With one hellish massacre unleashed, another thwarted, and the agency of attackers diminished by talk of their “vulnerability” and social standing, Bangladesh has been looking for demons to crucify.
Evil needs a face. And this witch-hunt has spread across institutions and communities like wildfire, with everyone feeling the need to pontificate, accuse and judge, all for a bit of closure.
Perhaps it was as a continuation of this frenzy that a leading news presenter on a top television channel recently interviewed the vice chancellor of a renowned private university.
But instead of a quest for facts and nuance, it soon turned into an aggressive media trial.
Investigations into institutions that may be “hotbeds of militancy” are not only warranted, but also in public demand.
While such investigations are ongoing, it is the responsibility of the media to refrain from influencing possible outcomes.
Unless the driving force is personal judgments and the goal is cheap, tabloid sensationalism.
Despite the current environment of fear, suspicion, and uncritical acceptance of demonising -- the televised interview garnered widespread criticism.
Thousands of current and former students protested baseless allegations against faculty members (some of whom subsequently resigned), and said that they were singled out due to their “beards and Islamic garb.”
While the talk-show was not significant enough to warrant any serious attention, the social trend that underlies it is worth exploring.
Knee-jerk reactions in a PTSD-stricken society need to be examined, analysed, and chronicled.
Anecdotal evidence can reveal important clues about the resilience of (or lack thereof) mass-media narratives to social hysteria and pop-culture speculation, even if it does not offer any serious critique of discursive practices or journalism.
Hence, the undeserved attention to an hour of jingoistic journalism.
The withholding of names and identities is not an exercise in discretion, but self-censorship.
The attempted exorcism opened with an odd, self-contradictory monologue: The program had been named, “jongibaad er uttor dokkhin” (north and south of terrorism) so that viewers “do not think it is about the university.”
The reporter explained that the Bangla naming was a “tactic” to avoid implying that the vice chancellor was on live television to speak about the very same institution.
Owing to lack of militant activities in the polar regions, it did not exactly take a golden A+ to decode the unoriginal wordplay.
Despite the self-congratulatory, convoluted prologue, these first few minutes contained a bigger flaw. This reporter began with -- and thereby validated -- the premise that the university now has a negative connotation.
Predictably, the first question had involved the interviewee’s “feelings.”
While the penchant for assessing emotions and feelings at every turn may be excused -- the uncritical acceptance of, and failure to oppose, the mob mindset may not.
The premise was wrong; the premise was an accusation, an act best suited to a court or a lovers’ quarrel. The tactics were as complicated as the opening monologue.
In instances, the VC had to point out that his words were being taken out of context, and misinterpreted in full view of a live audience.
There seemed to be an agenda at work, and the odds did not favour the interviewee. That the VC had joined only four months ago was largely suppressed, as was his illustrious career.
The only shred of “evidence” turned out to be anonymous live callers, who discussed specifics of “religious books” and after-prayer chats.
One named specific professors who “failed to act” after subversive literature or activities were reported on campus.
Now, citizen tip-offs are and will be an important tool for security forces.
The desperation to find demons is a need of the hour. As the vicarious 9/11 experience showed us, terrorism, and its antidotes, reside not only on the battlefield, but also in human psychology and public discourse
However, the media must know better than to use such intelligence flippantly; media’s mandate and role are very different from that of counterterrorism forces. Despite the anonymity of the live callers, at least one professor named on this show resigned in protest.
Therefore, we now have an exemplary teaching career ended because of persons who, despite presenting no name, age, location, and affiliation, were given unquestioned legitimacy by the medium and the reporter.
For a reporter or presenter, being able to play hardball during an interview is an essential skill.
Sometimes it even spills over into arrogant haranguing. We saw this when Christian Amanpour interviewed the Bangladeshi premiere for CNN.
Of course, CNN is no model of responsible journalism, having passed off hours of unsubstantiated social media videos as news.
Still, it is expected of any respectable news outlet to offer trained, fact-oriented, cause-and-effect knowing, speculation-averse, and cordial professionals on prime-time broadcasts.
The desperation to find demons is a need of the hour. As the vicarious 9/11 experience showed us, terrorism, and its antidotes, reside not only on the battlefield, but also in human psychology and public discourse.
It showed us that the war on terrorism could take a toll on bystanders.
Chillingly, there is no doubt that there are groups and individuals, from a wide spectrum, seeking to benefit from the chaos. All throughout history, people have leveraged conflict situations for personal status and material gains.
Therefore, in constructing public discourse around the grim realities of 2016, precision and verifiable evidence must be of prime concern.
A late entrant to the anti-terrorism paradigm, Bangladesh must execute and evaluate its discourses critically, as it must with the institutions that produce them.
Adnan R Amin is strategy and communications consultant.
