Some of the reactions to recent important court verdicts have been similar to the reactions that news ombudsmen receive. When a special court acquitted Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam leaders A. Raja and Kanimozhi in the 2G spectrum allocation case , some questioned the wisdom and fairness of the legal process. In less than 48 hours, when a special CBI court convicted former Bihar Chief Minister Lalu Prasad , the same section discovered the redeeming features of the judiciary. They even wrote to say that it is the judiciary that is saving the country. There was little effort to go through both judgments and the factors that led to the final pronouncements. The reactions were mere reflections of these individuals’ personal views.
Using the right terms
Reacting to my previous column (“ Cloak-and-dagger words ,” Dec. 18) that dealt with words such as ‘honour killing’ in journalism and their impact on the public sphere, some readers termed the debate as a semantic quibble that has little bearing on larger issues. A Tamil journalist shared the term she uses to describe ‘honour killing’: ‘arrogant killing’, or aanava kollai . C.G. Rishikesh agreed that the term ‘honour killing’ is from the perspective of the perpetrators of the crime. “If a term is needed from the perspective of those not involved in the crime, one could try ‘rogue killing’, ‘supercilious killing’, ‘haughty killing’ or some such,” he argued. However, he wondered whether any of these terms would amount to editorialising, against which this column has been consistent. Hence, mere ‘killing’ or ‘murder’ would do, he said.
A reader from Delhi, Rina Sen, found more terms euphemistic. She considered ‘road rage’ the most meaningless and misleading one. She wrote: “This term is almost exonerative of serious offences and traffic violations leading to accidents and deaths. It suggests that ‘rage’ is an extenuating circumstance for serious traffic violations or murder during an altercation. Why should speeding, accidents and deaths on the road be reduced to ‘road rage’?” Some readers pointed out the ridiculousness of the term ‘cylinder blast’, asking if this meant that the blast was a self-induced act of the cylinder with no human element to it.
One of the greatest editors of the last three generations, Diana Athill, who turned 100 this month, has been mediating the usage of words for nearly 70 years. She is prescient in explaining how words actually work in the minds of readers. In her memoir Somewhere Towards the End , she wrote: “How, then, does the written word work? What part of a reader absorbs it or should that be a double question: what part of a reader absorbs what part of a text? I think that underneath, or alongside, a reader’s conscious response to a text, whatever is needy in him is taking in whatever the text offers to assuage that need.” She explained nearly three decades ago the role of editing: “It was like removing layers of crumpled brown paper from an awkwardly shaped parcel, and revealing the attractive present which it contained.” The reason for flagging cloak-and-dagger words is to eliminate warped words.
Word with a damaging impact
In my view, another term that the media should avoid is ‘love jihad’. Any reasonable reader would discern the vitriol, polarisation and demonising intents in this term. Apart from its obvious misogyny and phobia for minorities and subalterns, the most damaging impact of the use of this term is that it normalises criminal behaviour of entrenched interest groups. Sociologists have been extensively documenting the debilitating impact of normalising excesses, violence and misogyny. Journalism has the power to prevent normalising abhorrent behaviour, but it can happen only when journalists consciously use the right words.
Academic Charu Gupta unpacked the term ‘love jihad’ to bring out its disturbing usage. In the Economic and Political Weekly , she wrote: “Hate speech is always repeatable speech, drawing its strength from stereotypes and rhetoric. Here too, conversions of Hindu women are represented as a general phenomenon. Different events are made to appear to follow a similar pattern — a narrative of luring by Muslim male in the name of love and Hindu female victimhood. In repetition lies its strength, and one of the primary sources of communal power: its ability perpetually to renew itself through reiteration, and its authority as truth and ‘common sense’.” It is indeed possible to leave jihad behind, and look forward only to love.
readerseditor@thehindu.co.in
