The Interplay of Fear and Courage in WHILE WE WATCHED
Directed by Vinay Shukla, While We Watched focuses on how journalist Ravish Kumar holds on to the basic tenets of ethical journalism in a country facing informational crisis and democratic backsliding.
The newsroom documentary While We Watched (2022) begins with visuals of former NDTV media personality Ravish Kumar standing in the midst of ruins, walking through a broken, charred building, observing and registering its loss. Later in the narrative, we realize that the building is an NDTV studio, which had been dismantled when the company adapted cost-cutting measures in order to survive in an economic environment gradually turning more hostile to the media. This enduring image of ruins around one of India’s most-respected journalists signifies multiple things: perhaps the decimation of Indian TV journalism, or the slow destruction of Indian democracy itself.
The documentary, directed by Vinay Shukla, focuses on how Kumar holds onto the basic tenets of ethical journalism in the midst of an informational crisis. In today’s India, the act of journalism is an act of courage. And, this courage to exercise the freedom of speech often comes at the cost of another freedom: the freedom of personal liberty. As Kumar states in the movie, “The fight for journalism becomes the personal fight of the journalist.” The price one pays for ethical journalism in the country is a life lived with a perpetual sense of fear.
With each farewell party, Kumar becomes even more isolated in this new environment. Throughout While We Watched, there is a persistent reminder that Kumar has become irrelevant in this new world of media, one that is dominated by screaming anchors and sensational news.
It is this interplay of fear and courage that sits at the heart of the documentary. Kumar is seen as handling himself with integrity and dignity, while holding on to his 9 pm primetime spot on NDTV, even as most Indian news channels have become tools for government propaganda. However, every single time we applaud Kumar for his courage, we are also acknowledging the lurking shadow of fear. Courage is merely the ability to transgress that fear. Yet, the fear lies hidden in the corners of personal life and it often remains un-viewed and un-witnessed by the larger public.
Most scenes of the documentary are shot in closed spaces such as Kumar’s office room, his car, and his studio, so that we, too, are entrapped with him in these claustrophobic environments. Kumar’s wife describes how their young daughter repeatedly wakes up at night and imagines that something terrible is going to happen to her father. The child’s fears are not without merit, as another scene captures Kumar’s car being stalked by two men on a bike. Under the authoritarian hand of the current government, Kumar remains consistently under suspicion. In some moments, as he walks on the streets, onlookers shout slogans at him, calling him an “anti-national”, a “traitor”, or hoping that he would be sent “to Pakistan”. At the New York Screening, Kumar even stated that “this film showed me that I am a very vulnerable man and yet each day I cross my fear.”
In one scene, Kumar watches the rage-fuelled news anchor Arnab Goswami screaming at Umar Khalid, a student from the Jawaharlal Nehru University [JNU], declaring him to be an “anti-national”. Not long after, a miscreant fires a bullet at Khalid on the streets of Delhi. Seated in his office, Kumar is stunned by the act. He rushes out of his office and shouts at his colleagues, in muted desperation, about how gun shots can be fired in broad daylight in Central Delhi. In this moment, it almost seems as if Kumar sees a reflection of his own self in Khalid. When the camera focuses on the weapon used to shoot at Khalid, it becomes clear that, for such attackers, ‘anti-nationals’ are replaceable figures: one day, the gun pointed towards Umar Khalid; on another day, Kumar himself could’ve been the target.
Fear breeds in a state of uncertainty and unknowability. Like in horror movies, we are most fearful when we are unaware of the size and shape of the monster that we might encounter at the corner of our room. It is this uncanny presence of a looming danger that characterizes the documentary, as the constant circulation of fake news, communal propaganda, and the vilification of supposed ‘anti-nationals’ has transformed the nature of hatred. Fear is not only embodied in government agencies or a particular political party; instead the agents of chaos have dispersed among the crowd. Fear lurks in every corner and could be embodied in any individual.
Fear reaches closer to home for Kumar when his phone number is leaked on a Facebook group, and the phone begins to buzz from innumerable troll calls, declaring him to be a traitor, threatening to beat him up, and hurtling death threats. He sits on a sofa at his home, his tense, despondent face unable to handle this overwhelming flood of hate. Yet, a moment later, he breaks into laughter. He sings “Sare Jahan se Accha Hindustan Hamara” to one such threatening caller. The tension eases. The despair gives way to humour.
Soon, the people around Kumar in the NDTV office start quitting their jobs. They cannot live in this uncertain, fearful environment. Colleagues dwindle away, unable to bear the pressure of being part of a dissenting news channel in a majoritarian state. Not everyone is ready to sacrifice their mental health, their emotional well-being, and the welfare of their family, for an abstract sense of journalistic ethics. Each time a person quits the office, a cake is cut during their farewell. In one such moment, a colleague before quitting his job tells Kumar, “I am not a born journalist like you… You are made for this path… You can show the world what true journalism can be.”
Here, we see how these burdens of ethical journalism fall on the shoulders of a single individual. With each farewell party, Kumar becomes even more isolated in this new environment. Throughout While We Watched, there is a persistent reminder that Kumar has become irrelevant in this new world of media, one that is dominated by screaming anchors and sensational news.
And, then, the phone rings. There’s good news: Kumar is informed that he has won the Ramon Magsaysay Award. At the prize ceremony, he declares in his speech that, “Not all battles are fought for victory. Some are fought to tell the world that there was someone on the battlefield.” It is a moment of hope, a realization that he is not speaking into the darkness. There are still viewers and audiences that appreciate his commitments. There is still a world beyond fear.
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Archit Nanda is a PhD scholar in Comparative Literature at Queen Mary University of London. You can find him on Twitter @Archittttt and Instagram @archit.nanda.
