By Swapan Dasgupta
There are times when a ‘scandal’ becomes more than a
gripping tale of individual misdemeanours: it becomes a commentary on society
and social mores. The miscarriage of justice in the case involving Alfred
Dreyfus brought into the open the fissures in late-19th century
French society, particularly its pernicious anti-Semitism. The salacious tale
of what came to be known as the Profumo scandal involving Christine Keeler went
a long way in exposing the hypocrisy of the post-War British Establishment and
contributed greatly in breaking down the culture of deference that once defined
the United Kingdom.
It is still early days to be entirely sure if the
grim saga of Tarun Tejpal’s conduct at a purportedly intellectual festival in
Goa earlier this month will be treated by social historians of the future as an
isolated act of criminality or will be regarded as a vivid illustration of the
social mores of contemporary India. It is possible that the so-called “private
moment” in a hotel lift points to one dirty, middle-aged man and can hardly
constitute a generalisation for either the media or even those who combine
artistic sensibilities with the good life. At the same time, there is an
equally compelling case for the suggestion that the great champion of the
underdog behaved as he did out of a sense of arrogance and entitlement—and that
he isn’t the only one.
To view the Tejpal controversy as a media
event—which may explain the interest it has aroused in the Fourth Estate—is
only partially correct. The attempt by the boss (and, in this case, the
perceived owner) of an organisation to extract sexual favours from a
subordinate isn’t novel. There have been enough highly-publicised instances of
‘modern’ Indians in publishing and information technology misusing their
positions to secure sexual favours for the Tejpal case to acquire any novelty.
The only possible difference is that the element of consent in this case appears
to be exclusively one-sided. What really marked the Tejpal case was the attempted
‘management’ of the crime by the journalist and the Tehelka management. And
that is where media, politics and the social mileau of the ‘arty’ world
intersected.
The failure of the Tehelka management to report the
incident to the police, when it was under a statutory obligation to do so and,
instead, settle matters through a private deal, has attracted many adverse
comments. Equally, a lot of incredulity and disgust has surrounded the attempt
by Tehelka’s Managing Editor to elevate ordinary criminality into a test of
high feminist principles. At the heart of both approaches was the astonishing
presumption that normal rules—whether of law or society—don’t apply to those
engaged in the noble business of exposing the wrongdoing of others.
It is this insistence of exceptional standards to
judge Tejpal that has both angered and mystified many. First there was the
attempt to minimise the gravity of the charges against Tejpal and settle the
issue through what has been described as a “private treaty”. Secondly, there
was the bid by Tejpal to unilaterally award himself a punishment: a sabbatical
from active journalism for six months. Thirdly, when these measures were
greeted with a renewed sense of outrage, there was the attempt by the Tehelka
management to establish a private dispute redressal mechanism—a committee
headed by a friend of Tejpal who also happened to be a leading feminist. Thirdly,
there was an attempt to put pressure on the family of the victim and persuade
her to withdraw her complaint, perhaps in return for some compensation.
And, finally, there was the astonishing demand that
Tejpal should have a say in deciding which authority was best placed to assess
the charges brought against him. The Goa police, it was claimed, was not an
appropriate authority because the government there was controlled by the BJP
which apparently wanted to settle scores with Tehelka for its role in
disgracing former BJP president Bangaru Laxman in a sting operation more than a
decade ago.
In any ordinary case, the defendants may well have
claimed that the sexual liaison was consensual but they would not have tried to
establish a parallel system of justice or claimed political victimisation. That
Tejpal did so was revealing and suggested that the man tried to take refuge
behind his lofty status in society and his formidable political links.
Tejpal, it has emerged, was more than just an editor
who also organised literary events by way of brand extension. He positioned
himself as a great crusader for liberal values and secular causes. Cabinet
ministers had invested in his ventures, MPs were among those who had large
stakes in Tehelka and he had been appointed as a non-executive director of
Prasar Bharti. In addition, he was on first name terms with the great and good
of the international literary world. He could flaunt his ‘enlightened’ values
on sexuality and get away with a style that was reckless. Corporate bigwigs
vied for his attention and showered him with generous sponsorships for his
Thinkfest in Goa. No, Tejpal wasn’t any old hack. He was among Delhi’s
beautiful people, a pillar of the Establishment.
The assault on Tejpal’s pretensions has,
willy-nilly, come to express the popular antipathy to the culture of
licentiousness and entitlement that defines India’s governing elite. The coming
days will determine if the Tejpal affair is another nail in the coffin of a
rotten dispensation.
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