in’ has not quite found entrenchment within the way media engages with ‘celebrity’. Deference is likely to decline, but is certainly not yet dead.

1 See A. Rajagopal, Politics after Television: Hindu Nationalism and the Reshaping of the Public in India, Cambridge University Press, 2001. 2 For a history of the Indian press, see: P. Sonwalkar, ‘Murdoch-isation of the Indian Press: From Byline to Bottom Line’, Media, Culture & Society 24(6) 2002; S. Karkhanis, Indian Politics and the Role of the Press, Vikas, 1981; K. Viswanath and K. Karan ‘India’ in S.A. Gunaratne (eds), Handbook of the Media in Asia, Sage, 2000; M.C. Rau, The Press, National Book Trust, 1974. 3 For the origins and growth of Indian television, see S. Ninan, Through the Magic Window: Television and Change in India, Penguin, 1995. 4 See U.V. Reddi, ‘Rip Van Winkle: A Story of Indian Television’ in D. French and M. Richards (eds), Contemporary Television, Sage, 1996; and D.K. Thussu (eds), Electronic Empires, Arnold, 1998. 5 Almost 30 individuals of Indian nationality or origin, in an equal proportion of both genders, living in India or other parts of the world, responded to the questionnaire — but everyone did not provide all twenty responses. The respondents, it must be clarifed, represent an urban, middle- or upper-class, educated, multicultural, multi-lingual and pan-religious elite of India, all of whom regularly read the print or internet editions of at least one Indian national daily or watch television of Indian origin, either in India or through cable and satellite elsewhere. 6 See M. Sen, India’s Bandit Queen: The True Story of Phoolan Devi, Harvil, 1991. 7 For his life and career see M.S.S. Pandian, The Image Trap: M.G. Ramachandran in Films and Politics, Sage, 1992. 8 Article 80, clause 3: Constitution of India.