Reporters are routinely asked to cover protests. I have covered several agitations in my career. Recently, I visited Joshimath, the gateway to the sacred Hindu temple at Badrinath, to the national park known as the valley of flowers, and to one of the most revered Sikh pilgrimage sites, Hemkund Sahib.
Joshimath today is known as the ‘sinking town’. In December last year, cracks began appearing in homes, forcing the residents to spill onto the streets in fear. It was heartbreaking to see young children and old people huddled together by the roadside, bundled in thick woollen clothes during a harsh winter. Land subsidence, or sudden sinking of the earth’s surface, was stated as the reason for the fissures. I spent a few days speaking to residents and administrators.
What struck me was how well informed all the protesters were. Each of them, as if on cue, gave me the same narrative. They traced the history of the disaster, provided reasons and suggested solutions.
In Singhdar block, for instance, I met 72-year-old Sunita Devi, who used thumb imprints for administrative work. Her lack of education, however, did not translate into a lack of awareness. Devi was extremely knowledgeable about the crisis. She spoke about the 1976 MC Mishra Committee report, which was the result of an investigation ordered by the then government into the geographical disturbances in Joshimath. She spoke of how a Supreme Court Committee had provided recommendations to both the State and the Centre about the consequences of unplanned development in the fragile region. She also told me about the “disaster wale.” (The Disaster Management Department had maintained that the town needs immediate attention.) “Sab NTPC ka kaaran hua. Isko band karao (Everything has happened because of the NTPC. Stop those projects),” Devi said.
I listened to her wide-eyed, impressed by her knowledge. I asked her how she knew so much. “Sab dekha hai phone par (I have seen everything on my phone),” she replied. I was astonished to hear the same story from 23-year-old Sunil Rawat. His source, too, was social media. The uniformity of the narrative was new for me. Over the years, I have heard many protesters say the same things, but not in such a pronounced way.
I realised at Joshimath how the nature of protests has changed over the years. Over a decade ago, the anti-corruption protests spearheaded by Anna Hazare lasted from April to December 2011. Back then, there was no live streaming on Facebook or YouTube and people did not receive a constant stream of updates on WhatsApp. While Mr. Hazare sat in protest in Delhi, others sat on fast in solidarity in other parts of the country. When asked about the protest, people knew of the reason but not the timeline of the problem or what was happening in other regions. They often did not have answers to questions about the details of the protest. I was in Kanpur then. Every day I would visit Mr. Hazare’s supporter who was on fast. One evening, she was forcibly rushed to the hospital by the police. I got to know about this only the next day, when sources from the hospital called. In today’s day and age, this event would have been live-streamed.
Social media has contributed greatly to mobilising people into action and amplifying voices. Thanks to social media tools, the demands of protesters are well coordinated and their chants reverberate across geographies. The visual nature of the medium, which makes the task of eliciting support and sharing evidence of disasters and injustice, has made the job of reporting simpler.
However, there are problems too. Uniform narratives such as these can tend to paint everyone with the same brush. It is also hard sometimes to figure out when respondents are mixing fact with fiction. For a reporter, the challenge now is to pay attention to the larger narrative while also looking for individual stories and varied experiences.
ishita.mishra@thehindu.co.in
