Want to be a crime journalist? Part deux.

Continuing with the adventures of two hapless journalism students thrown into the world of crime journalism; with a newspaper and an editor they would had preferred to have never met; startled by the lack of journalism ethics; asked to pursue stories that conflicted with their sense of responsibility and morality and went against everything they had heard in the journalism ethics class.

The editor of the newspaper was quite a character. WE stared at him in disbelief as he recruited us to do a story of crime comparison between two religious groups. Even before gathering data, he knew how the story would read and which religious group had a higher crime statistic. Of course, he needed his two bemused crime reporters to go to different police chowkeys (stations) and gather data in a not-so-scientific manner. (This was a long time ago when there was no central computerized database with such statistics in Mumbai.)  

He was extremely excited; I was sick to my stomach. It violated every ethic and journalistic responsibility we knew and we wondered if this was the reason the previous crime beat journalist had flown the nest of dubious ethics. And how in the world did we get caught up in this mess?

Even if the editor was a hundred percent correct, was it right to publish such volatile stories? Whatever happened to responsible reporting? Could any good come out of this lop-sided story at all? Moreover he seemed to cherry pick police stations and had no plans of balancing or explaining the story through socio-economic and other factors. Funny how I still get so riled up just thinking about it.

We resisted. We busied ourselves with everything else we could do, every story we could cover. We worked like crazy. We worked till late. We did everything we could to keep ourselves away from this crazy project. But with every little gap of open space he noticed, we got sent to some police station to get crime statistics. Again, how in the world did we get caught up in this mess?

The resistance wasn’t working. Letting go seemed wrong, for it seemed like a letting go of personal values. What an awful position for any youth full of idealism to be in. 

But finally, I made an effort to let go of the resistance; but I also had a plan - naïve, idealistic maybe - but a plan nonetheless. I had to let go – for I had to work on the story – but my plan was to cover other dimensions of the story, and bludgeon the editor so many facts and dimensions that his story would no longer be one sided. Indeed, nothing can get in the way of the optimism of youth. 

I spoke to experts about espionage and found evidence conflicting with the editor’s story. I met police chiefs and tried to get information about crime dynamics and religion, and contributing socio-economic factors. I met the Police Commissioner of Mumbai who told me with a wide smile that there was perfect religious harmony in the underworld (!!). I spent many hours in the beautiful colonial period hallways of the Mumbai Police headquarters. I had let go of resistance. I was going to give the editor data from the police stations, but I was going to give him more stories that would hopefully balance out his agenda-piece. In letting go of resistance, I was attempting to redirect with a certain headless optimism of youth.

I am surprised at myself when I think back. I don’t see that kind of grit or headless optimism anymore. The ability to do everything possible and simple let go in the optimism and belief that something good will come out of it. An ability to not be overly attached to the outcome, but stay focused only on that within control. For if it is indeed a kind of letting go, it would be worthwhile to dig deep to see if traces still exist.