INDIAN leaders and visiting dignitaries like to wax lyrical about the world's greatest democracy, with its billion-plus people relishing a tradition of vibrant debate. The fourth estate in the country appears to be pretty robust, too. Cable news shows reach a high proportion of the population, weekly current-affairs magazines and daily papers offer lively discussion and opinion in English, Hindi, Bengali and many other languages. Indians are also fast taking to the internet as a forum for debate. At first glance, then, Indians enjoy the freedom to speak and criticize no less than Americans, Europeans or others lucky enough to live in democracies.
Look closer and the picture is rather different. The country is enthralled at the moment by a series of corruption scandals, mostly involving members of the ruling Congress party. Now attention has turned to some journalists-cum-lobbyists whose close ties to powerful business and political types go beyond acceptable limits. Indian journalists, say local critics, are too often docile, unwilling to challenge those in authority, or, worst of all, easily bought off with gifts and made to publish (or withhold) stories in the interests of the powerful.
None of this stops Indians with controversial views speaking out, of course. But there are limits on what can be said. This month courts are pondering the prosecution of Indian novelist and activist Arundhati Roy for sedition, for daring to question the place of Kashmir within India. The same colonial-era law is occasionally trotted out to threaten separatists and others who speak out.
At least outsiders have been free to say and write what they like in India. Yet censors are getting increasingly grumpy about what they draw. When foreign publications print maps of India that show the reality in Kashmir—territory divided between areas controlled by Pakistan and by India—censors at customs houses, citing a law from 1961, stamp them as "not recognised" by India. For The Economist, for example, that delays delivery of the magazine by a few days, affecting some tens of thousands of Indian readers.
Now, for some reason, India's censors are getting angrier yet. Rather than just wield a stamp, the customs men recently stopped the import and distribution of a consignment of copies of the Financial Times newspaper. They were offended by a map of Asia that included Kashmir. This week copies of The Economist were also seized, preventing subscribers in some cities from being offended by the sight of a map of Asia that showed India's borders.
It is far from clear what India's zealous customs men are hoping to achieve. In neighbouring Sri Lanka, copies of The Economist are often seized by customs for a few days if officials take against articles that are critical of the government. The result, however, is usually only to bring more attention to the criticism (with readers switching to read articles online) and to spread fears that an intolerant government is continuing to crack down on critics. The self-defeating efforts by Sri Lanka's customs men hardly offer a model for democratic India.
(Photo credit: AFP)