The Mauritius Broadcasting Corporation (MBC) hit a new low in terms of government bias when reporting the Labour Party event on Sunday, political opponents imply. At the same time, a proud-looking ICT minister, Roshi Bhadain, has proudly declared that the days when the government controlled the state media are gone. What is the true face of the new and ‘improved’ MBC, the MBC 2.0? A reliable news provider, or a propaganda machine?

 

“Since when does the MBC provide information? It’s a propaganda machine!” The words were uttered by a wide-eyed Maya Hanoomanjee, who during the electoral campaign in November kicked out a team of state media journalists from a political gathering, claiming that their reporting was too biased in favour of the then-ruling Labour Party and its ally at the time, the Mouvement Militant Mauricien. Today, barely 10 months later, the government, run by Hanoomanjee’s party, claims to have brought change to the “propaganda machine”. It was a proud and confident Roshni Bhadain, ICT minister, who stood up in parliament to announce that the state media is now “running in line with practices of good governance”. Gone are the days, he promised, when there was political intervention and political interference in MBC’s reporting. It was supposed to be a moment of triumph, an opportunity for the country’s leaders to have their shoulders tapped for a job well done. But the flowers never came and the champagne was never popped. The reason is this: The impression that the MBC has entered a new and more balanced era isn’t shared by everyone. Local media lecturers and certain state media reporters, the latter terrified of denouncing any alleged power abuses at their place of work unless anonymity was granted, still see a propaganda machine, not an independent news provider.

 

Milo (fictitious name), an experienced MBC reporter, didn’t find the minister’s moment of triumph inspiring. He found it mildly entertaining. “Did he really refer to what we do as independent reporting?” he asked, failing to suppress a joyless laughter. “The ministers still get to dictate what we report and how we do it,” he claimed, suddenly serious.

 

Milo is way past the stage of making any illusions about freedom within the MBC, he said. “You know who we work for, don’t you? Everyone knows.”

 

The paradox is that while the ICT minister claims that the MBC has changed at long last after decades of propaganda making, certain other stakeholders go as far as alleging that its government bias is worse than ever before. Opposition chief whip Rajesh Bhagwan’s request in parliament last week for a guarantee that the MBC “won’t become a Bhadain Broadcasting Corporation” could be interpreted as an attempt to gain political points. The same goes for Labour Party Leader Navin Ramgoolam (who didn’t complain when the state media began virtually every news bulletin with his name and title when he was prime minister) and his statement that the MBC already has become a “Mauritius Bhadain Corporation”. The thing is, however, that the criticism isn’t restricted to the political arena.

 

The problem, according to Farooq (fictitious name), MBC journalist, is what he described as an absence of leadership within the MBC. The ICT ministry is currently recruiting but the fact that there isn’t, according to Farooq, any stable leadership in place at the moment has created a situation, he alleged, where journalists receive instructions directly from the government. It’s allegedly ICT Minister Bhadain himself who picks up the phone and speaks to selected MBC journalists who are close to him, according to Farooq, although the minister himself refutes such allegations. “We’re all instruments, working for the government, doing what we have to do to keep our jobs,” Farooq claimed. He isn’t proud of what he does for a living. The prospect of spending his working days worrying about what will happen if he accidently lets a piece of information that shows the government in a bad light slip through isn’t what drew him to a career in journalism, he explained. “I want freedom,” he said, “but I don’t have it.”

 

ACADEMICS: STILL A GOVERNMENT MOUTHPIECE

 

“The MBC has always been just a mouthpiece of the ruling party,” said Christina Chan-Meetoo, senior lecturer in communication and media studies at the University of Mauritius (UoM). The new and ‘improved’ broadcaster, the MBC 2.0, hasn’t impressed Azhagan Chenganna, UoM lecturer in the same department. “Every single political programme mentions plans to transform the MBC from a government mouthpiece to a provider of balanced news,” Chenganna began. “When the party actually gets into power, it doesn’t happen,” he continued. Past governments were guilty of it and, according to Chenganna, so is the present one. “It forms part of the political rhetoric to use the MBC as a government cheerleader,” he suggested.

 

How come, then, that the minister can stand up in parliament and praise MBC 2.0, and get away with it? Possibly because there have been certain changes but, according to Chenganna, not where it counts. “The changes that have occurred at the MBC are not at the level of impartiality or quality journalism, he said. The change is at the level of format. The MBC has introduced, for instance, live debates and seems to put slightly more emphasis on human-interest stories. “The culture, the role as a government cheerleader, is the same.”

 

THE ROOT OF THE PROBLEM

 

If the vision of the media as the fourth estate of democracy remains an alien concept to the local state media, it’s because it was never there in the first place. The MBC wasn’t born out of a desire to give the people a watchdog that, in the name of the public, holds the government accountable for its actions. On the contrary, introducing a state media that acts as a cheerleader of government activities is a concept that was developed and adapted in many countries across Africa after the colonial forces packed up and left.” It was basically a way for the people in power to show the country’s elite that they were working,” Chenganna explained. “Although an outdated formula, it’s still in place today.” The clearest indication of that is the way the government always sets the agenda for what is considered news in the eyes of the state media. A minister inaugurating a monument wouldn’t be considered breaking news or a top headline (or, indeed, a headline at all) in countries where the state media aspires to be the fourth estate of democracy. For the MBC, though, it is a real gem, the epitome of newsworthiness. Replacing the cheerleader with a watchdog, a fourth estate, would require a paradigm shift that is yet to happen, said Chenganna. The problem is that whenever a debate about transforming the MBC into a “Mauritian BBC” is brought to the table, the focus tends to be on content, not on the journalistic approach. At one point in the BBC’s history, the British government threatened to cut down its grant to the national broadcaster since it was dissatisfied with its coverage of the Suez crisis. The BBC didn’t give in.

 

An approach to journalism which, most stakeholders agree, would be impossible at the MBC. State media journalists may long for freedom but, as journalists who spoke to Weekly admitted, they are not willing to jeopardise their livelihood to get it. “The money is good,” is a common argument why reporters opt for the state media in the first place as salary levels, they willingly admit, tend to be

 

higher there than in the private media. A lack of courage? Of course, said Chenganna, but money and fear are not the only reason why any change to the MBC isn’t likely to come from within. Many MBC journalists, he suggested, have developed a mindset where they aren’t actually bothered by the partiality. “They see themselves as servants of the government.”

 

A PASSIVE PUBLIC?

 

The problem is that the Mauritian public doesn’t seem interested in actively lobbying for change. “It’s part of the national culture to crucify the MBC in private but the public doesn’t go to the extent of actually protesting,” said Chenganna. “We are in a situation where people are well-aware of the MBC’s shortcomings, they know that what they see is nothing but the views of the ministers, but they don’t actively make any demands for change.”

 

There is a lack of willingness at all levels – political, journalistic and public – to change the MBC, suggested Chan- Meetoo. Chenganna feels that taking the step of allowing private media groups to broadcast TV news would trigger improvements since the cheerleading MBC might lose most of its audience. Chan-Meetoo, on the other hand, fears that the political interest, in that scenario, would simply be replaced by the commercial one while highquality journalism might remain a dream, according to her.

 

Chenganna also questions the authorities’ decision to handle the recruitment for MBC’s top management positions themselves instead of leaving that task with the director general. If senior staff members are recruited by the government directly, he reasoned, how much freedom can they be expected to enjoy?

 

It is fear, not freedom, that seems to occupy the minds of state media journalists like Farooq, as he willingly admits. He couldn’t picture a worse scenario, he said, than the prospect of being in charge of the national broadcaster’s evening news. “If you go ahead and report something that presents the government in a bad light,” he alleged, “you’re in serious trouble.”