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Almost everything we learnt from TV channels about Operation Sindoor was attributed to unnamed 'sources'.
At times, reports coming from the ground were removed, and 'source'-based information was put out to counter it. For instance, the night the ceasefire was announced, one particular channel reported that Pakistan was sending drones across the border, and that there had been over 100 blasts in Srinagar.
Soon, that channel retracted the news it had broken, and said that it was all quiet on the Western front. Where did they get the original information in the first place? You guessed it right—from 'sources'.
Before I argue why this is dangerous and is often a tool for disinformation, let me first explain why source-based reportage is a legitimate journalistic practice.
If one had to draw up a list of the greatest and most impactful, investigative news stories, 90 percent of them would have emanated from anonymous whistleblowers. The most famous of these is the Watergate Scandal of 1972, reported by The Washington Post correspondents, Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein.
The stories, which forced Richard Nixon to resign as President of the United States, were based on information provided by a secret source, who The Post named ‘deep throat.’
The identity of ‘deep throat’ was kept secret for more than 30 years. Woodward and Bernstein—and their legendary editor Ben Bradlee—refused to reveal his name, and even denied that he was part of the intelligence community. It was only in 2005, that the former FBI deputy director, Mark Felt, admitted at the age of 91, that he was ‘deep throat.’
In more recent cases, such as the Panama Papers series of investigative stories of 2016, the name of the source who leaked 11.5 million documents, wasn’t even revealed to the global consortium of journalists who worked on them. The source continues to be simply known as ‘John Doe.’
Similarly, no one knows the identity of the person who, in 2021, leaked the list of 50,000 people whose electronic devices were being targeted using the Pegasus spyware. It led to a massive journalistic investigation that involved 17 news organisations across the globe.
What ensured this was a robust filtration system. We know this as editorial control.
Traditional news-gathering is based on the ‘beat’ system, modelled on how cops patrol a particular territory. In the world of journalism, a beat is the specific field or area a reporter is supposed to ‘patrol.’ It is their job to cover it end to end, gather all information that stems from it, and break stories as they happen.
Most newsroom beats mirror a society’s field of power—how relationships of dominance and submission are structured within it. So, the most important reporters in a newsroom tend to be those who cover the government, political parties, business, defence, and international relations. Sports and entertainment are important add-ons. If a reporter chooses to do something different, their stories are termed ‘off-beat.’
It is but natural for even the most objective of reporters to get too involved with their beat. They develop personal relations with important ‘players’ in the field they cover, and are more likely to believe information that they get from them.
There is another reason why reporters tend to get too close to their sources. Journalists from different organisations, who cover the same beat, have a peculiar relationship of cooperation and competition. They share routine information with each other on a regular basis. At the same time, there’s fierce rivalry between them on who gets an important news break first, or manages that exclusive interview.
But there is an adage in the news business—one person’s plant is another person’s scoop.
And this is where an editor comes in, for sanity checks.
It is possible for editors to do this because they are ‘above’ all beats. They keep a measured distance from influential people, even if they have risen through the beat system, and have developed personal relationships with politicians, bureaucrats, and corporate honchos.
I am not claiming that this is a foolproof system. Editors have their own foibles, their multiple vanities. They can be swayed by their own beliefs and also by powerful people they are close to. However, the editorial system ensures a semblance of objectivity in a newsroom, and sets up a system of checks and balances, to filter out blatant disinformation.
If the traditional use of ‘sources’ was to bring out information that the powerful didn’t want you to know, it is currently being increasingly used to help those in power get their message across, without owning up to it. This accords them deniability if the news turns out to be incorrect.
Source-based disinformation enters the archives of our collective memory and acquires a truth value, thanks to the fact that it was once carried by a mainstream media organisation.
This has badly affected the credibility of TV news. Most viewers now accept that TV journalists, especially news anchors, are partisan. So, even politically aligned viewers tend to take news shows with a pinch of salt. They treat it more as entertainment than reliable information.
The latest example of this is how mainstream news channels covered Operation Sindoor. The ridiculous claims made on the basis of ‘sources’—that Karachi port had been destroyed, that the Indian Army had marched into Islamabad, that Pakistan’s army chief had been arrested—became a font of internet memes and free material for standup comics.
It is true that wars are notoriously difficult to report. It is one of those rare situations when newsrooms have to weigh reporting the truth versus the interest of national security. At such moments, sticking to strict journalistic ethics can cost hundreds of lives. So, even the most independent of reporters tend to censor themselves during a military conflict.
There is a well-established, yet flexible, protocol for reporting warlike situations. Official corroboration is essential before one reports what one sees on the ground. Often this comes in the form of ‘sources’ confirming the news, in official ‘off the record’ briefings for all journalists.
During Operation Sindoor, Indian TV news media seemed to have jettisoned these time-honoured principles. Their loss in credibility made many viewers seek information from independent anonymous handles on social media—most posing as national security experts.
The fog of war had turned into a daze of disinformation. And all of it was passed off in the name of ‘sources.’
(The author was Senior Managing Editor, NDTV India & NDTV Profit. He tweets @Aunindyo2023. This is an opinion piece. The views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for them.)
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