Of IB and the Press

First a clarification. In my post on Back to Creepy Crawly Time I might have unwittingly implicated Ramu, who makes the wheels go round at Kamath Royale. I want to make clear I did not see him that morning. The worthy who almost fell of his bike when he saw me staggering off to Manipal Hospital is the person who lounges around Building 6.

Thinking of what has happened over the last few days brought to mind that a friend and fellow journalist, Appan Menon, was not as lucky as I was: he expired under very similar circumstances in 1996.

[Readers will excuse me for taking this opportunity to record fondly that I first met Appan when we were both about eight or nine, when his father dropped him off at our house in Calcutta to be sent on to school in Darjeeling while he himself went on to a UN job in Bangkok.I was immediately impressed with his sophistication, on exhibit in the rendition of "Whiskey, brandy, gin and rum! I want a lady with a big fat bum!" I mentioned that to his wife when I met her at the UN; she grinned, "He's still singing it."]

Another journalist who died in mysterious conditions was Jyotirmoy Dey, the Crime Reporter for the Mumbai tabloid Mid Day. In June 2011 he was shot dead gangland style on the street in front of his residence. He had just returned from a meeting in London with a source who, rumour has it, provided information on 26/11. Given the allegations of an IB role in 26/11, it is legitimate to wonder about the gunmen's motives.

Also in 2011, J. Sri Raman (whose consistent failure to present an Indian perspective on international issues made me want to throw things), died suddenly of "multiple organ failure.

I mention their deaths because the Intelligence Bureau's undeniable fingerprints on my brush with the hereafter -- which would never have been suspected if the outcome had been different -- makes me wonder about its broader attitude toward journalists.

I am quite sure the consistent pressure I have felt over the last five years is not because of any set IB policy; at the same time, it cannot be from a Brownian movement of idiots within the staff.

I think it reflects an  inherently unsympathetic attitude towards journalists. As indicated by the various attempts to entrap me in situations that would have seriously impeached my integrity, there also seems to be a profound misreading of what an intelligence agency can legitimately do in a democracy. My experience has made me wonder about the legitimacy of the charge of rape against Tehelka editor Tarun Tejpal.

Does the government do anything to teach our domestic spooks the importance of protecting the basic human rights of Indian citizens?

Is there any sensitivity training about the need not to bully our citizenry into unethical conduct? (I am here thinking of the poor waiters compelled to add extra salt to my dishes or serve up half servings.)  In a country recovering from several generations of oppressive foreign rule it is critically important to protect every individual's sense of integrity.

Do the agency's leaders seek to build a culture supportive of the idea of Press Freedom? It might be convenient for them to have controllable journalists but do they consider the harm done in the process? A Press without undue constraints on its work is of enormous value, not least in collecting and analysing information that should be a staple of all intelligence activity.

The UNESCO declaration that a free Press is the touchstone of all other freedoms is the literal truth and it merits institutional attention from the IB.

Undemocratic Anti-Terrorism

The threat of a draconian National Counter-Terrorism Centre combining Intelligence and Police powers seems to have been beaten back, at least for the moment.

All major state leaders, including those supportive of the Manmohan Singh government seem to have opposed the move at the 5 May meeting in New Delhi.

I have to say “seem” because the meeting was closed to the media.

On a situation of critical importance to the future of Indian democracy the government chose to veil debate and keep citizens in the dark.

For this government that is par for the course.

It sneaked in changes to legislation on law and order to create a secretive and unaccountable Intelligence apparatus and is now trying to pretend that is no big deal.

The NCTC “will merely arrest and hand over people to the State police” the Home Minister was quoted in news reports.

He makes it seem so smooth, so law abiding, so impervious to the thuggish proclivities that have characterized “anti-terrorist” activity.

It is as if he never heard of encounter killings or custodial deaths of people manifestly innocent of anything but attracting the interest of gum shoes who think they are storm troopers.

So far, such malignancies have been confined to some states and rogue cops; the NCTC will make that phenomenon national and concentrate abusive power in very few hands.

Even without police powers our Intelligence agencies behave with scant respect for the civil rights of Indians.

I speak from experience about that, as can most journalists whose writings and attitudes have been noticed by the authorities. (The late lamented Dharam Shourie, PTI correspondent at the UN for two decades, told me that whenever he was putting together a politically sensitive story in Delhi a "telephone repairman" would magically appear to work on the connection outside his house.)

What part of my writings and attitudes has attracted the attentions of some agency of the Indian government I cannot say, but it has kept me under surveillance and periodically rifled through my belongings ever since I returned to India in 2008 after four decades in the United States.

The operatives involved have not been masters of their art, so it has been hard to ignore their efforts. In one case my tail followed me into a camera shop and stood behind me gesturing to the salesman not to sell me what I wanted; his image was clearly visible in the glass case we both faced.

At a meeting convened by Pondicherry’s “Progressive Writers,” I was examining my eyelids for holes when the speaker paused to observe that the “spy was asleep;” evidently he hadn’t got the memo that “progressives” should take the assertions of government agents with some salt.

The most recent evidence comes from an experiment I conducted: before leaving Pondicherry on 3 May I locked the door to my bedroom. In New Delhi on 5 May my bag was rifled in my Ashram room and the small bag containing all my keys taken. For some obscure reason they also took all my pens, including a marker I was using to highlight passages in a biography of Sri Aurobindo. 

If pure paranoia can drive agents of the Indian government to act with such breathtaking brazenness towards a senior citizen and life-long votary of Gandhi, what will they not do?

If this piece should be followed by my developing sudden multiple organ failure as happened with pacifist J. Sri Raman a few months ago, chalk it down to anti-terrorism.

In case readers think that is being overly dramatic: in Pondicherry on two occasions motorcyclists who had the look of cops ran into my bicycle quite deliberately and then took off. It was sheer luck that I escaped with only bruises and a concussion.

For the sake of balance I should add that in the United States I was also a person of interest. After 9/11 that was very much an in-your-face phenomenon, with my telephones broadcasting racist talk radio and periodic assaults on my car and house.  At one point a posse of plain-clothes and uniformed police appeared at my door at night and conducted an impromptu cross examination in the living room, vastly thrilling my young children.

Both in the United States and in India I interested the authorities not because of anything I have ever done but because I fit a profile they dreamed up. Perhaps it was simply that their cynical calculus could not compute my independence or idealism.

In such a world it is only prudent to refuse when a government demands an increase in its powers of abuse.