Off the Record 083: The media and its malcontents

Issue 083 • 10 February 2023

Feb 10, 2023

It’s February 10, 2023, and you’re reading Off the Record.

I’m Pranaya Rana and in this newsletter, we’ll stop, take a deep breath, and dive into one singular issue that defined the past week.

You can read Off the Record for free by visiting this link to receive this newsletter in your inbox every Friday.

Good morning, good afternoon, and good evening from Kathmandu still reeling from a two-hour live bombardment by tv presenter-turned-politician Rabi Lamichhane. In a deranged but quite entertaining press conference, Lamichhane went off the rails, railing against the media for two hours regarding what he believes was unfair treatment and a concerted effort to dethrone and delegitimize him. But more on that in the long read for today. Before we talk about Rabi, let’s focus on another Lamichhane.

Sandeep Lamichhane, the former cricket captain now accused of rape, is out on bail and has been reappointed to the national team. He is set to represent Nepal internationally, playing against Scotland and Namibia. It really is a tragedy that someone accused of rape, with a full-fledging investigation proceeding against him, is going to be playing for the Nepali national cricket team. It seems like the Cricket Association of Nepal (CAN), cricket’s governing body, is in lockstep behind Sandeep. It wouldn’t have hurt to put him aside for the time being, at least until his court case is over. This isn’t just about optics but also what it says about a country when a rape accused is representing Nepal internationally. The message it sends is that Nepal values cricketing glory over justice, that crimes against women, even ones as heinous as rape, take second fiddle when it comes to a man who can bowl or bat well.

Last week, Tufan Neupane of Kantipur conducted a long interview with the woman who Sandeep is alleged to have raped. Her testimony is harrowing and really brings to light the imbalance between the two, not just in terms of age but also power. It is really worth reading in Nepali but it has also been translated into English here. This is the kind of reporting that is necessary for the Nepali media. Too often, such reports are sensationalized and narrated as if they were movies. Instead of empathy for the victim, even sympathetic reporters often grandstand with their writing. The focus on the reporting is the perpetrator, instead of the survivor. Tufan Neupane has really provided a great template for what reports like these should look like.

Both on and off social media, Nepalis have protested Sandeep’s inclusion on the national team. The argument is not that he shouldn’t be out on bail — after all, bail is everyone’s right — but that he shouldn’t be rewarded with spots on the national team and gigs to play internationally when there is an active criminal investigation against him for rape. The least that CAN should do is distance itself from him and await the verdict. Instead, they’re too busy defending Sandeep and lamenting how all of their players are now afraid of being accused of rape.

For more on this issue, read Boju Bajai’s Cold Takes: Shame on you CAN!

Now, without further ado, let’s talk about the other Lamichhane and what ails the Nepali media industry.

The deep dive: The media and its malcontents

Just as I was wrapping up last last week’s newsletter on Prem Prasad Acharya’s suicide, news emerged that the Supreme Court had ruled against Rabi Lamichhane and stripped him of his positions as Member of Parliament, Home Minister, Deputy Prime Minister, and even chief of the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP). The court decided that Lamichhane had not followed due process to reobtain his Nepali citizenship after giving up his American citizenship and thus, his electoral candidacy, registered using his old citizenship certificate, was invalid, and by extension, so was his status as MP and minister. Emerging from the Supreme Court, a quiet Lamichhane told the press that he was basically “stateless” and that he could answer no questions.

But unlike other Nepalis actually rendered stateless, Lamichhane almost immediately got a new citizenship certificate two days later. He was duly reelected as president of the RSP and by evening, was already in negotiations with Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal to be reinstated as Home Minister. Dahal refused to reinstate him and Lamichhane, this past Sunday, pulled all of his party ministers from their posts. His endorsement of the prime minister would stand, he said, but the party would withdraw from government. Education Minister Shishir Khanal, Labor Minister Dol Prasad Aryal, and State Health Minister Toshima Karki duly tendered their resignations later that day.

Lamichhane, meanwhile, organized a press conference and went on a tirade, railing against the media. In a long rambling monologue reminiscent of his days as a tv anchor berating allegedly corrupt government officials, Lamichhane lashed out at the media, naming publishers and editors and daring them to run against him in Chitwan. It was truly a bizarre and unhinged performance. Lamichhane was acting like a petulant child who takes the ball home with him when he loses the game. In his rage at not being reinstated Home Minister, he huffed and puffed and threatened to gherao Kantipur’s office with his supporters. I really couldn’t look away. It was like watching a trainwreck in slow motion.

For those of you who don’t understand Nepali, you’re really missing out. It’s a wild ride from start to finish. But even if you do understand Nepali and don’t want to sit through two hours of a man ranting, here are a few choice moments:

Lamichhane pointed many fingers at many people but his primary target was Kantipur Publications and particularly its chairman Kailash Sirohiya. In the days since, both Sirohiya and his son, Sambhav, have issued rejoinders to Lamichhane’s allegations, as have a number of other journalists named. Even the Federation of Nepali Journalists issued a statement expressing alarm. Social media is currently divided, with many of the fraternity and older folk speaking out against Lamichhane’s tirade and expressing support for the press and media. Others, mostly young people, are exuberant because Lamichhane confirmed what they had suspected all along — that the news media is ‘biased’ and often operates to serve shady business and political interests rather than the public.

Like with most things, the truth is somewhere in the middle. Lamichhane should certainly not have gone on that unhinged tirade in the way he did. It made him look petty and thin-skinned. He ironically indulged in a lot of conspiracies while demanding that the media provide proof and evidence while writing about him. None of the allegations that he made against the media have been substantiated by anyone other that the rumor mill. It’s easy to feed the frenzy when a great many urban youths are already suspicious of the mainstream media and gravitating towards social media for their news. And that’s what Lamichhane did. He didn’t ‘expose’ anything as much of what he said wasn’t all that hidden in the first place.

But he’s not wholly wrong either. There are deep, deep problems with the Nepali media and Nepali journalism, some of which Lamichhane identified. The manner in which almost every mainstream newspaper wrote article after article, often on the front page, when it came to Lamichhane was a bit suspicious. As one time Home Minister and a popular public figure, it is only natural that any controversy involving Lamichhane would get more attention but what’s become clear from this kind of reporting is that the media industry, if it chooses to do so, can turn any issue into a matter of national import and force institutions like the judiciary to take quick decisions.

This has happened before and not just during trying times like Gyanendra’s coup. The mainstream media has often come together to speak in one voice on issues like demanding the resignation of former Commission for the Investigation of Abuse of Authority Lokman Singh Karki or the resignation of Chief Justice Cholendra SJB Rana. The editors generally tend to come together when someone attacks the fraternity, as they did when the Chinese Embassy issued a scathing attack on Kathmandu Post editor Anup Kaphle or when an IT consultant for the prime minister allegedly removed an article that was critical of him from a news website.

So why don’t issues like the continuing fight for justice that Ruby Khan has been leading in Kathmandu for over a month now receive the same treatment? Why isn’t every mainstream newspaper writing about the plight of ‘meter byaj’ victims day after day until the issue gets resolved? Why don’t sugarcane farmers who come to the Capital every year to protest non-payment from sugar mill owners receive the same kind of attention?

It’s because these issues aren’t deemed important enough by what Lamichhane called the ‘12 bhai’ (12 brothers) of journalism — 12 chief editors, most of whom are male and mostly Bahun-Chhetri — who run the country’s biggest newspapers and online publications. Lamichhane alleged that they act in concert, often deciding to pursue the same issue together as a group. There is some truth to this, as attested above. The editors do get together and talk among themselves, especially on issues that they deem of national import. If these editors decided, they could make Ruby Khan’s fight for justice front page news for a week and force the governments and the judiciary to address her demands. But I don’t believe these issues are ever discussed.

So the primary point in Lamichhane’s j’accuse is that editors decided to collectively hound him. I don’t know how true that is, but it could be. As we’ve seen before, it is not inconceivable that the editors got together and took a common position on what to do with Lamichhane. I don’t know, I’m not privy to that kind of discussion but it is certainly possible.

The second major point that Lamichhane attempted to make was that the newspapers themselves are mired in conflicts of interest. Media houses are owned by businessmen who have investments in a host of other industries. So, Lamichhane alleges, newspapers will not write critical pieces about the businesses that their owners have invested in or they will write articles that criticize rival companies. I’ve always said that the media in Nepal is not beholden to politicians but to business interests. So I would say this happens a lot more than we think. Given the number of newspapers and online media outlets that are cropping up every year, one has to wonder who’s paying for all of these. The media is not a money-making machine and often has to be propped up for years before a profit can be made, if ever. So it would stand to reason that the money is either coming from businessmen who wish to extract some kind of benefit from the media or from other more nefarious sources like foreign governments.

My personal experience is that I’ve never encountered any instance of the publisher intervening in a news report. Even at Kantipur, which is currently getting the bulk of the criticism, publisher Kailash Sirohiya never stopped us from reporting. The Kathmandu Post published numerous stories that damaged advertising relations for the company. Sipradi, the car dealers, once pulled all its ads because of an investigative report on its owner who was beating his wife. Daraz, the e-commerce website, also pulled its ads because TKP criticized its 11.11 sale extravaganza that encountered a lot of issues. The publisher, naturally, was not happy with the hit to his bottom line but he never stopped us from publishing anything critical.

That said, perhaps I just wasn’t privy to what stories were being held back or what reporting could not be pursued. I myself was never forbidden from reporting on anything or anyone but I suppose it is possible that others were. I’m also not saying that Kantipur or its publisher are exemplary. It’s just that I never witnessed any of the shenanigans that they’re being accused of. I might have just been out of the loop. After all, I wasn’t ever in a high position in a mainstream newspaper.

It’s public knowledge how wealthy media owners are. Kantipur owner Sirohiya is infamous for his collection of high-end luxury cars, many of which his son tends to drive around in. The Gyawalis who own Nepal Republic Media are very wealthy as are the Dixits who run Himal Media and former airline pilot Rameshwar Thapa who owns Annapurna Media. They didn’t just make their wealth from the media but from various other business ventures that they have. And at some point or other, it is safe to assume that their media outlets would run up against these other business ventures or that of a rival.

While the owners are wealthy, the journalists who work for them are certainly not. Many media houses do not abide by the Working Journalists’ Act and do not pay the minimum wage. This makes it difficult for journalists to not just make a living but even to obtain a press card from the Press Council, a requirement to enter sensitive areas like Singha Durbar. Most media houses also do not offer any health or accident insurance or provident funds either. In most places, it takes 10 years to become a ‘permanent’ staff and only then are you eligible for a provident fund.

This latter issue is not something that Rabi Lamichhane commented upon, even though I wish he had. He was more focused on venting his ire toward the chiefs that he never even thought about those at the bottom. This would’ve been a good opportunity for him to demand some changes in the media industry but nope, that wasn’t part of his agenda.

But for a second, let’s put Lamichhane aside. That the media is in crisis has long been said and repeated ad nauseam but nothing seems to change. Very few of the new media start-ups have been exemplary. Most of them are mired in the same kind of allegations that Lamichhane made. But even besides the business model, the reporting itself leaves much to be desired. So much of Nepali journalism is self-indulgent and too much of it is obsessed with politics. Political reporters are seen to be at the top of the ladder and they’re the ones who often get promotions. All other beats are secondary to politics. And even this political reporting is confused and without context; all too often, it is just a rehashing of what one politician said.

What Nepal really needs is proper, independent media reporting. I don’t mean a fact checker but an outlet that actually reports on the media itself, like the Columbia Journalism Review or the Washington Post and the New York Times’ media columns or even NPR’s On the media. Rather than a watchdog organization like the Press Council, we need media outlets to report on each other, that’s one way to keep the media accountable. Too much of what goes on in Nepal’s media houses is opaque. Even something as simple as submitting an article to a newspaper is needlessly difficult. When the media makes mistakes, it doesn’t apologize; it simply fixes the error and moves on as if nothing happened. Sometimes, whole articles disappear without so much acknowledgment.

When the media demands transparency and accountability from others, it should have the decency to ensure its own transparency and accountability.

So I understand the growing skepticism against the mainstream media. There is now a younger generation that is suspicious of anything establishment and prefers its news from sources it understands, like social media. Facebook pages like Routine of Nepal Banda provide bite-sized nuggets of information with an apt photo and a snazzy caption. In the attention economy, few people have time to read long articles (like this newsletter). So the competition is really not with each other but with social media. If the legacy media does not figure out how to compete with social media, they’re going to lose their relevance, especially among a growing generation of young people.

Coming back to Lamichhane, I’ll say it again, his tirade was not all wrong, even though he did it for the pettiest of reasons. He made things personal for many editors and publishers, pretty much ensuring that they would not listen to what he had to say. Why would they? No one wants to listen to someone who’s calling them names and insulting them. Still, much of the reading public shares his frustration with the mainstream media and has only been too happy to take his word as gospel. For many, it was just what they were waiting for to crystalize their already existing perceptions.

I wish I could say that this incident would lead the media to introspect and try to understand where this resentment is coming from. I wish there were chief editors who would take the criticism and not instantly go on the defensive. But from what I’ve seen so far, that doesn’t seem to be the case. The reaction from the media fraternity has been knee-jerk. Many are offended that Lamichhane dared to say what he did at all. It’s not necessary to give Lamichhane all of the benefit of the doubt but it’s also not right to dismiss him outright and go back to being comfortable inside walled-off, soundproofed cubicles.

There is a reckoning coming for the Nepali mainstream media. The sooner our eminent editor sirs recognize this, the better it will be for everyone.

To end this long newsletter, since we’re on the subject of the media, let me take this occasion to give a shoutout to some really great reporters doing stellar work in the Nepali media industry — Tufan Neupane, Janakraj Sapkota, and Bidhya Rai from Kantipur, Raju Syangtan from Naya Patrika, Sudeep Shrestha from Setopati, Binu Subedi formerly of Kantipur and Onlinekhabar, and Praju Panta from Ukeraa.com. Rather than editors, it is these journalists doing shoe-leather reporting who need to be celebrated, feted, and rewarded.

That’s all for this week. Off the Record will (probably) be back in your inboxes next Friday. I shall see you then, in your emails, for the next edition of Off the Record.

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Off the Record 083: The media and its malcontents

Issue 083 • 10 February 2023

The deep dive: The media and its malcontents

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