Journalism and Democracy in Asia (Routledge Media, Culture and Social Change in Asia)

Journalism and Democracy in Asia

What are the issues surrounding freedom of the press, new media, citizenship, power and politics in Asian countries? How do democratic and authoritarian governments interact with journalists and media outlets? And are these affected by things such as professional training, the openness of the information culture and the politics of gender and sexual identity? Journalism and Democracy in Asia answers these questions with a focus on contemporary Asia, looking especially at China, Japan, Korea, Indonesia, Hong Kong, Singapore, Taiwan, Cambodia and India. The authors take varying approaches to questions of democracy. Some study the power of Asian governments versus that of citizens and civil society organizations to affect public judgements and policies, and the role of the news media as a broker or challenger of the status quo between the state and society. Several explore how efficiently news and news organizations function in providing the public with information that allows them to act as competent citizens within a democracy; this includes exploration of the absences and silences in the news in relation to issues of concern to rural citizens, women and homosexuals, among others. Other contributors consider whether the internal operations of the news media themselves are democratic. These chapters explore whether news organizations operate in the autonomous and socially responsible fashion as businesses, as employers and as significant civil society organizations that are often honoured with the titles of being the ‘fourth estate’ and the ‘watchdog’ of government. With contributions from highly regarded experts in the region examining a broad range of issues from across Asia, this book will be of high interest to students and scholars in political communications, journalism and mass communication and Asian studies. Angela Romano is Senior Lecturer in Journalism at Queensland University of Technology. She conducts research on journalism and politics in Australia and Southeast Asia, particularly Indonesia and East Timor. She is secretary of the Journalism Education Association (South Pacific) and has worked as a journalist in Australia and Indonesia. Michael Bromley is Professor of Journalism at the University of Queensland. A former practising journalist, he has taught at a number of UK and US universities and has published widely on journalism.

Routledge media, culture and social change in Asia Series editor: Stephanie Hemelryk Donald Queensland University of Technology

The aim of the series is to publish original, high-quality work by both new and established scholars in the West and the East, on all aspects of media, culture and social change in Asia. Television Across Asia Television industries, programme formats and globalisation Edited by Albert Moran and Michael Keane Journalism and Democracy in Asia Edited by Angela Romano and Michael Bromley

Journalism and Democracy in Asia

Edited by Angela Romano and Michael Bromley

First published 2005 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group © 2005 selection and editorial matter Angela Romano and Michael Bromley; individual chapters, the contributors This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2005. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN 0-203-00195-8 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0–415–35556–7 (Print Edition)

Contents

Notes on contributors Preface Acknowledgements 1 Asian journalism: news, development and the tides of liberalization and technology

vii xi xv

1

ANGELA ROMANO

2 Going online: journalism and civil society in Singapore

15

TERENCE LEE

3 Changing connections: The news media, the government and the people in China’s SARS epidemic

28

JOYCE Y.M. NIP

4 International aid and the news sector in Cambodia

41

JUDITH CLARKE

5 Media plurality or democratic deficit? Private TV and the public sphere in India

54

DAYA KISHAN THUSSU

6 The surrogate democracy function of the media: citizens’ and journalists’ evaluations of media performance in Hong Kong

66

JOSEPH M. CHAN AND CLEMENT Y.K. SO

7 Democracy, the press and civil society in Hong Kong

81

PAUL S.N. LEE

8 Media change through bounded innovations: journalism in China’s media reforms ZHONGDANG PAN

96

vi

Contents

9 Between dictatorship and democracy: state-affiliated news media in Indonesia

108

ANGELA ROMANO AND BLYTHE SEINOR

10 Democratization and changing state–media relations in South Korea

123

KI-SUNG KWAK

11 Cable television and democratization in Taiwan and South Korea

135

RODNEY TIFFEN AND KI-SUNG KWAK

12 Protesting the 1994 Okinawa rape incident: women, democracy and television news in Japan

148

ELIZABETH NAOKO MACLACHLAN

13 The ‘Straight’ Times: news media and sexual citizenship in Singapore

159

LAURENCE WAI-TENG LEONG

Bibliography Index

172 198

Contributors

Joseph Man Chan is a professor at the School of Journalism and Communication, the Chinese University of Hong Kong, where he formerly served as a director. Among the books he has co-authored or co-edited are Mass Media and Political Transition: The Hong Kong Press in China’s Orbit, Global Media Spectacle, In Search of Boundaries: Communication, Nation-States and Cultural Identities. He served as a President of the Chinese Communication Association and has been a visiting scholar at Harvard, Oxford, and the University of California Berkeley. Judith Clarke has a doctorate in history from the University of Hong Kong and has published her research into the news media in Asia in academic articles and book chapters. She has been a reporter for Radio Hong Kong and Asiaweek, and also an editor for the latter. She currently works for Hong Kong Baptist University, where she teaches classes in professional journalism as well as International News and World News Media Systems. Ki-Sung Kwak lectures on mass media in East Asia at the Department of Asian Studies, University of Sydney, where he serves as convenor. His main research interests are mass media in East Asia, international communication and media policy and implementation. He has published a number of articles and chapters on media regulation and policy in East Asia and is the author of The Representation of Australia in South Korea (1998) and Mass Media in Australia (in Korean, 2001). Paul S.N. Lee is Professor and Director of the School of Journalism and Communication at the Chinese University of Hong Kong. His research interests include international communication, telecommunications policy, development communication and media criticism. He has written numerous journal articles and is the author of International Communication, editor of Telecommunications and Development in China and co-editor of TV Without Borders: Asia Speaks Out. Terence Lee is Senior Lecturer and Chair of the Mass Communication ( Journalism and Public Relations) Program at the School of Media, Communication and Culture, Murdoch University. He is also a research fellow of the Asia Research Centre based at Murdoch University. His research and publications have centred on aspects of media, cultural and creative policies and

viii Contributors politics in Singapore. He has a Ph.D. in Politics from the University of Adelaide and was formerly involved in media policy work in Singapore. Laurence Wai-Teng Leong received his Ph.D. from the University of California San Diego and is a senior lecturer in the Department of Sociology at the National University of Singapore. His research work and publications have focused on tourism, youth, media and sexual minorities. Elizabeth Naoko MacLachlan is an Assistant Professor in the Japanese Studies Department of the National University of Singapore. She received her Ph.D. in Anthropology from Columbia University in 2000. She has published a range of research articles and chapters on women and media in Japan. Joyce Y.M. Nip is Assistant Professor at the Department of Journalism, Hong Kong Baptist University, where she teaches broadcast journalism and news translation. Her research interest is in the civic use of the Internet and journalism issues. She has previously worked as a television, newspaper and magazine journalist in Hong Kong and London. Zhongdang Pan is Professor of Communication Science at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. He spent five years teaching in Hong Kong and conducting research on media and social changes in the People’s Republic of China. He is collaborating with scholars in the PRC to study the media reforms there, and recently completed surveys of journalists in two Chinese cities. Angela Romano’s research on journalism and politics in Australia and Southeast Asia has been published in a number of articles, book chapters and one book, Politics and the Press in Indonesia. She is a Senior Lecturer and Postgraduate Journalism Coordinator at the Queensland University of Technology. She was the Katherine W. Fanning Fellow for Journalism and Democracy at the Kettering Foundation, Ohio, in 2004, and has also worked as a reporter, subeditor and voice-over artist in Australia and Indonesia. Blythe Seinor has worked as a reporter and copywriter for commercial radio and as a new media producer for the Australian Broadcasting Corporation. She completed a thesis at the Queensland University of Technology in 2003 on the subject of democratization and Indonesia’s Antara news agency. Clement Y.K. So is an Associate Professor at the School of Journalism and Communication, Chinese University of Hong Kong. He was deputy editor-in-chief of Vancouver’s Ming Pao Daily News, reporter on World Journal, and marketing researcher of HK-TVB. His major research interests include the Hong Kong press, news sociology, citation analysis, and the development of the field of communication. Rodney Tiffen is Associate Professor in Government and International Relations at the University of Sydney. His books include The News from Southeast Asia, News and Power, Scandals and Diplomatic Deceits. He and Ki-Sung Kwak are currently working on a project on new media in East Asia.

Contributors

ix

Daya Kishan Thussu is Professor of International Communication at the University of Westminster in London. He is the founder and managing editor of Global Media and Communication and has co-authored and edited books on international communication, new media and war reporting. A former associate editor of the Gemini News Service, a London-based international news agency, he has a Ph.D. in international relations from Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi.

Preface

In its inaugural editorial, Journalism Asia (2001) observed that: Asia has found itself swept along in the global twin tides of social, political, and economic liberalization and the communication revolution. These phenomena are pushing nations toward ever-increasing degrees of freedom and openness and have in fact inspired a blooming of the media. But while the state of a nation’s media may serve as an indication of how free its citizens are, whether in fact democracy works to that extent is another matter. ( Journalism Asia 2001: 1) In the past decade there has been considerable rethinking by Asian media scholars, political leaders and journalists themselves of the connections between journalism and democracy. The chapters in this book address key issues of freedom, citizenship, openness and journalism in contemporary Asia. The focus is on the evolving relationship between democracy and journalism in print, broadcast and new media. While much of the existing literature discusses journalism’s democratic roles and functions in terms of European models and socio-political values, this book engages with theory at transnational interdisciplinary levels and is grounded in current Asian experiences. While remaining open to the widest interpretation of ‘Asia’, this book focuses on countries within an arc that stretches from China, South Korea and Japan, sweeping south and west through Taiwan, Indonesia, Singapore and Cambodia, and stopping at India. The chapters consider themes of transnational significance – including globalization, development journalism, press freedom, the impact of new media, and the power of the state vis-à-vis the public sphere – ensuring that geopolitically located analyses have broader relevance across the region and for other parts of the world. Democracy has been defined in many ways by different people. In this book, it refers to the capacity of citizens and organizations in the public sphere to gather information about conditions that impact upon their existence and to reach judgements on how to respond individually and collectively to such conditions. In this context, the discussion of journalism and democracy takes many directions. Some authors in this book study the power of Asian governments versus that of

xii Preface citizens and civil society organizations to effect public judgements and policies, and the role of the news media as a broker or challenger of the status quo between the state and society. Several authors explore how efficiently news and news organizations function in providing the public with information that allows them to act as competent citizens within a democracy. This includes exploration of the absences and silences in the news relating to issues of concern to rural citizens, women and homosexuals, among others. Others consider whether the internal operations of the news media themselves are democratic. Their chapters explore whether news organizations operate in an autonomous and socially responsible fashion as businesses, as employers and as a significant civil society organizations that are often honourably dubbed the ‘fourth estate of politics’ and the watchdogs of government. The first chapter discusses the impact of development theory and new technologies on the role of journalism within a democracy. Chapters 2 and 3 continue the discussion of the potential uses of information and communications technologies (ICTs) for advancing or containing democratic life. Terence Lee’s chapter studies how alternative online journalism in Singapore can extend the limited boundaries of public debate on politically flavoured issues. Lee notes the continuing risks involved in publishing alternative news in such a thoroughly policed and regulated society. Despite this, he shows how website creators can defy concepts of acceptable journalism to create unconventional spaces that add diversity to the media scene and public debate, create new spaces for public expression, and enliven a conservative and sluggish civil society. Joyce Nip’s chapter, on the SARS crisis in China and Hong Kong, compares the utility to citizens of regular journalism compared to both formal channels of government information and community-based channels. Despite optimistic suggestions that the SARS outbreak might prompt Chinese authorities to be more open and honest and to ease controls on information flows (e.g. BBC 2004, Lam 2003), Nip finds that early citizen innovations in using ICTs to circulate their own news about SARS were rapidly suppressed. The Chinese government was actually able to entrench its dominance as the key source of information through controlled use of the news media as well as direct communications with the community via the Internet and mobile phones. Chapters 4 and 5 return to a consideration of development issues. Judith Clarke explores the nature of international aid and training directed towards the Cambodian media following the end of the Cold War and the country’s political transition from communism. She explores efforts by major donor nations to conduct projects that would encourage ‘good governance’ and the democratization of politics and allow a plurality of voices in line with strongly Westernized media philosophies. Daya Kishan Thussu focuses on changes in television news in India, the world’s largest democracy. He argues that the proliferation of private television channels has increased structural diversity, but highly urbanized, infotainment-oriented contents have diminished the relevance and utility of television news for democratic life. The next six chapters consider the news media’s behaviour in the face of

Preface xiii changes to political systems. In Chapter 6, Joseph Man Chan and Clement So use surveys of Hong Kong citizens and journalists to argue that Hong Kong’s media play an important ‘surrogate democracy’ function to counterbalance the underdevelopment of democratic institutions in the political communication process. Paul Lee’s chapter on Hong Kong reaches quite different conclusions. Lee argues in Chapter 7 that although Hong Kong’s mass media has played a strong role in contesting the powers of Chinese state authorities, other elements of civil society have been a more dynamic force than the media in advancing democratic causes. Zhongdang Pan’s chapter considers the impact of China’s moves towards a market economy. Chapter 8 concludes that the state’s steadfast commitment to preserving basic Communist Party principles leads it to coopt and domesticate attempts by journalists to innovate and expand the democratic system. Chapter 9 by Angela Romano and Blythe Seinor, on the liberalization of media and political culture in Indonesia following the end of the New Order regime, puts forward evidence of the unique difficulties that state-funded or state-affiliated media organizations have in adapting to democratization. In Chapter 10, Ki-Sung Kwak describes how the state–media relationship in South Korea has become more adversarial and fractious with the democratization of the political landscape. Rod Tiffen and Kwak then explore in Chapter 11 the links between the proliferation of cable media and the shift from authoritarianism towards democracy in South Korea and Taiwan in the past two decades. The book concludes with two chapters that explore issues of citizenship in the light of sexuality and gender issues. Elizabeth Naoko MacLachlan argues in Chapter 12 that Japanese journalists follow trends evident in the media in many countries, in that they commonly ignore or belittle women’s issues. Her research studies of television coverage of what has become known as the Okinawa rape incident and finds gendered hierarchies in physical spaces where newsgathering activities are concentrated, in the practices and routines of news selection and production, and in journalists’ and audiences’ belief systems. Laurence Wai-Teng Leong’s study of gay and lesbian issues in the Straits Times raises questions about sexual citizenship in Singapore’s media and political system. In noting the limited and stereotyped coverage of homosexual people and issues, Chapter 13 poses the question of what avenues are open to gays and lesbians to express their identity politics and to claim the benefits of citizenship rights such as equality, equity and freedom from discrimination. Leong finds that arts and lifestyle supplements discuss a greater range and variety of issues relating to homosexual life than the Straits Times’ regular news sections. The patterns observed by Leong are in many ways reminiscent of life in the Philippines under the dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos, which ran from 1965 to 1986, during which harsh sanctions were imposed for almost all critical reporting of political issues. Journalists tried to skirt around political obstructions by presenting stories about the lifestyle and social pursuits of Marcos’s family and cronies. Stories that seemed to acclaim their taste and style also exposed the lavish lifestyle they led while the nation fell further into poverty. Female journalists, in particular, managed to slip subversive commentaries and exposés on corruption

xiv Preface and political misconduct into the ‘women’s pages’ by using satire, innuendo and even tongue-in-cheek use of recipes (e.g. Shafer 1994: 23). Similar strategies have been used in many countries where journalists have been unable to report directly about significant socio-political issues. This points to the significant impact that journalists can have on democratic life, not just through their coverage of formal politics and other ‘hard’ news, but also through features, commentaries and lighter forms of lifestyle journalism and infotainment. In writing ostensibly non-political stories, journalists may ultimately have greater freedom and creativity to present a more nuanced view of life and citizenship than those who cover the ‘serious’ news beats. This book thus takes a broad view of journalistic activity, covering a wide spectrum of issues relating to the role of journalists, professional conduct and organizational life that can impinge on democracy.

Acknowledgements

Chapter 6 of this book first appeared in 2003 in Indicators of Social Development: Hong Kong 2001, edited by Lau Siu-kai, Lee Ming-kwan, Wan Po-san and Wong Siu-lun. This chapter is reproduced with permission of the publishers, the Hong Kong Institute of Asia-Pacific Studies, the Chinese University of Hong Kong.

1

Asian journalism News, development and the tides of liberalization and technology Angela Romano

This chapter commences the discussion about journalism and democracy by elaborating on the observations made by Journalism Asia (see Preface) that pressures caused by liberalization and new communications technologies have led to a proliferation and openness of the media. In particular, the chapter examines the orthodoxies of recent decades about the role of journalism in support of development and Asian cultural values. It questions the degree to which the ‘global twin tides’ of liberalization and new technology have resulted in shifts and schisms in the established order between Asian media and democracy.

Approaches to journalism, development and democracy Forces within Asia have led to both the birth of the concept of development journalism and, more recently, to the delegitimization of development journalism rhetoric. Alan Chalkley is credited with originating the term ‘development journalism’ in 1968, after presiding over what is believed to be the first long-term training course for economic writers in the region. The course itself was one of many seminars and activities sponsored by Philippines-based organizations, such as the Press Foundation of Asia and the Philippines Press Institute, on development topics (Chowdhury 1978: 10; Lent 1977: 17; Stevenson 1994: 239). Chalkley was among a number of regional media theorists and journalists who envisaged that journalism could help support the process of development in countries with low education levels, poor infrastructural development and struggling economies (Loo 1995: 4; Lent 1979: 66). The concept of development journalism was rapidly popularized not just throughout much of Asia but in developing countries worldwide. The exact definition of what development journalism should involve, however, was subject to bitter contestation. Chalkley and his colleagues initially envisaged that journalists would refine their reporting and writing skills so that they could help poorly educated audiences to better understand complex development processes (Lent 1979: 66–7). The aim was that journalists would focus less on ‘spot’ or ‘sensationalist’ news. They would instead identify and cover socio-economic and political processes so that communities could recognize, comprehend and influence such processes. As Narinder Aggarwala (1979: 51) noted:

2 Angela Romano Disasters, famines, corruption, wars, political intrigues and civil disorders always make for action-packed or ‘sexy’ copy. Economic and social development, on the other hand, being a very slow and almost imperceptible process, rarely appears to be, at first sight at least, sufficiently provocative or interesting to be newsworthy. Training guides for development journalism taught basic reporting skills but emphasized the importance of simple but engaging writing and a focus on unfolding issues rather than short-term events (e.g. Hester and To 1987). Discussion about development journalism rapidly shifted away from this simple focus on clear, issues-based reporting. Instead, the dominant political forces within developing nations insisted that development journalism should match the prevailing political cultures. Denis McQuail says that it is difficult to speak of any one all-embracing concept when talking of development media theory because of the numerous variations in political and economic conditions in developing countries (1987: 119). Politicians, media academics and journalists began to promulgate different theories about development journalism, with each theory based on very different assumptions about democracy and the role of journalism within democracy. Journalists as nation builders In one of the earliest models of development journalism, the mass media was seen as a mobilizing agent for nation-building. Arturo Escobar (1995) notes that modernization theories have dominated development discourses, and the ‘mobilization for nation-building’ approach draws heavily from such modernization paradigms. The modernization approach was developed in the wake of World War II by scholars such as Daniel Lerner (1958), Lucien Pye (1963), Walter Rostow (1960) and Wilbur Schramm (1964). Such scholars envisaged that economic growth could be stimulated in Third World nations by the development of entrepreneurial, industrialized, urbanized, free-market-oriented and ‘modern’ culture within traditional societies. The mass media were designated an important role in promoting this modernization of culture and ways of life. Lerner, in particular, argued that the mass media could help develop ‘empathy’, or the ability to visualize oneself in another setting and to identify changes and resources that would facilitate progress towards modern environments. He argued that ‘empathy’ was essential for development (1958: 49–52). Modernization theorists also encouraged the use of the modern mass media to build national cohesion and unity of purpose among developing nations, which often consisted of numerous, disparate ethnic and religious groups that had been brought together purely by accidents of colonial history. Within the many forms of information and entertainment that the mass media could present, journalism was seen as a particularly important means of providing objective facts and analysis in relation to contemporary conditions (Pye 1963). The modernization approach focused on the need for educating the masses to

Asian journalism: news, development, liberalization, technology 3 enable them to recognize and fulfil their potential. A basic assumption of this approach is that developing nations’ citizens are generally poorly educated, have few opportunities to learn the strategies and systems used by more affluent individuals and nations for wealth creation, and may not be aware of alternatives to their existing socio-economic systems. Within such a philosophical framework, both journalism and democracy become highly stratified. This viewpoint promotes hierarchical communications, where the ostensibly ‘more knowledgeable’ elites provide information and insights to mobilize the mass public. Modernization theorists have furthermore tended to emphasize the role of individuals in socioeconomic development. They make few references to the value and influence of the vast pools of knowledge, the cooperative socio-economic systems, the complex power structures, and the communications hierarchies that exist within traditional communities. Modernization theorists recognized the failures of their top-down strategies to development, and by the 1970s they had adjusted their approach. The new theories placed greater emphasis on interpersonal networks, social context and the importance of allowing some mechanisms for the masses to give feedback to the elite (Rogers 1976: 233; Melkote 1991: 166). However, at their base, the new theories were set upon fundamentally similar assumptions. Journalists would assist in mobilizing the common people, who would follow the broader economic and political policies set by government powers and development agencies on their behalf; citizens were rarely described as significant actors in the determination of such policies. It should be acknowledged that a nation-building approach does not necessarily involve a top-down political and journalistic system, nor even a strict adherence to modernization philosophy. Many Asian journalists and media theorists encouraged the reporting of ‘positive’ stories that shared details of attempts to bolster social stability, build harmony between diverse groups, strengthen the economy and other initiatives aimed at improving communities (Ali 1994: 90; Marpaung 1983: 29; Szende 1986: 38). Many senior Asian journalists have noted that ‘positive’ news involved reporting on problems and crises, but in a way that avoided sensationalism. Such reports would highlight the causes of problems and list potential solutions, so that audiences could understand and act constructively to overcome crises rather than respond in an unproductive, desperate or destructive fashion (Oetama 1989: 145; Pudjomartono 1998: 105). The ‘big picture’ was also important. For example, a nation-building journalist needed to ask whether news about a problem in a government department indicated that the whole department was corrupt, misdirected or incompetent, or whether it was one mistake in a system that was generally working well to advance the people’s interests. Although a nation-building approach was not always synonymous with a modernization perspective, studies of articles about communication and development find that Lerner’s modernization model dominated the research that was published in high-circulating and internationally influential Western academic journals until the mid-1980s (Fair 1989). Only after that time did a much more

4 Angela Romano diverse approach to development communications began to dominate the more prominent sources of academic thought on the matter (Fair and Shah 1997: 10). Journalists as government partners A second approach to development journalism places journalists as the government’s partners in nation-building. The application of this approach was usually fundamentally similar to the mobilization approach discussed above, except that there was a strong accompanying philosophy that press freedom should be restricted according to the nation’s economic priorities and development needs (Hachten 1999: 32; Lent 1979: 68–9; McQuail 1987: 121). Drawing from ideas promoted by Samuel P. Huntington (1968), among others, leaders of nations such as Indonesia, Singapore and Malaysia upheld the view that order and stability were preconditions for the growth of successful economies and political systems. Singapore’s former Prime Minister, Lee Kuan Yew, exemplified this approach by declaring that discipline was more important than Western-style liberal democracy. He argued that ‘the exuberance of democracy leads to undisciplined and disorderly conditions which are inimical to development’ (Lee K.Y. 1992: 29). In the overarching logic, certain individual rights, such as freedom of speech, often had to be sacrificed or tightly constrained for the sake of group harmony; unfettered rights in newly established nations might easily lead to inter-ethnic hostilities and other social problems (Kausikan 1994: 49; Mahathir 1985: 215; Idid and Pawanteh 1989: 83: Soeharto 1989: 132). Observing the situation in the 1970s, John Lent observed: ‘Throughout Asia, governments feel they cannot afford not to curb press freedom’ (1976: 80). A decade later, Malaysian Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad emphasized the ‘social responsibility’ of journalists compared to their freedoms. Mahathir said that the Western-style libertarian ideal of a completely free press has never been actualized. [I]f it is assumed that power tends to corrupt and absolute power tends to corrupt absolutely, by what magical formula is the media itself, with all its awesome power, exempt from this inexorable tendency? The media must be given freedom. But this freedom must be exercised with responsibility . . . So long as the Press is conscious of itself being a potential threat to democracy and conscientiously limits the exercise of its rights, it should be allowed to function without government interference. But when the Press obviously abuses its rights, then democratic governments have a duty to put it right. (Mahathir 1985: 214–15) Mahathir and his counterparts in many other Asian nations regularly spoke of press and other freedoms being coupled with responsibility. The rhetoric sounded very similar to the ‘social responsibility’ model of journalism that was first proposed in post-World War II United States and Britain, most notably by the 1947 US Commission into Freedom of the Press, better known as the Hutchins

Asian journalism: news, development, liberalization, technology 5 Commission. In practice, however, the government-partnership philosophies might have been better described as a hybrid of authoritarian and social responsibility theories, because of the emphasis on restricting rights rather than on positive elements of journalists’ social responsibilities or freedoms (Ogan 1982: 10–11). In common with the nation-building approach, this second philosophy of development journalism was characterized by the assumption that the government was a key agent in determining development policy for public good. In the second philosophy, however, journalists could serve the public interest by helping to identify flaws in specific elements in the design or implementation of government policies, but their function was largely to support the overall policy direction rather than to contest it. Within this framework, information was ‘a scarce national resource’ that became ‘the property of the state’ (Hachten 1999: 32). Under this model ‘the media should support authority and not challenge it. Dissent or criticism has no place in part because the alternative to the ruling government would be chaos’ (Hachten 1999: 32). Within this system, communications were again clearly top-down, and this had clear implications for the nature of journalism within democracy. However, most of the literature about the democratic function of journalism in countries that upheld the government-partnership approach to development journalism focused on issues of freedom of the press.1 This philosophy of journalism as a partner or, arguably, a handmaiden of government was widely censured, even by those who had founded the original development journalism concept. Critics claimed that the development journalism ethic had been co-opted by governments as a rationale for dictatorial leaderships seeking to push their own dogmas and gag the press (Lent 1979: 67; Righter 1978: 189, 192; Sussman 1978: 77). They claimed that the government-partnership model prevented journalists from serving even very basic democratic functions. They also contended that watchdog-style press freedoms were necessary to expose corruption and other problems, and journalists would be regarded as untrustworthy propaganda instruments of the government if they aligned themselves too closely with government programmes (Chopra 1980: 37; Gaunt 1992: 159; Kunczik 1988: 224; Mauricio 1985: 87). Although authorities in countries like Indonesia accepted that the media had a feedback function as a ‘conduit for the people’s aspirations’ (Sinaga 1989: 132), it was widely recognized that such bottom-up communications were weak (e.g. Oetama 1989: 143). Even mainstream political figures, such Anwar Ibrahim, then Malaysia’s Deputy Prime Minister, argued that ‘Oriental despotism’ had eviscerated the potential for a democratic citizenry and media system. He described a need to ‘develop and fortify the institutions of civil society, enhance the workings of truly representative participatory governments, promote the rule of law rather than of men, and foster the cultivation of a free and responsible press’ (Anwar 1995: 42). Anwar did not support totally unconstrained freedom for journalists. However, he said that development journalism had been carried ‘to its extreme, so much so, that even mild criticism of the ruling elite and a critical attitude is viewed with fear, suspicion and sometimes contempt’ (Anwar 1995: 42). Although conservative theorists like Huntington have strongly influenced the

6 Angela Romano government-partnership philosophies of journalism, the approach is also evident in communist and other left-leaning Asian nations. In the most prominent example, China, journalists are expected to buoy confidence in the state and the Chinese Communist Party (CCP); promote national cohesion, patriotism and collectivism; and counter bourgeois-liberal political thinking. In a 1981 judgement, China’s Central Political–Legal Commission deemed it unacceptable to circulate ‘counterrevolutionary propaganda’, ‘vicious attacks and slanders on central leading comrades’ and ‘attacks and slanders with the goal of demagogically stirring up the masses’. There has been a well-documented liberalization of China’s political and media system since the mid-1990s, in line with economic restructuring. This has led to official recognition of the media’s democratic role to scrutinize government and uncover crime and misconduct within the bureaucracy (Lam 2000: 39–40). Despite this, it remains a crime to subvert the political power of the state. Regardless of economic liberalization, state officials still subscribe to the view that the media should serve the CCP’s political ends, and journalists may not oppose state policy (Lam 2000: 44–5). China and other Asian countries with similar political orientations have not referred to direct development journalism terminology in the way that was common among Southeast Asian nations from the 1970s to the mid-1990s. However, the language and tenets are the same – appeals to nationalism and unity; restriction of civil liberties for the sake of shared prosperity; political development under the guidance of wise leaders – but with an infusion of socialist principles. Related to the government-partnership perspective on development journalism was the Asian values debate, which gained momentum from the late 1980s. The Asian values concept arose, just as development journalism had, out of concerns – particularly in Southeast Asia – about cultivating nations which had sound economies, unified citizens and shared cultural identities. Attempts to identify and protect so-called Asian values were driven by post-colonial discourses of nationbuilding and sensitivity to the West’s perceived economic and cultural dominance (Birch 1993: 74; Lowe 1987: vii). Neville Petersen (1992: 184) notes that tensions generated by the clash between the norms of Western and Asian media systems ‘brought about a codification, explanation and defence of values believed to be appropriate and, in some cases, unique to countries of the region’. Many Asian theorists spurned what they described as ‘the creeping insulation of [Western] liberal individualism’ (Chua, B. 1994: 27–8), stressing instead the ‘consensual and holistic character of society’ (Mehra 1989: 4). Asian society was said to be ‘patterned on morally prescribed norms and obligations for ethical, social and political conduct, which encourages filial piety, unisonal relations and humanism’ (Mehra 1990: ix). It was claimed that, within communitarian Southeast Asian traditions, most people preferred ‘a situation in which distinctions between the individual, society and state are less clear-cut, or at least less adversarial’ than those in the West (Kausikan 1994: 45). Asian values that were deemed applicable to journalists and their development role were respect for elders and leaders, concern for upholding harmony, respect for the importance of ‘saving face’, and a preference for communicating criticism in

Asian journalism: news, development, liberalization, technology 7 a mild and courteous rather than a brusque fashion (Chu 1988: 126; Hasnain 1988: 185; Khaiyath 1996: 4; Lent 1979: 69–70; Snijders 1994). The cultural value system, it was argued, ‘rejects the notion of an uninhibited and robust press that undertakes vehement, caustic and unpleasant attacks on government and public officials’ (Mehra 1989: 4). Such arguments had clear weaknesses, given the vast diversity of cultures in Asia and even Southeast Asia, not just between nations but within nations themselves. Amartya Sen (2003: 29–34) also points out that democracy is hardly a Western notion; China, Japan, Korea and India are among Asian countries that had historical traditions of egalitarianism, popular assembly, encouragement of public discussion and/or political pluralism that are consonant with modern democratic systems. Regardless of this, the promotion of Asian values reinforced the second model of development journalism. Proponents of Asian values emphasized the important status of leaders and the need for sacrifice for the sake of economic development, stability and social cohesion. Journalists as agents of empowerment A third approach to development journalism has emphasized empowerment of the masses, foregrounding concepts of quality of life, social equity, citizen participation in public life and human development. Proponents of this approach step away from assumptions that development strategies need to be determined by wise or educated elites or that a state–press partnership is essential for development. This approach draws strongly from theorists such as Paulo Freire, who rejected mainstream assumptions that the role of communication and education is to ‘fill’ the ‘empty’ spaces of students’ minds (Freire 1974: 2–3; Freire 1997: 52–3). Instead, he encouraged ‘conscientization’, which involves developing citizens’ capacities to identify and organize action to redress the causes of socio-economic inequities around them (Freire 1974: 2; Freire 1997: 60). In the empowerment framework, journalism becomes an advocative medium that helps to build self-reliance and participant democracy (Hedebro 1982: 103–17; Ponteñila 1990: 22–4). Top-down communications are still considered necessary and important, but greater emphasis is placed on enhancing bottom-up information flows from citizens and communities to leaders and, more strategically, horizontal information flows in which citizens learn about the needs, interests and activities of fellow citizens and communities (Beltrán 1980; Hester and To 1987: 9; Rogers 1993). This perspective emphasizes the rights of all – including the marginalized, the minorities and the underprivileged – to participate in problemframing and decision-making (Dagron 2001; Dixit 1994: 23–4; Galtung and Vincent 1992: 163–5; Loo 1996: 122; Wilkins and Waters). This approach also emphasizes the development of the collective rather than the individual; the commitment of communicators to working with rather than for communities; the need for communicators to raise consciousness rather than persuade; and the process of, rather than a campaign for, change (Dagron 2001: 34–5). Hemant Shah (1996: 144–5) suggests such journalism should be described as emancipatory journalism rather than development journalism, because of the media’s role as ‘participants in

8 Angela Romano a process of progressive social change’ and ‘challenging and changing oppressive structures’. Closely affiliated with these philosophies has been work in peace journalism, which has aimed to identify causes and possible solutions to hostilities in conflict-wracked areas (Botes 1996). Journalists as watchdogs A fourth perspective on development journalism upheld a watchdog role for the news media. For those who preferred this model, the journalist’s role in democracy was to highlight problems and weaknesses in government policies and performance, in order that corrective action might be taken. Sen (1999) and others (e.g. Banik 1997; de Waal 1990) argue that, in addition to acting as an earlywarning system of impending threats, the media play an important adversarial function in keeping governments responsive to public concerns. Aggarwala is among those who point to the importance of press freedom, suggesting that the news media’s effectiveness in the development process ‘is inversely related to the degree of government intervention’ (1978: 201). He suggests that: Development news is not identical with ‘good’ news, [the] lack of which is constantly bewailed by the politicians and government officials of not only the developing, but also developed countries. In its treatment, development news is not, and should not be, any different from regular news or investigative reporting. (Aggarwala 1979: 51) As was discussed earlier, proponents of the watchdog approach often attacked the government-partnership philosophy of development journalism as ‘governmentsay-so’ journalism. Similarly, they claimed that the Asian-values concepts had been overtaken by governments that exaggerated the importance of the traditions of respect for leaders, harmony and consensus in order to deny basic rights and to pass themselves off as the repositories of such values (Anwar 1995: 42; Latif 1998: 12; Richstad 1998: 296–300). Thai newspaper editor Suthichi Yoon (1994), for example, describes the words ‘Asian values’ as a tool of authoritarian governments. Before the end of the Cold War, it was the communist threat that was used by the government when we were told not to publish a certain story. Now, it’s Asian values that are being used as the new excuse for government to tell journalists not to publish a story because it could threaten our values. Both the watchdog and empowerment approaches to development journalism support the practice of investigative journalism and the exposure of official transgressions. The empowerment approach, however, aims to build capacity among citizens so that they become the key drivers of democracy and set the agenda for change. The watchdog approach relies on an assumption that corrective action can

Asian journalism: news, development, liberalization, technology 9 only follow if journalists direct their attention primarily to the big bureaucracies of government and business, shining a light into the dim recesses of political and economic organizations. Although watchdogs may not be supportive of a given government or business, they rarely contest the structures that undergird political and business life, or attempt to promote community-based political deliberation, organization or action. From this it is apparent that, while both media theorists and politicians within particular countries often spoke of development journalism as if the concept was neatly definable, uniform and uncontested, there were clearly considerable variations of understandings of development journalism. A case in point is the experience of the global news-exchange mechanism, Inter Press Service (IPS), in its attempts at reporting from Indonesia. Although IPS journalists had ceased describing their work as development journalism by the 1990s, their modus operandi could be seen as fitting within the framework of emancipatory or empowerment journalism. During the mid-1990s Indonesia’s New Order government banned correspondents from the radical IPS from the country because of their critical, analytical reports. By contrast, the government – which had displayed high sensitivity to Western reporters during the 1970s and 1980s, effectively banning all journalists from countries such as Australia after 1987 – was showing increasing tolerance of foreign correspondents during the mid-1990s. Throughout the 1990s the government approved applications from Western reporters for foreign correspondents’ visas at an exponential rate, despite their interrogatory reports on sensitive topics such as the 1994 ‘Dili massacre’. In sum, journalists who practised the wrong type of development journalism were less politically palatable to the Indonesian authorities than those reporters schooled within Western liberal models. This division about what development journalism meant in practice existed not just between countries with differing democratic traditions but also between politicians, media theorists and journalists within countries. The difference in the mid-1990s between Malaysia’s Prime Minister and his deputy, discussed earlier, is a well-known example. Sharp distinctions have more often been drawn between the perspectives of politicians and journalists. For example, a qualitative survey of Indonesian journalists conducted from 1996 to 1998 – the final years of the conservative New Order period – revealed that, although respondents strongly supported the concept that journalists should contribute towards the development process, there was considerable variation in their understanding of their role, with varying support for all of the philosophies mentioned above (Romano 2003: 54– 61). Journalists were strongly suspicious, however, that the government used development philosophy as an ideological tool to control journalists (Romano 2003: 53–4). Although some supported the concept of self-censoring news when necessary for community well-being, this was seen as different to self-censorship for the sake of the government’s well-being (Romano 2003: 61–3). Although there was variation in journalists’ understanding of their development role, overall there was almost no grass-roots support for the more paternalistic concepts that the New Order promoted as being part of development journalism. Among unpopular

10 Angela Romano instructions issued by the government were the guidelines that news should not ‘offend the feelings’ or ‘disturb the authority’ of honoured leadership figures (Wonohito 1977: 86).

Liberalization and new technology Most Southeast Asian nations promptly abandoned terms such as development journalism and Asian values rhetoric in the wake of the financial crisis, known as the ‘Asian flu’, which commenced in mid-1997 and hit a peak in 1998. An economic emergency began when the Thai government’s decision to devalue its currency in July 1997 stimulated an international economic backlash. This led to the devaluation of currencies, stock markets and other assets, not just in Thailand but also other countries, particularly Indonesia, the Philippines, Malaysia and South Korea. Malaysia was soon to rebound, but the other countries suffered protracted economic problems. In Indonesia, for example, the value of the rupiah went into free fall, inflation spiralled and, due to the high number of companies with debts in foreign dollars, 60 to 80 per cent of listed businesses were considered technically bankrupt. Millions lost their jobs, and official statistics indicated that the percentage of the population living below the poverty line soared to 56 per cent (Kompas 1998a: 8). Although official figures may have inadvertently exaggerated the extent of the crisis, the Indonesian government’s claim to be the source of order, stability and development had crumbled. In the worst-affected countries, the financial crisis crushed the idea of Asian values and paternalistic governance that had previously been described as the basis for growth and prosperity. In Indonesia, for example, the language used in speeches by key bureaucrats, such as Dailami, then the Information Department’s Director General of Press and Graphics, was indicative of the change of political winds. The discourses of development, Indonesian values, and positive press– government interaction were common in Dailami’s speeches until as late as November 1997. These expressions were promptly dropped in favour for the buzzwords of reform, anti-corruption, human rights, freedom of expression, freedom of information and the rule of law (Dailami 1998). Prior to the crisis, Indonesia and similar countries had served for ten years ‘as a showcase for the new “liberalized” and “deregulated” model of capitalist economy’ and successful development policies; after the crisis, they were held up as an indication of the flaws of an International Monetary Fund (IMF) vision that ‘sought to set up a benign dictatorship of capital away from the public gaze’ (Chesnais 1998). While the ills that such economies faced were largely due to overvalued currencies, overcapitalization and marketplace debt and panic, the crisis turned the eye of governments, the marketplace, aid donors and citizens to the endemic problems of crony capitalism, nepotism and corruption (Wei and Sievers 1999: 32). The IMF, along with the World Bank and the United Nations Development Program (UNDP), reformulated development policies to emphasize sustainable human development and good governance. They declared a lack of

Asian journalism: news, development, liberalization, technology

11

‘transparency’ – the timely release of reliable information about government activities – as the source of corruption and the scourge of development. Journalists as the guardians of transparency In the IMF, World Bank and UNDP’s revised development philosophies, human development was described as ‘a holistic strategy for development’ that promoted all human rights – social, cultural, civil and political – and not just economic needs in isolation (UNDP 1998). ‘Good governance’ became a catchphrase to describe governmental systems that were ‘participatory, transparent and accountable’ and ensured that ‘political, social and economic priorities are based on broad consensus in society’ (UNDP 1998). Support for this approach was strengthened by research that linked good governance with economic growth, alleviation of poverty and other development outcomes (Kaufmann, Kraay and Zoido-Lobatón 1999; Mauro 1995; Knach and Keefer 1995). Given the impetus to improve transparency for the sake of good governance and human development, the IMF, the World Bank and the UNDP displayed new interest in building journalists’ capacity to ensure that governments communicated openly with citizens. Although the words ‘development journalism’ were never used, the approach was similar to the watchdog concept described above. Journalists were entrusted with the task of exposing official conduct in order to create pressure for governments to act responsibly and efficiently. In a rejection of the philosophy that human rights sometimes had to be sacrificed for the sake of economic development, the new approach argued that restrictions on free speech, free press and other civil liberties undermined good governance and economic development (Isham, Kaufmann and Pritchett 1997: 234–5; Stapenhurst 2000: 2–10). In this new model of journalists as agents for transparency, the media primarily serves as a watchdog, warning of faults and problems in the system. Journalists are also entrusted in theory to act as a channel for public opinion, providing communities with a voice in public affairs. In theory, this model is different from the watchdog model, in that good governance aims to include the public, including ‘the poorest and the most vulnerable’ in ‘decision-making over the allocation of development resources’ (UNDP 1998). This participatory approach and the emphasis on human development appear to echo the logic of those who support the leftist-influenced empowerment model of journalism. In practice, the World Bank and similar organizations have attempted to encourage a revised form of development journalism by sponsoring courses in investigative journalism and other forms of advanced reporting. Such courses are inherently dedicated to the interrogation of government and business bureaucracies in support of a liberal democracy based on free-market logic, rather than encouraging public participation in or deliberation about political or societal action. The governments of countries most affected by the economic crisis have been forced to strengthen their democratic systems, at least in appearance, if not in

12 Angela Romano actual practice. Governments have needed to stabilize shaky economies and reestablish political legitimacy in the eyes of both domestic and international audiences, and this has forced the liberalization of controls on the political, economic and media environments. In countries that suffered relatively little damage to their economic base or that recovered quickly, development journalism and Asian values are similarly rarely spoken of, but the democratic structures and the relationship between governments, journalists and civil society have changed little. Most of these East Asian countries resemble China, where government officials have tinkered with economic liberalization but have been sufficiently confident of their authority to ignore calls for democratic reform. In such countries there has commonly been official talk about greater freedom for journalists but relatively little concrete reform to media systems. Journalism and the new media Many reformists might have hoped that new information and communications technologies (ICTs) would provide the impetus for democratic change where economic pressures had not. International media magnate Rupert Murdoch embodied such an approach with his now infamous comments, made three months after his acquisition of the Satellite Television Asia Region (STAR) service, based in Hong Kong with a mainland China ‘footprint’. Advances in the technology of telecommunications have proved an unambiguous threat to totalitarian regimes everywhere. Fax machines enable dissidents to bypass state-controlled print media; direct dial telephony makes it difficult for a state to control interpersonal voice communications. Satellite broadcasting makes it possible for information-hungry residents of many closed societies to bypass state-controlled television. (Murdoch 1993) There has been considerable discussion of Murdoch’s retreat from this bold position following threats to his economic interests in China. The saga embodies the complexities involved in attempts to determine whether new ICTs ultimately facilitate democratic reform or simply reinforce the status quo. Proponents of democratic reform have held much hope that the Internet ‘would be perfectly matched for the widely dispersed resistance of culture jammers and radical political protesters’ (Downey and Fenton 2003: 196). Certainly there have been notable successes for some who have attempted to facilitate change in Asian nations where formal news organizations are too closely affiliated to the state or too vulnerable to state threats to provide sufficient information for citizens to become full participants in democratic processes. In Indonesia, for example, illicit Internet newspapers and discussion groups thrived during the mid-1990s. Much of the news content was written by younger journalists who used the online media to publish stories that they found impossible to circulate through the mainstream media. Such activity helped to bolster the pro-reform movement that pushed the

Asian journalism: news, development, liberalization, technology

13

government from power in 1998. Although access to the Internet was highly limited, university scholars and activists often printed and photocopied stories that had been posted on the Internet. They would share or in some cases sell the photocopies to others in order to increase the overall circulation of the information. Additionally, as Murdoch’s comments indicate, even before the Internet became publicly accessible in the late 1990s, other ICTs have long been used in Indonesia and elsewhere to clandestinely spread journalistic news and other forms of information that could not be circulated by formal, licit news channels. Such ICTs include cassette tapes, compact disks, VCDs, telephones, photocopiers and facsimile machines, and cross-border radio broadcasts. Despite this, even in states anxious to capitalize on the commercial benefits of new ICTs, governments have sought to limit the use of such media for distributing information beyond strictly limited bounds. In China the government has begun a process of ‘informatization’, using ICTs to modernize the economy, decentralize decision-making and make administrative processes more transparent. Yet it has also engaged in widespread control of information through means such as blocking certain Internet sites, supervising news sites, censoring chat room and bulletin board contents and cracking down on Internet cafés (Kalathil and Boas 2001: 5–6). Chapters in this book about Singapore and China reinforce the proposition that new technologies can be used to create a greater space for independent news and information within a democracy, but if governments are willing to commit the resources, they can develop legal and technical measures to control most ICTs. In Singapore, one member of parliament has justified such technological control by saying: ‘Just as cars can knock down people, ideas can also be dangerous . . . Ideas can kill’ (Far Eastern Economic Review 1995: 11). Even in an environment where the authorities cannot constrain communications through new technologies, questions remain about who uses these ICTs to send and receive information relating to democratic and civic life. Dagron (2001: 28) notes that: ‘The typical Internet user worldwide is male, less than 35 years old, with a university education and high income, urban-based and English speaking – a member of a very elite minority.’ Research from countries such as India, Bangladesh, Cambodia, Nepal, the Philippines, Sri Lanka and Thailand indicates the Internet mainly serves an audience of expatriates, urban elites and the highly educated. The Internet is unaffordable and/or impossible to access for most of the population, particularly in rural areas where many of these countries’ citizens live. Such problems are compounded by high levels of illiteracy or poor computer literacy (Flor 2003: 351; Mongkonsiri 2003: 392–4; Pin 2003: 275; Rao 2003: 301– 3; Sarkar 2003: 245–7; Siriwardena and Gunawardena 2003: 371–2; Upadhaya 2003: 345). There is, furthermore, little evidence that ICTs enhance democratic participation or quality of life among the disadvantaged of Asian and other developing nations. Mohamad Haque’s research, conducted before the widespread dissemination of the Internet, suggests that the benefits of ICTs rarely trickle down to the vast majority of the poor, instead ‘leaving them in the same or worse conditions’ (1991: 221). More recently, Pradip Thomas noted that ICTs work best in

14 Angela Romano situations where all things are equal, or ‘in other words in contexts in which there is supportive infrastructure, uninterrupted electricity supplies, telephone lines, roughly equal opportunities, equal access to infrastructure, to decision making, etc.’ (2002). Thus the capacity of citizens and journalists to use ICTs as a tool for expanding the bounds of democratic life is often limited, and such media serve as elite media rather than true mass media.

Conclusion Despite the great hopes that economic liberalization and ICTs would democratize journalism and therefore the entire political sphere, the impact of such changes has been limited and uneven across and within Asian nations. Chapter 9 points out how in Indonesia, where economic reform has led to greater freedoms for political activity and media coverage, journalists still face professional and organizational challenges in fulfilling a fourth-estate role. Additionally, while it is now much harder for Indonesian politicians to shut down news organizations when journalists write stories that displease officialdom, there has been a marked increase in physical threats and legal action against journalists. Journalists also operate in a commercially precarious environment that undermines the economic security needed to continue producing relevant and comprehensive reports on sociopolitical issues. Such problems are mirrored in many other countries across the region. As Chapter 4 points out, attempts to reform or improve journalists’ democratic functioning often have little success unless media organizations operate in a commercially sustainable environment. New technologies have been used creatively to expand the field of public discussion, but again, the impact of ICTs has not been as great as many have hoped. As Chapters 2 and 3 emphasize, such technologies can be controlled when governments have the will to do so. Even without formal controls, the effectiveness of ICTs is bounded by the social and economic milieu in which they are used.

Note 1 There have been multitudes of reports on this subject by institutions such as Amnesty International, Article 19, Freedom Forum, Index on Censorship, the International Press Institute, Human Rights Watch – Asia, Reporters sans Frontières, and many countryspecific press groups, among others.

2

Going online Journalism and civil society in Singapore Terence Lee

Shortly after Deputy Prime Minister (DPM) Lee Hsien Loong, the son of Singapore’s elder statesman Lee Kuan Yew, was officially declared Singapore’s next premier in January 2004, he delivered a speech on the future of politics and society in Singapore at the 35th anniversary dinner of the elite Harvard Club of Singapore. Explaining how he planned to run the country as Prime Minister, a position he was sworn into on 12 August 2004, DPM Lee laid down his protocol for government–people interaction and the limits of political discourses by declaring that Singapore ‘must open up further’ by promoting ‘further civic participation’ (Lee, H.L. 2004a). In a typically Singaporean fashion, DPM Lee offered five broad ‘suggestions’ on how to promote civic participation and build a more ‘civic society’ in Singapore: guidelines for public consultations on new policies or regulations, more space for rigorous and robust debate, an emphasis on action above words, a constructive and ‘non-crusading’ media and a government that continues to lead the way even as it becomes more open to views (Lee, H.L. 2004a). The use of the term ‘civic’ – instead of the historically and globally circulated ‘civil’ – to describe society at large and citizens’ participation in public life was deliberate, designed to forestall the potentially destabilising ‘politicking’ practices that civil society has come to represent in most liberal democratic societies (Lee, T. 2002a: 102). As Singaporean academic Chua Beng-Huat elucidates: [Civic society] is preferred by the government for its emphasis on the ‘civic responsibilities’ of citizens as opposed to that of the ‘rights’ of citizenship emphasized in the conventional understanding of the concepts of ‘civil society’. This shift is consistent with the [Singapore government’s] language of politics. (Chua, B.H. 2000: 63) Under these terms, media and journalism in Singapore can be said to play a government-sanctioned ‘civic’ role, which is to inform and educate the public on government policies, and thus contribute to nation-building (see Tan, T.L. 1990; Birch 1993; Lee. T. 2002b; Leo and Lee 2004). In attempting to detail the terms of political engagement under his rule, the prime minister-designate issued a reminder to the media not to indulge in what he

16 Terence Lee calls ‘crusading journalism’ (Lee, H.L. 2004a). DPM Lee used his speech to make it clear that although political boundaries may occasionally shift a little, his ascension to the prime ministership would not result in major changes, especially in the way journalism and civil society were managed in Singapore. Although the DPM did not specify what he meant by ‘crusading journalism’, he explained in his speech that the media in Singapore ‘is a different model from the US media, which uses its powerful position to set the national agenda’ (Lee, H.L. 2004a). One could thus infer that ‘crusading journalism’ is reporting in the media that does not conform to the ‘national’ agenda as determined, and dictated, by the ruling People’s Action Party (PAP) government. This position is of course not new, and is well known to those familiar with the modus operandi of media and politics in Singapore. The fact that Lee spoke about the political risks of ‘crusading journalism’ suggests that alternative and new online organs continue to pose a threat to the hegemony of mainstream news in Singapore. The contemporary mainstream media scene in Singapore is largely duopolized by two government-controlled media heavyweights, Singapore Press Holdings (SPH) and the Media Corporation of Singapore (MediaCorp), and closely managed by the PAP government under the ambit of the Ministry of Information, Communications and the Arts (MICA) (George 2002: 173). Given this situation, it is clear that practical applications of ‘crusading journalism’ can only be found in alternative journalism websites. By critically analysing a selection of such websites and uncovering their agendas, both purported and implied, this chapter examines the viability of these sites to provide a more democratic media space in a politically constraining and auto-regulated social climate. While many scholarly pieces have been written about the political subservience of journalists, as well as the corresponding lack of independent or investigative journalism in Singapore (see George 2002, 2003, 2004), few have been written about how independently operated online news sites, often operating as civil society champions, break the rules of media and political conformity in Singapore. This chapter contends that ‘crusading journalism’ in Singapore is presently occupied by such alternative or marginal online websites, and it is only by ‘going online’ that one is able to creatively and critically discuss the media politics of journalism and civil society in Singapore.

Mainstream online journalism: reiterating status quo Although Singapore’s economy is characterized by free market and enterprise association, with global competitiveness the key objective, the mainstream media are largely quarantined from genuine competition.1 With all free-to-air television and radio channels and licensed mainstream newspapers dominated by the two big players, recent attempts by the Singapore government to ‘liberalize’ the media sector – and thus prepare the industry for global expansion – by introducing competition between these two players have been nothing short of feeble (Leo and Lee 2004: 206–7). In November 2003 both Lee Boon Yang, the incumbent Information and Communications Minister, and then Senior Minister Lee Kuan Yew lamented the fact that media liberalization in Singapore had largely failed.

Going online: journalism and civil society in Singapore 17 Based on the sizeable losses that both players sustained over the three-year period since the introduction of ‘soft competition’ in April 2000, both ministers concluded that a monopolistic set-up was more realistic for Singapore, though they stopped short of endorsing such an anti-democratic move (Lee, C.W. 2003). Although both SPH and MediaCorp dismissed the possibility of a merger at the time, it was publicly announced on 17 September 2004 that mass-market television and free newspaper operations in Singapore would be rationalized in a move ‘to stem losses and enhance shareholder value’ (Chua, M.H. 2004: 1). Under the socalled ‘merger’ agreement, MediaCorp would regain its monopoly on broadcasting under a new entity called MediaCorp TV Holdings, 20 per cent owned by SPH. In the free newspaper scene, the publication of SPH’s tabloid (Streats) would continue, but its operations would be taken over by MediaCorp Press, which would be 40 per cent owned by SPH and the remaining 60 per cent by MediaCorp. Although Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong dismissed suggestions that the government had orchestrated the merger, calling it an ‘adjustment’ to the market situation (Teo, L. 2004: 8), the pre-ordained outcome was always intended to reaffirm the duopolistic structure of mainstream media in Singapore – at least in appearance and in corporate terms. Journalistic practices, however, remain largely monopolistic as they are: in the words of former Straits Times’ journalist Cherian George, ‘subordinate to a common purpose, of which the government is the ultimate oracle’ (George 2002: 175). DPM Lee’s portentous warning to Singaporeans about ‘crusading journalism’ is interesting, given that no ‘straight-thinking’ mainstream journalist in Singapore would dare venture into the territory of such politically dubious reporting. Even mainstream international media are well aware of the dangers of crossing the ‘political line’. Many would prefer to comply with the country’s strict media laws and censorship codes to avoid being censured or arraigned on charges of libel or malicious reporting. After all, publications that have had their circulation punitively restricted or banned in Singapore over the past two decades include: Far Eastern Economic Review, The Economist, Asian Wall Street Journal and Asiaweek. Editors and journalists of the following foreign publications have been successfully sued in the Singapore courts for writing or publishing defamatory or libellous articles: Newsweek, Reuters, The Times (London), The Star (Malaysia), Time, International Herald Tribune, and Bloomberg. As Eric Ellis explains: Where [international media] are all vulnerable to Singapore justice is that each has an economic interest in Singapore itself. The city-state might have a tiny population but it is a wealthy, English-speaking one. Foreign titles print in Singapore because it guarantees efficiency. So, if the Government chooses . . . to cut circulation, advertising and profits are threatened. (Ellis 2002: 9) International media have thus prudently chosen to avoid engaging in ‘crusading journalism’. Although new players have entered (and left) the journalistic fray over the past

18 Terence Lee three decades, and new technologies have reshaped its frontier, the dominance of PAP’s rule has ensured that its political ideologies steer the course of reportage in Singapore (George 2003: 173). The government remains acutely aware of the political variability that such developments could bring, despite attempts made to ‘liberalize’ the media sector with the corporatization of broadcasting in Singapore in 1994, followed by a brief dalliance with pseudo-competition from 2000 to 2004. Although it subscribes to the belief that rapid adoption and mastery of new technologies is essential for Singapore’s economic viability, the PAP administrators knew, from the early days of the Internet, that they had to prepare for Internetbased political challenges by creating and capturing new media spaces online. From the mid-1990s, mainstream online journalism in Singapore has been dominated by the AsiaOne (www.asiaone.com.sg) and Channel NewsAsia.com (www.channelnewsasia.com) web portals. Congruent with its traditional duopolistic media structure, the former portal is owned by SPH, the city-state’s dominant newspaper publisher, whilst the latter is part of MediaCorp News, the regional broadcasting arm of Singapore’s national broadcaster MediaCorp. As state-sanctioned news outlets, AsiaOne and Channel NewsAsia.com are part of the government’s ‘psychological defence’ stratagem to occupy important news spaces in Singapore to reiterate the governmental status quo. It aims through these news outlets to build ‘soft power’ resources to propagate Singapore news globally, with one of its key target audiences being the ever-increasing pool of Singaporeans residing overseas. Although both portals command high online readerships, measured in Internet terms by the number of ‘hits’ or ‘eyeballs’, alternative journalism sites which aim to counteract the hegemony of mainstream media continue to exist, even thrive, on the Internet.2 As many researchers have observed, the Internet continues to be seen as the primary tool for political activism, social dissent and civil society in most parts of Asia (e.g. Gan, Gomez and Johannen 2004). Although dissent via the Internet is mild and limited – or, for the pessimist, non-existent – in Singapore, due to the government’s successful regulatory controls over electronic media (Lee, T. 2002b), the Internet remains the primary ‘port of call’ for Singaporeans seeking alternative views, as well as for those seeking to vent their social or political frustrations. In this regard, alternative journalism websites play the role of modern-day coffee houses, or a ‘public sphere’ which operates as the groundswell for civil society. Launched in 1995, the AsiaOne online news portal was the first publicly accessible mainstream online news site to be set up in Singapore. AsiaOne carries the ‘interactive’ versions of Singapore’s flagship English-language newspaper, the Straits Times, along with core national dailies including the Business Times, the Shipping Times, Berita Harian (Malay-language), Lianhe Zaobao (Chinese-language), and Tamil Murasu (Tamil-language). The portal also includes versions of midday tabloids such as the New Paper and Streats. The second mainstream news portal is Mediacorp’s Channel NewsAsia.com, which utilizes the resources of the 20-hour news channel Channel NewsAsia, established in Singapore as a free-to-air channel in March 1999 and currently beamed via satellite to many parts of Asia. Interactively enhanced versions of its regional news reports are also available on the website.3 In

Going online: journalism and civil society in Singapore 19 addition, links to the online edition of Today, the company’s staple narrow-sheet, are provided, along with headlines from its radio channel News Radio 93.8FM. More than just the provision of general news, both AsiaOne and Channel NewsAsia also offer a range of ‘lifestyle’ services ranging from career information and travel services to community forums. Although online versions of established newspapers around the world, such as the Wall Street Journal, have moved towards charging users for online readership and associated services to cover the high cost of web maintenance, the two mainstream online journalism sites in Singapore remain predominantly free of charge for all users (Brown 2003: 54). At present, only the Business Times (online) charges users for accessing news before 2 p.m. each day.4 Rather than a commercial decision, the provision of mostly free access is arguably a socio-political decision that fits in well with the Singapore government’s ‘psychological defence’ strategy to ensure that all Singaporeans – whether domiciled in Singapore or overseas – are able to keep abreast of ‘home’ news and government policies through a ‘licensed’ media source. ‘Psychological defence’ – part of a five-pronged ‘Total Defence’ strategy that includes: military defence, civil defence, economic defence and social defence – is essentially about persuading Singaporeans to feel proud of their country and to defend it in times of crises (see www.totaldefence.org.sg). The availability of free and ‘reliable’ online news can thus be interpreted as a pro-active measure to anchor Singaporeans, especially those based offshore, to Singapore – if not physically, then ideologically. As interactive media expert Bob Benz has argued, charging for news access on the Internet would be counterproductive for organizations wanting to use the Internet as a ‘powerful tool to win audience back’ (in Brown 2003: 56). This is what DPM Lee was probably alluding to when he reiterated that the media should ‘play a constructive role in nation-building’ (Lee, H.L. 2004a). While the craft of journalism is typically predicated upon the principle of objectivity, the ideals of ‘objectivity’ can be arbitrary (Conley 2002). In Singapore, journalists reporting for the mainstream media often accept information provided by government sources as authoritative and credible. By negating their interpretative roles, journalists in Singapore become channels for the transmission of government messages to the public. Although many Singaporeans are aware of the political biases of local media outlets, however subtle these may be, they are not likely to lodge complaints or speak out against them. In a politically apathetic and non-consultative society like Singapore, many believe that it is more prudent to remain silent and docile (Lee T. 2002a: 103). But as a maturing society with rising affluence, it is widely expected that middle-class Singaporeans, many of whom are highly educated and globally mobile, will begin to demand greater political voice and transparency (Lee T. 2002a: 101). Not willing to accept ‘government news’ as absolute truths, many Singaporeans have begun to search for more varied news angles and perspectives by going online (George 2002: 184). Unlike mainstream media sites which reproduce, to a large extent, the print or broadcast versions of local news, alternative sites which operate predominantly online tend to be more varied and, as George (2003: 4) has described, often more ‘contentious’. Alter-

20 Terence Lee native online journalism, which is the subject of the next section, may perhaps bear the marks of an independent civic or civil society.

Alternative online journalism: nebulous existences The government’s grand proclamation in 1992 that Singapore would become the ‘intelligent island-state’ of the Asia-Pacific region by 2000 led many Singaporeans to readily embrace new media technologies (Lee, T. 2002b: 7). With 99 per cent of households and businesses connected to a nationwide broadband network and more than 66 per cent of the population computer literate, Singaporeans are deemed more tech-savvy than Americans, Britons or Australians (Straits Times Interactive 2004). Not only are Singaporeans known to be among the most ardent Internet users in the world, but a recently published survey even found ‘non-users’ of the Internet in Singapore to be supportive of Internet use and development (Kuo et al. 2002). In addition, with few regulatory restraints compared to offline media, the ‘openness’ of the Internet has enabled individuals and groups to set up websites to publicize their own interests and agendas. As George notes: Singaporeans who use the Internet as a medium of mass communication have created a bewildering spectrum of websites and mailing lists. They range from individuals drawing ego gratifications from placing personal home pages in cyberspace, to government departments and corporations pursuing publicity and profits. (George, 2003: 4) This unlegislated shift in media regime has also led to a mushrooming of alternative online media in Singapore – what George refers to as ‘politically contentious journalism’, or journalism that ‘challenges dominant ideologies and attempts to democratize public discourse’ (George 2003: 1), a description that appears to mirror the ‘crusading journalism’ discourse (Lee, H.L. 2004a). For a society that is marked by public order and peace, the advent of online ‘contentious’ or ‘crusading’ journalism means that the Internet can potentially become a site of ‘disorder’ for Singapore’s media. In 1994, before the mass availability of user-friendly World Wide Web browsers, the online bulletin board soc.culture.singapore surfaced as the first alternative website dedicated to open discussions on Singapore’s politics and current affairs. Although soc.culture.singapore caused a stir, it was the Singapore Internet Community (Sintercom) website, launched in October 1994, which popularized alternative online journalism in Singapore. Although somewhat amateurish in its presentation, Sintercom carried a wide array of ‘contentious’ journalistic reports, including a summary of ‘hot topics’ extracted from the soc.culture.singapore forum that tended to be political in nature, an electronic bulletin board to garner feedback from readers, commentaries on national issues, and publication of well-written letters to the press that had either been rejected or strategically edited by the Straits Times (George 2002: 189). Within a short time,

Going online: journalism and civil society in Singapore 21 Sintercom gained popular appeal and was regarded as the ‘beacon of civil society’ in Singapore (Sivakkumaran 2001). Sintercom was radical not only because it was the first news site aimed at engaging Singaporeans in an alternative fashion; it represented the first group to take advantage of the Internet to test political boundaries and circumvent sociocultural obstacles (George 2002: 188). However, Sintercom unwittingly became a regulatory ‘guinea pig’ for the government, as it could witness, in real terms, the political threat of an unregulated Internet. As a consequence, from 1996 the authorities introduced a raft of self-regulatory guidelines to ensure that online ‘prohibited material’ – defined as ‘material that is objectionable on the grounds of public interest, public morality, public order, public security, national harmony, or is otherwise prohibited by applicable Singapore laws’ – was minimized or restricted (Lee, T. 2002b: 11). Although such a definition of ‘prohibited material’ clearly leaves much room for discretionary interpretation and should have been queried by the public, there was barely any discussion on the issue in Singapore. Instead, the move that sparked widespread interest and fear was a decision made in 1997 to block 100 pornographic sites via the proxy servers of mass Internet Service Providers (ISP) in Singapore (Lee and Birch 2000). To quell public disquiet, the government stressed that Singapore was fundamentally ‘technologyfriendly’, and that the online censorship was a moral gesture and not politically motivated (George 2003: 6; Tan, T.H. 2003: 15). The government’s demonstrated attempt to exercise political control over Internet content was unmistakeable when it passed further regulations that required content providers with ‘political messages’ to register with the Internet regulator (George 2002: 189). Sintercom managed to sidestep this directive by convincing the authorities that it was not a political site but a civic organization. But in July 2001 notice was again issued to Tan Chong Kee, Sintercom’s founder, to register as a site ‘engaged in the propagation, promotion or discussion of political issues relating to Singapore’ (Goh 2001). This time Tan responded by announcing that the arbitrariness of regulatory terms, especially in the definition of ‘political issues’, meant that he had no choice but to shut down. He then lamented that civil society in Singapore was a ‘lost cause’ (Tan, T.H. 2001).5 Determined to control online material, especially that which could spark antigovernment sentiments, the government passed fresh anti-electioneering laws prior to the general elections that same year (Tan, T.H. 2003: 15). As a preemptive measure, new communication tools like short messaging services (SMS) over mobile phones were also outlawed (Lee, T. 2002b: 16). In addition to regulatory measures, the government has also ‘authorized’ the Singapore police and other agencies to conduct regular checks on ISP accounts of public users. Since 1994, the year Internet subscription was introduced to the Singaporean public, several reports of police conducting mass scanning of subscribers’ emails and Internet accounts have appeared in the Straits Times (Lee, T. 2002b: 12–13). Although official explanations for these clandestine activities typically pertain to law enforcement and technical or systems security, the fear that Internet ‘snooping’ and general surveillance are common in Singapore makes it

22 Terence Lee necessary for all Singaporeans, including journalists and civil society activists, to toe the official line by self-regulating and self-censoring (see Gomez 2000). The result is that any democratic space in Singapore from which alternative online media can operate has been diminished. There is little doubt that regulatory measures, combined with policing actions that could be construed as scare tactics, have worked to rein in ‘contentious’ or ‘crusading’ journalism. Although the Singapore government has a reputation for periodically refining media regulations to suit its own political agenda and keep civil society under tight strictures (Rodan 2001: 26), alternative websites dedicated to ‘contentious journalism’ continue to appear – even flourish – on the Internet. As the Straits Times columnist Tan Tarn How reported, no less than three ‘underground political websites’ were set up in Singapore within the first nine months of 2003 alone (Tan, T.H. 2003: 15). These include The Optical (an information and newsgroup website), The Void Deck (a news and commentary site), and Singapore Review (an email-based news service provider). Other alternative websites that have continued to survive despite ongoing political pressures include New Sintercom, Think Centre, Singapore Window, TalkingCock.com and Sammyboy. Although Tan criticizes the lack of analytical content and journalistic professionalism on most of these websites, he acknowledges their growing popularity and potential impact on journalism and civil society when he notes that: Some [commentaries and writings] are ludicrous, but many are also intelligent and serious, evidently not just the musings of bored undergraduate geeks with no social life but people who seem to know what they are talking about. The websites are also becoming like Malaysiakini, Aliran and others across the Causeway, which have become the main vehicle for political opposition and dissident viewpoints. (Tan, T.H. 2003: 15)6 It is important to realize that these alternative websites continue to exist for various reasons. Most claim to promote civil society in Singapore, though some are overtly politically contentious while others appear to serve as conduits for candid discussions. Nevertheless, most editors protect themselves by operating under the cloak of anonymity, and many of these sites ‘inhabit a nebulous region of cyberspace without a fixed location’ to avoid falling foul of Singapore laws (Tan, T.H. 2001: 15). Indeed, none of the alternative sites referenced in this chapter have the geographical ‘sg’ suffix in their Internet addresses. Although it is technically possible for the authorities to track down the identities of the editors/operators of these sites and shut them down, such draconian measures are unlikely as they would damage the government’s technology-friendly reputation, and flout its promise to regulate the Internet with a ‘light touch’. In addition, media rhetoric in Singapore leading to the transfer of power from Goh Chok Tong to Lee Hsien Loong on 12 August 2004 had been about creating a ‘new’ Singapore marked by greater openness (Leo and Lee 2004). As the new Prime Minister (PM) declared in his swearing-in speech:

Going online: journalism and civil society in Singapore 23 We will continue to expand the space which Singaporeans have to live, laugh, to grow and be ourselves. Our people should feel free to express diverse views, pursue unconventional ideas, or simply be different. We should have the confidence to engage in robust debate, so as to understand our problems, conceive fresh solutions, and open up new spaces. (Lee, H.L. 2004b: 6) While it is unlikely that the new premier had alternative or crusading journalism on his mind when he articulated the above comments, it is likely that he would exercise a greater degree of tolerance for dissent, at least in the short term, to win popular support. It is nonetheless interesting to note, in analysing his speech, that some of the ‘unconventional ideas’ and ‘new spaces’ that allow Singaporeans to ‘live’, ‘laugh’ and ‘be themselves’ are already available – online. The next section will ‘go online’ to examine some of these sites, paying particular attention to the satirical and humorous TalkingCock.com which has captured the imaginations of many Singaporeans.

Spaces to live and laugh: talkingcock.com and other websites George argues for the inclusion of online media within journalistic discourse – as the fourth kind of journalism, after print, radio and television (Deuze 2003: 206) – as he sees alternative media as the ‘bearers of a genuine pedigree’ of old-style partisan newspapers which predated the corporatization and professionalization of contemporary media (George 2004: 11–12). More significantly, alternative online journalism embodies ‘a radical critique of mainstream journalism’ and offers a more democratic access to the public sphere (George 2004: 12). In this regard, alternative online journalism, especially that which enables candid and open discussions, enhances the role of civil society by being ‘dialogic’ and ‘interactive’ (Deuze 2003: 207). But, unlike commercial news corporations, which can draw on vast resources to produce a remarkable breadth of story types ranging from hard news, feature stories and columns to editorials and opinion pieces, alternative journalism providers in Singapore tend to feature commentaries and stories that have been reported by the mainstream media. Their innovations lie neither in breaking news nor on-site reporting, but in the publication of unadulterated letters and articles from readers, or the use of satirical or subversive humour, to outwit the conventionality of mainstream media. For instance, in lobbying for the rights of gays and lesbians, the website Yawning Bread shows how the Straits Times and Today (published by SPH and MediaCorp respectively) would publish letters dealing with homosexuality only after heavy editing (www.yawningbread.org). Sammyboy, another website which claims to circulate ‘Real Singapore News warts and all’ by publishing ‘what the Straits Times leaves out’, blends political commentary with links to explicit pornography in an effort to undermine the government’s rigidity on censorship (www. sammyboy.com). Similarly, The Void Deck purports to publish ‘worthy news’ on Singapore as well as points of view that cannot be found in ‘other’ media

24 Terence Lee (www.thevoiddeck.org). As its ‘manifesto’ declares, using Singaporean lingo and ‘web-speak’: [The Void Deck] is about the goings-on [sic] of the Internet regarding Singapore issues both close and not so close to our heart . . . Think of us as a one-stopshop. Just don’t think of us as a news website like Channel NewsAsia. We are not that kind of website. Therefore, please don’t expect us to do daily updates [because] worthy news doesn’t happen daily. www.thevoiddeck.org/manifesto.htm In comparing itself with mainstream media, The Void Deck seeks to portray itself as an independent news provider and political commentator by ‘once in a while pretending to be like Straits Times editors and write our own column articles’ (www.thevoiddeck.org/manifesto.htm). These so-called ‘column articles’, written in colloquial Singlish, Singapore’s hybrid brand of English interspersed with Malay and other local dialects, are typically critical of day-to-day issues and changes in government policies. For example, the ‘editorial’ of 5 October 2004 complained about ever-increasing electricity rates with the statement: ‘Few months ago, Sg (Singapore) had a massive blackout [due to bad] service, and they have the nerve to increase the cost of power?’ (www.thevoiddeck.org). Although such comments may appear mundane to most people, attempts to link current affairs with recent and past occurrences have the effect of ensuring political accountability and contextualizing issues to enhance public discussions. While mainstream websites like Asiaone and Channel NewsAsia.com display their commercial imperatives by establishing navigational links mainly within their portals, most alternative websites tend to provide hyperlinks to other similar sites. George likens this to the formation of a social-cum-civil-society network which brings together political parties, civic groups and individuals within ‘the same ideological boat’ for the purposes of exchanging ideas and providing mutual moral support (George 2003: 7). The Void Deck, for example, hosts a column called ‘What others are saying’ which provides links to noteworthy commentaries on other alternative websites (www.thevoiddeck.org). Likewise, Singapore Window features a compendium of news articles and commentaries on Singapore politics by established publications that are likely to be banned or unavailable in Singapore (www.singapore-window.org). Although there is little doubt that the presence of alternative online journalism in Singapore continues to counteract the hegemony of government-endorsed mainstream news, it is less certain that these unofficial sites can remain sustainable for the long haul. Averaging a mere 2,000 regular subscribers or viewers, the operators of newsgroup sites like The Optical and Singapore Review may, in due course, find it more pragmatic to exit the scene – in the same way as the original Sintercom succumbed (Lee, T. 2002a: 112) – unless a successful formula to sustain readership and financial viability can be found (Chin 2003: 141). Colin Goh, a former lawyer and cartoonist, appeared to have found a workable formula in 2000 when he created the alternative website TalkingCock.com, branded as ‘Singapore’s premier satirical humour website’. The hybridized Singaporean

Going online: journalism and civil society in Singapore 25 term ‘talking cock’, with its roots in the English phrase ‘cock and bull’, means ‘to spout nonsense’. In its Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) sub-page, the editorin-chief – probably Goh, who is known on the irreverent site as ‘Big Cock’ – explains the mission of the site: TalkingCock.com is a satirical feature site for Singaporeans, i.e. we write articles which poke fun at local events and happenings. However, it doesn’t mean we write just nonsense (funny though that may be). Satire is always rooted in reality. Which is why even though we are a humorous site, we try to adhere to professional journalistic principles. This helps us to avoid or lessen the impact of defamation suits from people with thin skins. Ultimately, what we want to do is build a community of Singaporeans with a sense of humour and who enjoy life in all its complexity. www.talkingcock.com (accessed 20 March 2004) By presenting itself as a purely satirical site, and concurrently issuing various disclaimers, TalkingCock.com sagaciously plays on legal ambiguities. This is intended, as the above quote explains, to minimize political risks and avoid lawsuits ‘from people with thin skins’, an oblique reference to politicians who are either litigious or overtly sensitive to criticisms. Although the claim of trying to ‘adhere to professional journalistic principles’ is intended as a joke, TalkingCock.com should nonetheless be seen as a journalistic site that provides commentaries on everyday life in Singapore, albeit in a tongue-in-cheek manner, not unlike The Void Deck. In other words, TalkingCock.com aims to create mediated spaces to make Singaporeans ‘live’ and ‘laugh’ at themselves – and at their politicians. On 11 January 2004, TalkingCock.com posted a critique on DPM Lee’s model of ‘civic society’ and ‘constructive journalism’ five days after his speech at Singapore’s Harvard Club. Playfully entitled ‘Civil society groups debate debate rules’, the fictitious author Kway Kah Chng (or ‘chicken’s backside’) wrote about how an imaginary civic/civil society group ‘Singaporeans for Tolerant, Intelligent, Friendly Local Exchange and Debate’ (STIFLED) was denied a licence to congregate because it was deemed to be acting ‘against the public interest’. The article also ‘debated’ the meaning of ‘crusading journalism’ by citing a comment from an anonymous ‘person from the shadows’: ‘One could say the [mainstream] media already slants news coverage to campaign for the Gahmen’s [government’s] personal agendas’. In trying to simulate objectivity, it then declared that ‘the Singapore media is always unbiased [since] no reporter has ever been gagged or fired for not toeing the party line’. By adding humour, fictitious characters and fabricated events, TalkingCock.com delivers commentaries that are concomitantly ludicrous and cynical, a category grey enough to sidestep the shackles of media codes and political censorship. This potent formula, which combines satirical humour with astute political critique, has found favour with many Singaporeans, resulting in TalkingCock.com being labelled as The Onion of Singapore, and receiving positive profiles in international media including Time and The Economist magazines (Asohan 2003: 2; The Economist 2001).

26 Terence Lee

Conclusion: still going online The success of TalkingCock.com is an inspiring story for alternative online journalism in Singapore, but it is by no means reflective of the parlous state of civil society in Singapore (Lee, T. 2002a). Although the political courage and legal shrewdness of its founder-editor is a major factor behind the website’s thriving existence, its survival also has much to do with Goh’s entrepreneurial skills. By linking TalkingCock.com to Amazon.com’s ‘Honor System’ network, readers have the capacity to make direct and anonymous contributions to the site, thus bypassing restrictive rules governing social and political donations in Singapore. TalkingCock.com has also raised its profile by making a satirical film TalkingCock: The Movie (2000) and publishing The Coxford Singlish Dictionary (2002) to poke fun at the unintelligibility of Singlish. In 2003, Goh was ‘elevated’ to mainstream status when he took up an invitation to write a weekly column for Singapore’s Sunday Times (Straits Times Interactive 2003). Goh has also been commissioned by MediaCorp to contribute to the popular ‘Last Page’ of its best-selling weekly entertainment magazine 8 Days. The ‘mainstreaming’ of Colin Goh’s writings and talents may be interpreted as a process aimed at smoothing the ‘contentious’ and subversive edges of TalkingCock.com, but it also demonstrates that it is possible to operate, above board, a financially viable and intellectually stimulating alternative online journalism site in Singapore – although it should be noted that such unconventional ideas are rare. Such sites have the potential to create ‘new’ spaces to live and laugh, and reinvigorate civil society, though the extent to which they actually do so is a moot point. This chapter has provided an assessment of the state of online journalism in Singapore, with a focus on the approaches taken by key alternative new sites such as The Void Deck and Talkingcock.com. Despite the risks inherent in dispensing alternative news in a heavily policed and well-regulated society like Singapore, the bold democratic aspirations of some Singaporeans – including the creators of these sites as well as their readers – have meant that many such websites have been able to continue to add diversity to the media scene in Singapore. However, the lingering presence of arbitrary political markers and occasional amendments to media rules, coupled with the fleeting nature of websites, suggests that it is too early to conclude if alternative online media will continue to play the role of ‘crusading journalism’ in the future. This chapter concludes by positing that while the authorities will continue to make it difficult for these alternative online sites to function, by maintaining a tense climate of fear, the Internet will remain the prime site for democratic articulations and civil society in Singapore. In other words, people will continue to go online, but the form that such a democratic space will take is ‘open’ to further deliberation and development.

Notes 1 At the time of writing (August 2004), Singapore was preparing to introduce a new generic competition law to manage competition and fair trading. However, it was expected that

Going online: journalism and civil society in Singapore 27

2

3 4

5 6

this competition law would exclude key sectors such as telecommunications, electricity and the media on the rationale that these important industries are already regulated by their respective industry regulators (Lim and Wong 2004). AsiaOne is one of the most heavily visited web portals in Asia. It commands a page-view of 180 million and attracts three million visitors per month: www.asiaone.com/html/ aboutus.html. A separate Channel NewsAsia Chinese language site, catering to the Mandarin-speaking Chinese market, is available at www.cna.tv. After ten years of free access, Singapore Press Holdings introduced paid subscription to The Straits Times Interactive on 15 March 2005. Subscribers would receive a full and ‘beefed-up’ version of the news site. The AsiaOne news portal which carries a selection of news from the SPH’s stable of newspapers, including The Straits Times, remains free of chargs. Sintercom was revived anonymously in 2002 and renamed ‘The New Sintercom’: www.newsintercom.org. Founded in 1998, Malaysiakini (or ‘Malaysia Now’) is widely regarded as the most influential alternative online journalism site in the Southeast Asian region. See Chin (2003), or visit www.malaysiakini.com for more information. Aliran, based in Penang, is one of the oldest human rights non-governmental organizations in the region (George 2003: 7–8).

3

Changing connections The news media, the government and the people in China’s SARS epidemic Joyce Y.M. Nip

The Internet and mobile phones have spread to the extent that in some societies the majority of people possess the capability to send information to multiple recipients. The ease in broadcasting information has posed a challenge to the traditional monopoly of the mainstream media in the distribution channels of, among others, news information. Individual citizens can now record events with miniature video cameras, digital cameras or mobile phones with virtually no training. This poses a challenge to the news media, whose teams of professional journalists have traditionally monopolized news gathering. How these challenges play out in different societies varies according to political, economic, cultural, geographical and technological conditions. This study of the SARS (severe acute respiratory syndrome) epidemic in China in 2003 found that the role of the mainstream news media was eclipsed in Hong Kong by citizen news channels and government news sites. In other parts of China, Taiwan excluded, the role of the mainstream news media in public information was strengthened as the government decided to use them to counteract citizen news, which the government also tried to censor by using new information technology. The governments in both mainland China and Hong Kong have emerged as more dominant news sources as a result of their use of new information technology to monitor the events.

Government and news The choice of news sources in journalistic reports directly determines whose voices are heard through the news media. In societies where the survival of the government relies on the support of the electorate, the manipulation of the news media by governments has become a central part of politics (Cockerell et al. 1985; Johnson and Dyson 2003; Kellner 1983; Maltese 1992; Palmer 2000; Tulloch 1993). Studies have found that officials, particularly those in the executive, are the most used news sources (Bennett 1990; Brown et al. 1987; Gans 1979; Sigal 1973; Tuchman 1978; Whitney et al. 1989), and that government institutions dominate the representation of events in news (Broadbent 1993; Gitlin 1980; Molotch and Lester 1975; Williams 1993). In dictatorial societies, where the governments are not democratically elected,

Changing connections: news media in China’s SARS epidemic

29

the news media are often directly controlled or censored. As a result, news always presents events in the officially sanctioned perspective, and often fails to report important events considered undesirable. Studying liberal democratic societies, Molotch and Lester (1981), in a typology of the categorization of events, conceived the role of the government in news as being the effecter or promoter. Palmer (2000) has criticized this typology as attaching meaning only to the act of labelling the events, but allowing no role for their intrinsic meaning. Government as actor, monitor or respondent in events Taking reference from that, I propose to conceive the role of the government in events as the actor, monitor or respondent. The government is the event actor when it moves policies or enacts changes. The government is the event monitor when it, while not being the prime actor, possesses abundant information about the event because it has the resources and interest to do so. The government is the respondent when some other agent enacts the event in which the government is not too interested. The role of the government in events is independent of its role as a news source, although the role in events is likely to have implications on how effective the role of the news source is enacted. When the government is the event actor, for example, it possesses information considered most newsworthy, which probably enables it to play the role of the news source – whichever it decides to be – more effectively. The government’s effectiveness as a news source is likely to be lower when it is an event monitor, and least so when it is an event respondent. Government source as suppressor, facilitator or spinner The role of the government in information dissemination to the news media could be conceived as the suppressor, facilitator or spinner. When the government does not want to see the event being reported as news, it plays the role of suppressor. It plays the role of facilitator when it provides the information needed for making an event into news in a neutral manner. The government plays the role of the spinner when it steers the making of news towards a particular representation of the event. New information technologies, in giving citizens the means to record events and disseminate information, are changing the relationships among government, the mainstream news media and the people. The news media could gather news more independently of government. Portable satellite phones and the Internet enable journalists to broadcast live from the heart of war zones. The bypassing of the control of the military communications office has led some to suggest the notion of ‘the no spin zone’ (Jukes 2002: 15). The news media may be more able to diversify news sources, using records of events supplied by citizens. For example, photographs of the abuse of Iraqi prisoners by US soldiers shown in the mainstream news media are believed to have been taken with a digital camera by soldiers or government contractors (Simon 2004). Of course, the news media use websites, emails and mobile phone text messages to disseminate news information.

30 Joyce Y.M. Nip On the other hand, citizens are competing with the mainstream news media both in news gathering and publishing. The Clinton–Lewinsky scandal was first reported on citizen websites before it was followed by the mainstream news media. Among the alternative news publishers are governments themselves. Many use websites or other electronic interfaces to make official information available to the citizens. For instance, the full report by Kenneth Starr on the Clinton– Lewinsky relationship and President Clinton’s testimony were first released on the Internet. Research questions and context How does new information technology impact on the dissemination of news information? What implications does the impact have on the mainstream news media? Informed by the concepts proposed above, this chapter seeks to investigate these questions using the case of the SARS epidemic in China in 2003. SARS was an exemplary news event in which one news source – the government – possessed the most information. It offered a scenario which magnified the reliance of the news media on the news source. If the citizens could erode the monopoly of news of the mainstream media in the SARS epidemic, it can be expected that in other news scenarios, where the sources of information are more diversified, the monopoly of the mainstream news media would be eroded to an even greater extent. News reports archived in the Wisenews database,1 supplemented by SARS updates issued by the World Health Organization (WHO) and the LexisNexis database, of the epidemic in China from 15 November 2002 to 10 July 2003 form the main source of data. The discussion of China in this chapter is limited to the People’s Republic of China, which includes Hong Kong as a special administrative region. Taiwan, known formally as the Republic of China, is excluded. Hong Kong, after 150 years of British colonial rule, reverted to Chinese sovereignty in 1997 under the ‘one country, two systems’ arrangement that promised the continuation of a capitalist system and guaranteed human rights and citizen freedoms. Mainland China, across the border north of Hong Kong, practises a form of communism that advocates the control of the media by the Communist Party/government and prioritizing economic advance over civilian or political developments. In both mainland China and Hong Kong, the government administers the major hospitals and therefore should have been in a position to have the best knowledge about the extent of the SARS epidemic. Apart from the government, another important source of news was the World Health Organization, which, after the initial outbreak, had taken up a coordinating role in monitoring the spread, research and cure of the virus. Individual hospitals and doctors and nurses would have been useful sources for details on the front line and on a local scale. Other individual citizens outside the medical profession, however, were not expected to be useful sources of news, except when their family members, colleagues or schoolmates contracted the virus.

Changing connections: news media in China’s SARS epidemic

31

Government directed SARS news reporting in mainland China On 16 November 2002 a man was admitted to a hospital in Foshan City in China’s southern province, Guangdong, with cough and fever symptoms. He was later identified as the first SARS patient (WHO 2003). On 15 December two patients showing similar symptoms were admitted to a hospital in Heyuan City in the same province, causing such alarm that doctors and nurses were sent from several major hospitals in the provincial capital, Guangzhou, on 2 January 2003 (South Nation Morning Post 2003). My search found that the first news report about the disease appeared on 3 January 2003.2 This article, ‘News of unknown disease caused Heyuan citizens’ panic buying of antibiotics’ (Ram City Evening News 2003a), was followed by a similar report on 5 January (New Express 2003a). The ‘news’ referred to was not what the mainstream news media reported, but what individual citizens learned through interpersonal means. A more aggressive report, ‘Pneumonia of unknown cause attacks Zhongshan [another city in Guangdong]; experts say nothing to fear’, appeared on 17 January (New Express 2003b). The Zhongshan City Hospital’s respiratory division was reported as saying that 12 patients with ‘pneumonia of unknown cause’ had been admitted to the hospital since 2 January; the official Zhongshan City Disease Prevention and Control Centre’s director was quoted as saying that the disease had alerted higher-level officials; therefore experts from the Guangdong Province Disease Prevention and Control Centre had arrived to investigate. A report published in the Ram City Evening News (2003b), ‘“Zhongshan plagued by infectious disease” is rumour’, two days later focused only on the official notice issued jointly by three medical authorities in Zhongshan. This signalled the beginning of official censorship on reporting the epidemic. Government banned SARS news The Guangdong health authorities reported the disease to the Guangdong government on 21 January 2003, but it was not until 11 February that the government warned the public to take precautions (Ram City Evening News 2003c). Guangdong authorities later admitted that they did not want concerns about the disease to cut into people’s spending during the Chinese New Year holiday at the end of January (Pomfret 2003). Newspaper editors said the provincial party secretary, Zhang Dejiang, had banned the news media from reporting the disease (Pomfret 2003). As a result, in the three months between the first SARS case and the Guangdong official news announcements, only a handful of news reports mentioned the disease. SMS fills the information gap The official cover-up had not stopped unofficial news from spreading. There were successive waves of panic buying of medical products thought to combat SARS.

32 Joyce Y.M. Nip After Heyuan, Zhongshan City saw a wave of panic buying of antibiotics in midJanuary (Contemporary Life Post 2003). Over the Chinese New Year holiday, by the first week of February, unofficial news about the disease reached the provincial capital, Guangzhou, 86 kilometres from Zhongshan. Guangdong Mobile Communication reported that its short text messaging system (SMS) sent out 40 million messages to its mobile phone subscribers on 8 February, 41 million messages on 9 February, and 45 million on 10 February (Spring City Evening News 2003). As shops ran out of the demanded antibiotics and vinegar (said to prevent respiratory diseases), by 10 February panic buying had spilled over from Guangzhou to Shenzhen, the southernmost city in mainland China that borders Hong Kong (Spring City Evening News 2003). Unofficial news of mixed veracity about the killer disease spread to the extent that the Guangzhou City government and the Guangdong Province Board of Health held two separate news conferences on 11 February to try to quell the panic (Spring City Evening News 2003). News reporting reappeared under government direction It was the first time for many years that the Guangzhou government had announced news about an infectious disease (Ram City Evening News 2003f). At the news conference, broadcast live on television (Spring City Evening News 2003), the Guangdong Province Board of Health announced that 305 people in the province had been infected by atypical pneumonia (as SARS has been commonly called in China), five of whom had died, and that the disease was under initial control (Ram City Evening News 2003d). On the day of the news conferences, stories that reported the existence of the disease alongside official rebuke of ‘rumours’ appeared in some of the provincial and regional newspapers in China. The fact that the news media reported the disease on the same day as the official news conferences did not imply that the media had broken official censorship. In fact the reports only went ahead with the permission of the provincial governor, Huang Huahua, believed to be an ally of the incoming president, Hu Jintao, whereas the provincial party chief, Zhang, was considered an ally of the outgoing president, Jiang Zemin. Despite the apparent openness, orders were issued to the news media to publish articles that reported the disease was under control (McGregor 2003). The wave of news reports in the days that followed focused on four themes: (1) the disease under control and life as usual, (2) the chronology of events related to the disease, (3) the government crackdown on merchants who profiteered from the products said to help, and (4) the reasons for the widespread rumours. This was called ‘a week-long open period for the media in Guangdong province’ (Pomfret 2003), due to the analytical reporting pieces that cited academics and official deputies in suggesting that the lack of official information had caused the spread of rumours. My search did not find any news report that queried the official version that the disease was under control, but the Washington Post reported that the Southern Metropolitan News published a piece on 6 March that contradicted the

Changing connections: news media in China’s SARS epidemic

33

government line. The piece was said to have enraged the Guangdong party secretary, Zhang Dejiang, who forced the paper to pull its reporter from Beijing and threatened to shut the paper down (Pomfret 2003).

Government of Hong Kong withheld information In Hong Kong, the first news reports about the disease appeared on 4 January 2003, in the wake of the Ram City Evening News report the previous day. At this stage, reports about the disease were sourced from mainland Chinese news outlets. As in mainland China, the denial by the Zhongshan authorities was reported without question in Hong Kong. It was not until 10 February, the day before the Guangdong official announcement, that the disease was reported in Hong Kong papers again. After the official news conferences, news reporting in Hong Kong took on a local perspective. Cases of Hong Kong people who caught pneumonia after visiting China started appearing from time to time in papers, along with reports that questioned the hospitals’ handling of the patients and the adequacy of information exchange between the Guangdong and Hong Kong governments about diseases. News media pressed reluctant government for information On 12 March 2003 the Hong Kong government finally announced that ten medical workers in the Prince of Wales Hospital had shown symptoms of atypical pneumonia, and the hospital would stop being used as a teaching hospital. From that time on, atypical pneumonia dominated the news agenda in Hong Kong. The Hong Kong government’s admission also prompted the WHO to issue a global alert on acute atypical pneumonia that night (WHO 2003). The delayed announcement of the Prince of Wales outbreak caused a public outcry, with claims of a cover-up on the part of the hospital and the Hong Kong government. Indeed, by then new cases of the virus had been found in Vietnam, Singapore, Taiwan and Canada, with the majority of the cases in Hong Kong. From 14 March, the Hong Kong government started announcing the number of SARS cases among medical workers at individual hospitals every day. Dr Yeoh Eng-kiong, the Secretary for Health, Welfare and Food, also called daily press briefings. However, the reluctance to admit the existence of a problem was obvious when the health chief insisted on 15 March that Hong Kong was safe on the same day that WHO named the new disease SARS and issued a global warning about it. A press conference called by Dr Yeoh on 17 March made no mention that SARS had been contracted in the community. Until then the public only knew that medical workers and medical students had been infected. The official version of ‘no outbreak in the community’ caused an uproar when the dean of the medical school of the Chinese University, which uses the Prince of Wales as a teaching hospital, called an urgent press conference that night to announce more than ten SARS patients in the hospital had been admitted from the community.

34 Joyce Y.M. Nip The government eventually confirmed on 19 March – after being asked by the news media for days – that five people in Hong Kong had died from SARS and 145 had contracted the virus. But the government refused to tell whether the SARS patients had visited mainland China (Ming Pao 2003a). News media used non-government sources to press action from government The government’s failure to curb the spread of the epidemic drew increasing public criticism which was widely reported. As SARS continued to spread, the news pages were filled with analytical pieces, citing proposals by legislative council members and various community leaders for possible measures that could curb the outbreak, and pressing the government to respond. The Health Department announced on 26 March that 14 people from five families in one housing estate, Amoy Gardens, were suspected to have contracted SARS, and acknowledged for the first time that SARS had spread to the community. By 30 March, Amoy Gardens’ residents made up 23 per cent of the total 530 SARS patients. Under much public pressure, the government eventually enforced an isolation order on one block of the housing estate the following day. Politicians as well as members of the public were widely cited in news reports, demanding the release of the residential and work addresses of SARS patients, which the government again refused to do. On 10 April the government announced that five residents of a housing estate adjacent to Amoy Gardens, Telford Gardens, had contracted SARS in the previous ten days. Dissatisfaction from various quarters over the belated announcement was abundantly reported. Instead of meeting the public need for more information, the government was giving less. From 27 March only an aggregate figure for infected medical workers – no more breakdowns – was announced. When reporters sought figures from individual hospitals, only a few cooperated (Ming Pao 2003b). On 4 April, the health chief broke his promise for daily briefings. Criticism about the government’s lack of transparency eventually brought back the daily briefing on 7 April, although it was then held by a more junior official (Ming Pao 2003b). Citizen news sites filled vacuum of official information Two separate websites – ‘sosick.org’ and ‘larusso.net’ (which later migrated to www.endlessbattles.com) – were started on 31 March by computer-savvy citizens to list the names of the buildings where SARS patients lived and worked, among other information. The sites enjoyed immediate success. Between 31 March and 2 April ‘sosick.org’ recorded 200,000 hits (sosick.org 2003); by 12 April ‘larusso.net’ had recorded around 15,000 visitors every day3 (personal correspondence, 18 April 2003). ‘sosick.org’ recorded 1.8 million hits between 2 April and 11 April (sosick.org 2003). The unofficial lists on the Internet eventually forced the government to release the official list of infected buildings on the Department of Health’s website on 12 April, with the promise of a daily update.

Changing connections: news media in China’s SARS epidemic

35

Open information in mainland China? In mainland China, news about atypical pneumonia had dwindled to merely a few reports by the end of February, as the propaganda bureau under the Guangdong provincial party chief, Zhang Dejiang, reimposed the media ban on 23 February (Pomfret 2003). A nationwide ban on negative news was imposed in early March to ensure that no negative news distracted the nation’s attention from the legislative session of China’s national legislature, the National People’s Congress (Pomfret 2003). News readers could only guess that SARS was not ‘under effective control’ – as the Health Minister told the WHO representative in China on 19 March (New Express 2003d; Ram City Evening News 2003h) – from news reports about the WHO travel advisory issued on 15 March. The reports, while covering the spread of SARS in other parts of the world and increasing figures of infection in Hong Kong and Taiwan, failed to mention mainland China. WHO issued a specific travel advisory on 2 April against non-essential travel to Guangdong and Hong Kong. It was the most stringent travel advisory issued by WHO in its 55-year history, but it was not reported in any mainland Chinese news media. It was inconceivable that the news media did not know of the advisory as it was immediately and widely reported in the news in Hong Kong, where many mainland Chinese news organizations had correspondents. The non-reporting resulted from official censorship. A Guangdong official admitted that the Guangdong media had been asked to report more positive aspects of the outbreak (Lee, E. 2003). Guangdong journalists confirmed that officials had tightly limited the reporting on SARS and demanded that articles be approved by government propaganda departments (Dickie 2003). Likewise in Beijing a few days later, health officials instructed the media to highlight the efforts and risks of doctors and nurses in fighting the disease in their news reports (Agence France Presse 2003a). The news media had to wait until the State Council Information Office held an international news conference on 3 April to report heavily on the disease again – but still only on China’s cooperation with WHO investigations. At the news conference, the Chinese Minister of Health, Zhang Wenkang, contradicted WHO’s advice by making assurances that China was safe for visitors, while reporting 1,190 SARS cases up to 31 March. A retired chief of surgery at a Beijing military hospital, Dr Jiang Yanyong, was so infuriated by the low figure announced that he wrote an email to the official China Central Television and the Hong Kong-based Phoenix Satellite Television, which mainly targets a mainland Chinese audience. Neither of them followed up his email, but it was leaked to Time magazine (Pomfret 2003), which published it on its news website on 8 April (Jakes 2003). Dr Jiang said doctors in a hospital in Beijing told him of more than 60 cases of SARS, including seven fatalities. This was five times the official figure. He also revealed that the Ministry of Health had forbidden hospital personnel to announce the true figures. The news prompted WHO to seek access to the military hospitals, which were then found to be excluded from the Ministry of Health figures, because military hospitals fell outside the government’s jurisdiction. Around the same time, the premier, Wen

36 Joyce Y.M. Nip Jiabao, visited the Centre for Disease Prevention and Control on 7 April, and was reported to have criticized the military, headed by outgoing President Jiang Zemin, for not reporting the SARS figures. Doctors like Jiang, who could have been unofficial news sources for the news media, were daring exceptions. Most doctors and nurses were too intimidated to speak out. None of the eight hospitals contacted by the Agence France Presse talked (2003a). News reporting selectively permitted under new government position Under mounting international pressure, Premier Wen Jiabao called an emergency meeting of the State Council on 13 April (Pomfret 2003: 13). This was followed by the President and Communist Party Chair, Hu Jintao, chairing an extraordinary session of the Standing Committee of the Communist Party Politburo on 17 April. The Politburo meeting issued a statement on state television, ordering officials of all levels to faithfully report the extent of the epidemic to the public regularly and without delay (Ma et al. 2003). The Chinese State Council Information Office held another international news conference on 20 April, this time chaired by Deputy Health Minister Gao Qiang. (The Health Minister, Zhang Wenkang, and the Beijing mayor, Meng Xuenong, were fired from their posts in the Communist Party the same day.) It was announced that by 18 April confirmed SARS cases had totalled 1,807 nationwide, and Beijing figures had jumped dramatically to 339. To combat the spread of SARS, the week-long May Day holiday would be cancelled, and SARS figures were to be announced every day instead of every five days. From 25 April, Beijing SARS Prevention and Cure Joint Task Force held regular news conferences to update the SARS situation (Beijing Daily 2003b). The position of the central government opened the gate for news reporting nationwide. From 18 April an avalanche of news reports about SARS flooded the Chinese news media. The main themes, however, were the work being done by the government, calls on united efforts to fight the disease, and reports by WHO or other countries about the spread of the disease. Criticism or questioning of the official efforts or their version of events was absent. On 23 April, WHO issued a travel advisory to Beijing; again it was not carried in any news outlet the following day. Instead, the Communist Party mouthpiece, the People’s Daily, published an interview conducted on 22 April with a WHO investigator, in which he expressed satisfaction with China’s cooperation (People’s Daily 2003). News dispatches issued by the Xinhua News Agency on 24 April reported SARS figures released by WHO on 23 April, but failed to mention the travel advisory issued on that same day (Beijing Daily 2003a; This Evening Post 2003). Negative news continued to be suppressed. The travel advisory, however, was reported in Hong Kong newspapers.

The impact of new information technology on news dissemination During the SARS epidemic, the government started as an event monitor and then became an event actor. As a news source, both the governments in mainland

Changing connections: news media in China’s SARS epidemic

37

China and in Hong Kong started as suppressor and later took on the additional roles of spinners. Enabling citizens as news sources and publishers The lack of information in the mainstream news from government sources turned the citizens themselves into news sources for each other. Given the customary reliance of the mainstream media on elite sources, this unofficial news used channels outside the mainstream news media for distribution. A survey among Shenzhen City residents found that before the Guangdong official press conferences on 10 February, 80 per cent of people obtained news about atypical pneumonia from SMS and the Internet (Ram City Evening News 2003e). By early April the volume of SARS-related postings on the electronic bulletin board of Shanghai’s Fudan University had prompted school officials to set up a board just for that topic (Kuhn 2003). Dr Jiang Yanyong’s statement released to the news media was never reported in any mainland Chinese media, but was widely circulated by email and posted on electronic bulletin boards in universities (Sautedé 2003). Similarly in Hong Kong, visitors to the ‘sosick.org’ and ‘larusso.net’ sites were not mere consumers, but also sources. They reported SARS news to the web masters, and fed back mistakes that they detected on the sites. Enabling the government to be news publisher The enabling effect of new information channels does not apply to citizens alone, but also governments. On 1 April, China’s Disease Prevention and Control Centre published its Prevention and Cure Guidelines for SARS on the Internet. In early April, the Shanghai municipal government announced an official website for providing daily updates of measures to tackle SARS (Wen Wei Po 2003). In Hong Kong, the Department of Health created a special site that provided daily updates of SARS information. It became an authoritative source of information for the news media as well as the citizens. Where the citizens can access the same information as the news media, the role of the latter as an intermediary between the government and its citizens is undermined. Enhancing dominance of government sources New information technology has enabled the governments both in mainland China and Hong Kong to strengthen their roles as event monitors, and therefore improve the effectiveness of their roles as news sources. In Beijing an intranet was built on 22 April for the district disease prevention and control centres and hospitals to report SARS updates to the Beijing Municipality Disease Prevention and Control Centre (Beijing Daily 2003a). Shanxi Province, also named by WHO with Beijing on 23 April in its travel advisory, built a SARS command and information system where top-level officials could hold meetings with and give instructions to subordinates through a broadband video link (China Electronic Post

38 Joyce Y.M. Nip 2003). Ministry of Health officials were able to keep in close contact with its medical staff through 500 mobile phones donated with pre-paid phone cards by China Liangtong Telecom and Korea’s SK Telecom (Communications Industry 2003). In Hong Kong, a strategic computer system used by the police for tracking the contacts of criminals was employed to trace the contacts of SARS patients. Information supplied by the mainland Chinese government was considered valuable enough for private companies to volunteer publishing it. In late May a private company provided a free keyword search service to the website of the official Beijing Municipality Disease Prevention and Control Centre (China Industrial and Commercial Times 2003). A number of newspapers and news websites provided free updates of government measures and epidemic information through SMS (Information Daily 2003; Liberation Daily 2003). In Hong Kong, a mobile phone company used government information on a location-based technology to offer its subscribers free text updates of buildings where SARS patients had stayed during the past ten days within a one-kilometre radius of the caller (Kwok 2003). A particular case of the free service used by the Hong Kong government for publishing its information was found on April Fools’ Day, when a 14-year-old boy posted a fake news report on the web claiming that Hong Kong had been declared an infectious port. The fake report, posted on a web address similar to that of a respected local newspaper, Ming Pao, and decorated with the logo and web frame copied from the paper’s website, caused panic buying of daily groceries until a few hours later all the mobile phone operators in Hong Kong together sent a total of six million text messages from the government to every mobile phone subscriber to deny the rumour. In Hong Kong the extensive use of non-government news sources in mainstream news during SARS partly arose because little information was available from the government, and partly because the government was perceived as powerless in handling the situation. Even in the period when the list of infected buildings was demanded, the content of the lists posted on the citizen SARS news sites was not reported in the mainstream news, and was reported only once in comparison to the official list when the latter was made available. After enjoying their initial successes, the citizen sites quickly lost their audiences when the official website listed the infected buildings. From 13 April, the four pages on atypical pneumonia on the Health Department website had each recorded around 350,000 page views a day. On the other hand, ‘larusso.net’ recorded only around 4,000 visitors a day in the five days between 17 and 22 April, far fewer than before. ‘sosick.org’ stopped its website postings on 20 April, leaving only its forum. Strengthening government control of citizen news Before the Communist Party became more candid in reporting SARS figures, chat room and online discussion group monitors used keyword filters or manually deleted postings containing the Chinese characters for atypical pneumonia (Kuhn 2003). Censorship did not stop even after the Politburo meeting on 17 April. The Jiangsu Province Public Security Department continued to monitor online

Changing connections: news media in China’s SARS epidemic

39

messages related to atypical pneumonia, and between 2 April and 1 May had checked 4,089 messages, deleted the bulk of them, and charged 39 people for using messages to spread rumours and harmful information (Hong Kong Economic Times 2003). By the first week of May, the Chinese government had arrested 107 people for spreading rumours related to SARS, according to the official Xinhua News Agency (Agence France Presse 2003b). SMS was able to disseminate information widely during the SARS epidemic only because the technology for filtering messages with Chinese keywords had not yet been developed. In June 2004, China’s Ministry of Public Security licensed China’s first SMS filtering system (Interfax 2004).

Conclusion The impact of new information technology works within the politics that governs the relationship between the government and the news media. In mainland China the initial suppression of news about SARS turned the people away from the mainstream media to citizen channels enabled by new information technology. The news disseminated through these channels came from the citizens themselves, who were either too intimidated to speak to the mainstream media or had no access to them. New information technology, however, enabled the government to filter and delete messages from online groups and chat rooms, and track the posters (the same filtering and tracking could now be applied to SMS) to control what could be disseminated. At the same time, the government became a more effective monitor of events, thanks to new information technology, and therefore a more dominant news source. Using new information technology, the government was able to bypass the news media to distribute information to the citizens directly. The enabling effect for the government applies to the government in Hong Kong as well as mainland China, but the government in Hong Kong did not use the technology to clamp down on the flow of information among citizens. New information channels were allowed full play without government interference: the citizen news websites provided the infrastructure for the citizens to contribute to a community pool of information. Citizens were free to contribute information without the fear of persecution. Implication for mainstream news media The mainland Chinese mainstream news media portrayed the unofficial SARS news in an entirely negative way, giving the impression that everything disseminated via SMS or the Internet was nothing but rumour. This perspective gave impetus for some quarters to call for greater freedom of information. Representatives to the Guangdong Province legislature were reported to have recommended the setting-up of a spokesperson system in government to release information (Ram City Evening News 2003g). Even the People’s Daily Eastern Edition (2003) called on the government to use the power of the mainstream media for releasing information more openly and fully.

40 Joyce Y.M. Nip When the government decided to and was able to release more accurate figures on the epidemic, the mainstream news media’s information role was strengthened. A survey among Guangzhou City residents on 12 February – after the Guangdong official news conferences – found that television had become the main provider of news about atypical pneumonia for 31.3 per cent of respondents, and newspapers for 13.4 per cent of respondents. The Internet was the main news provider for only 3.2 per cent of respondents. Interestingly, though, ‘friends and relatives’ were the most popular news provider (45.7 per cent) (Ram City Evening News 2003e). This contrasts with the survey in Shenzhen on 10 February – before the announcement – when 80 per cent of people learned about the disease from SMS and the Internet. In Hong Kong, the addition of the citizen news sites and the official websites had eclipsed the role of the mainstream news media as the provider of public information. The news media in Hong Kong did not report the content posted on the citizen SARS news sites, probably because of credibility concerns, but in effect helped attract visitors to the sites by reporting their existence. It is worth mentioning the global dimension introduced by the international news media, foreign governments and international organizations. China had come under international criticism for being slow to release statistics on SARS. On 4 April 2003 the United States embassy in Beijing paid for its non-emergency personnel and their dependants to leave China (Rosenthal and Altman 2003), after the former US President, George Bush, Snr, cancelled his visit to China; the Chinese government had to take the concerns from other countries seriously. As increased travelling brings countries in the world into a global health community, SARS was not a foreign news item that concerned China alone but also a home news item for many other countries. It was the international news media that first published the dissenting picture portrayed by Dr Jiang Yanyong, which prompted WHO to demand investigations, which in turn eventually forced China to report the true scale of the outbreak.

Notes 1 Wisenews is a news database covering 566 content providers in mainland China, Taiwan, Hong Kong and Macau, including the major national and regional papers, magazines and broadcast stations. 2 The manager of the database said all the news reports supplied to them by the content providers had been included, but some news reports referred to by other reports were missing in the database. Presumably the content providers had not supplied those reports to the database. 3 The web master of ‘larusso.net’ said the free counter service provided by www.digits .com used by the site did not count multiple hits generated from the same system in a row, so the counter number indicated visitor numbers.

4

International aid and the news sector in Cambodia Judith Clarke

Introduction Cambodia was the only communist country in the East and Southeast Asian region to change its form of government at the end of the Cold War. The 1991 Paris Peace Accords that ended the nation’s two decades of conflict provided for a democratic system. The terms of the Accords were implemented by the United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia (UNTAC) in the period leading up to the first general election in May 1993. These included promoting freedom for the emerging news sector. Unlike the Cold War model for developing nations, where the press and other media are commandeered in the name of unity and nation-building (e.g. Schramm 1964), press freedom was the intention from the start. The principle was enshrined in Cambodia’s 1993 Constitution as the news media themselves began to proliferate as never before. In order to encourage this development, the Western signatories of the Peace Accords and international organizations started to give aid to the news sector, mainly to fund training for journalists in professional skills and ethics, but also to some extent to provide expertise, equipment and technical help. This chapter examines this kind of aid in Cambodia, investigating what assistance is being given and how it is implemented, what training is being done and who is conducting it. It tries to assess how useful the training is and whether the forms of aid and the values it inculcates are appropriate for Cambodia.

Cambodia: history and the development of the news A striking characteristic of Cambodian society is the deep political rifts that divide it, a result of the extremes in its governments during the last half-century. After wresting peace from France in 1953, the then Prince Norodom Sihanouk ruled autocratically for 17 years, fending off challenges from the right and the left and himself dominating the news media. A right-wing government led by Lon Nol ousted him in 1970 and seemed ready to allow a freer press, but the growing insurgency mounted by the left-wing Khmer Rouge forced strict security measures, including curbs on the news. The Khmer Rouge won in 1975 and installed their vicious back-to-the-soil policies, abolishing all urban life, including the old news media. The Vietnamese army invaded in late 1978, pushing the

42 Judith Clarke Khmer Rouge across the border into Thailand, and set up a new administration, the People’s Republic of Kampuchea (PRK), later known as the State of Cambodia (SoC). The PRK’s news media system followed the Soviet model: a handful of newspapers and broadcasters all owned and run by the state or the ruling party, known since 1989 as the Cambodian People’s Party, CPP, and still in power today. During the 1980s the Khmer Rouge took refuge in Thailand along with the Khmer People’s National Liberation Front (KPNLF), a mainly right-wing group, and the Sihanoukists (who formed a group called FUNCINPEC, today the second most powerful party in Cambodia). They were supported by Western countries and ASEAN, who forced them into an uncomfortable resistance alliance. These groups’ media consisted of a few newsletters in Thailand and among overseas Khmer communities in France and the United States, though the United Nations set up a newspaper in the late 1980s in the refugee camps on the Thai border. After the 1991 Peace Accords Cambodians poured back from all round the world. With the bitter enmity between the political groups, great care had to be taken to ensure that the freedoms agreed on in Paris were properly nurtured. Under UNTAC, new newspapers started to appear, though mostly partyconnected. UNTAC set up its own radio station, which was highly effective in assuring Khmers of their freedom to vote and stimulating the more than 90 per cent turnout in 1993 (Zhou M. 1994). Once a reasonably safe environment was established, new media organizations appeared rapidly. In 1991 there had been only four newspapers, one radio station, one television station and one news agency, all part of SoC or the CPP. By 1993 the number of news organizations rose to about 20, with other parties, old and new, participating. By mid-1994 there were about 50; and when the second general election took place in 1998, more than 200 print publications were registered with the Ministry of Information, a situation that remains the same today. Many on the list are dormant or defunct, but about 30 different newspapers appear with some regularity, and about ten broadcasters remain active. Audiences are limited. Most newspapers have a circulation in the low thousands or even less and are available in urban areas only, and most broadcast transmitters only reach city dwellers, though the government stations have the wider capability of the old nationwide state broadcast system, which is being updated and extended. Given the lack of professional staff and equipment at the time of the peace agreements, and the primitiveness of the available technology, the abundance of news media organizations attests to Cambodians’ ingenuity and their desire for freedom of expression. In these circumstances, it is hardly surprising that opinions were often articulated in a raw and unconstrained manner. Blunt outspokenness and crude criticism have led to libel actions and government retaliation, varying from tickings-off by the ministries or even prime ministers to criminal charges that result in confiscation of the publication or imprisonment (Rich 2000: 34). These latter punishments are allowed under the 1995 Press Law. Moreover, six journalists died in suspicious circumstances between the opening of the news media in 1992 and 1997, the latter being the point at which the political situation

International aid and the news sector in Cambodia 43 stabilized after the CPP ousted its government partner FUNCINPEC from their joint government. Today there is a stable group of efficient, more or less modern newspapers, some owning their own printing presses, that run on commercial lines and attract regular advertising (The Mirror 2004). They still support political parties, including the opposition Sam Rainsy Party (SRP), but the fact that opposing opinions can be expressed is an achievement for the free press policy. The broadcast media are not so diverse, being dominated by the CPP with a recent renewed foothold for FUNCINPEC. One independent radio broadcaster has established himself and is very popular, but the SRP has never been given a licence. Cambodia has remained democratic and plural despite its deep poverty. The latest report by the World Bank cites gross national income per capita in 2002 as only US$280, one of the lowest in East Asia and the Pacific, with 36 per cent of Cambodia’s 12.5 million residents living below the poverty level. The country had a total external debt of nearly US$3 billion (World Bank Group 2004: 98). The World Bank is trying to encourage foreign direct investment, but the figure slumped from $230 million in 1998 to $113 million in 2001 (World Bank Group 2004: 3). The economic situation remains critical and aid will be essential for survival for a long time to come.

‘News aid’ The end of the Cold War produced a new set of parameters for international assistance. Previously aid had been a tool in the competition between the superpowers to win the allegiance of Third World countries, but former Soviet Union countries and their Eastern European allies now became aid recipients themselves. This new atmosphere allowed donors to pay more attention to ensuring the effective use of their donations. As part of this effort, they encouraged ‘good governance’ to provide the kind of stable and orderly society that would maximise the efficacy of their projects. This has been particularly so in the Asian region since the financial crisis of 1997, when it became clear that assistance had earlier been supplied to the nations of the region without enough regard to responsibility in its use. The existence of legitimate channels for the expression of a plurality of opinions is crucial for the development of responsible democratic rule according to the Western model, and the Western nations have ploughed funds into the news sector in the former Soviet Union, Eastern Europe and the developing world. Hume (2004: 19) says that the United States has invested more than $600 million in media aid since 1989, most of it overseas. Much of this went to the former Soviet empire in Europe and Central Asia, which is now the focus of Western aid-giving. The experience being gained there about aiding the news industry has spread to the traditional recipients of support in the developing world. While governments still provide funds, non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and international organizations have become increasingly prominent as implementers of projects. NGOs have proliferated. The Economist (2000) cites a

44 Judith Clarke 1995 UN report that counted 25,000 international NGOs and vast numbers of domestic ones, the figure in America being about 2 million and in Russia, where none existed before 1991, about 65,000. A report by the British Council (1999) on aid to the media listed in Europe alone 18 funding agencies and 64 organizations, including universities, that were working in media training or in an advisory capacity. Some governments still provide news aid directly. This includes the Danish Foreign Ministry, through its aid arm Danida, the French foreign and culture ministries and AusAID of Australia. Some provide indirect aid, like the German government’s donations via the various political party foundations such as the Konrad Adenauer Foundation. In the United States, the Agency for International Development (USAID) ran its own professional media programme from 1995 to 1999 but then became mainly a funder for NGOs such as ProMedia, run by the International Research and Exchange Board (IREX), a non-profit organization, and many others. NGOs now dominate the US news aid sector. Private donors also fund programs with George Soros’s Open Society Institute probably the biggest private donor of all. In the UK, the most prominent NGOs are run by the news media themselves: the BBC, the Reuters Foundation and the Thomson Foundation. As for international organizations, the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) has been the leader. This organization, which headed the campaign for a ‘new world information order’ in the 1970s, remains the champion of press freedom in developing nations. Much good has come of these programmes. Becker and Lowrey’s (2000) examination of the Knight International Press Fellowship Program, which has sent American journalists to serve as trainers all over the world since 1994, found that in general the Knight Fellows had a positive impact on individual journalists and institutions in the host countries, especially where they had more contact with students. Hume (2004: 9) refers to success in ‘the training and empowerment of thousands of journalists, the establishment of numerous television and radio networks, the resurrection and creation of newspapers and, in some countries, the toppling of corrupt governments due to reporting that was unimaginable before 1989’. Yet there are many problems. The Economist (2000) examines NGOs in general and lists the following difficulties. They may try to please donors more than recipients, or become self-seeking, extending projects for their own good rather than handing over to locals and bowing out; they may fall into bad ways because they are accountable to no one, and may propagate Western values and their own ideas without debate; they may operate in too narrow an area and lose sight of the bigger picture; they may conflict with other aid providers; their Western personnel may alter local market situations and create resentment because of their relative wealth; and they may even challenge the sovereignty of local governments. NGOs dealing with news aid are no exception. Hume (2004: 27) says problems occur because of the lack of democratic culture in recipient nations, and that media development ‘has also been hindered by competitiveness, overlap, incompetence and turf wars’. She has found that US donors compete with each other, citing

International aid and the news sector in Cambodia 45 one NGO official as saying too many want to take the lead rather than form coalitions. The matter of the principles behind donations to develop the news is also extremely sensitive. Froehlich (2000), writing about Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union, expresses concern about providing ‘Western’ media education, typifying it as ‘colonial’. She wonders too if the imposition of democratic measures may circumvent the learning process for democracy, which donors expect to take off immediately, despite its history of gradual development in Western Europe. Hamilton and Krimsky (1998: 87) comment on the many journalism aid workers, mostly American, behind the former iron curtain ‘who bump into each other with the same journalism gospel tucked under their arms: “Democracy is impossible without a free and commercially viable media”.’ Aidgiving to the news media could be construed as a kind of media imperialism. These pitfalls demand careful consideration of how and what to give. All kinds of news aid have problematic implications. The provision of equipment such as printing presses and computer systems or subsidies can give unfair advantage to recipients. Training both journalism trainers and journalists themselves involves the matter of what kind of values are being instilled, and other people who deal with the media, such as government officials, need to be trained as well. Hamilton and Krimsky (1998: 92) find that the best kind of aid is know-how, in the form of ‘technical assistance’, that is, help with such matters as management, community needs for news and specialized reporting. They advise setting ‘limited, concrete goals’ for aid aimed at ‘helping rather than directing’ and being culturally sensitive (which requires ‘experimentation’) with a good understanding of local conditions. D’Arcy and Maine (1997) and Hume (2004: 15) also emphasize the need for local understanding and involvement. The former warn of cultural and linguistic misunderstandings, the difficulty in finding the right local partners, the possible inappropriateness of Western models, problems caused by political situations, especially where journalists fear oppression, and the lack of resources among local news media. Hume (2004: 15–17) recommends that aid projects make the news media sustainable as private businesses, be committed to the long term, be properly accountable, find the right trainers, seek quality instead of quantity, build in assessment, provide good materials, find out how to motivate recipients, use the Internet and avoid unrealistic expectations. She stresses that aid must be countryspecific and not generic. One matter all those who have written on this issue agree on is that success is unlikely if a free market system is not in place. In a poor country even that base may be hard to achieve.

Aid to Cambodia’s news media Aid to help development of the news media was very limited before 1991. None at all was identified before the establishment of the Vietnamese administration in 1979, though it is possible that journalists received fellowships and went on training programmes in the 1960s and early 1970s. During the 12 years of Vietnamese rule, aid came from the Soviet bloc. Journalists were sent for training and educa-

46 Judith Clarke tion in Vietnam, the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, some on programmes of political and journalistic training and some on unrelated courses. Some of the journalists trained in this period took senior positions after 1991, as did a number of editors from pre-1975 days (Clarke 1995). UNESCO sent its regional communications adviser to conduct a needs assessment early in 1991. He recommended courses for print and broadcast journalists, the development of national radio, and training for media professionals working outside the news (UNESCO 1993: 30–1). Phnom Penh’s first actual course in journalism was taught in October 1991 by Susan Aitkin, an Australian journalist who had been approached by SoC officials when she visited as a correspondent for the Canberra Times in 1989. She arranged funding from a number of Australian organizations and, with her Cambodia-based journalist colleague Sue Downie, set up a four-week programme. There was an enthusiastic response, and 26 journalists enrolled. The classes were designed to be of immediate use. They concentrated on basic skills, and part of the time in class was spent working on daily copy for national news agency SPK. Speedy translation between Khmer and English enabled the students to work in their own language (Aitkin 1991; personal communication with Aitkin and Downie). In this pioneering role, Aitkin and Downie exerted a strong influence on the development of journalism in Cambodia. UNTAC, with its mandate over the media from the Paris Accords to ensure ‘a neutral political environment for free and fair elections’, set up an Information and Education Division that began preparing a ‘media charter’ as a legal framework for a free press that it hoped would take precedence over a press law passed by SoC in April 1992. The document never progressed beyond being a set of media guidelines (Marston 1999: 175–7). The division tried to set up a media association towards the end of 1992, but ‘the most conspicuous obstacle was the absence of any “independent” media in Cambodia’ (Marston 1996: 210). When a party formed by a section of the right-wing KPNLF published a bulletin opposing the SoC, it faced harassment, and an UNTAC information officer helped staff bring in a small printing press from Thailand by truck (Marston 1999: 178). UNTAC staff monitored the media, visiting the offices of news organizations. They also distributed, with Japanese support, second-hand radios throughout the country (Marston 1999: 188). UNTAC’s most significant contribution was its radio station, mentioned above. Meanwhile, UNESCO was pushing ahead with training for journalists and others working in the media, with Aitkin joining as information officer and helping to administer and teach its programmes. Courses were again directed towards basic skills, but were also designed to make participants aware of major issues of the day: human rights, land mines, the environment and Cambodia’s cultural heritage. UNESCO received funds for courses from the Australian government aid agency, then called AIDAB, and its Danish counterpart, Danida. Training was also arranged by UNESCO with the Asia-Pacific Institute for Broadcasting Development (AIBD) in Malaysia and the Northern Territory University in Australia. UNESCO’s aim was to set up a communication institute as its flagship media project (UNESCO 1994; Brown 1997a).

International aid and the news sector in Cambodia 47 UNESCO’s training reached the masses. According to its records, in the year to October 1994 it offered 37 courses involving 590 attendees from a wide variety of backgrounds: Agence Khmère de Presse (AKP, the national news agency), six broadcast stations, 22 local newspapers, five foreign news organizations, 12 government ministries and other bodies, and 21 NGOs. Funding came from AIDAB, the United States Information Service (USIS), the French embassy, Danida, the American media organization Freedom Forum and the Centre Canadien d’Etude et de Coopération Internationale. The courses were all short and specific in nature, although UNESCO’s overall recommendation was that media education should become part of the school curriculum and that a degree course should eventually be taught at the university (UNESCO 1994). UNESCO’s Cambodia Communication Institute (CCI) opened in 1995, funded mainly by Danida in conjunction with the Ministry of Information under the directorship of Sek Barisoth, a former journalist who had previously worked with UNESCO. In the ensuing years, the CCI surveyed the training needs of the Cambodian media (Brown 1997b, 1997c). The project was hindered by a change of personnel at UNESCO, with Aitkin leaving, and by the 1997 coup by the CPP against FUNCINPEC. The survey report seems never to have been used. The CCI has continued to cater mainly to working journalists, with about 30 short courses a year in various aspects of journalism. One of the CCI’s characteristics is its cooperation with other aid agencies. Fifteen local, foreign and international NGOs and government agencies are mentioned in its records, including the Friedrich Naumann Foundation of Germany, the Singapore National Union of Journalists, the Thomson Foundation and the UN Development Program. The Canadian government-funded NGO Institute for Media, Policy and Civil Society (IMPACS) put on courses for radio journalists partly in cooperation with CCI. There have also been donations and help from individuals and private organizations. A year-long, part-time course was set up in early 2000 with help from the Freedom Forum with a curriculum designed by Crispin Maslog, a retired Filipino journalism professor hired by UNESCO. The course proved very popular, taking 50 students a year, and became the launch pad for the CCI’s move from the Ministry of Information to a new centre at the Royal University of Phnom Penh (RUPP) in 2003. The French government has also been active in its own projects since the early post-peace agreement days. It set up a journalism course at RUPP in 1992, initially training working journalists in French. After two years the programme was incorporated into the French degree course in the university’s languages department and became an elective for third- and fourth-year students of French at the university, taking up 200 hours of teaching in each year. Student numbers were around 10 to 15 a year. Links were set up with French journalism schools, the Ecole Supérieure de Journalisme at Lille being prominent in sending trainers and hosting Cambodian students. Some of the graduates worked on Rendezvous – a French-funded, French-language week-night magazine programme on the government station TVK – where further training was provided both on the job and during visits to France.1 The problem with the French programmes is the language

48 Judith Clarke itself. Few Khmers, especially young ones, speak French or are interested in learning it. Since a major aim of the French assistance is to encourage knowledge of French language and culture, a change to English or Khmer is not an option. Another organization involved in journalism training is the Indochina Media Memorial Foundation (IMMF), established in Britain in 1991 by Vietnam War photographer Tim Page. In 1993 the group set up an office in Bangkok, run by resident foreign journalists. Their aim was to train their counterparts in the region. Like UNESCO, IMMF has worked with many partners, including The Asia Foundation (TAF, an American NGO which relies largely on funding from USAID), AusAID, the Canadian International Development Agency, Danida, Freedom Forum, the Japan Foundation, the German Konrad Adenauer Foundation, the Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency, the Thomson Foundation, the UN Environment Program and USIS. By 2004 IMMF had conducted 34 courses and workshops around the region, covering photojournalism, business and economic reporting, environmental reporting and programmes for specific news organizations. Courses generally last three weeks and are attended on average by 16 people from the region. Up to the beginning of 2000, 40 Cambodian journalists from 25 local and international news organizations had been on IMMF courses.2 Since 2000 the number of courses has declined to two a year because regional courses must be taught in English and journalists proficient in the language have already attended at least once. A number of other organizations set up programmes around RUPP. The Khmer Journalists Association, which was launched with the help of UNESCO and other aid bodies in 1994, planned to put on its own sessions. The association was already receiving funds from the American NGO, TAF, and asked for a grant for the projected programme. At the same time, Bernard Krisher, an American former journalist with a strong attachment to Cambodia after working there in the 1960s, was setting up a desktop publishing course at RUPP and asking for TAF help, as well as soliciting the donation of computers and other equipment from his adoptive country, Japan. As the Khmer Journalists Association was becoming increasingly polarized by the growing rift between the CPP and FUNCINPEC, it was decided to set up a joint programme. TAF supplied funding for the courses, which began in April 1995 under Mike Fowler, an American trainer. Fowler wrote a course and gradually handed it over to Chhour Sokheang, a Khmer journalist employed by TAF, and several other experienced journalists who taught part-time. The Khmer Journalists Association itself was rendered moribund by the 1997 coup and dropped out of the picture. Krisher continued until 2000 to support the desktop operation. With the end of the eighth course in April 2000, 444 students had graduated with a TAF/RUPP diploma, although the usefulness of the course was coming into question because, by that stage, only 40 per cent of attendees were working journalists. Between 20 and 30 per cent were university students and the rest were NGO personnel. In 2000 the Konrad Adenauer Foundation also offered support for an undergraduate programme at RUPP, and the degree course started with Fowler, now employed as a Knight Fellow, as one of the trainers.

International aid and the news sector in Cambodia 49 With the new course under way and CCI’s move to RUPP, the TAF course stopped.3 Another popular target of aid has been the Women’s Media Centre (WMC), set up in 1995 with core funding from TAF. Fourteen organizations became involved. UNICEF paid the main expenses, and UNESCO paid for a transmitter for Radio WMC FM 102, started in 1999. The Australian and British embassies helped set up a studio, and Japan supplied equipment. Technical and production support was provided by experts funded by Australia and the NGOs OSB of Ireland and Forum CYD of Sweden. Danida also made donations to WMC. Help to make radio and video programmes has come from UNICEF, the British embassy and others, and journalists have been trained by IMMF and IMPACS as well as by private broadcasters in Thailand. The only major provision of equipment has come from the Japan International Cooperation Agency, JICA, which has built and equipped a new centre for TVK. This was more costly than the funding for training, and, according to JICA, the donation amounted to US$13 million. TVK broadcasts non-journalism programmes, but the station has a sizeable newsroom, and thus the donation is probably the largest in the news sector. The biggest contributor to journalism per se must be UNESCO, especially in terms of its support for CCI, which has probably amounted to hundreds of thousands of dollars over the years. However, its funding has originated elsewhere, mainly from Danida. TAF spent about $35,000 to $40,000 a year on its university project, plus its commitments to the Women’s Media Centre and media projects for other organizations. Its funds have come mainly from the USAID. Although some projects require sizeable funding, some donors have had an impact at little cost. When the Club for Cambodian Journalists was set up in 2000, the Konrad Adenauer Foundation refused to give money but provided its offices for meetings and its staff for coordination. The Club for Cambodian Journalists is now the most prominent of the five journalists’ associations in existence. However, the Konrad Adenauer Foundation has run into trouble with this project. The Club is headed by Pen Samitthy, the editor of the top newspaper, Raksmei Kampuchea, which is pro-government. Although journalists from newspapers with other leanings belong, the pro-Sam Rainsy Party Moneaksekar Khmer has strongly criticized the Konrad Adenauer Foundation for lack of neutrality in supporting what it sees as a pro-government organization.

Benefits and problems At least 40 organizations have been involved in providing aid to the news in Cambodia – a large number given the poverty of the country and the narrow reach of the media. The enthusiasm comes from both sides, with Cambodians keen to return to normal life and catch up with their neighbours, and donors viewing the nation as a worthy case. Cambodia has remained democratic, its third general election taking place in 2003 and, although the CPP has entrenched its dominance

50 Judith Clarke of politics and the news, a diversity of opinion remains in the media, especially the print sector. Cambodia’s abundance of news outlets compares well with the big business-dominated news of the Western democracies. Most aid to the news in Cambodia has involved the training of journalists, ranging from short one-off sessions to regular part-time classes to the degree course. This kind of aid has been welcomed all round. Government officials approve of it because they see it as improving professional standards so that news will be more accurate and avoid the crudeness of expression that converts criticism into insults. Pen Samitthy of Raksmei Kampuchea sent reporters to CCI and other workshops, and one to the TAF course at RUPP, and said: ‘The reporters are better than before. In all sections the articles are better, more professional. I spend less time correcting, and the reporters understand better than before how to be professional’ (personal communication, 10 January 2000). Reach Sambath of Agence France Presse, a Soviet-trained journalist who won a scholarship to Columbia University for an MA in journalism, noted that opinion had generally moved off the front page and given way to reporting (personal communication, 15 January 2000). The second most popular paper, Koh Santhepheap, once refused to release its journalists for training with CCI, but changed its mind, leading to what some view as a new level of professionalism. However, training is not the only factor; a Koh Santhepheap editor attributed the change to the decision to pursue advertising as its major source of revenue, which required a more professional product. One achievement of the training programmes has been the high level of cooperation among the many and diverse aid givers. This has come about mainly through projects that provide courses and other benefits but do not have their own funding. Most prominent is UNESCO’s CCI, which has brought together donors from Asia, Europe, Australia and the United States, but IMMF and the WMC have also had this effect. Moreover, training programmes have reached the whole media community very quickly. Sek Barisoth said CCI had trained nearly every journalist in Phnom Penh (personal communication). In fact many journalists have been on more than one course, and those with good English or French have been abroad as well. Kathleen Hayes, former managing director of the English-language fortnightly Phnom Penh Post, praised the overseas courses, those run by IMMF in particular, because they generated enthusiasm. She said journalists got the most out of contacts with other journalists: ‘The benefits of a seminar are usually meeting other people rather than the journalism training’ (personal communication, 11 January 2000). Few journalists know foreign languages, and one factor that helped training take off was the establishment of Khmer as the main language of instruction. Although the trainers have come from overseas, many know Cambodia well or have established a familiarity with the country. Sue Aitkin and Sue Downie spent many years in the region. Hong Kong-born American Peter Eng, a long-time trainer for IMMF and others in Southeast Asia, has been a journalist in Asia since 1983, mostly with the Associated Press in Bangkok, and is still reporting from the region. He says this helps him see things from his students’ perspective, enabling

International aid and the news sector in Cambodia 51 him to strike instant rapport and teach in ways they can understand (personal communication, October 2004). CCI has made a point of bringing in Asian expertise to help with curriculum and training sessions. Trainers with little Cambodian experience fly in from time to time, but they are usually highly experienced in their jobs. Moreover, the trainers have trained a number of Cambodian journalists to take over their task, and these local experts now work at CCI and RUPP and others. In this way the foreign trainers and funders have been responsible in developing local expertise. The very presence of the foreign aid community has itself had a watchdog function. The aid organizations are quick to notice any abuse of press freedom, and to make representations to the government. With the country so dependent on aid and desperate to modernise, their opinions have some weight. Yet the picture is not all good. Some feel the results of training are slow to take effect in terms of the professionalization of the media. Sue Downie noted that she heard comments that a great deal of money had been put into training with little result. She found in her own courses that reporters still needed help with the basics of balanced reporting, defamation and ethics (Downie 2000). There are a number of reasons for such negative reports. One is that, despite cooperation in several major projects, there is often a lack of coordination, resulting in overlapping and duplication. Some aid organizations based outside Cambodia ‘pop in’ for quick sessions without discussing their work with others, and even local organizations may not talk to their counterparts. Some journalists complained that they received the same basic training (‘5 Ws and one H’) on several courses. IMMF and CCI have been covering some of the same area, and CCI’s one-year course competed with the original TAF-funded RUPP training and now competes with the new degree course. The matter caused enough concern for the Canadian NGO IMPACS to invite the main donors of news aid to a workshop in 2000. Some significant NGOs did not attend and no specific programme for cooperation was arranged. A number of reasons can be found for this lack of enthusiasm. One is that project implementers may see what is wrong but be unable to persuade their funders to change plans or goals. Another is that aid organizations from one country may not wish to work with those from another. As with Hume’s observation above, NGOs feel that they should lead cooperation rather than fall in with others. Moreover, the job of coordinating the whole field is difficult with so many organizations, particularly those with no office in Cambodia. Courses taught in foreign languages have also had limited effect. For journalists with skills in those languages the experience has been stimulating and inspiring, but their numbers are few. Some have been trained in two or three different countries because they were good targets for training and kept getting more invitations. This has contributed to producing a group of highly educated journalists who mainly work for foreign media, though some have become trainers. It is clear that courses that use Khmer, whether or not the trainer knows the language, are much more useful in general. This is not possible, though, for training such as that given by the Indochina Media Memorial Foundation, which involves journalists

52 Judith Clarke from a number of countries. The foundation and others have moved into more specialized reporting, including coverage of the environment, women and AIDS. Despite the wide availability of training courses, some journalists are still not participating. Writers for some opposition newspapers remain anonymous, apparently out of fear of retaliation, and some of those who do use their own names feel insecure in groups that include pro-government journalists. Unless there is some reduction in tension between the competing political groups, these journalists may not be persuaded to come into the open. There is also a group of older journalists who feel they do not need to join their subordinates. Pen Samitthy said that the five members of his staff who were trained in the Soviet bloc in PRK/ SoC days were not required to go on courses but ‘told to read books and have meetings’ (personal communication, 10 January 2000). These journalists may not share the professional values being taught to younger journalists, so there is potential for conflict. There is a perceived gap in the provision of international help to the business side of media. Leng Sochea, of the Ministry of Information’s Press Department, said that working journalists tended to go on courses, but proprietors and senior business managers who controlled the tone of publications rarely did so (personal communication, January 2000). He supported a provision in the abandoned Press Law sub-decree that would have required them to do so. Phnom Penh Post former managing director Kathleen Hayes suggested instruction in running a business would help newspapers to organize their financial affairs and reduce the temptation to seek political sponsorship, still one of the main sources of income for small newspapers. Improvements in the advertising market are likely to fuel desires to understand good business practices, and aid organizations could be effective in providing expertise. Perhaps the most difficult matter to judge is whether journalism training instils, deliberately or not, values inconsistent with Cambodia’s. The principles and methods taught to journalists have a Western background that was very different from conceptions about newsgathering prevalent in Cambodia in the early 1990s. Sue Aitkin found she had to instruct students in the difference between fact and opinion, using very basic situations. This distinction is crucial to Western journalism but not so much to the Asian variety. However, news training cannot succeed without a clear understanding of how to gather and present facts. Another difference between the Western and Asian press is the latter’s use of gory pictures, a habit Cambodia has followed in the style of other countries such as Thailand, Hong Kong and Japan. These are scarcely worse than the depictions of naked women in the British tabloids, but foreign trainers tend to condemn the practice out of hand without an understanding of editors’ need to make money by whatever means in a very competitive market. On the other hand, trainers must be ready to bring in relevant new ideas. Journalism trainer Peter Eng suggested that trainers could actually get too close to the region and not be aware of changes elsewhere (personal communication, October 2004). On his periodic trips to the United States he seeks out new trends and training materials to provide his classes with a fresh, broader perspective.

International aid and the news sector in Cambodia 53 Any assessment of the balance between Western and Cambodian values in the news media must recognize that Cambodian journalism is very young – the first Khmer newspaper appeared in 1936 – and has been influenced by two very different forms of communism. The early newspapers grew out of Buddhist movements, but that element is long gone. What does remain, to some extent due to a lack of resources, is the old-fashioned Khmer fonts and elaborate mastheads, and the common format of one broadsheet folded to make four pages. Some of the more successful papers have increased the number of pages and use both spot colour and four-colour pictures, but the majority stick to the old style. The combative style of journalism is also typical of the strong political orientation of most Cambodians, but is not consistent with the neutral reporting style taught in training sessions.

Conclusion More than a decade after the Paris Accords, Cambodia remains a free-marketbased democracy, noted above as the basic requirement for news aid to take effect. It has maintained a reasonable level of freedom of expression and a pluralistic news media system. The weak economy and lack of development outside urban areas hamper the development of press freedoms, which are still far from secure, but clearly do not prevent them. This attests to the advisability of entrenching press freedom in conditions of widespread poverty, rather than harnessing the media in the service of development. Aid to the news sector has been a key to the pursuit of this policy. Its main arm has been training, which has been successful in instructing a majority of journalists in professional methods, but there has also been help with equipment, technology and expertise. Aid efforts have encountered a number of problems: oversupply of basic courses, overlapping and duplication of courses and a lack of understanding of local conditions on the part of some donors. These problems have been compounded in some cases by paying more attention to the needs or ideas of donors than to those of recipients. The foreign basis of the training presented too great a difficulty: Cambodians value freedom of expression and of the press. They have accepted foreign trainers and now have some of their own, and are making contact with other Asian journalists and trainers. Better planning and coordination could improve the situation, as could efforts to encourage journalists of all political orientations to attend training. The one major gap in aid is seen to be the lack of attention to the skills needed to run a news medium as a commercial enterprise.

Notes 1 Information from interviews with the Centre Cultural Français, Phnom Penh, and Hubert Colombeau, adviser to Rendezvous. 2 Information from IMMF project director Sarah McLean, by post and email. 3 This information was obtained from interviews with former TAF representative in Phnom Penh Jon Summers, TAF programme officer in Phnom Penh Chhour Sokheang, and Mike Fowler, and from email correspondence with Bernard Krisher.

5

Media plurality or democratic deficit? Private TV and the public sphere in India Daya Kishan Thussu

In this chapter I will explore the interplay between democracy and journalism in India, the world’s largest democracy, with one of its most complex media systems. The chapter focuses on changes in the Indian news media during the late 1990s, particularly in broadcasting, which has grown from a state-controlled monopoly to a multiplicity of private television channels in what used to be one of the world’s most protected broadcasting environments. The expansion and consolidation of the operations of the mainly Western-based transnational media corporations have transformed India’s media landscape and significantly affected broadcast journalism. The chapter argues that, in this multi-channel environment in which market-led television is dominated by a scramble for ratings, news content is increasingly taking the form of infotainment. There is a tendency to cover stories that mainly interest urban audiences – the majority viewers for cable and satellite networks. This is problematic in a country where 70 per cent of the population lives in the countryside and cannot afford the consumerist lifestyle promoted by US-inspired television networks. In addition, the informational role of television in India where 350 million people still cannot read or write has been undermined by market-led journalism. Is the privatization of television news enriching or eroding the public sphere in a country with a population of 1.1 billion, including an electorate of more than 600 million? An independent media is essential for a democracy to function effectively and responsibly. It is not for nothing that the media are perceived as the fourth estate, supplementing and supporting the other three pillars in a democratic polity – the executive, the legislative and the judiciary. Unfortunately, this conception of the media, with its very European roots, dating back to the French Revolution of 1789, has not been universally accepted. In most of the developing world the mass media have, by and large, not acted as a watchdog on the powers that be. Rather, they have often followed the agenda set by the government or ruling parties – whether of a right or left orientation. In many ways India, with its diverse and activist media, has been an exception to this rule. The mass media played a key role in India’s transformation from a feudal to a modern nation-state, with a stable, mature and multi-party democracy. The first printing press was set up in India in 1578 and the first newspaper, the Bengal

Media plurality or democratic deficit? Private TV in India

55

Gazette, was founded in 1780 by James Augustus Hicky, a disgruntled employee of the East India Company, who described the journal as ‘a weekly political and commercial paper open to all parties, but influenced by none’ (quoted in Rau 1974: 10). The Times of India came into existence in 1838 and by the 1870s more than 140 newspaper titles were in circulation in various Indian languages.

Public broadcasting versus private press A certain independent streak defined Indian journalism, even under British colonial rule, when strict press laws severely curtailed freedom of expression. The press played a crucial role in the anti-colonial movement, with many nationalist leaders involved in campaigning journalism. Most notable among these was Mahatma Gandhi. Writing in Young India in 1920, the ascetic leader who was to become the ‘father of the nation’ defended the right of newspapers to protest against press laws: The stoppage of the circulation of potent ideas that may destroy the Government or compel repentance will be the least among the weapons in its armoury. We must therefore devise methods of circulating our ideas unless and until the whole Press becomes fearless, defies consequences and publishes ideas, even when it is in disagreement with them, just for the purpose of securing its freedom. (Gandhi 1970: 59) Such sentiments defined the nationalist press during the colonial period. Unlike newspapers and magazines, radio, which began regular broadcasts in 1927 (with All India Radio founded as a public broadcasting service in 1936), remained in the hands of the British colonial authorities who used the airwaves to legitimize the Raj. After independence in 1947, India inherited from the British the combination of a private press and a government-controlled broadcasting system (Bhattacharjee 1972; Rau 1974; Chatterjee 1991). The fear that a privately owned broadcasting system could destabilize the Indian republic, given its traumatic birth, which saw one million people killed and more than 15 million displaced as a result of partition, compelled the government to keep broadcasting under its firm control. It was also a useful means of controlling a potent instrument of mass persuasion in a hugely illiterate country. When the British left India the literacy rate stood at 18 per cent. For journalists, many of whom were involved in the anti-colonial movement, the media were to play a key role in what was termed nation-building in a newly emergent and fragile democracy. Only a year after Independence, India’s first Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, told the Constituent Assembly which was drafting India’s constitution: My own view of the set up for broadcasting is that we should approximate as far as possible to the British model, the BBC; that is to say, it would be better if

56 Daya Kishan Thussu we had a semi-autonomous corporation. Now I think that is not immediately feasible. (in Chatterjee 1991: 182) The introduction of television in 1959 reflected the initial attitude to the medium as a means for disseminating state policies and public information. The state television channel, Doordarshan, was part of All India Radio (AIR) until 1976, when it became a separate department under the Information and Broadcasting Ministry (Chatterjee 1991; Gupta 1998). Ostensibly the aims of the national broadcasters were to educate, inform, create a feeling of national identity and help maintain national unity. In reality both AIR and Doordarshan were public broadcasting monopolies and were perceived as little more than propaganda services for the government of the day. Like other public-sector undertakings, the electronic media were over-bureaucratized and their performance was dull and drab. How far they succeeded in serving any developmental purposes is open to debate. Unlike in many other developing countries, the Indian government did not own newspapers, but it exerted influence on print media indirectly, subsidizing news agencies and supporting newspapers and magazines by providing them with cheap newsprint and public-sector advertising. Despite such state interference, the relative autonomy of the private print media contributed greatly to the evolution of multi-party democracy in India. As democracy took root, various political parties and groupings representing the ideological spectrum started their own newspapers and magazines (Bhattacharjee 1972). The diversity of the press, including the mainstream publications, reflected the wide variety of ideological, political and linguistic affiliations in a vast, multi-ethnic, multi-religious and geographically and culturally complex country with 18 official languages and more than 800 dialects. It would be fair to say that while print journalism by and large acted as a fourth estate in a fledgling democracy, endeavouring to be a watchdog, it also supported the role of the state as the instrument of modernity. This did not necessarily mean that the press was following the government line – quite the contrary. The adversarial role of journalists contributed to the evolution of an early-warning system for serious food shortages and thus a preventive mechanism against famine (Ram 1990). Thus, it could be argued that the press was enhancing the public sphere in the Habermasian sense, creating a space for democratic discourse on socio-political and economic issues affecting millions of Indians. Although most journalists came from an urban middle-class milieu, national development within a quasi-socialist framework – one influenced not so much by the Marxist but the Keynesian school of economics – was the dominant paradigm within which the media generally worked. This meant a belief in a democratic, secular and socialist domestic policy and a non-aligned policy in international affairs.

The privatization of television With the end of the Cold War and the retreat of socialism, there was a fundamental paradigm shift. As transnational corporations globalized, governments

Media plurality or democratic deficit? Private TV in India

57

became increasingly less important and the mantra of ‘private’ as good and efficient against ‘public’ as bad and inefficient gained global currency. The gradual deregulation and privatization of television in India in the 1990s transformed the media landscape in a country which had one of the most regulated broadcasting environments among the world’s democracies (Price and Verhulst 1998; Page and Crawley 2001). The most obvious indication of this change was evident in the exponential growth in the number of television channels and the resultant expansion of mainly Western-based transnational media players into India, one of the world’s biggest television markets (Melkote et al. 1998; Thussu 2000). At the beginning of the 1990s, there was no television industry worth the name in India, which until 1991 had just one state-controlled channel, Doordarshan. By 2004, there were more than 300 digital channels, including some joint ventures with international broadcasters. This expansion demanded new programme content – from news to game and chat shows, from soap operas to ‘reality TV’ – which have been provided by a burgeoning television industry ( Jacka and Ray 1996; Thussu 1998). India’s rapidly expanding economy and a pro-market government, coupled with an established satellite network, made it an extremely attractive proposition for transnational broadcasters (Pendakur and Kapur 1997; Singhal and Rogers 2001). Combined with this was the huge number of potential consumers – a large, growing and increasingly Westernized middle class, estimated at between 250 and 300 million, providing global media corporations with unrivalled opportunities for running a wide array of satellite channels. Among the main channels were major transnational broadcasters – CNN, Disney, CNBC, MTV, Star, Sony Entertainment Television and the BBC – and scores of Indian channels operating at regional and national levels. Cable and satellite television have increased substantially since 1992, when they reached only 1.2 million Indian homes. According to the trade press, in 2004 there were nearly 390 million television viewers in India, with cable and satellite penetration reaching more than 48 million homes and growing annually at the rate of 10 per cent (Satellite and Cable TV 2004). By 2003 the Indian media business was one of the fastest growing industries in India, estimated to be worth $5 billion (Kohli 2003).

Mapping the Murdoch effect The opening-up of the Indian media sphere to the outside world has had profound implications for the democratic process within India. Aware of India’s economic potential, transnational media and communications corporations have adopted an array of strategies to strengthen their positions in what may become one of the world’s largest media markets. This complex market has been consistently targeted and tamed by Rupert Murdoch’s News Corporation (one of the world’s biggest media and communications conglomerates) (Butcher 2003). Murdoch’s entry into the Asian media market began in 1991 with the creation of STAR (Satellite Television Asian Region). As its website proudly states:

58 Daya Kishan Thussu STAR pioneered satellite television in Asia and in the process catalysed explosive growth in the media industry across the entire region. Coupled with the opening up of Asian economies, access to satellite television redefined the viewing experience for millions. Providing more people with more choice than ever before, STAR set new standards in content, production and variety. It is hard to dispute STAR’s claim of ‘setting the pace of media in Asia’, as it broadcasts 40 services in seven languages and reaches more than 300 million viewers in 53 countries. Over 173 million people watch STAR every week (Transforming Asia’s Media Landscape 2004). It can be argued that the success of STAR Plus and STAR News (Murdoch’s Indian entertainment and information channels) has been achieved by making programmes in widely spoken Indian languages such as Hindi, and by localizing content, as well as the astute political approach that News Corporation has adopted in India (Butcher 2003). While they started out with mainly Western programmes, global players such as News Corporation have been forced first to Indianize, then regionalize and finally localize their programming to suit the range and variety of cultural and linguistic tastes encompassing the Indian market. This localization – sometimes in the form of highly complex hybridization of genres and languages – is not a uniquely Indian phenomenon (Banerjee 2002). What makes the Indian case interesting and relevant in the context of this volume is the way globalization has impacted on and transformed television news. A corollary of this is how the new broadcasting news-scape affects the public sphere in a complex democratic polity. Is the entry and consolidation of the global media players helping or hindering the public sphere, or is globalization another form of imperialism (Sparks 1998)?

The emerging TV news-scape Given the nature of state broadcasters in India, news on television was considered as little more than state propaganda, and therefore television journalism did not have the type of credibility that the print media enjoyed within the country and outside. As elsewhere in Asia, CNN’s coverage of the 1991 Operation Desert Storm brought the idea of 24/7 news to India. It was Murdoch’s STAR News that made the concept of rolling news a reality in India when it launched an Englishlanguage news channel to coincide with the 1998 national elections. Although it had the STAR platform, the news was not produced in-house. New Delhi Television (NDTV) provided all the news material – both in Hindi and English – including its presentation and packaging for STAR. This was a mutually beneficial partnership. NDTV, a relatively small but highly respected media organization set up by a former professor of economics at the University of Delhi, could reach the homes of affluent Indians through the STAR platform, while STAR could benefit from the gravitas of a serious news channel – arguably India’s best television news network. As interest in news grew, other channels, including Zee Network (India’s largest multimedia corporation),

Media plurality or democratic deficit? Private TV in India

59

followed suit. Unlike STAR, Zee News aimed at a mass audience and therefore launched a dedicated Hindi language news channel, the first of its kind. Its main rival, Aaj Tak, part of the India Today group, publisher of India’s best known news magazine India Today, launched a 24-hour Hindi news channel in 2000 and within less than a year came to dominate the news market. As Table 5.1 shows, it continues to be at the top. By the time the STAR–NDTV contract came to an end in 2003, NDTV had grown financially strong enough to have the confidence to go it alone, launching two channels, the English-language, NDTV 24/7 and NDTV India, in Hindi. To compete in the English-language news market, the India Today group launched Headlines Today – a fast-paced, youthful news network, with its motto of ‘sharp news for sharp people’ (Unnikrishnan 2003). After splitting from NDTV, Murdoch’s news operation decided to produce news in-house. In this new stage of its indigenization, STAR News transformed itself into a Hindi-only channel to widen its appeal among the audiences for the language spoken by the largest numbers of Indians. The Hindi news market is already crowded – apart from Zee News and Aaj Tak, STAR News faces stiff competition from Sahara Samay, part of one of the largest selling Hindi newspapers, Rashtriya Sahara. The proliferation of news channels has inevitably sharpened competition among news networks. To win the ratings battles news networks are increasingly tending towards infotainment – mixing information and entertainment and focusing on human-interest stories, especially about celebrities. In this new television news culture, the emphasis is not always on the journalistic skills of news anchors and reporters but on how they look on camera, style taking precedence over substance. This trend demonstrates a shift from a serious to a more popular news agenda, driven by pressures to maximize profits. As television increasingly defines how public opinion is shaped – in its national, regional and international spheres – such trends can only be described as worrisome, particularly since networks such as STAR News are part of multimedia empires. There is growing evidence of Murdoch’s political influence as a multimedia mogul whose extensive control of both information software (programme content) and hardware (delivery systems) make him a hugely powerful player. The Murdoch Table 5.1 National reach of main news networks Network

Ownership

Language

All India reach (%)

Aaj Tak NDTV India DD News Star News Zee News Sahara Samay NDTV 24x7 Headlines Today

India Today Group New Delhi Television state-owned News Corp. Zee Network Rashtrya Sahara New Delhi Television India Today Group

Hindi Hindi Hindi/English Hindi Hindi Hindi English English

48.2 48.0 45.2 40.1 38.0 33.5 30.4 10.1

Source: Data from TAM Media Research, May 2004.

60 Daya Kishan Thussu media empire straddles the globe, with wide-ranging media interests – newspapers, film, broadcast, satellite and cable TV, interactive digital TV, television production, satellites and the Internet. Apart from owning substantial chunks of satellite television, Murdoch also controls the largest number of English-language daily newspapers around the world, as well as such powerful international publishers as HarperCollins. This makes News Corporation one of the world’s largest media empires, truly global in its reach and influence (McChesney 1999; Thussu 2000; Page 2003). A deeply conservative political agenda has characterized the creation of this media empire. In Britain, for example, Murdoch has consistently used his newspapers – The Times and The Sun (Britain’s largest selling popular newspaper) – to champion the privatization of broadcasting. In the United States, Murdoch’s media has enthusiastically supported the Republican cause, including the deregulation of broadcasting (Page 2003). These political attitudes are also reflected in the way Murdoch’s networks cover international conflicts. As an illustration, one could examine the coverage of the US invasion of Iraq in 2003. If Operation Desert Storm of 1991 created the 24/7 global television news culture and launched CNN to a global public, the ‘war against terrorism’ has catapulted Murdoch’s television news networks into the international spotlight. With Fox News in the United States, Sky News in Europe and STAR News in Asia, Murdoch’s media are relayed to television screens around the world, giving him extraordinary powers to influence the coverage of the open-ended and global ‘war on terror’. The more populist, not to say jingoistic, Fox News, has redefined broadcast journalism in the United States. In the market-driven broadcasting environment it might justifiably be feared that Fox’s success could lead to the so-called ‘Foxification’ of television news in other parts of the world. Already other Murdoch networks, particularly in Asia, regularly use news reports and footage from Fox News. During the US invasion of Iraq in 2003 one could detect the beginnings of the Foxification of news on Murdoch’s news operations in India. In its spruced-up, youthful and flashier incarnation launched in the middle of Operation Iraqi Freedom, STAR News routinely broadcast live footage from its sister outlet, Fox News, and reproduced, often verbatim but in Hindi translation, the standard Pentagon line on the progress of the ‘war’. When it is not reporting conflict stories, the channel’s new team of anchors and reporters and 21 bureaux across the country tend to follow a flashier news agenda that emphasizes metropolitan news. STAR spent a huge amount on promoting the Indianization of the news network, with a multi-million-rupee advertising campaign, including Bollywood-style songs eulogizing the primacy of truth and fairness in reporting in ‘your own language’ and with the catch-line ‘apko rakhe aage’ (keeps you [the audience] in the forefront). The move to Hindi may have been engineered by market logic, as shown by the fact that within one week of this switch STAR News ratings almost doubled. In 2004 STAR claimed to be broadcasting its programmes to more than 31 million homes in India. As if symbolizing the change in editorial focus, the STAR News headquarters was shifted to

Media plurality or democratic deficit? Private TV in India

61

Mumbai, India’s commercial capital and the home of its film factories. In an intensive orientation session organized by Sky TV, the emphasis was on style and presentation rather than on substance, with journalists being asked to follow Murdoch’s global credo of ‘no hair on the face’ for those who appear on camera (Barman et al. 2003). The STAR News seemed to create as well as revel in the preponderance of ‘commodity images’ in the media (Mazzarella 2003). This commodification of news is reflected in some of India’s most revered national newspapers, such as The Times of India, which now regularly publishes Bollywood gossip and stories about sex and scandals, especially involving celebrities (Sonwalkar 2002). That such an emphasis may not be appropriate for audiences in a poor country afflicted with serious socio-economic problems does not appear to affect commodified journalism. As one commentator noted: The best figure I could come up with for ‘national’ media journalists covering the rural crisis through one full week was six. Those covering the Lakme India Fashion Week for a full seven days? Over 400 (accredited plus daily pass holders). Between them, they produced in one count, some 400,000 words in print. Also, over 1,000 minutes in TV coverage. Some 800 hours of TV/video footage were shot. And close to 10,000 rolls of film exposed. India does not get much shinier than that. Consider that this was the main media event in a country where less than 0.2 per cent of the population sports designer clothes. Where per capita consumption of textiles in 2002 at 19 metres was way below the world average. And this was a fashion show which drew more journalists than buyers. (Sainath 2004a)

Public broadcasting in an era of privatization Where does this type of commercialism leave public service broadcasting? Despite severe competition from networks such as STAR, the state broadcaster continues to dominate the airwaves. The main national channel of Doordarshan, DD1, reaches about 400 million viewers, making it the most widely watched network in the country. Although Doordarshan receives substantial support from the government, which has extended its reach and added new channels (in 2004 it had 25 channels), it is increasingly under pressure to provide entertainment as well as education. As noted, since its inception in the late 1950s as a government-run organization, television has been seen as a means of disseminating state policies, and its main aim was to foster a feeling of national identity. The ethos was based on the public service model of broadcasting, with clear emphasis on education and information at the expense of entertainment (Chatterjee 1991). Borrowing the traditions of the BBC, the broadcasting of high and ‘authentic’ Indian culture in the form of classical dance and music was encouraged to raise the audiences’ cultural tastes and values in preference to populist forms of television (Gupta 1998).

62 Daya Kishan Thussu In line with its public-service ethos, in 2000 Doordarshan launched a 24-hour educational channel, DD-Gyandarshan, accessible by 2004 to an estimated 20 million viewers all over India. This was followed in 2002 by the inauguration of DD-Bharati, a dedicated cultural channel which seems to have suffered from a shortfall in funding. In 2003, for example, DD-Bharati received only 140 million rupees out of the annual budget of 20 billion rupees of Prasar Bharati, the semiautonomous body which governs Doordarshan (Gopalakrishnan 2004). More money is going towards entertainment-oriented programming as well as for coverage of live sporting events. In common with public service broadcasters elsewhere, Doordarshan is constantly losing audience to private networks. News on Doordarshan has yet to acquire the level of professionalism that educated audiences associate with an NDTV news bulletin. Part of the problem appears to be that DD News is still perceived to be reflecting the official position, despite promises by successive governments to give autonomy to the electronic media. What has changed, however, is its revenue-generating structure, as Doordarshan has rapidly commercialized, a process intensified by the increasingly neo-liberal governments of the 1980s and 1990s. As a result, Doordarshan has become much more entertainment-oriented. Its soaps – originally borrowing from the success of telenovelas in Brazil and Mexico, which mixed education, information and entertainment – have been altered to meet the needs of advertisers. Although funded by the government, in its initial years Doordarshan tried to follow the BBC model and charged owners of television sets an annual licence fee of 50 rupees. There was no advertising allowed on the channel until 1976, when advertisements were introduced to supplement licence fee income. As Table 5.2 shows, the revenue stream has continued to grow despite the national broadcaster losing its monopoly and the proliferation of transnational television networks taking away large chunks of the advertising pie. One result of such competition is the ideological shift in television culture from public-service to profit-oriented programming. The growing commodification of information and the trend towards corporatized news can adversely affect the public-service role of television, the egalitarian potential of which remains hugely under-explored in India (Thussu 1998). Table 5.2 How Doordarshan has grown Year

Gross revenue (million rupees)

1976–77 1980–81 1982–83 1985–86 1989–90 1992–93 1996–97 2001–2

7.7 80.8 158.9 602.0 2,101.3 3,602.3 5,727.3 6,152.1

Source: Doordarshan website.

Media plurality or democratic deficit? Private TV in India

63

‘India shining’ – on television Television news can be of crucial importance in a democratic polity. The way the 2004 Indian parliamentary election was covered by private television networks is indicative of the problems associated with a market-led media system. During the election campaign news channels vied with each other to give air time to film stars campaigning for major political parties – focusing on their personalities, antics and popular rhetoric. Many film stars contested the elections, giving journalists ample ammunition to spice up their reports with quotes and misquotes from the matinee idols in a country where films are an integral part of popular culture. Moreover, the private television networks appeared keen to promote their promarket views. The increasing weight given to the coverage of the corporate world, including the stock market and exchange rates, reached fever pitch during the election coverage. What one astute commentator called the ‘McMedia’ had their priorities clearly marked out. In three days, the big media gave the ‘suffering’ in the stock market more space than they had to thousands of farmers’ suicides in the past few years. Never mind that two-thirds of our people depend on agriculture. Or that just 1.15 per cent of India’s 180 million households invest in stocks. (Sainath 2004b) In this neo-liberal age, access to financial news is undoubtedly important, but most Indian news networks tend to give disproportionate amounts of airtime to express corporate views in what one senior journalist described as a result of an ‘incestuous relationship between networks and stock markets’ and the tendency among Indian news networks towards ‘blindly imitating CNBC, CNN and BBC’ (Pratap 2004). This may reflect the growing privatization of the media and its dependence on corporate sources. As Sevanti Ninan, one of India’s most respected journalists and a keen observer of the media scene, has written: When I started out in the 1970s news editors frowned if you so much as mentioned a company name in news copy. A press release by a company was somehow a pariah in a way that press releases on inferior paper by the local municipal corporation or police headquarters were not. Public was more worthy of news space than private. And politics more worthy than business, governance more than entertainment. (Ninan 2003) Given this background, it is scarcely surprising that the electronic media easily bought the idea of ‘India shining’ – part of a multi-million-rupee public relations campaign launched by the spin doctors of the ruling National Democratic Alliance (NDA), led by the right-wing Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). The campaign, which included short videos broadcast on national news networks, showed the

64 Daya Kishan Thussu achievements of the government and emphasized India’s economic growth under a ‘pro-reform’ government. In one opinion poll after another leading up to the elections, the NDA was forecast to win between 230 and 340 parliamentary seats. Their final tally was just 185 seats. The hype and hysteria to which the electronic media seemed to contribute clouded the professional judgement not just of psephologists but also of journalists (Athreya 2004; Ninan 2004). As one seasoned observer of media commented: The reason why journalists in the English print and electronic media abdicated their basic responsibility is very simple. Over the years the journalists on the political beats had been, by and large, co-opted by the BJP, while the media persons covering business were willing to swallow the NDA government’s propaganda about its economic record. The result, obviously, was that blinded by its bias the media did not see what it was supposed to. (Reddy 2004)

Media plurality or democratic deficit? The increasing marketization of television seems to have left the poor, especially those living in the rural areas, out of the picture. Seventy per cent of Indians live in rural areas, 40 per cent are illiterate and United Nations figures estimate that 30 per cent of all children do not attend school. It is ironic that the country that pioneered the use of space technology for education with the Satellite Instructional Television Experiment (SITE) of 1975–76, which brought TV to the poorest villages in the least accessible areas, has ignored the educational potential of television. However, there are some signs of change, even among private news networks. One interesting development was the launch in 2004 of India TV, with its pledge to take news out of the metropolitan framework and cover stories affecting small-town and rural India. This ‘route to the roots’ was to be achieved by shunning what the industry labels as the ‘F’ business – films, fashion and food festivals. In the words of its founder and one of India’s most influential television journalists, Rajat Sharma, ‘we are staying clear of the “F” business. No unnecessary sensation, no report on film or fashion unless there is an event or an important news angle to it’ (in Salam 2004). As debates about cultural and media imperialism have ebbed, globalization is increasingly seen as a harbinger of modernity and thus a potentially liberating phenomenon. Globalization has given a fillip to Indian entrepreneurs and Murdoch has skilfully used it to promote his media interests in India. There is an increasing tendency for joint ventures, with the most significant, between STAR and Tata (India’s largest industrial house) on Direct-to-Home (DTH) television, likely to be introduced by the end of 2004. There is little doubt that market-led broadcasting has created a more open and wider public sphere in India. Is it not a positive development that a majority of Indians are watching their television news, produced by Indian companies on

Media plurality or democratic deficit? Private TV in India

65

Indian themes, in their own languages to higher professional and technical standards than was possible under the monopoly of a state broadcaster? The types of news programming broadcast on STAR can easily create the misconception that it is an Indian-owned national television network and has no connection with the Australian-born US citizen who ultimately owns it. It has been argued that popularizing news and current affairs may in fact have the potential to liberate and to introduce a more democratic character (Hartley 1996; Langer 1997; Sparks and Tulloch 2000; Delli Carpini and Williams 2001). However, this could appear to be an endorsement of popular journalism in a market-driven media environment that is increasingly threatening the quality of public debate in a developing polity. The pro-market orientation of Murdoch’s channels is clear. That the news is in Hindi and on Indian themes may give an authentic feel and native character to broadcasting and therefore provide a more acceptable face of globalization, but the reality is that Murdoch’s channels unashamedly promote the values of global capitalism. Such networks may give a sense of broadening the public sphere, but in fact they may be narrowing and shrinking the parameters of debate in ideological terms. This is evident in the fact that the rural poor are remarkably absent, not only from news stories but also from dramas and serials, and not just on Murdoch’s channels. A socially relevant television agenda does not fit well with the competitive broadcasting environment within which Murdoch’s television networks operate, being primarily interested in the demographically desirable, urban middle class or the famed NRIs (non-resident Indians, part of the huge Indian diaspora), with the disposable income to purchase the goods advertised on these channels. Despite their avowedly Indian identity, networks such as STAR are arguably clones of the US model of market-led television, susceptible to the same kinds of commercial pressures that Robert McChesney (1999) has so comprehensively articulated. In India, as television is driven by the ratings wars and advertisers’ demand for consumers, and given that visuals can be a powerful instrument for propagating dominant ideology, especially in a country where nearly 40 per cent of the population is illiterate, the electronic media can play an increasing role in the creation of a marketplace in which their corporate clients can consolidate and expand. Thus the apparent media plurality may in fact be contributing to a democratic deficit in the world’s largest democracy.

6

The surrogate democracy function of the media Citizens’ and journalists’ evaluations of media performance in Hong Kong1 Joseph M. Chan and Clement Y.K. So

Representation, democratization and social stability As a modern pluralistic metropolis, Hong Kong society enjoys a high level of freedom but a limited degree of democracy. The society is largely stable but not free from a mix of manifest and latent social conflicts. How public opinion can be communicated effectively thus constitutes a major concern for local political leaders and academics. During his quest for a second term of office in 2002, the Chief Executive, Tung Chee-hwa, repeatedly emphasized the need to improve the government’s understanding of and responsiveness to public opinion. Even without a full-fledged democracy, the idea of ‘government by public opinion’ had already taken root in Hong Kong’s political culture and public discourse. In democratic societies public opinion is the basis of the legitimacy of political institutions and policy decisions. And, in Hong Kong, understanding the communication of public opinion is also crucial in deciphering the high degree of social stability the society has enjoyed in the past decades. Social stability has long been an important research question for local sociologists. King (1975) attributes the long stability of Hong Kong to the practice of what he calls ‘the administrative absorption of politics’. It is a process by which the colonial government co-opted local political elites into the decision-making bodies, thereby fostering an elite integration on the one hand and a legitimacy of political authority on the other. Lau (1982) tackles the question of social stability at the macro level by pointing to the ‘minimally integrated social-political system’ of Hong Kong. Minimal integration, according to Lau, was the result of the colonial government’s self-limitation in its exercise of power on the one hand, and the low expectations of the Hong Kong Chinese towards the government on the other. The Hong Kong Chinese, going back to the 1970s, tended to mobilize family resources to solve their problems rather than relying on government action. Thus social problems and issues were seldom politicized. Kuan and Lau (1989) apply the concept of minimum integration between society and polity to the analysis of the press system in Hong Kong, arguing that this integration was also weak. These theories are not mutually exclusive; they represent attempts to provide an explanation of Hong Kong’s stability prior to the 1980s at various levels.

The surrogate democracy function: the case of Hong Kong 67 With a high degree of stability and prosperity, the public demand for democracy in Hong Kong was rather weak. In the colonial period the British government appointed the Governor of Hong Kong, who in turn appointed local elites to sit in the Legislative and Executive Councils. The actual execution of government policies was the responsibility of the civil service bureaucracy. Harris (1978) characterizes this as an executive-led political system. However, the system started to undergo gradual changes from the 1980s when Hong Kong’s return to China was confirmed. The British government began democratizing the political institution in Hong Kong by introducing popular elections into the city’s representative institutions. In 1991 the first ever direct elections to the Legislative Council were held, although only 30 per cent of the Council’s members were returned through the democratic procedure. The next year Hong Kong’s last colonial governor, Chris Patten, announced his plan to quicken the pace of democratization, but over the years this led to an acrimonious dispute between the Chinese and British governments. The handover in 1997 did not provide further impetus for democratization, and pro-democracy politicians even regarded the handover as having signalled a setback in the process of democratization. To date, only 40 per cent of the Legislative Council’s members are returned through direct elections, while an 800-member election committee is given the task of electing the Chief Executive of Hong Kong. So why is democratization limited in Hong Kong even though the city has fulfilled most of the basic conditions for democracy, including the educational level of the population and the level of economic development? According to A.Y. So (1999), the theory of ‘power dependence’ advanced by Kuan (1991) and Lau (1995) tries to explain the lack of further democratization in terms of the restrictions placed upon Hong Kong by China and Britain. He comments that the theory convincingly explains how external forces have influenced political development in Hong Kong, but he criticizes the theory for paying too little attention to the social forces within the society itself. He argues that social class dynamics and social movements cannot be neglected in constructing a comprehensive explanation of the lack of democratization in Hong Kong. Interestingly, the need to combine the ‘external’ and the ‘internal’ is also called for in understanding Hong Kong’s mass media. While ‘harsh legislation with lenient implementation’ has been a characteristic of Hong Kong’s media policy, Chan and Lee (1991) have argued that this combination should be understood as the result of the balance between internal and external power impinging on the politics of media regulation in Hong Kong. The media can promote or hinder democratization, and government regulation of the media largely affects the role the media choose to play (Chan, J.M. 2001). As a simple rule, the higher the degrees of press freedom, the more likely are the media to promote democracy. Democratization would also promote press freedom, so the relationship between them is two-way. Although Hong Kong was a colony, the press was largely free. Over the years the degree of press freedom has increased and the media have become more and more instrumental in reflecting social demands and changes. In the 1970s pressure groups and social movements

68 Joseph M. Chan and Clement Y.K. So were developed as an important mode of expressing public opinion, and they competed with the government for the media’s attention and support (Chan, J.M. 1992). Hence the media became an important ‘third party’ in the political communication process. In the 1980s the Chinese and British governments engaged in continuous negotiations about the city’s future without the participation of any formal representatives from Hong Kong itself. This left the media as the major channel through which the public could voice their interests and concerns (Chan and Lee 1991). Without full democracy Hong Kong has relied on the free press to handle the increasing amount of social conflict generated by social changes and occasional crises. If conflicts are not resolved or alleviated, social stability will suffer. Therefore, on both the question of social stability and the question of limited democratization, the role of the media should form an important part of the explanation. We believe that the Hong Kong media have played an important ‘surrogate democracy’ or ‘representative-deliberative’ function in the political communication process. This function of the media is the result of the underdevelopment of democratic institutions. With only a limited number of political representatives in the legislature being directly elected, and with the actual power and influence of the legislature being limited by the executive-led system of the government, the mass media have become an alternative ‘representative political institution’. The media are, of course, not formal political institutions but, given their functions and influence, they are key players in the political communication process. The media can be regarded as ‘representative political institutions’, as they have an important function in representing the public and its opinions. More specifically, the surrogate democracy function of the media encompasses numerous tasks, such as communicating and reflecting public opinion, providing forums, promoting communication between officials and citizens, criticizing the government, making policy suggestions and promoting social reforms. We contend that the surrogate democracy function of the media has been supplementing the lack of democracy in Hong Kong, thus helping the social and political system to manage social conflicts and maintain stability. Our hypothesis of the surrogate democracy function of the media is conceived as compatible with the theories of ‘administrative absorption of politics’ and ‘minimum society–polity integration’ reviewed earlier. However, as the social demands of Hong Kong citizens have intensified in tandem with the growing integration between society and polity since the 1970s, those theories have become less powerful explanations. This is especially true of the transitional period and of post-1997 Hong Kong. In this period, the surrogate democracy function of the media appears to be more relevant. The idea of the media performing surrogate democracy functions is also consistent with the professional values of journalism, both in democratic societies in general and in Hong Kong in particular. In Western democracies the media are often regarded as the fourth branch of the government – in other words, as independent institutions monitoring the executive, legislative and judicial branches of the government. Although there are debates on whether the media can be or

The surrogate democracy function: the case of Hong Kong

69

actually are an independent force, many journalists do accept and uphold this view. In the Chinese tradition, when the modern press began to develop in the late nineteenth century, intellectuals who organized the press emphasized the traditional values of ‘loyal criticism’ on the one hand and pointed to the need to educate the public on the other (Chan, Lee and Lee 1996). The idea of an independent press has made important advances in China since then. In the 1920s, the famous journalist, Zhang Jiluan, propounded a relatively systematic view of the role of the press, which included independent reporting, the provision of public forums and the crystallization of public opinion (Chan et al. 1996). These ideas represent a synthesis of traditional Chinese values with Western influences. Hong Kong, a meeting point of East and West, also boasts a press with a professional selfunderstanding, influenced by both Chinese and Western traditions. Given the high level of pluralism and low level of democracy in Hong Kong, we believe that the public will place a greater value on the surrogate democracy function of the media.

Methodological note In sum, we believe that Hong Kong society places an extraordinary emphasis on the surrogate democracy function of the media because it is a free and pluralistic society without full democracy. To study this particular conception of the role of the media, different methods, ranging from historical analysis, case studies of media performance in particular controversies, and research on public opinions and attitudes towards the press and politics can be used. This study approached the issue with surveys of both citizens and journalists. We aim to understand the expectations that citizens and journalists have, and the evaluations they make, about media performance. Through these expectations and evaluations we should be able to understand how the media in Hong Kong are viewed as ‘representative political institutions’, not only by the consumers of news but also by the professional news producers. A survey of citizens was conducted in 2001 as part of the Social Indicators Project (Lau et al. 2003; Shen 2003). The target population in the survey consisted of adults aged 18 and over who were living in Hong Kong. Administered by the Hong Kong Institute of Asia-Pacific Studies at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, the telephone survey resulted in a representative sample of 1,620, registering a response rate of 51 per cent. A survey of journalists was conducted in August and September 2002. A sample of news workers was drawn from various news organizations in Hong Kong by a systematic sampling procedure. The survey questionnaire was then sent to the sampled journalists. We received 722 completed questionnaires, a response rate of 62 per cent. The questionnaire items used for this comparative study cover the respondents’ expectations and evaluations of various media roles. The general format used was a five-point Likert scale. To avoid repetition, we save the delineation of specific measurements until we come to the presentation of the findings, often in the tables to come. But before we discuss the findings of this study, it is important to outline

70 Joseph M. Chan and Clement Y.K. So the press structure in Hong Kong, which defines the parameters within which the media play out their roles.

The press structure Most media organizations in Hong Kong are privately owned companies competing fiercely with each other in the market. The television, radio and newspaper industries are all highly developed and these three strands of the media constitute the most important sources of information and channels for expression of public opinion for the citizens of Hong Kong. In addition, magazines and the Internet are also widely used and they also play a role in the formation of public opinion. In 2002 there were a total of 14 daily newspapers (excluding those that were practically defunct and those with special interests, such as horse-racing) serving Hong Kong’s 6.7 million people. The high newspaper-to-population ratio is a special characteristic of the Hong Kong press system. In fact, before the 1990s, there was an even higher number of newspapers, espousing a wider spectrum of political standpoints. They included the ‘leftist papers’ controlled by the Chinese Communist Party, the Kuomintang-sponsored ‘rightist papers’ and a number of ‘centrist’ commercial papers in between (Chan and Lee 1991). Rightist papers faded away during the political transition. Now only commercial and leftist papers remain, so the left–centre–right categorization of Hong Kong newspapers is no longer applicable. Instead, newspapers can be classified as ‘pro-China’ or ‘proHong Kong’ (So and Chan, J. 1999; So, Chan and Lee 2000). In the 1950s and 1960s, Hong Kong newspapers largely focused their attention on the politics and conflicts between mainland China and Taiwan. But since the 1970s the media have turned their attention to local affairs. This trend became more pronounced with the rise of the question of Hong Kong’s future in the 1980s. In the second half of the 1990s, the increasingly adverse market conditions for newspapers led to more and more market-driven journalism, while the equally difficult political conditions and Hong Kong’s imminent return to China led to the practice of ‘self-censorship’ (Lee, C.C. 1998). It is undeniable that, over the years, the media have become more apprehensive in criticizing China but, on the whole, there is still room for critical debates. Commercial television dominates the television market. The three companies that focus on the local market, Television Broadcasts (TVB), Asia Television and Cable Television, enjoy a huge audience. They produce some news and public affairs programmes but, when compared with newspapers, television adheres more closely to the principle of political neutrality. The companies emphasize reflecting social reality rather than advocating social change. In the meantime, television news is the most important source of information for the general public, and TVB is particularly influential with its huge audience share. Besides commercial television, Radio Television Hong Kong (RTHK), institutionally a government department, also operates a television division. Despite its institutional affiliation, RTHK does enjoy a substantial degree of editorial independence and thus it can be regarded, in

The surrogate democracy function: the case of Hong Kong

71

practice, as a public broadcaster. Its television programmes are shown on channels operated by the commercial broadcasters. There are three radio broadcasters in Hong Kong. The government-owned RTHK, and private enterprises Commercial Radio and Metro Radio. They provide a fair amount of news and public affairs programming, and their radio phonein talk shows are particularly important (Lee, F.L.F. 2002). The hosts of these programmes often hold specific standpoints on political issues and debate on air with members of the public, providing a significant influence in the formation of public opinion in the city.

Social situations after the handover Citizens’ social situations are an important factor in determining their political attitudes. When society is stable and prosperous the government enjoys a relatively high level of support among its citizens, even if it is not popularly elected. On the other hand, when society is in crisis and the government is not competent in handling the crisis, public support will certainly decline. If the government is not democratically elected, public discontent is likely to be exacerbated and citizens are likely to become more concerned with how they can be represented in society. Therefore, the first thing we need to examine is citizens’ and journalists’ evaluations of the social situation since the handover. Table 6.1 shows that, despite significant differences between citizens’ and journalists’ evaluations, both groups regard Hong Kong society as facing many crises (about 80 per cent). Both tend to believe that there will be increasing conflict between the government and the public (about 70 per cent) and both groups hold Table 6.1 Citizens’ and journalists’ views on Hong Kong society

Currently, Hong Kong has to face many social crises* There are more and more conflicts between citizens and government* After the handover, the overall situation of Hong Kong has been highly adverse The government has exercised competent leadership*

Citizens

Journalists

Agree Disagree Mean (N) (%) (%)

Agree Disagree Mean (N) (%) (%)

79.5

7.6

3.80

(766) 78.0

9.0

4.07

(604)

70.7

16.4

3.59

(751) 78.8

5.8

4.04

(599)

51.1

18.9

3.39

(789) 52.3

17.1

3.53

(597)

16.5

50.5

2.60

(772)

71.7

1.99

(601)

3.7

Notes Mean: highly disagree = 1, disagree = 2, so-so = 3, agree = 4, highly agree = 5. * Using the Mann-Whitney U test, there is a significant difference ( p < 0.05) between the mean for the citizens’ sample and that for the journalists’ sample.

72 Joseph M. Chan and Clement Y.K. So negative views about the general situation of Hong Kong. At the same time, only 16.5 per cent of citizens and a minuscule 3.7 per cent of journalists think that the government has exercised competent leadership. Both citizens and journalists hold very gloomy views about the social situation of Hong Kong and the capability of the government. These results are not surprising, given Hong Kong’s economic and social problems since the handover. The Asian financial crisis in late 1997 punctured the bubble economy in the local property market. Many middle-class people were subsequently left with what had become ‘negative assets’. The financial crisis also triggered a more general economic downturn in Hong Kong. The unemployment rate rose sharply from 2 per cent to over 7 per cent, consumption plummeted and deflation set in. During the same period, the ambitious government attempted to put forward various reform measures in a wide range of areas, including education, the civil service, the structure of the economy, housing and so on. However, the lack of careful planning and consultation with the public led to resistance and criticism when the reforms were implemented. Public discontent towards the government soared, and the seriousness of the problem became especially visible when the usually passive middle class and civil servants joined the street rallies and protests. In the first five years after the handover the government professed its intention to turn Hong Kong into a regional and international ‘centre’ – a financial centre, tourist centre, technology centre, etc. But, with the failure to establish Hong Kong as any kind of centre at all, the emptiness of the rhetoric has become clear. With Shanghai, Shenzhen and Guangzhou developing rapidly over the past decade, joining Singapore and others as Hong Kong’s potential competitors in the region, Hong Kong’s citizens fail to see a future for their metropolis. We believe that these government failures reinforce the emphasis and reliance that citizens place on the surrogate democracy function of the media. The expectation–evaluation gap of the media’s surrogate democracy function As Hong Kong does not have a fully developed representative political institution, we expect citizens to look to the media to represent them. Table 6.2 shows that citizens and journalists do have high expectations about the media’s role in reflecting public opinion and monitoring the government (both higher than 70 per cent). On other surrogate democracy functions, such as providing forums, promoting communication between officials and citizens, making policy suggestions and promoting social reforms, citizens and journalists also have high expectations. Between 50 and 80 per cent of respondents in both samples regard these functions as important. Despite the overall similarities between journalists’ and citizens’ views, some differences in their opinions do exist. Journalists regard monitoring the government and serving as the mouthpiece of the people as equally important, while citizens regard the provision of forums and the promotion of communication between officials and citizens as more important than the media’s monitoring role. Furthermore, when compared with journalists, citizens place more emphasis on

The surrogate democracy function: the case of Hong Kong

73

Table 6.2 Evaluations of the importance of various functions of the media

To be the mouthpiece of the people* To improve communication between officials and citizens* To provide forums for citizens to discuss public policies To promote social reforms* To monitor the government* To make policy suggestions for the government*

Citizens

Journalists

Impor- Not Mean (N) tant important (%) (%)

Impor- Not Mean (N) tant important (%) (%)

83.3

3.4

3.93

(760) 77.6

2.9

4.11

(603)

77.9

4.7

3.81

(759) 60.6

7.6

3.72

(599)

76.7 73.2 72.9

5.5 8.6 8.1

3.80 3.73 3.75

(763) 64.4 (745) 53.5 (726) 78.9

5.9 9.8 3.8

3.82 3.63 4.14

(602) (598) (599)

66.0

12.9

3.57

(736) 48.3

13.9

3.48

(596)

Notes Mean: very unimportant = 1, not important = 2, so-so = 3, important = 4, very important = 5. * Using the Mann-Whitney U test, there is a significant difference ( p < 0.05) between the mean for the citizens’ sample and that for the journalists’ sample.

the media in making policy suggestions and promoting social reforms. This demonstrates how Hong Kong journalists perceive their role as being relatively detached from actual social reforms, and place greater emphasis on reflecting public opinion and monitoring the government. However, expectations and reality are two different matters. Table 6.3 shows citizens’ and journalists’ evaluations of how the media have performed their surrogate democracy role. On the whole, both groups of respondents are less than enthusiastic about media performance, with high proportions giving the ‘so-so’ answer. It is clear that performance has not matched expectations among the public. For the citizens, the media perform best on reflecting public opinion (44.2 per cent), providing forums (39.5 per cent) and monitoring the government (35 per cent). Their performance is less impressive in promoting social reforms (28.9 per cent), promoting communication between officials and citizens (27.3 per cent) and making policy suggestions (23.3 per cent). For journalists, the media are best at monitoring the government (51.6 per cent) and serving as the mouthpiece of the people (46.8 per cent), followed by providing forums (36.7 per cent), promoting communication between officials and citizens (27.4 per cent), making policy suggestions (20.4 per cent) and promoting social reforms (18.7 per cent). In general, both citizens and journalists are relatively satisfied with media performance on reflecting public opinion, monitoring the government and providing forums for public debate. But clearly there is a gap between the respondents’ expectations and their evaluations of the media. Here we take as an indicator of the gap the difference between the percentage of respondents who regard a particular function as important and the percentage who regard the same function as well performed by the media. As Table 6.4 shows, the expectation–evaluation gap is larger for the

74 Joseph M. Chan and Clement Y.K. So Table 6.3 Evaluations of media performance Citizens

To be the mouthpiece of the people To improve communication between officials and citizens* To provide forums for citizens to discuss public policies* To promote social reforms* To monitor the government To make policy suggestions for the government*

Journalists

Good (%)

Bad (%)

Mean (N)

Good (%)

Bad (%)

Mean (N)

44.2

10.0

3.37

(747) 46.8

12.0

3.42

(590)

27.3

22.5

3.05

(741) 27.4

24.7

3.03

(586)

39.5 28.9 35.0

9.6 20.8 15.7

3.32 3.08 3.21

(752) 36.7 (726) 18.7 (706) 51.6

18.2 31.8 12.1

3.22 2.84 3.50

(590) (576) (585)

23.3

20.4

3.02

(720) 20.4

29.8

2.89

(583)

Notes Mean: very bad = 1, bad = 2, so-so = 3, good = 4, very good = 5. * Using the Mann-Whitney U test, there is a significant difference ( p < 0.05) between the mean for the citizens’ sample and that for the journalists’ sample.

Table 6.4 The expectation—evaluation gap in the media’s surrogate democracy functions (%)

To monitor the government To promote social reforms To make policy suggestions for the government To be the mouthpiece of the people To provide forums for citizens to discuss public policies To improve communication between officials and citizens

Citizens

Journalists

37.9 44.3 42.7 39.1 37.2 50.6

27.3 34.8 27.9 30.8 27.7 33.2

Note Expectation–evaluation gap: percentage who think the function is important minus percentage who think that function is well performed by the media.

citizens (between 37.2 per cent and 50.6 per cent) than for the journalists (between 27.3 per cent and 34.8 per cent). As journalists identify with the media more than citizens do, it is understandable that there is a smaller expectation–evaluation gap for them. It is also apparent that the expectation–evaluation gap for the citizens is largest over promoting communication between officials and citizens (50.6 per cent), promoting social reforms (44.3 per cent) and making policy suggestions (42.7 per cent). These functions are exactly those that the journalists regard as relatively unimportant.

The limits of the media’s surrogate democracy function The importance of the surrogate democracy function of the media in Hong Kong is premised on the underdevelopment of democracy. If Hong Kong had full demo-

The surrogate democracy function: the case of Hong Kong

75

cracy or the government were more responsive towards public opinion, citizens might not stress the media’s role so much. Table 6.5 shows citizens’ and journalists’ views on the expression of public opinion in Hong Kong. The citizens are roughly evenly divided on whether Hong Kong has enough democracy, with about one-third of respondents agreeing and a similar figure disagreeing. But journalists are more insistent on the lack of democracy in Hong Kong, with 53.1 per cent of them disagreeing with the statement that Hong Kong has enough democracy. Only 13.5 per cent of the journalists agree with the statement, indicating that there is a stronger demand for democracy among the journalists. As to whether the government is willing to accept public opinion, 39 per cent of citizens and 59.3 per cent of journalists make negative responses. On the whole, Hong Kong citizens are not satisfied with the degree of democracy in Hong Kong and the extent to which the government respects public opinion. The discontent runs even deeper among journalists. In Hong Kong the Legislative Council is the formal representative political institution. It is expected to communicate public opinion effectively to the government. However, as fewer than half its members are returned by democratic elections, the representativeness of the Legislative Council is debatable. Functional constituencies and election committees are the two other methods through which politicians enter the legislature, and these politicians cannot truly be called representatives of the public. In fact, only 28.3 per cent of citizens agree that the legislature can effectively reflect public opinion, while 37 per cent disagree with the Table 6.5 Views on the expression of public opinion

The media are the most effective channel to communicate Hong Kong public opinion to China* The Hong Kong media can effectively reflect public opinion* The political institution in Hong Kong is already very democratic* The government is willing to accept public opinion* The Legislative Council can effectively reflect public opinion*

Citizens

Journalists

Agree Disagree Mean (N) (%) (%)

Agree Disagree Mean (N) (%) (%)

54.4

26.9

3.29

(726) 48.3

21.3

3.41

(588)

48.3

21.6

3.27

(746) 37.6

19.0

3.20

(599)

33.8

34.6

2.99

(755) 13.5

53.1

2.43

(597)

28.6

39.0

2.87

(751)

9.1

59.3

2.32

(597)

28.3

37.0

2.88

(738)

9.2

52.7

2.42

(598)

Notes Mean: highly disagree = 1, disagree = 2, so-so = 3, agree = 4, highly agree = 5. * Using the Mann-Whitney U test, there is a significant difference ( p < 0.05) between the mean for the citizens’ sample and that for the journalists’ sample.

76 Joseph M. Chan and Clement Y.K. So notion. Among the journalists, the representativeness of the legislature has an even lower score, with only 9.2 per cent of them regarding the legislature as capable of reflecting public opinion, and 52.7 per cent saying it cannot. When asked, in contrast, whether the media can effectively reflect public opinion, 48.3 per cent of citizens and 37.6 per cent of journalists provided a positive response, while only about 20 per cent of citizens and journalists responded negatively. Respondents were then asked directly to compare the ability of the legislature and the media to represent public opinion. Table 6.6 shows that 57.4 per cent of citizens and 78 per cent of journalists chose the media. It shows that citizens and journalists do see the media as an important ‘representative political institution’ in Hong Kong. However, when they were asked to compare the media and the legislature in terms of their influence on government policy-making, 60.9 per cent of citizens chose the legislature and only 24.2 per cent chose the media, while the journalists were roughly equally divided on the question. These results show the limitation of the media as the public’s representatives: even though they can represent public opinion, the opinion thus communicated may nonetheless lack actual political influence. Although the media may not influence government policies, they may exert a huge influence in setting the social agenda. When the respondents were asked whether media, government or legislature had the greatest influence in setting the social agenda, 35.1 per cent of citizens chose the media, 27.7 per cent chose the legislature and another 27.4 per cent chose the government. The sampled journalists, however, overwhelmingly regarded the media as the most influential (82.5 per cent). When the views of citizens and journalists are compared, we find that the journalists are more confident about the media’s functions and influence. This is probably related to their professional roles and their direct observation of the political process. Table 6.6 Comparison of the media, the legislature and the government (%) Citizens

Journalists

Media Legis- Govern- Same lature ment

Who can better represent public opinion* 57.4 Who has more influence on government policy-making* 24.2 Who has the greatest influence in setting the social agenda* 35.1

(N)

Media Legis- Govern- Same lature ment

(N)

30.6 –

12.0

(702) 78.0

5.3 –

16.7

(462)

60.9 –

14.9

(683) 39.5

36.3 –

24.2

(452)

9.8

(661) 82.5

0.0

(513)

27.7 27.4

5.4 12.2

Note *Using the chi-square test, a significant difference exists between the citizens’ sample and the journalists’ sample ( p < 0.05).

The surrogate democracy function: the case of Hong Kong

77

For a more concrete examination of citizens’ and journalists’ evaluations of the various channels available for the expression of public opinion, we asked them to name the most effective channel for public opinion among radio programmes, newspaper forums, legislators’ offices and government departments. Table 6.7 shows that radio programmes received by far the most votes from both citizens and journalists, followed by newspaper forums. Again, it shows that mediasponsored forums are regarded as more effective channels than the formal political institutions. But why do radio programmes receive such positive evaluations? It is probably a result of the numerous public affairs phone-in shows which allow citizens to express their opinions directly and in their own words, and sometimes also have officials joining in to communicate directly with the public. With a large audience and a highly interactive format, these radio programmes have become a symbol of public opinion expression.

The bottom line of media criticism The government and pro-China media frequently emphasize the importance of social solidarity, and they argue that the mainstream media’s criticisms of society and the government only create and deepen social conflicts and undermine the government’s credibility and authority. They urge the media to exhibit some ‘prudence’ for the sake of ‘a larger cause’ or ‘preserving the big picture’. Table 6.8 shows that 52.8 per cent of citizens do think that media criticism has the impact of fragmenting society and 39 per cent think such criticism hurts the government’s credibility and authority. About 25.9 per cent of citizens even agree that the media should reduce the amount of criticism for the sake of social stability. However, the majority of citizens still hold the opposite view, as 57.3 per cent disagree with the idea of the media reducing freedom for the sake of the big picture and 63.8 per cent think that the media should keep criticizing the government. In the spirit of a Chinese saying that ‘family scandals should be confined to the household’, Tung Chee-hwa and the pro-China media have criticized the democrats in Hong Kong for ‘badmouthing’ it in the international arena. Given that the international community very much relies on the media for information about Table 6.7 The most effective channel for the expression of public opinion (%)

Radio programmes Newspaper forums Legislative Councillor’s offices Government departments All equally effective (N)

Citizens

Journalists

46.5 26.6 12.6 8.4 5.9 (706)

77.6 17.7 2.7 1.9 0.0 (530)

Note Using the chi-square test, a significant difference exists between the citizens’ sample and the journalists’ sample ( p < 0.05)

78 Joseph M. Chan and Clement Y.K. So Table 6.8 Attitudes towards the Hong Kong media’s criticisms of the government

To maintain social stability, the news media should not criticize the government frequently* Media criticism has the impact of fragmenting society* For the sake of the big picture, it is fine for the news media to sacrifice some freedom* Media criticism of the government will damage the government’s credibility and authority* Media criticizing the government is an act of ‘badmouthing’ Hong Kong internationally* When the media criticize the SAR government, they should take into account the difficulties it is facing* When the media criticize the Chinese central government, they should take into account the difficulties it is facing*

Citizens

Journalists

Agree Disagree Mean (N) (%) (%)

Agree Disagree Mean (N) (%) (%)

25.9

63.8

2.58

(756)

5.9

80.1

1.71

(605)

52.8

30.1

3.24

(708) 21.2

49.5

2.53

(587)

35.3

57.3

2.73

(729)

6.3

79.1

1.76

(600)

39.0

43.3

2.96

(730) 24.8

48.6

2.56

(595)

26.8

62.8

2.63

(747)

4.4

81.8

1.71

(597)

56.8

28.1

3.28

(754) 16.2

53.8

2.40

(599)

47.7

35.8

3.10

(729) 14.0

58.1

2.31

(598)

Notes Mean: highly disagree = 1, disagree = 2, so-so = 3, agree = 4, highly agree = 5. *Using the Mann-Whitney U test, there is a significant difference (p < 0.05) between the mean for the citizens’ sample and that for the journalists’ sample.

Hong Kong, we asked whether citizens would agree that media criticism of the government constituted ‘badmouthing’ Hong Kong internationally. Only 26.8 per cent of our respondents agreed with that view, while 62.8 per cent disagreed. It is clear that the majority of citizens do not want the media to stop its criticisms of the government, regardless of how such criticisms may affect the internal stability or external reputation of the city. If a critic views an issue from the perspective of the criticized, the intensity of the criticism tends to be reduced. When asked whether the media should consider the difficulties the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region (SAR) government faces when they criticize it, more than half of the citizen respondents (56.8 per cent) replied positively. When the object of criticism is the Chinese central government, the proportion of citizens who agreed was smaller, but still close to 50 per cent. It shows that some citizens at least do not expect the media to criticize the government without any sense of proportion. Rather, the media need to understand the

The surrogate democracy function: the case of Hong Kong

79

government’s situation. It is probable that the citizens’ views of the government would be less harsh if they understood the concrete problems confronting the government. Comparing journalists’ and citizens’ responses, we find that the former are more concerned with the freedom the media have to criticize the government, and that a mere 5.9 per cent of them agree that the media should reduce criticism for the sake of social stability. Also, only 16.2 per cent of journalists think that the media should consider the SAR government’s difficulties when making criticisms. As criticizing and monitoring the government rank highly among journalists’ professional principles, journalists are far less likely than citizens to compromise on press freedom and criticism.

Conclusion With the lack of democracy, the existence of numerous crises in the past few years, and a government that is generally perceived as not very responsive to public opinion, both citizens and journalists have high expectations of the media as an alternative representative institution. Although there is a gap between expectation and evaluation, the media’s surrogate democracy function is still highly valued by members of society. For both citizens and journalists, the media are even more important than the legislature, as they can better represent public opinion and exert more influence on the social agenda. And, among the various channels for opinion expression, radio programmes are considered the most effective. Nevertheless, there are clear limitations to the surrogate democracy function of the media. Most notably, citizens recognize that the media do not have much actual influence on government policies, while they think the media should consider the difficulties the government needs to face when making their criticisms. The various social classes and groups in Hong Kong have diverging interests. Social conflicts, both latent and manifest, abound. However, Hong Kong society remains relatively stable and underdeveloped in democracy. Sociologists in Hong Kong have put forward the theories of ‘administrative absorption of politics’, ‘the minimally integrated social-political system’ and ‘dynamics of internal–external forces’ as explanations. The surrogate democracy function of the media is proposed here as an additional and supplementary argument that serves to explain Hong Kong’s unusual stability and limited democratization. The Hong Kong media have long been a highly diverse group. Even when they collectively perform the same surrogate democracy function, the actual opinions they represent and the specific content and results of their deliberations still differ widely. It is through this media system and the pluralistic values and ideas they represent that social stability can be maintained. Press freedom, which is essential for the media to perform as a representative institution, is thus of utmost importance in Hong Kong and should be fervently protected. The expectation–evaluation gap in media performance shows that there is much room for improvement on the part of the media. In-depth analysis and coverage of social and political issues are important for the media to perform its surrogate

80 Joseph M. Chan and Clement Y.K. So democracy function. However, the media currently put few resources into these areas, and management practices in the newsroom are not conducive to such development either. The media are monitoring the government ‘passively’ rather than ‘proactively’. As society generates a diverse set of opinions, all claiming to represent ‘public opinion’, how to articulate and synthesize these opinions, how to discern insightful opinions from manipulative rhetoric, and how to enhance the quality of public debate are some of the important questions facing the Hong Kong media. For citizens and journalists, the democracy function of the legislature cannot match the democracy function of the media. This finding should concern government leaders in the city. In the long run, Hong Kong cannot rely too much on the media to supplement the lack of democracy. The government should realize that further democratization is the only way to strengthen the legislature’s capability and the government’s legitimacy. In the coming years Hong Kong will have to deliberate the future of its political institution, and this is the best opportunity for enhancing democracy in Hong Kong. In the short term the government should seek to grasp and understand public opinion via the media and other channels, and to engage in a dialogue with the public in the public sphere. When Tung Chee-hwa launched his bid for re-election he stated that the general aim of his second term of office was to ‘think what the citizens think, worry what the citizens worry’. Was this only an election slogan or a genuine goal that will be truly sought after? Hong Kong has a dense population and a modern mass media. The speed of information transmission is high and opinions on social issues are diverse and intense. As soon as a controversy breaks out, public opinions will develop and gather momentum, placing immense pressure on the government to respond. Government officials thus have to act like firefighters, running around to quell the criticisms that spark up here and there. This has led some top government officials to lament that Hong Kong is governed not by them but by the media. In reality there is no question that the governing power is firmly in the hands of the officials. The complaint can best be interpreted as a nostalgic desire for a past when officials hardly needed to deal with public opinion. It can also be viewed as a reflection of the loss of proactivity on the part of government officials. While the media can shape the social agenda, the government can still set the media’s agenda. With authority and credibility derived from their bureaucratic positions, officials are in a good position to use the media to communicate with the public and to influence public opinion. But to achieve this aim, government officials must not become entrenched in the fortress of their offices. They should take the initiative to respond to public concerns and to emerging social crises with clear messages. This is the best way for the government to rebuild its authority and credibility and to exorcize the feeling that it is losing the power to govern to the media.

Note 1 The work described in this chapter was partially supported by a grant from the Research Grants Council of the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region (project no. CUHK 4320/01H).

7

Democracy, the press and civil society in Hong Kong Paul S.N. Lee

The goal of this chapter is twofold. First, it examines the role of the Hong Kong press as a forum for civil society to engage with and contest the state. Second, it analyses the activities of the news media in two major incidents to see whether the media are leaders or followers in the push to build a democratic system in Hong Kong. This chapter first provides a background to the political structure of Hong Kong, then the ownership structure and constraints on the press after 1997. This is followed by a discussion on the struggle for democracy by civil society and the role played by the press in this struggle. Two major incidents are analysed to highlight the role played by the press and civil society vis-à-vis the state. They are the crisis of severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) and the legislation of Article 23 of the Hong Kong Basic Law concerning national security. Both incidents occurred in 2002–3. Based on these analyses, the author argues that it is civil society rather than the press that has led the struggle for democracy in Hong Kong. Some mainstream media are in fact found to side with the state to frustrate instead of advance democratic demands. Some media are not as ‘civil’ as some liberal theorists would like to see. This chapter examines the role of the press vis-à-vis civil society in its struggle against the state for democracy after the handover of Hong Kong to China.

The political structure of Hong Kong After 150 years of British rule, Hong Kong was left with a strong civil society but a weak democracy. About ten years before the British returned Hong Kong to China in 1997, Britain, which had shown no interest in installing democratic institutions during its reign, started democratic reforms in the colony. Under the changes, all seats in the Legislative Council were to be chosen through popular election. Despite the popular reception of these changes, Beijing eradicated the ‘popular election element’ in the functional constituencies of the legislature on the basis that they were in violation of the Hong Kong Basic Law enacted by the People’s Republic of China (PRC). After the handover, the PRC limited the popularly elected seats in the legislature to only 24 of the total 60 seats; 30 were to be filled by representatives of

82 Paul S.N. Lee functional constituencies and six by an Election Committee formed by the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region (HKSAR) government. The Chief Executive of the HKSAR was also to be ‘elected’ by a small electorate of 800 people, mostly nominees from pro-Beijing quarters. This ensured that Beijing controlled both the Legislative Council and the Executive Council. Local people call this a ‘bird-cage’ democracy.

The press, civil society and democracy From a Habermasian perspective, the press provides an important public sphere for creating an informed citizenry and for civil society to form and act (see Calhoun 1992; Dahlgren 1995; Habermas 1989). The idealistic Habermasian conception of media and public sphere is, however, challenged by the real-life circumstances in which media operate. The media often serve to maintain the status quo for the state and power holders rather than advancing mass interests. Many studies have found that the media are biased in favour of elites rather than the ‘masses’. For example, studies have shown that elite sources dominate news production (Bennett 1990; Gans 1985a; Hall et al. 1978; Herman and Chomsky 1988; Hess 2000; Schlesinger and Tumber 1994; Tiffen 1989). Big corporations and bureaucracies are the most-cited and chief suppliers of news, and the press releases and interviews given by big corporations and government departments constitute a form of ‘information subsidy’ to news organizations (Fishman 1980; Molotch and Lester 1974). Nordenstreng and Varis (1973) have observed that in a capitalist society, mass communication serves to conceal class antagonism inside society, to illegitimize the concrete social alternatives to the existing social order, and to make profit as a branch of commercial industry. In their analysis of shifting political positions in the Hong Kong press on the eve of the handover of sovereignty, Lee and Chu (1998) found that the news media were inherently dependent on power. About half a year before the handover, the mainstream press in Hong Kong had already changed side to legitimize the new sovereign power in Beijing and gave the cold shoulder to the British colonial administration. Such studies challenge the liberalist conception of a neutral and objective press.

The press of Hong Kong The majority of Hong Kong media are run on a commercial basis, with only a few newspapers and special-interest media being supported by the Chinese Communist Party or interested groups. Before the handover in 1997 the Hong Kong press could be classified into four categories – communist, pro-Beijing, independent and apolitical (Lee and Chu 1998). After the handover the ownership structure stabilized. As of 2004, the Hong Kong press could be classified as communist, proBeijing, independent, apolitical or anti-Beijing in their political stance (see Table 7.1). Compared with the press a few years ago, the voice against Beijing and the HKSAR government has become crystallized. The reason is that people cannot replace the inept HKSAR leadership through popular votes under the ‘bird-cage’

Democracy, the press and civil society in Hong Kong 83 Table 7.1 Ownership, capital interests and political stance of major news groups Owners

Major news media

Capital interests

Political stance

Oriental Group

Oriental Daily News The Sun Sing Tao Daily Eastweek Hong Kong Standard HK Daily News Apple Daily Next Magazine Ming Pao Yazhou Zhoukan Ming Pao Monthly Ming Pao Weekly South China Morning Post HK Economic Journal HKEJ Monthly HK Economic News Sing Pao Television Broadcast Ltd Asia Television Ltd HK Cable TV Commercial Radio RadioTV HK Metro Radio

Local

Pro-Beijing

Local

Pro-Beijing

Local Local

Apolitical Anti-Beijing

Malaysian

Independent

Malaysian Local

Independent Independent

Local Local Local Local Local Local Local Local

Independent Pro-Beijing Independent Pro-Beijing Independent Anti-Beijing Independent Apolitical

Ho family

Emperor Group Next Group Ming Pao Group

SCMP Group Lin family Fung family Sunshine Group Shaw Group Chen Group Wharf Group Ho family HK Government Hutchison Group

Note The classification of different media organizations’ political stances was based on observation that I conducted between August 2002 and August 2004. As Hong Kong had experienced great economic downturns after the handover, the ownership and political orientation of the press may change in the future. Only the mainstream media are listed here. The communist papers of Ta Kung Pao, Wen Wei Po and Hong Kong Commercial Daily all had daily circulations of less than 50,000 and had little influence among the common people in the year 2004.

democratic system. The anti-Beijing and HKSAR government voice is represented by some mainstream media, including the Apple Daily, Next Magazine and the Commercial Radio. In addition to traditional journalistic stories, the mass media carry many other forms of information that may be equally or more effective for Hong Kong people as channels of public discontent and criticism against the HKSAR government and its boss in Beijing. Radio phone-in programmes have become major vehicles for such information, and two phone-in programme hosts in Commercial Radio have been particularly influential. The communist newspapers Ta Kung Pao, Wen Wei Po and Hong Kong Commercial Daily have little influence in Hong Kong as they have very small circulations. They reflect Beijing’s position in Hong Kong and Chinese affairs, so some top HKSAR officials and businessmen engaged in trade with China read them for reference. The Beijing position in Hong Kong, however, is reflected more often by the ProBeijing media, including the Oriental Daily News, The Sun, Sing Tao Daily, Sing Pao, and to some extent Asia Television in its news coverage and commentaries.

84 Paul S.N. Lee Due to licensing conditions and conventional practice, electronic media tend to be more objective in their news reporting, and less controversial. The independent press toes no party line and has no fixed position on controversial issues. Its position depends on the nature of events rather than orthodoxies or ideologies. It does not steadfastly support or attack a particular position, party, organization or individual. The independent press basically takes a non-partisan position. It includes the Ming Pao, Hong Kong Economic Journal, Hong Kong Economic Times, South China Morning Post and all electronic media except Asia Television, which is proBeijing, and Metro Radio, which tends to be apolitical. Apolitical media usually refrain from expressing a political stand, although they may comment on some trivial social and economic issues. The apolitical press tends to stress sensationalism, crime, sex and human interest stories. Since July 2003, however, very few media in Hong Kong have been able to maintain an apolitical position due to the repoliticization of society. In 2004 the Hong Kong Daily News and Metro Radio could be considered apolitical. In recent years the popularity of phone-in radio programmes has changed the character of radio stations. Both Commercial Radio and Radio TV Hong Kong (RTHK) have taken on a vocal and critical image as a result of the interaction between programme hosts and radio listeners in their phone-in programmes. The most highly rated radio programme has been Albert Cheng’s morning Commercial Radio programme ‘Teacup in a Storm’. This programme will be mentioned later. After the handover, the Hong Kong press is as diverse as before, with a range of owners and political stances. Hong Kong society became repoliticized in 2003 due to the legislation of Article 23 of the Basic Law concerning national security, and repeated blunders by the HKSAR government. The anti-Beijing and HKSAR government stance was articulated and solidified in civil society. One faction of the press has joined hands with civil society to press for democracy, while another faction sides with Beijing to slow the pace of democratic reforms.

Constraints on the Hong Kong press There are three major constraints on media operation in Hong Kong – the audience, the state, and media organizations themselves. These three constraints shape the press’s roles in the democratic movement advanced by civil society. In capitalist societies all mainstream media have to rely on audience patronage to survive and thrive. Without an audience, no commercial media can survive and influence society and the state. Media which do not need mass support, such as political newspapers or special-interest media, generally have only a minor or marginal role to play in the development of society. Most mainstream media, adopting a market-driven model, however, emphasize entertainment and consumer needs more than serious content and political information. Studies have shown that media cut costs and popularize news content in increasingly competitive markets. Investigative, contextualized journalism and coverage

Democracy, the press and civil society in Hong Kong 85 of complex debates are being replaced by infotainment, gossip, scandal and public relations material (Curran 2000; Davis 2000, 2002; Hallin 2000; Hess 2000; Ewen 1996; Franklin 1994; Kimball 1994). It has also been found that the audience for news products has declined steadily in the United States and the United Kingdom, and news consumers are more inclined to consume information, sport and entertainment than political news (Morrison 1991; Negrine 1996; Seymour-Ure 1996; Tunstall 1996). The media market in Hong Kong is highly competitive and the use of sensational material is rampant. It prompted the HKSAR government in 1999 to propose a press council with statutory power to monitor the media. This proposal was strongly opposed by the industry and was shelved after the establishment of a self-regulatory press council by the industry itself. Judging from the popularity of the three most sensational newspapers in Hong Kong – the Oriental Daily News, The Sun and Apple Daily – the majority of Hong Kong people are not consumers of serious news. They consume media mainly for entertainment and ‘soft’ information involving lifestyle, shopping tips, food, restaurants, new electronic products and the like. With this audience in mind, it is not surprising that the Oriental Daily News and Apple Daily can command strong mass support despite their different political stances toward Beijing. The majority of the audience simply does not care about the political stances of the media. People will buy media that provide what they perceive as good entertainment and soft information to meet their needs, regardless of whether they are pro-Beijing or anti-Beijing. The communist papers cannot command a large audience in Hong Kong for two reasons – because they do not adopt a market-driven model, and because of the unpopularity of communist politics in the market. All mainstream media in Hong Kong operate as private enterprises, with the exception of the public broadcaster, Radio Television Hong Kong (RTHK), which is publicly funded. Unlike many other countries, Hong Kong does not have significant community broadcasting. There are some campus radio stations run by university students, but they have minimal impact on the greater society. The RTHK is the only public broadcaster in Hong Kong. It is a government entity modelled on the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) and operates with editorial independence rather than serving as a mouthpiece of the HKSAR government. The RTHK does not have the commercial imperative to please its audience, and is therefore one of the few professional and non-sensational media in Hong Kong. The RTHK protects its independence from the state, and would become a marginal medium if it were to behave like a state lapdog. The RTHK’s independence is a result of its history. Before 1973 it did not have editorial independence in news production. All news programmes were directly supplied by the Government Information Service (GIS). Years of demands by staff led to RTHK obtaining editorial independence in news production in 1973. James Hawthorne, the Director of Broadcasting in 1972–78, recalled, ‘Eventually, we did get control over the news and that was a condition that I stayed on in Hong Kong. I didn’t want to run an organization that had no control over its news’ (RTHK 2003a: 90). Staff

86 Paul S.N. Lee aspirations to independence from the government and a desire to play a major role in society are the main factors behind the RTHK’s success in maintaining a BBC model despite its status as a government department. Pro-Beijing sectors frequently criticize the RTHK for not supporting the HKSAR government, but these criticisms are countered by support from society. This social support is probably a deterrent against overt measures by the HKSAR government or the Beijing authorities to discipline the station. The HKSAR government understands that a broadcaster with a lapdog image serves no purpose for it. As Yeung (2000) observes, the Tung Chee-hwa leadership understands the negative consequences of being seen attempting to gag the media. Media freedom remains an important benchmark for investors in Hong Kong. This does not mean that the HKSAR or the Beijing authorities do not exert any control on the station. The transfer of its former director, Cheung Man-yee, to HKSAR government’s Economic and Trade Office in Tokyo in October 1999, shortly after the station broadcast remarks by Taiwan’s unofficial representative in Hong Kong on the concept of ‘two states’ across the Taiwan Strait, was widely believed to be an HKSAR government measure to make the station toe the line. The second constraint on the Hong Kong media comes from the state’s intervention. The state has been found to be a major actor in the news process. Through supplying and withholding information, the state is a chief moulder of news, especially in political reporting (Gans 1985a; Herman and Chomsky 1988; Hess 2000), crime (Hall et al. 1978, Ericson et al. 1989, Schlesinger and Tumber 1994), tax, welfare and financial matters (Deacon and Golding 1994; Davis, 2002), and war (Hallin 1994; Bennett and Paletz 1994). The state has a strong propensity to influence the press to give them positive coverage. In a free society the state’s influence is usually exerted through two means. One is by withholding government information from unfriendly media and rewarding exclusive information to friendly ones. The other is to discourage businessmen or advertisers from placing their ads in unfriendly media. The former means is effective only if the mainstream media are disunited and subject themselves to government manipulation. The latter means is unlikely to succeed in a society with diverse business interests. In a pluralist society with a strong press and civil society, the state has little room to manoeuvre against the press. At the time of writing, Hong Kong still had diverse business interests despite the growing influence of Chinese capital. But the press was disunited. Disunity, together with the growth in Chinese capital, gives room for the state to manipulate the press. For example, companies of the number one tycoon, Li Ka-shing, who has close ties with Beijing, seldom place advertisements in the anti-Beijing Apple Daily, but favour the pro-Beijing Oriental Daily News. The third constraint on the media lies with the media organizations themselves. Ettema (1982) points out that three lenses are usually used to examine the production process in news organizations. The first lens focuses on attributes of media personnel, the second on production routines, and the third on conflicts within and among media organizations. Studies on values (Cantor 1971; Johnstone, Slawski and Bowman 1976), news judgement (White 1950; Dimmick 1974),

Democracy, the press and civil society in Hong Kong 87 and biases (Gans 1985b; Reeves 1997; Niven 2003) use the first lens. Studies on gatekeepers (White 1950; Hirsch 1972), coping strategies in uncertain business environments (Thompson 1967), production routines (Elliot 1970; Tuchman 1977, 1978), and socialization (March and Simon 1958; Gans 1985a) use the second lens. The third lens includes studies on conflict identification, conflict development, and conflict management (Argyris 1974; Breed 1958; Cantor 1971; Dimmick 1979; Seligman 1973; Tunstall 1971). In examining the role of the press in fighting for democracy in Hong Kong, both the first and second lenses – media personnel and production routines – are relevant. Two types of media personnel – journalists and media proprietors – have decisive influence on the final news products. If the journalists share strong professionalism the media proprietor’s influence is smaller. Professionalism in news organizations varies in Hong Kong, depending on the interaction between the proprietor and journalists in a particular news organization. Generally the proprietor has the upper hand. If he chooses to influence the news line, he will succeed despite some hurdles and troubles at the beginning. The influence of Jimmy Lai’s personal style on the management of Apple Daily is well known in the industry. He runs the daily as a corporate business, with rapid hiring and firing, big bonuses and relentless reprimands. The media in Hong Kong operate in somewhat different manners in response to pressures from these three sources of constraint.

The news frames In the first few years after the handover, most media in Hong Kong were uncertain about their political role. Hong Kong people were also uncertain about what they could expect from the new sovereign power in Beijing. At the beginning, both Hong Kong society and the press were cautious. Both avoided being ‘too political’ and ‘critical’. Most Hong Kong media became depoliticized during the transitional period, giving little coverage to political controversies and more coverage to social and economic issues. Mainstream media, including television stations, favoured ‘infotainment’ and sensational material to keep their audiences and profits. Politically sensitive issues such as political reforms and negative reports on China were downplayed or set aside. But the Asian financial crises and economic downturns led to mounting discontent as both the masses and middle class in Hong Kong suffered the effects of recession. The press in Hong Kong shifted its political news frames from Sino-British strife and anti-communism before the handover to HKSAR government ineptitude in relieving economic distress and saving resources through efficient service provision. In addition, the HKSAR government was seen by many as the proxy of Beijing. Consequently, the pre-1997 anti-communist sentiment was redirected to the HKSAR government after the handover. After the first five-year term of the Chief Executive expired in 2002 there was no sign of economic recovery. Many people were frustrated by the ineptitude of the

88 Paul S.N. Lee HKSAR government in dealing with various problems, including the crash of the property market, the outbreak of bird flu, confusion created by the enforcement of the use of the mother tongue as a teaching medium in schools, the right of abode of children born in China to Hong Kong parents, the English assessment test of secondary school teachers and chaos resulting from the enactment of copyright law. Many policies were designed with good intentions, but ended in great confusion or failure due to insufficient time for consultation, preparation or planning for implementation. The use of the mother tongue as a teaching medium in schools illustrates the blunders. In 1998–99 the HKSAR implemented the policy of using the mother tongue – Chinese – in secondary schools. About 300 schools had to use Chinese as the medium of instruction, but 110 schools were exempted because they were judged to be capable of using English as the teaching medium. These 110 schools used to be the ‘best’ schools, as nearly all prestigious schools were English schools during the colonial period. This exemption panicked parents who had children in schools that were not on the ‘110 list’ and it provoked protests from parents, school children and teachers. The community did not dispute the good intentions of using the mother tongue, but protested that the lack of consultation, the rushed implementation and the exemption of 110 prestigious schools stigmatized Chinese schools and disadvantaged them when it came to the future recruitment of good students. Many people hoped that a new Chief Executive would replace Tung Chee-hwa after his first term. Tung was conceived as incapable and stubborn. To the disappointment of many, especially the workers and the middle class, in 2002 Tung Chee-hwa was ‘re-elected’ for another five-year term by the pro-Beijing electorate consisting of 800 members. This ‘re-election’ highlighted the undemocratic nature of the political system. Despite a bad performance, the top official could stay as long as Beijing nodded its head. The wishes of Hong Kong people were irrelevant and ignored. Since 2002 the role of the press has become more important. It is relied upon by Hong Kong people to channel their discontent, scrutinize the government, and to set a policy agenda for the government. On the other hand, a weak HKSAR government, backed by its chief in Beijing, also looks upon the press for support for its policies and legitimacy. The HKSAR government, with the aid of Beijing, succeeded in co-opting some mainstream media. In 2003 the proprietors of the Oriental Group and the Sing Tao Daily became members of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference. The Oriental Group owns two newspapers – the Oriental Daily News and The Sun, which have the top and third largest circulation respectively – while the Sing Tao Daily, which was launched in 1938, still has some influence in the middle class despite its change of ownership from Sally Aw to the Ho family in 2001. The three newspapers started to show a strong pro-Beijing and/or pro-HKSAR government stance in major controversies in 2003 and 2004, including the enactment of Article 23 of the Basic Law, the government performance during the SARS crisis, the patriotism debate and the ruling out of universal suffrage in 2007

Democracy, the press and civil society in Hong Kong 89 for the Chief Executive and in 2008 for the Legislative Council by the Standing Committee of the National People’s Congress of China. A study done by the Chinese University on news coverage on the patriotism debates in January–March 2004 is illuminating. Clement So and his students at the Chinese University’s School of Journalism and Communication conducted a content analysis of news articles and editorials in 14 Hong Kong daily newspapers during the period of the patriotism debates. The debates started in February 2004 when the state-run mainland China news agency, Xinhua, released a statement that Hong Kong should be run by Hong Kong ‘patriots’ who upheld the Basic Law, supported China’s resumption of sovereignty for Hong Kong, and endorsed the ‘one country, two systems’ principle. The statement alleged that a small number of people used the shield of democracy to oppose the leadership of the Chinese Communist Party and subvert the central government. Some pro-Beijing supporters in Hong Kong went further, naming leaders of Hong Kong’s Democratic Party as unpatriotic. The Chinese University study found that, apart from the three communist newspapers, the Oriental Daily News, The Sun and Sing Tao Daily openly supported the mainland definition of patriotism. More than 70 per cent of the news in these three mainstream papers reflected Beijing’s position in the issue. As a whole, 55 per cent of the news articles in the 14 papers analysed supported Beijing’s position, while 15 per cent backed the democratic camp and 30 per cent were neutral or without a clear stance. Among 162 editorials, 43 per cent were pro-Beijing, while the rest were either neutral or supportive of the pro-democracy camp. Among the newspapers, the Ming Pao tended to be most objective and balanced while the Apple Daily, which had the second largest circulation, showed the strongest support for the democratic camp (Hong Kong Journalist Association and Article 19 2004: 15–17). This case indicates that the press in Hong Kong is split in its support for the democratic camp, and some media are being manipulated or co-opted by the HKSAR government with the backing of Beijing. It is true that pluralism is a requisite of a free and democratic society. The pro-Beijing, anti-Beijing and neutral responses to political issues in the media exactly reflect the existence of a diversity of opinions in Hong Kong. However the pro-Beijing views in some mainstream media are not real representations of the public’s views or journalists’ beliefs, but are ‘implanted’ by the state through its influence on proprietors. The ‘implanting’ nature of pro-Beijing views in these mainstream media can be seen by the fact that it is only after their proprietors became members of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference that the media became staunch supporters of Beijing. Today, these three newspapers are nicknamed ‘the three new leftists’ by journalists in the democratic camp to distinguish them from the ‘three old leftists’ – the three communist newspapers. Some people may question why, if the media do not represent the political views of their audience, the audience still supports them and keeps them in the mainstream. A possible answer is that most audiences of mass circulation media are non-political. They choose news media not for political views, but more for

90 Paul S.N. Lee entertainment and soft information. As mentioned before, the split of support for democracy among the media should not be seen as a reflection of mass support of two opposing camps with different ideologies or political stances. The mass audience simply does not have any great interest in political news and views. They do not consume mainstream media for their political stance. What observers have seen as ‘diverse’ views may in fact be partly an outcome of the state’s intervention through co-opting media proprietors. From this standpoint, the media at best play second fiddle in advancing democracy, since they do not share a common platform. Worse still, they fight against each other. The public sphere is not necessarily a place for reasoned and critical debates or a place for active reasoning to generate public opinion to shape state policies. The public sphere can be dominated by the state or, in the case of Hong Kong, be subject to state intervention. The course of development in Hong Kong shows that the press does not take the lead in the democratic movement. It is civil society that provides leadership in the struggle for democracy. The HKSAR government is a weak government. It does not have legitimacy, due to its lack of representation, authority or performance. When the second term of Tung Chee-hwa started in 2002, civil society was prepared to take things into its own hands and made use of the press in its struggle against the state. Civil society came to the forefront when the crisis of severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) broke out in March 2003. The political ecology of Hong Kong has never been the same since then.

Hong Kong’s civil society Hong Kong was ruled by an authoritarian state up until the 1980s, when a culturally based civil society started to emerge and be aware of its own existence – becoming a civil society for itself (Ip 1997). Before the 1980s, Hong Kong’s civil associations were small, fragmented, often non-political, and state-led. They did not coordinate among themselves or share a common platform vis-à-vis the state. In the 1970s, however, accompanied by economic growth and political separation from China, a new kind of civil society was formed on the basis of a distinctive cultural identity among the populace of Hong Kong. The Hong Kong people’s identity is different from the traditional Chinese identity or that of the colonial rulers. With the assumption of a Hong Kong people’s identity, civil society possesses an autonomous and separate status from the state, and with important representation of the community (Lee, P. 2003). Civil society started to exert its demands with a common platform on the state and guard against its own interests in the 1980s. Culture-based civil society does not reside in particular clubs or social groupings. It exists as a common consciousness among people. This common sharing of values, ideas and beliefs constitutes a social force not to be ignored, slighted or suppressed by the state. Cultural civil society manifests itself in the public sphere provided by mass media and civic actions against the state. Such civic actions against the state have been demonstrated by massive social campaigns since the

Democracy, the press and civil society in Hong Kong 91 1980s, such as the Daya Bay petition campaign in 1986 against the colonial government’s support for China’s nuclear plant close to Hong Kong; the campaign for the direct election of the legislature in 1988; the annual commemoration of the Tiananmen Massacre after 1989; and the 1 July demonstrations against Tung Chee-hwa and his government in 2003 and 2004. Before 2002 civil society basically gave consent to the HKSAR despite its repeated blunders. However, after Tung Chee-hwa was re-elected for another five-year term, the general public started to grumble. The outbreak of SARS in the spring of 2003 exposed the ineptitude of the HKSAR government. As early as December 2002 ‘rumours’ spread in the Guangdong Province (adjacent to Hong Kong) that there was an outbreak of atypical pneumonia. As Chapter 3 also discusses, the Guangdong government denied it, and the HKSAR did nothing to check and follow up the ‘rumour’. This demonstrated both negligence by Hong Kong medical authorities and the timidity of the HKSAR government in dealing with Chinese officials to the north.

The press and civil society in dealing with the SARS crisis When SARS broke out in March 2003, Hong Kong officials initially denied its seriousness and lied to the public that the disease had not spread to the community. It was only after University Hospital officials called a press conference to tell the public that the disease had spread to the community that the government started to admit the seriousness of SARS. The University Hospital suffered severely from the outbreak and nearly collapsed due to the infection of many of its staff. The cover-up angered the entire community, leading to chaos and uproar. Due to inexperience and a lack of preparedness, preventive materials for the disease, including masks and protective gear for medical personnel, were in short supply. Information dissemination was also inadequate and confusing. At the beginning, the government did not want to release the names of buildings where suspect cases were found for fear of causing discrimination against inhabitants. This inaction created further uncertainties and community panic. Complaints by junior medical personnel and ordinary citizens were heard every morning on radio phone-in programmes. An overwhelming majority of media coverage was on SARS. Finally civil society took things into its own hands. Some people started to gather information about suspect cases from sources including hospitals and building management staff, and buildings where suspect cases were found were listed on the Internet. The government then started to release the names of infected buildings. Popular radio phone-in programme host Albert Cheng launched a campaign of ‘one mask one person’ and asked the community to donate money to buy the right masks for medical personnel. This community action severely damaged the government’s image. Worse yet, the HKSAR government was given a large amount of protective equipment by China, which also suffered from SARS, making the HKSAR government appear even more inept and feeble in the eyes of Hong Kong people,

92 Paul S.N. Lee as Hong Kong is relatively so much richer than China. Hong Kong people could not swallow the irony that, just a few years after the handover, Hong Kong needed to rely on China for aid. During the SARS period morning radio phone-in programmes became the chief source of information and the channel for people to vent their anger about the government. Albert Cheng initiated one campaign after another to fight against SARS. People shared a joke to the effect that Albert Cheng was HKSAR’s Chief Executive before 10 a.m., because all government officials had to answer his call. Tung Chee-hwa resumed command only after 10 a.m., when Albert Cheng’s programme ended. Despite discontent with the government, the sentiment of Hong Kong people and the press during the SARS crisis was not to find fault with anyone. Rather, it was to cooperate with the government as far as they could to handle this crisis. The press seldom criticized Medical and Health Department officials or the Hospital Authority at that time. People and the press knew that it was more important to overcome the disease than to find fault with the government. The press also avoided sensational news reporting, and regained much of the confidence of the public. A survey showed that the credibility of Hong Kong newspapers reached new heights in the SARS period. Seventy-three per cent of people considered the press’s performance in reporting SARS ‘good’ or ‘very good’ (Radio Television Hong Kong 2003b). The press performed its democratic function remarkably well in informing the people about an important issue. However, once the crisis was over, many news media fell back on sensationalism and market-oriented journalism. Yeung (2000) has documented the sensationalization of news reporting in Hong Kong after 1997, and his 1999 description of sensationalism in news is still relevant today. During the SARS period we can see that the press, civil society and the state worked in unison to tackle a unique crisis. While civil society and the press mutually reinforced each other’s influence, the state was subdued to a role of carrying out orders and meeting the demands of civil society. The differences between civil society, the press and the state were temporarily put aside. During the SARS period the press followed the wishes of civil society (audience demand) and its own professional calling (organizational norms) to scrutinize the state and to serve.

Articulation of democratic demands in the enactment of Article 23 When SARS started to die down, civil society was engaged in another battle against the state. The Beijing authorities had pressed the HKSAR government to legislate a bill for national security according to the provision of Article 23 of the Hong Kong Basic Law. Consultation for the enactment of the bill started in the second half of 2002, long before SARS broke out. Despite the outbreak of SARS and strong opposition to the stern provisions of the bill from various sectors, especially the legal profession, the HKSAR government insisted on reading it in the legislature to complete the process by July 2003. The undemocratic nature of

Democracy, the press and civil society in Hong Kong 93 the legislature meant the bill was certain to pass if the HKSAR government wished it to. The popularly elected democrats comprised a minority in the legislature. During the consultation period of the legislation, scuffles and debates between pro-Beijing supporters and democratic camps resulted in great tensions in the community. The mainstream press was divided. A couple of newspapers – the Oriental Daily News and The Sun, which had the largest and third largest circulation respectively – supported the bill. The Sing Tao Daily – one of the oldest Chinese newspapers in Hong Kong – also sided with the government. Some mainstream media, including the Apple Daily, Ming Pao, the Hong Kong Economic Journal, Commercial Radio and RTHK, were against the harsh provisions of the bill. Tensions erupted on 1 July 2003, the sixth anniversary of Hong Kong’s reversion to China. A civil organization named Civil Rights United Front called for a mass demonstration on that day. To the surprise of everyone, in a city of 6.8 million people about half a million took to the streets and joined the protest. Various slogans were chanted, including ‘Down with Tung Chee-hwa’ and ‘Oppose Article 23’. Civil society demonstrated its power again. The mass demonstration was the second largest in Hong Kong’s history. (One million people had protested against the Tiananmen Massacre in 1989.) The government backed down and withdrew the bill. After suffering from severe economic distress and SARS, and facing the threat of losing liberty and freedom of speech with the enactment of Article 23, civil society was convinced that it needed the right to decide who should be in the top job. The demand for democracy was clear. The huge turnout of people on 1 July 2003 made all mainstream media report this event seriously and stand on the side of the masses. A survey conducted by the Hong Kong University found that the majority of participants in the demonstration were middle class. In November 2003 proBeijing candidates lost heavily in the local District Board elections. The democrats won a sweeping victory. This result alarmed Beijing, which hurried to use its power of interpreting the Basic Law to bar Hong Kong people from having a popular election for all the seats on the Legislative Council in 2007 and for the Chief Executive in 2008. Based on the Basic Law’s provisions, it would have been possible to have popular a election of the Chief Executive and the Legislature as early as 2007 and 2008, but Beijing thwarted this possibility. As a result, the democrats in Hong Kong staged another 1 July protest in 2004. Although the number of participants on that day was contested, most estimates were around 200,000 people. That number was huge, given that the economy started to improve in 2004, social tension was reduced after the withdrawal of the national security bill and the democratic camp pledged to reconcile with Beijing a week before the mass demonstration. Civil society is determined to have democracy. The voice is loud and clear.

The role of the press vis-à-vis civil society and the state The Hong Kong press has not been in the forefront of the fight for democracy in the wake of the 1997 handover to China. The mainstream media themselves are

94 Paul S.N. Lee divided into opposing camps under the intervention of the state. Even the prodemocratic media seldom clamour for democracy. Most often they choose to report the views of democratic legislators, party members and liberals, rather than express their own views about democracy in editorials, perhaps with the exception of the Apple Daily. The mainstream media tend to emphasise entertainment content and soft information more than political ideas and views. This is a result of the mainstream media adopting the market-driven model. The voice of non-marketdriven media such as the RTHK is lonely and small. In addition, the state has the resources and power to manipulate media proprietors and journalists. Quite a few mainstream media have toed the Beijing line which dictates defence for the performance of the HKSAR government, support for the legislation of Article 23 of the Basic Law, the smearing of democrats in Hong Kong, the advocacy of patriotism, and the importance of stability and improved livelihoods over democracy. In such a media setting, civil society has taken the lead in the struggle for democracy. This leadership role is demonstrated by the 1 July demonstrations in 2003 and 2004. Without the huge turnout of protesters, the press would not have been so uniform in providing positive coverage to the demonstrations. The proBeijing media had given negative coverage and commentaries on democrats and democratic reforms before the demonstrations. However, when the 2003 demonstration attracted a huge turnout, the pro-Beijing media seemed to forget what they had said about democrats and democracy. Their positive coverage was probably due to a fear of alienating their audiences. After a while, however, the pro-Beijing media fell back to their previous anti-democratic position. In other words, if civil society, comprised of a huge middle class, does not demonstrate its strength and determination in pressing for democracy, the anti-democratic media will toe the Beijing line. Despite Beijing’s efforts to mould Hong Kong people’s ideology, its success is limited. This is reflected by the large number of demonstrators against the HKSAR government and its Beijing chief on 1 July 2003 and 2004. Civil society in Hong Kong has passed the stage of demanding only a decent living. They want more – autonomy, freedom, self-determination, dignity, self-development and happiness. The middle class was the major constituent of the 1 July demonstrators. It is also the major constituent of civil society in present-day Hong Kong. The middle class comprises people who are highly educated, self-confident, self-reliant, rational and persuasive. They are able to restrain the state through their social actions and influence on media.

Conclusion From the development of events in Hong Kong after its handover to China, civil society has demonstrated itself as the prime force in the struggle for democracy. Some mainstream media, on the other hand, have arguably betrayed the fight for democracy in favour of business interests. But civil society can still have the final say if it can demonstrate its strength and solidarity; after all, it can adversely affect

Democracy, the press and civil society in Hong Kong 95 the profits of commercial media. The state will succumb to the demands of civil society when civil society allies with a united press, as shown in the SARS crisis in 2003. The Hong Kong case shows that a strong civil society will attract strong support from the press, and consequently be in a strong position to bargain and fight against the state. The press cannot be expected to fight for democracy alone, or even to cultivate an informed citizenry for the promotion of democracy, because it has its own business logic and agenda. With a strong civil society, the prospect of achieving democracy in Hong Kong is good. However, a precondition for civil society to exert its influence on the press is the existence of diverse capital interests. Without such diversity the pro-democratic and pro-civil society media may have to struggle with meagre financial means or wind up their businesses. No commercial media can survive and express their views independently without market support. A strong civil society can render strong support for the press which speaks for the public, even if the market is dominated by the state or a few capital interests, because civil society itself is also the ‘market’. Through collective economic actions, civil society can exert its influence not only on the press, but also on capital interests. Members of civil society must share understandings of how they might act together, if they are to take collective economic actions to ‘discipline’ capital interests. The media, however, may fail to communicate such a shared consciousness in society due to constraints imposed by the state or media proprietors. In this case, strong coordination among civil organizations is needed to keep up the common consciousness. Hirst (1994) is insightful in pointing out that democracy is defined in terms of communication; it is this that allows associations to coordinate their actions and register their demands. At present, Hong Kong is not well developed in civil institutions and associations. Even political parties have very small memberships. More associational activities are called for. When media fail to serve the communicative functions for civil society, the associational channels will take up the task of maintaining the collective consciousness for actions. Hong Kong’s civil society now shares the values of democracy and it is likely that it will carry on its demand through associational means if the press fails to support its cause. Civil society is the prime force for advancing democracy at this stage of Hong Kong’s development.

8

Media change through bounded innovations Journalism in China’s media reforms Zhongdang Pan1

In China, media changes have been a political and economic project directed by the Communist Party-state, even though some have argued that there is ‘no more Communism in China’ (Lee, C.C. 2004: 12). Media change evinces deliberate efforts by the party-state to coopt market forces for the purpose of preserving and transforming the party-press system, and demands a dynamic analysis based on the recognition of the intrinsic interconnectedness between politics and emerging markets. It must incorporate the active role of the state and recognize that China’s media change is a process filled with ‘contradictions and ambiguities’ (Lee, C.C. 1994) and constituted by ‘ad hoc adjustments, pragmatic experiments, and lively analytical discussion’ (Watson 1992: 1). It is a process of uneasy collusion between the party-state authorities and media practitioners in preserving the party-press system under a market economy. Such an account must answer some basic questions about China’s media reforms: What is being changed? How is change negotiated, justified, and carried out? How are such changes manifested in China’s journalism? What are the democratic potentials, if any, in the media changes and, more importantly, in this particular mode of change?

Analysing institutional change in China’s media reforms The term ‘institution’ refers to the totality of rules, explicit and implicit, written and tacit, formal and informal, that regulate actors’ actions and interactions (North 1990). An existing institution will remain viable if actions devised within its confines still lead to positive performance. If actors find that they can no longer achieve positive returns, they will act to change the existing institution, resulting in institutional innovations. The ratio of risk to potential gain from such an innovation will determine whether it will be adopted, when it will be adopted, and which version of it will be adopted. This broad thesis is predicated on three general premises. First, actors are rational agents who are driven to maximize returns from their activities. Second, institutions function as confines in which individuals’ actions take place. Third, institutional changes are normally incremental, even though, at times, many significant changes may appear in a short time span, creating an appearance of upheaval or discontinuity. The ‘rational choice’ thesis of

Bounded innovations in China’s journalism 97 this perspective has been challenged by some who prefer a more historically and sociologically dynamic approach (e.g. Hira and Hira 2000; Ingram and Clay 2000; Thelen 1999). However, the overall perspective remains heuristically valuable in constructing an analytical narrative on the dynamic interconnectedness between institution and practices. The institutionalist framework has been quite appealing to students of China’s reforms. Such analysis cuts across economic and political spheres, links individual actions to macro-level arrangements and, most importantly, points out what ought to be changed ultimately in China and how to change it.2 Scholars from different disciplines have discussed institutional changes in China’s reforms (e.g. H. Chen 1998; Gu 2001; Pan 1997; X. Zhou 2001). In these analyses, an institutional set-up is recognized in a changing discursive environment as outdated for limiting economic growth and societal advances. Consequently, the goal of the reforms was viewed as establishing a new institutional set-up that would presumably produce desired economic performance and/or desired performance in other areas, such as protecting individual rights, developing a freer press and so on. Following this tradition, Chen (1998) described China’s media change as a three-stage process. The first existed between 1949 and the end of the 1970s, when China’s media remained in a state of ‘institutional equilibrium’ based on the principles of the Communist Party-press system (see A. Liu 1971). Then, toward the end of the 1970s, the economic reforms began to offset this equilibrium. With the gradual opening of the markets for equipment, paper, energy and circulation services, heavy costs were incurred by the state budget. The financial burden propelled the state to move towards innovations in the form of a policy called ‘managing the public service units as commercial businesses’. Media organizations no longer had state budget allocations as their primary source of revenue, and they cultivated alternative sources. This appeared to be a transitional stage due to the inherent tension between gaining financial autonomy and being subjected to the party’s political control in matters of personnel and content. It inevitably led to the third stage, the expansion of the advertising industry as the primary financial source. With this development news media began to change from a purely party propaganda instrument to a market-based industry with the political mission of supporting the party-state and its policies, resulting in the ‘dual personalities’ of China’s media as ‘party’s propaganda incorporations’ (He 1998). Continuing this line of analysis would lead to an interpretation of the changes in the last six to seven years as the fourth stage: Facing the imminent ‘threat’ of global media as China became a member of the World Trade Organization, the party-state authorities instructed the party organs to form media conglomerates through mergers and acquisitions, with permission to attract capital investment from various sources, such as stock market listings (Wang 2002; Wei 2001; Zhou, C. 2004). Such an analysis provides a macro-level view of institutional change in China’s media reforms, presenting institutional change as both the core of and a prior condition for ongoing media change in China. However, it provides us with only a ‘thin explanation’ of how institutional change takes place, because it does not specify theoretical linkages between institutional change and everyday media

98 Zhongdang Pan operation practices under specific historical conditions. Nor does it recognize that both experiences of institutional constraints and actors’ choices in institutional innovations are endogenous to a specific political economic condition and its corresponding discursive environment. It ignores the fact that such a systemic change was first brewed at the levels of the everyday practices of media organizations and practitioners. For example, long before the state approved the formation of the first ‘newspaper group’ in 1996, major newspapers in cities with rapid economic growth had started publishing separately distributed weekend editions and spin-off publications as vehicles to expand their advertising revenues (Cao 1999; Pan 2000a). In the broadcasting industry some TV and radio stations had begun to set up shadow companies for attracting capital investment (Lu and Xia 2002). The official policy was a formalization of the practices of forming media conglomerates. More importantly, the macro-level analysis ignores the discursively managed integration between the orthodoxy of the party-press system and the truncated neo-liberalist account of globalization (see Y. Zhao 2003), missing an important constituting dimension of the dynamics of media change. The formal institutionalist account thus lacks a critical edge. It does not incorporate into its framework two guiding principles of China’s media reforms: ‘crossing the river by groping for the stones’ and maintaining the fundamentals of the party-press system. These two principles set the parameters for determining what is to be changed and how changes take place (Pan 1997). With the communist authority controlling the pace and direction of the reforms but offering no coherent framework for them, China’s media change can hardly be a rational and neat process depicted in formal institutionalist analyses. It is much more murky and uncertain, filled with many unlikely twists and turns. Its more telling ingredients may be entrepreneurial actors, their actions, and their ‘analytical discussions’ (Watson 1992). These are the micro sociological elements of the reforms. To paraphrase the political scientist Tang Tsou (2000), the key to understanding how macro-level structural or systemic changes take place is embedded in the microlevel mechanisms that are composed of and enabled by these ingredients.

The socio-political process of producing ‘bounded innovations’ The starting premise, therefore, is that institutions and the actions of social agents mutually constitute each other. While constraining, regulating and structuring human actions and interactions, institutions are ‘humanly devised rules’ (North 1990: 3) and need to be acted out in the actions and interactions of human agents. We cannot talk about a media institution without analysing how it is embedded and revealed in the practices of media practitioners and media organizations. Institutional rules become ‘sociological facts’ only when they are manifested in social practices. In practising such rules, actors always interpret them in relation to specific action situations, thus bringing ‘life’ and sociologically interpretive potentials to them. Consequently, social actors must not only recognize such rules and devise a shared understanding of them, but also refer to such rules when designing, implementing, and justifying their actions. It is thus the ‘knowledgeable

Bounded innovations in China’s journalism 99 social actors’ (Giddens 1984) who develop the linkages between institutional rules and their practices discursively. The empirical starting point of my analysis is the peculiar landscape and trajectory shaped by the two aforementioned guiding principles of China’s media reforms. As one Chinese media scholar (Fang 1996) summarizes, China’s media reforms have produced six ‘changes’ and six ‘maintenances’. The six ‘maintenances’ all refer to the fundamentals of the party-press system. Such a view has been repeatedly articulated in official statements during the reforms (Hu, Y. 1985; Li, R. 1989; Jiang 1993; Xu, G. 2000) and in the writings of more reform-minded media regulators and officials (Guo 1997; Liang 1992, 1996; Xu, G. 2000). At every turn the basic principles of the party-press system are reiterated by the highest political authorities and expanded by ‘the establishment intellectuals’ (Hamrin and Cheek 1986) of media scholars and elite journalists (see Chen, L. 2004). Between the two categories – maintenance and change – is a highly contested but also innovative area of ongoing media reforms. Resulting from the struggles in this terrain are the periodical swings between a ‘liberal’ or ‘opening’ and a ‘tightening of control’ posture by China’s media in the last two decades (Chan 1995). The same kind of swing has continued under the new party leadership installed barely three years ago. When the new top party leaders instructed the official media to pay more attention to ordinary people and their everyday lives and to report fully and truthfully the SARS epidemic in the early spring of 2003 some observers felt ‘a spring breeze of press reforms’ (Baozhi Guancha 2003) and saw ‘a green light for press reforms’ (Du 2003). A few months later the wind appeared to blow in the other direction. A top official from the State Press and Publication Administration (SPPA) declared (Su 2004): ‘no matter how much the managerial mechanisms of the media change, the Party’s control over the media, the cadres who manage the media, the ideological direction of the media, and the properties of media organizations will not change’. What to change has been a point of contention right from the beginning (Li, L. 1995; Polumbaum 1990; Xu, P. 1991), leading to a reform trajectory with three distinct characteristics. First, the reforms have always had a highly confined institutional and ideological space (Pan 2000a). As a senior editor from a major Beijing newspaper told me in an interview: ‘This paper belongs to the Party, it’s not yours, nor is it mine.’ More recently, the newly installed editor of the ‘liberal’ paper, Southern Weekend, stated in an interview (Xu and Gao 2004), ‘News control is always necessary. News as we understand it now can only be within the current system.’ To most journalists, the reforms meant a process of finding a way to manage the fundamental political relationship in China – that between the party authority and the masses – and for the media to serve the ‘two masters’ (Polumbaum 1990), which, with ‘media industrialization’, have now evolved into ‘three masters’. In the words of journalists, these are ‘senior officials, the masses, and business bosses’ (Pan and Lu 2003). Thus, while changes are necessary, there are highly fortified off-limit areas. Second, both officials and media practitioners insist that the reforms consist of changing certain operating mechanisms and rules to better implement the

100 Zhongdang Pan principles and basic rules of the party-press system, rather than changing the partypress system itself – a point that carried particular rhetorical and political urgency after the student uprising in 1989 and the crumbling of the communist bloc in the early 1990s. The reforms are instigated and controlled by the party-state authority, even though they are also part of broader social reactions to prior policies and resulting conditions (White 1999). Under such circumstances media practitioners use ‘politically correct’ talk as their discursive means to enable their innovative practices, while publicly demonstrating that they still abide by the institutional limits of the party-press system (Pan 1996; Pan and Lu 2003). It would be a gross mistake to interpret such a discursive practice as a mere tactical manoeuvre. Adhering to the fundamentals of the party-press system is both historically and sociologically real in the everyday practices of China’s media practitioners. Third, China’s media reforms are not a well-planned and coherent project with a clearly specified destination. Rather, they have been unfolding as a joint adventure into some unknown terrain by the collaborating party-state and media practitioners. Often, it was the practitioners who were first compelled to take nonroutine actions when facing changing conditions. They would then hope and even strive for their non-routine actions to be coopted by the party-state authorities (Pan 2000b). For example, in early 1979, after acquiring the municipal authority’s acquiescence, two Shanghai media outlets carried the first media ads in the postCultural Revolution era (Huang, S. 1997). It was a politically high-risk action because, as party propaganda instruments, media were not supposed to engage in financially gainful activities. Media advertisements did not become legitimized until three months after the party authority officially approved of media carrying ‘economic information’ to serve the party’s mission of revitalizing the economy (White 1999). It was the beginning of a rapidly expanding advertising industry which has enjoyed a 30 per cent annual growth rate in the past two decades (Yao 2002). The ways through which media controllers and practitioners negotiate and, to a great extent, co-conspire for changes deserve further analysis. The parties in this game have mutually recognized roles and their actions are contingent upon the premise that each abides by the rules that define those roles. Media practitioners consent to the legitimacy of party control and submit themselves to such control, while the party authority recognizes the imperatives for changes and is willing to co-opt manageable changes into the orbit of its political control. Similarly, the practitioners devise non-routine practices to ‘break through’ the confines of the party-press system in some local domains, as the party authority uses ideological, administrative and legal apparatus to selectively retain and therefore legitimize some non-routine practices. Within each media organization a similar collaboration takes place between media managers, who are often the outreach of the control apparatus in the party-press system, and journalists. Normally, nonroutine practices are allowed and institutional space for such practices is not obstructed if practitioners abide by the rules of not threatening the authority of the party and not jeopardizing the careers and authority of the media managers. The game of media change, then, involves both the cooptation and discipline by the

Bounded innovations in China’s journalism 101 party-state authorities and journalists perfecting their ‘arts of resistance’ (Pan and Lu 2003; Scott 1990). One important derivative from this analysis is that institutional rules are constantly (re)defined through such sociological and political negotiation dynamics, and the process involves strategic uses of formal and informal rules. While formal rules serve to stabilize the media institution (Polumbaum 1994), informal rules allow for flexibility and the possibility of institutional innovation. Implementing these rules to enable change is a political process requiring ingenuity in political manoeuvring (Alston 1996; Weir 1992). Through this process, media practitioners strive to preserve their ability to make further changes and the authority strives to maintain its control, even if that means changing the forms of its control. Through such collaboration, the boundaries of changes are defined and the ‘proper’ ways to change and the discursive implications of this are specified. An important caveat is that such changes are always addressed locally, both in the sense of a geographic area and of an action domain. Consequently, institutional changes in China’s media reforms take the form of ‘bounded innovations’ (Weir 1992). Sprouts of institutional innovation grow from the imperatives embedded in media practices. Translating such ideas and incorporating non-routine practices into institutional rules involves a political process of winnowing and moulding various options. This process is dictated by the political–economic–ideological complex of the party-state hierarchy. It is highly charged, both ideologically and politically. With this power complex selecting among the options and coopting innovative practices, any non-routine practice on its way to policy or institutional rule must go through such a political process and lose its sharp edge along the way. It is moulded to fit the existing system that is jealously guarded by the regime. The phrase ‘bounded innovations’ thus captures not only the limitations and incremental trajectory of media change in China’s reform, but also the socio-political process of winnowing, redesigning and limiting in media change.

Reconfiguring the party-press system China’s media reforms involve reconfiguring the internal space of the party-press system (Pan 2000a). As many of China’s journalists and media managers recognize, the key to their success in doing their work and winning material rewards in the market is to recognize the ‘manoeuvring room’ for extra-official activities ‘in the system’. Such space is in the contentious interface of the system’s contradictory components, such as the business operations and ideological sanitization in a media organization. Increasing numbers of journalists recognize the multitude of such cracks in the system, and the ‘wiggle room’ in their work. A recent survey of more than 880 journalists in Shanghai and Hangzhou3 found that more than 58 per cent reported having some or a high degree of job autonomy. More than 38 per cent agreed or strongly agreed that the reforms had made their ‘working environment more open’. Nearly 25 per cent agreed or strongly agreed that the reforms had ‘increased journalists’ job autonomy’. Six years previously,

102 Zhongdang Pan the research department of the All China Journalists’ Association (ACJA) refused to permit the inclusion of any question directly asking journalists to assess their job autonomy. The question was too ‘politically sensitive’ even to be asked. Exploitation and cultivation of the space for innovative actions requires entrepreneurial actors. To see how innovative practices of media practitioners and the reconfiguration of the party-press system are related, I have employed the distinctions between ‘back and front’ and between ‘central and peripheral’ regions as two paired categories (Pan 2000a; see also Giddens 1984). It is particularly the case with media organizations in China that they must patrol the border between ‘back’ and ‘front’ in order to reduce the risks of their actions. Patrolling the border between the two regions and reconfiguring them involve reflexive social actors who strategically sustain ‘a psychological distancing between their own interpretations of social processes and those enjoined by “official” norms’ (Giddens 1984: 26). In other words, these actors construct ‘official norms’ in terms of their ‘local particulars’ (Hall 1980) to situate their innovative practices within the framework of the party-press system. The centre versus periphery distinction is made at the institutional level in terms of control over resources, the hierarchy of authority and the flow of influences. The centre of China’s party-press system is constituted by the locus of political power in Chinese society – the ‘central value system’ (Shils 1975: 4) of the communist ideology and the apparatus that enforces it. Following Giddens (1984), the centre of China’s journalism institution is constituted by the social relationships and practices that have been ‘established’, ‘enduring’ or ‘routinized’ under the party-press system, while the peripheral region is constituted by activities of the non-party organs, non-routine journalistic practices and newly emerged subsidiary outlets supported by the market. It has often been the case that innovative measures first emerge in the peripheral region of the party-press system. Some may be reproduced in the central region or praised by the party authorities. When this happens the measures become ‘certified’ as being consistent with the party line and may get stabilized as components of the system. Two aspects of the process are particularly important. First, the central authority selects and certifies the measures to be adopted institutionally. It clearly indicates that the reforms are under the firm control of the Communist Party. Second, the criteria for the winnowing are always various expressions of the basic party-press principles, such as ‘the social benefits’, ‘national stability’ and ‘the propagation of the Party and government’s policies’. Too often, journalists find themselves willing accomplices of the party-state authorities by either embracing the decisions of the political authorities or exercising self-censorship based on their expected reactions. In the 1990s the Department of Commentaries of China Central Television (CCTV) created highly successful shows including Oriental Horizon (Dongfang Shikong), Focused Interviewing (Jiaodian Fangtan) and News Probes (Xinwen Diaocha), pioneering a Chinese brand of investigative reporting and news magazine shows modelled on CBS’s 60 Minutes in America. To reduce political risk, the department set up strict internal policies prohibiting what were termed ‘oppositional’ points of view in reporting and a multi-layered internal review

Bounded innovations in China’s journalism 103 process to winnow out any segment that might be rejected by the political censor. Journalists in the News Probes unit told me that in some seasons the internal censor suppressed more than 80 per cent of their reporting ideas for the show. It was also established at the very beginning that the TV talk show Tell It Like It Is (Shihua Shishuo) would avoid current affairs topics, focusing instead on the topics of ordinary people’s everyday life. Even the name of each show was carefully chosen. The department originally chose Reporter’s Perspective for a proposed interview show. The CCTV leaders ordered it be changed to Focused Interviewing. Later, the then head of the department hailed it as a ‘very wise’ decision because CCTV should never show reporters’ perspectives. Rather, it should always ‘represent the party and the government’ and ‘send the voice of the party and the government to people’s homes’ (Sun 2003: 106). The basic condition that enables such a pattern of change is that the party-state authority still enjoys the clear discursive domination in journalism, although maintaining it involves constant efforts by the authorities. One factor that ensures this domination is the maintenance of the ACJA as an official organization. It has always been headed by the director or chief editor of the People’s Daily or Xinhua News Agency. Together with the party’s Propaganda Department, it has the monopoly over the highest professional awards for journalists (Pan and Lu 2003). This institutional set-up is also a reflection of the deeply rooted statism in various discourses on China’s journalism (Lee, C.C. 2004). Statism – which has become entrenched and encrusted in terminologies associated with the quest for national prosperity and strength (Schwartz 1964, S. Zhao 1997) – has been a powerful discursive tool to justify the party’s media orchestration in the name of ‘serving the nation’ (Pan, Lee, Chan and So 2001). This is also evident in the discourse on forming media conglomerates as strengthening the competitiveness of China’s domestic media industry (National Condition Investigation Research Group 2002; Qi 2004).

Inspirations and tacit rules for improvisation That institutional innovations are necessarily ‘bounded’ in the reforms is a direct outcome of media practitioners’ recognition of the risks involved in devising their reform practices. Often, market competition and resource shortages heighten the need for immediate and tangible returns from media operations. Such pressure induces journalists and media managers to devise non-routine practices in news production and media operations. At the same time they must carefully avoid any appearance of ideological opposition. Under these two conflicting pressures, nonroutine practices tend to be devised for specific circumstances and defined in micro-situational terms. They also tend to be steps for immediate and short-term tangible rewards. The macro political economic environment produces improvisation as a primary mode of reform practices at the micro level (Pan 2000b). What needs to be emphasized and elaborated more is that improvisation is not limited to guerrilla warfare waged at the local and individual levels by journalists and media managers, as de Certeau’s (1984) distinction between ‘tactic’ and ‘strategy’ and

104 Zhongdang Pan Scott’s (1990) ‘arts of resistance’ suggest. It is also a mode of action by the partystate authorities in devising new and more effective control mechanisms for the market-based party-organ system (Pan and Chan 2000). One important source of inspiration is the market. At first it was the rudimentary idea of maximizing material or financial gains in market transactions that inspired journalists. Initially such an inspiration, exploding under an unruly market condition in the early and mid-1990s, led to the relentless pursuit of financial returns for both individuals and media organizations, causing widespread journalistic corruption (Zhao, Y. 1998). The serious dent in journalistic ethics made by the pursuit of material gain and financial profits in the mode of actions reminiscent of primitive capital accumulation not only undermined the social status of journalists as de facto party cadres under the ‘commandist model’ (Lee, C.C. 1990), but also prevented the development of journalistic ethics associated with the Western framework of professionalism. The impact of such a market on journalism has been serious and is likely to be long lasting, as is recognized by journalists themselves. In the survey of journalists in Shanghai and Hangzhou, more than 32 per cent agreed that journalistic professional ethical standards had declined during the reforms and more than 35 per cent agreed that journalists’ social status had been reduced. More recently, inspirations from the market have been extended to broader areas, as ideas such as the economy of scale, media conglomeration, market segmentation, financial management and so on gain increasing currency. Journalism scholars are now turning into media economists, specialists on media management or even ‘consultants for media corporations’. Journalists are turning themselves into dealmakers in the media industries or rainmakers for media corporations. Some even dream of becoming media tycoons. The party-state, after years of ad hoc choices between innovative practices and crackdowns on those who stepped out of bounds, has begun to take a more strategically proactive role. It used its state power to turn its selected party-organ outlets into media conglomerates (Y. Zhao 2000) and encouraged provincial and municipal authorities to develop authoritative portal websites by pooling resources from media outlets under their command. The party authority identifies the media market as an arena for the party media to survive and grow. However it is equally important to recognize that China’s journalists draw their inspiration from the tradition of independent literati newspapers aiming at enlightenment and national construction, and from what they consider as exemplars of Western professionalism. An earlier analysis (Pan and Lu 2003) differentiated four discourses of journalism. These are the discourses of partypress, Confucian intellectualism, market economy and professionalism. It is argued that the diverse discursive systems are in part an indication of, and in part a contributing factor to, the current kaleidoscopic condition of media reforms. Together these discourses form a broad but highly fluid discursive space that can be configured strategically and tactically, allowing complex negotiations to take place between journalists and the party-state authorities. As a result, no single model of journalism articulated in one of the discourses is adequate for journalists

Bounded innovations in China’s journalism 105 to approach their job. In particular, we argued that China’s journalists often find inspirations from Western professional exemplars. Many ‘hot shot’ journalists refer to famed journalists and media outlets in the West as illustrations of what professional journalism means. Those in media management positions often cite Western, particularly US, media tycoons as models for their managerial pursuits. Many journalists have taken trips to visit media outlets in Hong Kong, Japan and Western nations, or traded video recordings (Sun 2003: 220). The adaptation of 60 Minutes led in the late 1990s to networks across China developing shows in a genre called ‘focus programming on TV’ (jiaodian jiemu) that blends investigative reporting, story-telling narrative, live on-camera interviews between a reporter and the protagonist(s) of a story, location shots and exposé-style language (Yuan and Liang 2000). Quantitative evidence from our journalist survey also provides clear indications of how Western and overseas media may serve as sources of inspiration. We developed a simple question, asking the respondents to rate on a five-point scale ranging from ‘very far’ to ‘very close’ in terms of how close each of the listed media outlets is to the ‘ideal news medium’ in their mind. The journalists and journalism students considered the overseas media outlets as being closer to their ‘ideal news medium’ and they gave the party-organ outlets low evaluation scores. Prestigious overseas media outlets are looked up to by China’s journalists, even though they may never be directly exposed to them and have only vague impressions of them based on fragmented information. These news outlets serve as professional inspirations and exemplars to be admired and emulated. Such quantitative evidence, together with field observations (Pan and Lu 2003), clearly supports the idea that professionalism serves as a very important journalistic discourse in China. It is a source of inspiration, countering the party-press and the market discourses. Inspiration from such alternative discursive sources often means that journalists must resort to the tactic of ‘hitting line balls’, meaning playing the ball to the very edge of the ping-pong table to score legitimately. It would be tempting to interpret this dynamic as media practitioners playing a cat-and-mouse game with the media controllers. However, as my analysis so far shows, it is more accurate to interpret it in terms of two co-conspirators playing out their roles. One improvises to exploit the cracks in the institutional rules and arrangement; the other tries to contain such ‘out-of-frame’ activities (Goffman 1974) and improvises ways to coopt the impetus for change into its control orbit. Along the way some institutional stipulations are formulated and the two sides meet halfway. Improvisation is a micro and subtle approach to institutional changes under the overarching constraints of the partypress ideology.

Conclusion A process of institutional change characterizes China’s media reforms in which the media control authority and media practitioners embark on a joint venture into unknown terrain without a clearly specified destination. The basic principles of the Communist Party-press system remained heavily guarded and constantly fortified

106 Zhongdang Pan during the reforms. At the same time, the reforms have enabled different discourses to be available, including those of market economy and professionalism, and journalists draw inspiration from both in devising their practices. Operating under such a condition, journalists must effectively manage the tensions between market forces and the party-press system in order to reduce political, as well as financial, risks in media change. For some, this also means pursuing their professional ideals in a highly bounded manner. Most of their extra-official practices are not prescribed in the principles of the party-press and/or approved explicitly by the authority of the regime at the time of their initiation. The entrepreneurial actors must skilfully frame such activities discursively by blending the principles of the party-press, market economy and journalistic professionalism (see Pan 1996, 2000a; Pan and Lu 2003). All of these constraints make innovations in media change bounded in three senses: being limited to some specific domains, being moulded to fit conflicting demands, and being softened of any oppositional edge. Devising such bounded innovations, while not challenging the legitimacy of the party overtly, reveals a wide range of tactics of ideological incorporation, circumvention, or resistance, hence constituting, to paraphrase James Scott (1990), an art of resistance. Viewed in this context, my account of China’s reforms reveals a trajectory that does not square with that depicted in evolutionary terms (Huang, Y. 1994). Nor does it reveal a clear pointer towards a democratic future. While the ongoing media change is expanding the presence of and voices from society in the media, such an expansion is limited to enabling the social roles of consumers rather than the public, and to expanding the reach of media as party corporations, rather than the functions of media as the public sphere. While improvised practices may amass a cumulative and long-term consequence of eroding the ideology of the partypress, the media reforms are not moving linearly toward a democratic media system. The reason is that the two parties involved in the reforms are working cooperatively to pick and choose elements from both the party-press system and the market system while, for different reasons, ignoring the democratic principles that should undergird a market-based media system.

Notes 1 This paper is based on a larger project on China’s media reforms, conducted in collaboration with Professor Joseph Man Chan of the Chinese University of Hong Kong, Professor Chin-Chuan Lee of the City University of Hong Kong and Professor Huailin Chen of the University of Macao. The fieldwork for this project was supported by grants from the Faculty of Social Science at the Chinese University of Hong Kong and the University Grant Committee of the Hong Kong SAR Government (CUHK4121/99H). Further support is provided by the Vilas Associates Fellowship from the Graduate School of the University of Wisconsin-Madison. 2 Here I highlight ‘ought’ to stress the strong normative underpinning in institutionalist analysis. The appeal of the institutionalist analysis is partly in its potential to generate policy prescriptions. 3 Surveys of randomly sampled journalists in Shanghai (n = 420) and Hangzhou (n = 462) were conducted in 2002 and 2003. In the autumn of 2002, the same questionnaire was

Bounded innovations in China’s journalism 107 adapted for journalism student surveys. Seven universities with fully developed journalism programmes were selected from different regions of China. In each university the freshman and senior classes were invited to complete the questionnaire. In addition, recent graduates who could be located in the local areas were also invited to complete the questionnaire. The surveys yielded 609 first-year journalism students, 433 fourth-year journalism students and 560 recent graduates. The detailed procedure and the initial analyses of the data can be found in Pan and Chan (2003) and Chan, Pan, and Lee (2004).

9

Between dictatorship and democracy State-affiliated news media in Indonesia Angela Romano and Blythe Seinor

This chapter focuses on the problems faced by Indonesia’s state-run or statesponsored media in the face of swift socio-political change. Indonesian journalists witnessed a rapid change in their operating environment in 1998, following the disintegration of the New Order regime that had ruled the country for 32 years under the leadership of President Soeharto.1 With the dismantling of the New Order’s corporatist and patriarchal political system, thousands of new newspapers, magazines and other media organizations were established. Indonesian journalists, previously famed for their discretion and prudence when writing on political affairs, became increasingly bold in running critiques and exposés on the activities of business and government (Romano 2003: 35–6). Despite the initial exuberance of journalists and the general populace at sudden increases in political freedom, attempts to democratize the nation and its media have been uneven and inconsistent. In this unstable environment, state-affiliated media organizations have exhibited particular problems in attempting to throw off their prior role as the official mouthpieces of the government and military machine. The chapter provides a case study of the national Antara news agency during the more reformist, or at least revisionist, governments led by presidents B.J. Habibie (1998–99), Abdurrahman Wahid (1999–2001) and Megawati Sukarnoputri (2001–4). The strong calls for reformasi (reformation) of Indonesia’s political sphere should have facilitated major changes within the professional and organizational culture of Antara and other state-sponsored news organizations. Such organizations have not, however, been able to respond to the democratization movement in the same fashion as commercial media organizations. Within news organizations, democratization can be seen in the levels of freedom of speech, professional autonomy from the state and the ability of staff to affiliate and organize. While senior political figures have been vocal in stating the importance of an independent media in facilitating and protecting democratic processes, organizations such as Antara have experienced limited success in severing their ties with the state. This has been evident at Antara’s highest levels, with direct presidential interference in the selection of the agency’s managing director/editor-in-chief and the consequent effect on editorial content. Antara’s complex ownership structure and dependence on government subsidies have also

Between dictatorship and democracy: Indonesia’s state media 109 impacted upon the organization’s ability to operate independently. One of the few areas in which Antara has achieved notable democratic reforms has been with its internal unionization. This chapter uses the results of ethnographic fieldwork and more than 100 interviews with media workers to explore the significance of such issues in the light of Indonesia’s tentative steps towards democratization.

Politics and the Antara mission prior to 1998 Antara is a quasi-state organization which operates as a wire service. Its main clients are approximately 70 Indonesian news organizations (Jakarta Post 2000e), but foreign correspondents and other organizations operating in Indonesia also subscribe to the service. Antara is a unique media organization with regards to its ownership structure, history and association with Indonesia’s political leadership. In light of such factors, which will be discussed later in this chapter, Antara continues to face unique challenges in relation to media reform. The Indonesian word Antara, which translates to the English word ‘between’, summarizes the role of the wire service as a link ‘between’ subscribing news organizations and the source of information. The term may also be used to describe Antara’s position in the post-New Order transition period to media freedom as being somewhere ‘between’ repression and freedom. This is not surprising given that, since its initial conception on 13 December 1937, Antara has always been used as a political tool in some capacity. A popular misconception surrounding the origins of Antara is that the organization was established by politically independent journalists, and thus had its foundations in independent news production. While its creators – Adam Malik, Soemanang, Albert Manoempak Sipanhoentar and Pandoe Kartawigoena – were independent of the political powers of Dutch colonialism at the time of Antara’s inception (Antara Interactive: www.antara-online.com/e_profil.asp), they were overt advocates of the movement towards Indonesian independence. Antara’s own records of its history state that the organization was founded ‘to serve the struggle for national independence from the Dutch colonizers and [subsequent] Japanese occupation’ (Antara Interactive: www.antara-online.com/e_profil.asp). This nationalistic fervour did not necessarily prohibit Antara from acting as an independent news organization. Media scholar and former Information Minister Alwi Dahlan states that Antara was established during Dutch colonialism ‘to provide balance against the news from government sources and assist national press editors in their work’ (Dahlan 2000: xi). However, the tangible result was that Antara pursued an explicitly nationalistic line in its reporting rather than the canons of impartiality that Western journalists associate with professional independence. Following Indonesia’s declaration of independence in 1945 and the ousting of Dutch colonial powers several years later, Antara remained in private hands until 1962. The independent nation’s first president, Sukarno, merged Antara with three other news agencies that existed at the time, the Indonesian Press Bureau, the Asian Press Board and the Indonesian National Press and Publicity Service. By

110 Angela Romano and Blythe Seinor presidential decree, Antara was placed under Sukarno’s control and was granted a government subsidy to assist with operational costs. This began the managerial relationship between Antara and the president of the day, whereby the president was conferred the authority to appoint Antara’s managing director, who also effectively has the status of editor-in-chief. This has led to decades of confusion, which has yet to be resolved, regarding Antara’s ownership and control. David Hill argues that while Antara ‘maintained operational autonomy, in practice government control increased’ (1994: 29). In the following years Antara demonstrated a strong ideological and organizational affiliation with Sukarno’s leftist policies. ‘In the 1960s, Antara pursued an explicitly partisan line in news reporting, for which it was roundly criticized by more conservative sections of the media’ (Hill 1994: 29). This ‘partisan line’ has been perpetuated with successive governments to varying degrees. Antara continues to be criticized by journalists from more liberal sections of the media for perpetuating an unbalanced, conservative style of reporting during the New Order and the post-1998 reform era. State authorities increased their operational control of Antara on 1 October 1965 (Hill 1994: 35), after General Soeharto claimed credit for quashing the socalled Gestapu ‘communist coup’ of the previous night. The coup forced Sukarno to devolve operational control of the country to Soeharto almost immediately, and the handover of control of Antara was similarly prompt. Just hours after the coup was suppressed, management of Antara was passed to the Jakarta regional military command, beginning a long-standing relationship between the agency and the Indonesian military. In the communist witch-hunts that followed the Gestapu incident, Soeharto’s supporters banished communist sympathizers from Antara. Thirty per cent of journalists and editors were dismissed in this staff purge. With the presidency being formally ceded to Soeharto and his New Order administration in 1966, Antara developed a reputation for being the new government’s megaphone. The wire service’s news focused strongly on official sources. Rahman Nasution, one of Antara’s English-language editors, says alternative sources of political news – such as high profile socio-political leaders like Sukarnoputri, Wahid and their affiliated organizations – received only marginal attention during this period (personal communication, 9 July 2002). Antara was so closely affiliated with Soeharto’s leadership that other news organizations would use the wire service as a check-point in relation to controversial stories. When a newsworthy but politically delicate issue arose, editors would be cautious about writing stories on it, for fear that their news organizations might be shut down if they spread information that New Order leaders deemed offensive. Editors often reviewed Antara’s news service to ascertain whether an issue had been broached by the state news agency. If Antara had circulated a story about the issue, then the topic would be deemed suitable for publication or broadcasting, because all Antara stories on politically sensitive topics were ‘cleared’ with government or military sources before being distributed. In some cases news organizations would forgo quoting their own sources of information in favour of quoting Antara. This would ensure that, should the government later seek to reprimand those who had distributed such information, the news

Between dictatorship and democracy: Indonesia’s state media 111 organizations could avoid castigation by showing that they had only cited the state news agency’s ‘safe’ and ‘authorized’ reports.

The media in the ‘reform’ era When Soeharto resigned in May 1998, handing the leadership to his vicepresident, Habibie, the new president faced enormous pressure to rapidly reform Indonesia’s patriarchal political system. Habibie, who was often described as ‘a mere puppet or extension’ of Soeharto (Anwar 1999: 35), needed to distance himself from the New Order’s paternalistic political culture, which was deemed responsible for widespread corruption and the sudden, intractable economic crisis that had gripped Indonesia since late 1997. Within weeks of taking up the presidency, Habibie had already introduced the first of many major changes to the political system, which impacted immediately and significantly on freedom of the press and the daily routines of journalists (Romano 2003). The volume of media output increased exponentially, as Habibie’s administration immediately relaxed Indonesia’s licensing system for print and broadcast media organizations. During the New Order, those who wished to establish a news organization had to obtain ‘more than a dozen letters and preliminary permits, including letters of support from all relevant professional organizations at both regional and national level, several permits from civilian and military authorities, together with supporting letters from the financing bank and printing company’ in order to obtain a permit (Hill, 1994: 48). Applicants commonly waited years for their requests to be processed, and applications were often refused. Following Habibie’s ascendancy to the presidency, the Department of Information granted so many permits for new newspapers and magazines that the number of publications authorized to operate in Indonesia leapt from 289 at the time of Soeharto’s resignation to more than 2,000 in the next 16 months (Wisudo 2000: 7). In September 1999 the government passed new press laws that ended any requirement for newspapers, magazines or other print media to be licensed at all. Numerous new radio and television stations were also permitted to operate. The end of the licensing system removed the ongoing fear among journalists that they and their colleagues might lose their jobs if they aired truthful but unflattering reports about the upper echelons of the political or military apparatus. Under the licensing system, government authorities had been empowered to shut down news organizations that displeased them, by simply revoking their licences to operate. The changes in licensing laws contributed to a marked change in the tone of journalism. Public demands for reform of political and military institutions also meant that leaders of such institutions generally ceased previously common mechanisms of censorship, such as calling journalists to give them ‘guidance’ on whether and/or how a particular story should be run. In such an environment, journalists adopted a brash style when reporting on weaknesses in public leaders and their policies. This contrasted markedly with the allusive style that Indonesian journalists used during the New Order period (Awanohara 1984; Jenkins 1986).

112 Angela Romano and Blythe Seinor During the Soeharto era, journalists had voiced concerns about government and military leaders and policies in such a subtle and indirect fashion that most foreigners (and even many Indonesians) regularly failed to detect any criticism or examination of the issues at all. Following Soeharto’s resignation, journalists were emboldened to circulate incisive exposés and analyses of government misdeeds, although many inflammatory and inaccurate rumours were also published in this relatively unconstrained environment. Unsurprisingly, among the most popular topics were issues relating to the alleged corruption and other misconduct of the former president, his family and his cronies. In contrast to Soeharto, Habibie never had substantial backing from the populace or the state-military machine for his leadership, but he oversaw a period of considerable legal and organizational reforms. It is with some justification that he described himself as ‘a man who threw a stone into a pond and set off waves of turbulence’ (Mydans 2000: 3). As part of his reformist approach, Habibie proclaimed his commitment to journalistic autonomy by declaring that he would ‘never, never tolerate the Indonesian government interfering with the press’ (International Press Institute 1999). Although he became increasingly chary of harsh media coverage as his presidency progressed – publicly expressing irritation about the ‘misuse’ of press freedom – Habibie still presided over a considerable number of legal amendments that protected journalists’ rights (Romano 2003: 49– 51). Foremost among these was the passage of Law No. 40/1999, which enshrines journalists’ rights to freedom of expression and to obtain information on the basis that such rights are essential for the nation’s welfare. Habibie’s overall commitment to political and media reform seemed to unofficially overlook Antara. The following discussion describes how continuing state ties to Antara have left the news agency less able than most other news organizations to take advantage of the socio-political changes that followed Soeharto’s resignation.

Antara’s leadership Several problems lie in the ambiguity of Antara’s ownership structure and its connection to the state. In terms of management, the organization is officially under the supervision of the State/Cabinet Secretary’s office, and the 1960s decrees regarding the president’s right to appoint Antara’s managing director remain active. Former Antara executive editor A.J. Muaya criticizes the failure of post-New Order governments to rescind these decrees. ‘That should have been put through a thorough review in the reform period’, he says. ‘It should have been settled as soon as Soeharto stepped down, so that Antara would have a clear status’ (personal communication, 25 June 2002). Many in the media industry state that, given the government’s continuing links with Antara, ‘it is not surprising to see it act as the government’s mouthpiece’ (Jakarta Post 2001). Despite his relaxation of government controls on the media, two months after assuming the presidency Habibie appointed his long-time loyalist, friend and

Between dictatorship and democracy: Indonesia’s state media 113 political ally, Parni Hadi, as Antara’s managing director. Hadi was the first person who had worked within Antara’s ranks to be assigned the leadership position, breaking with the tradition of appointing generals and senior bureaucrats to the role. Despite Hadi’s 30-year background in Antara and the almost unanimous praise he receives from former employees who describe him as a ‘brilliant journalist’, his appointment as Antara’s head was politically charged. Ruddy Gobel of Intermatrix Communications is among the critics of the appointment. ‘Generally the government wanted the press to be more independent and follow the democratic process’, Gobel says, ‘but Habibie made sure he still had one or two media organizations that were controlled by the government and voicing what the government wanted’ (personal communication, 27 June 2002). Gobel’s comments must be understood in the context that Intermatrix is strongly connected with Habibie’s successor to the presidency, Wahid, but his concerns point to the crux of questions about Hadi’s leadership of Antara. Hadi had been a soft-core critic of the New Order and a promoter of reform from within the system, but he was also ensnared in New Order politics. For example, Hadi and Habibie were founding members of ICMI (the Indonesian Association of Muslim Intellectuals), an organization that originated in 1990 with Soeharto’s support. At the time, Soeharto had been attempting to build a wider support base in the Islamic community, and those involved in ICMI were seen as supporters of this. Hadi was also editor-in-chief of Republika, a daily newspaper formed by ICMI in 1992 to help disseminate Muslim views. The newspaper was considered pro-government and, with Habibie’s assistance, it obtained a ‘fasttracked licence’ to print (Hill and Sen 2000: 59). Hadi held another politically complicated posting from 1993 to 1998, when he served as the deputy head of Indonesia’s only legally permitted professional association for journalists, the PWI (the Indonesian Journalists’ Association). Similar to Antara and ICMI, the PWI is ostensibly a non-political organization, but it has been used for political purposes. Hadi was politically ambitious, being regarded at the time as a possible candidate to become Information Minister, and ‘positions on the PWI board were also seen as stepping stones to political power through Golkar connections’ (Romano, 2003: 96). Hadi’s reputation was permanently tarnished in the eyes of many journalists when he became a signatory in 1994 to a PWI executive statement that the association ‘understood’ a decision by the Information Ministry to withdraw the operating licences of three major news weeklies. The news weeklies were shut down after they incensed Soeharto with critical stories about the purchase of disused German naval ships by Habibie, who was at that stage Soeharto’s protégé and the Research and Technology Minister. Soeharto claimed that the stories ‘had set one official against another’ and ‘sowed mistrust between them to the point of disrupting [national] stability’ (Human Rights Watch – Asia 1994: 3; Romano, 1996: 160–4). In addition to signing the PWI statement on the licence withdrawals, he was forced to make other compromises during his term as the association’s deputy leader that blemished his status as a reformist intellectual. ‘Many journalists

114 Angela Romano and Blythe Seinor suggested that Hadi, in common with many others who entered the New Order political structure with hopes to improve the system, did not change his organisation but was himself changed by the organisation’ (Romano 2003: 92). In addition to concerns about Hadi’s political past, his critics suspect that he was influenced by Habibie at Antara, because Habibie was known to actively participate in the direction of the ICMI newspaper, keeping ‘Republika on a tight leash’ (Schwarz 1999: 328). Hadi, however, claims that he was ‘not just a puppet of Habibie’ (personal communication, 10 July 2002). To back his claims, Hadi points to the fact that Habibie sacked him in May 1997 from his position as Republika’s editor-in-chief because of government disapproval of a controversial editorial he had written. Although he owed his leadership at Antara – and arguably at Republika – to his links with Habibie, Hadi remains adamant that Habibie did not interfere with Antara’s operations (personal communication, 10 July 2002). When asked about Hadi’s assertions, one Antara employee stated: ‘Parni Hadi will try to make you believe the unbelievable’ (personal communication, 12 July 2002). Another journalist claims that there was an ‘unofficial order to support Habibie in reporting’ (personal communication, 9 July 2002). Some Antara journalists claim that a filtering process occurred, so that when reporters submitted stories that contained anti-Habibie sentiments to certain editors, those editors would modify or completely cut the stories. Such claims are rejected by many other Antara journalists who were interviewed for this research. They say that they felt comfortable to report without restriction under Hadi’s management. Most of these journalists also acknowledge, however, that they rarely examined their stories to view which sections were changed by editors before the news was released on the wire. Thus editors may have filtered controversial stories before the news was released without the reporters’ knowledge. The reporters have not kept their story drafts, so the originals cannot be compared with edited texts. Thus there is no formal proof that such pro-Habibie doctoring did or indeed did not take place, and it becomes difficult to assess the various assertions. Although some journalists express conviction that Hadi did promote a pro-Habibie bias, it is also possible that such imputations result because Antara staff automatically acted upon long-held assumptions that the managing director would demand loyalty to his political allies, rather than because of any real pressures to curry favour with Habibie. Just as Habibie had installed his protégé to Antara’s most senior position, replacing the managing director who had been appointed by Soeharto, so too did Wahid eventually replace Hadi with a new leader, described by some as Wahid’s ‘crony’ (e.g. Pamuji, Pratisto and Mala 2002). Hadi and Wahid came from competing political camps and had notably opposing views on the interaction of Islam and politics. Wahid, for example, joined many political analysts in being ‘openly critical of ICMI, warning that political sponsorship represented the re-emergence of sectarianism in politics’ (Barton, 2002: 381). Hadi, for his part, admits to being strongly critical of the Wahid government through the voice of Republika. He expresses the view held by most Indonesian journalists and political observers in saying that the president’s public statements were inconsistent and confusing

Between dictatorship and democracy: Indonesia’s state media 115 (personal communication, 10 July 2002). Hadi’s replacement, Mohammad Sobary, an intellectual with a record of supporting political reform and press freedom, is viewed as someone who ‘has never played politics’ (Indomedia.com 2000). However, Sobary was Wahid’s long-term friend and associate, and his political perspectives align with those of Wahid in relation to many political issues, including their agreement that Islamic institutions should remain separate from formal politics. Within hours of Sobary being sworn into his new position on 20 March 2000, Antara carried a report claiming that the majority of its staff objected to his appointment. It is difficult to gauge whether the report genuinely reflected the majority view or whether it was simply the perspective of a vocal minority, but the response was an indication that a degree of concern existed about the political implications of Sobary’s appointment. The dismissal of Hadi was consistent with Wahid’s ‘shake up’ approach to governmental and bureaucratic institutions, exemplified through the three cabinet reshuffles that occurred between October 1999 and February 2001 alone. Wahid’s spokesman, Wimar Witoelar, claims the cabinet reshuffles and similar actions were aimed at overcoming problems of ‘poor performance of the incumbents or damaging lack of discipline within the government’ (2002: 78). In relation to Antara, Wahid said Hadi was ‘dominating the (state) news agency and trying to turn Antara into his private company’ (Jakarta Post 2000c). There may be some justification to these claims. However, the cabinet reshuffles also reflected Wahid’s vested political interest rather than purely reformist goals. The reshuffles were seen as unsuccessful attempts to produce a cabinet that could be functional while also repaying the favours Wahid owed to the major political factions for the deals that he had reached with them to gain the presidency in the wake of the 1999 national general elections (Romano 2003: 29). Many in the media suspect that Sobary’s appointment was influenced by similar political concerns. A Jakarta Post editorial, for example, asked: ‘Who whispered into the President’s ear that Antara’s boss needed to be replaced with somebody from the general election’s winning camp?’ The editorial noted that, by contrast, Hadi was ‘a daring and blunt newsman and organizer, only he bet on the wrong horse’ (Sukardi 2000). Media academic Andi Abdul Muis summed up the opinion of many when he asked how an academic and ‘artist’ like Sobary, whose only newspaper experience had been in writing columns, would be able to lead Antara. ‘I think Abdurrahman’s decision was based more on politics rather than technical aspects,’ Muis concluded (Jakarta Post 2000b). Ironically, Hadi’s replacement came only three months after Wahid had said that he hoped Antara would be independent and the organization should no longer act as the government’s mouthpiece (Jakarta Post 2000d). The change was also contentious because, in appointing Sobary, Wahid had ignored the stipulations of Law No. 40/1999, which had itself been passed in the spirit of reform. This law requires that names of nominees for Antara’s top post be given to the House of Representatives for consideration. Hadi sued over the breach of the law, claiming Wahid’s actions were invalid and undemocratic. His case was dismissed on the

116 Angela Romano and Blythe Seinor basis that Law No. 40/1999 stipulates that media firms established before the law was enacted had a one-year leeway period to adjust to the new provisions (Jakarta Post 2000f). Since Hadi’s replacement occurred six months after Law No. 40/1999 was passed, the law could not be strictly enforced. Hadi also took his complaint to the House of Representatives, but ironically legislators took an approach that flew in the face of the reform movement and associated calls for an end to political nepotism. Several legislators pointed to the undemocratic nature of Hadi’s own appointment, and suggested that since Soeharto and Habibie had both allocated the position to their associates, it was normal for Wahid do the same (Jakarta Post 2000b). Sukarnoputri did not interfere with the Antara leadership during her term as president, possibly because she had such weak connections with the media that she may not have been able to identify a more favoured candidate to appoint. The presidency of Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, which began on 20 October 2004, was too new at the time this book was written to observe any trends. However, the issues discussed above indicate the way in which post-New Order presidents can continue a culture of cronyism in Antara’s leadership without penalty. This was true even in the case of Wahid, who had been a notable reformist leader during the New Order period and who continued as president to speak of democratization and media autonomy.

Internal reform and organizational independence Both Hadi and Sobary introduced a number of initiatives in training and organizational restructuring to improve the quality and speed of Antara’s news service. Hadi’s organizational reforms are particularly noteworthy in that he established a union-style body for Antara staff. Few Indonesian news organizations are unionized. Bambang Wisudo, who has worked for several years to promote newsroom unionization, says those union-style bodies that do exist have been set up as grassroots initiatives by rank-and-file journalists, who usually face harassment or ‘resistance from above’ (personal communication, 5 March 2001). In contrast to almost all other news organization editors and managers, Hadi had aspired for more than two decades to reach a situation where journalists could set up their own unions. The New Order had tightly circumscribed the ability of workers to affiliate and organise, and news industry staff had been totally barred from forming unions. Journalists were only permitted to join the PWI, which was mandated by the New Order to act solely as a professional association rather than a union-style body that protected wages and working conditions (Romano 2003: 67–85). In 1978, Hadi – who was then a reporter with Antara – had proposed to Manpower Minister Subroto that the government allow journalists to set up workplace-based unions in individual news offices. Hadi says the idea was scuttled because of a corporatist ministerial decree that defined the PWI as the only workrelated organization that journalists were permitted to join (personal communication, 27 April 1998). Habibie’s reformist policies enabled Hadi to finally create a union-style body.

Between dictatorship and democracy: Indonesia’s state media 117 Four days after his elevation to the presidency, Habibie declared that all unions would be permitted (Kompas 1998b: 6). Habibie’s administration refused to enforce the ministerial decree that proscribed journalists from establishing or joining any association other than the PWI, and the tenets of this decree were overturned by Law No. 40/1999. Hadi took advantage of such changes to establish a Workers’ Council within Antara, which had management backing to undertake union functions. Antara workers have since established the SPA (Antara Workers’ Union). Ironically, many staff believe that, despite Sobary’s reformist and non-political reputation, he was hostile to the union. He sacked the SPA’s chair and secretarygeneral for calling a press conference to criticize him. Sobary was quoted as saying that the pair had broadcast Antara’s internal affairs to outsiders by calling the conference. Sobary’s allegations were paradoxical on two grounds. First, journalists regularly reported on such issues when they occurred in other types of organizations, and considered it proper that such matters should be publicized because improving labour rights is an important element of democratization. Second, the pair said they had little alternative to calling the conference because Sobary continuously refused to meet with them (Jakarta Post 2002). The pair was reinstated after negotiations between Sobary and other SPA members. Hadi is also sometimes judged to be a better business manager than Sobary. At the conclusion of the 2000 financial year Antara had accumulated a deficit of Rp 7.2 billion (US$750,000) (Ritonga, 2001: 103). Although the deficit was announced during Sobary’s term as leader, it is difficult to determine who was responsible for the agency’s financial difficulties, as financial problems that preceded Sobary’s arrival may have been involved. The House of Representatives Subcommittee on Media and Information in mid-2002 appeared to clearly blame Sobary, subjecting him to stern questioning about his financial management. The subcommittee chair noted critically in mid-2002 that, under Sobary, Antara’s deficits stood at Rp 2.7 billion (US$300,000), even without considering the losses of Antara’s ill-fated attempt to launch a commercial venture, Indonesian Market Quote. The chair said that, by contrast, the organization had almost reached break-even point during Hadi’s leadership (Pamuji, Pratisto and Mala 2002). In his own defence, Sobary, points to a reduction of Antara’s deficit by almost Rp 4 billion and the sacking of several staff who he claimed had been found guilty of embezzlement and fraud as evidence of change that he has instituted (Kurniawan 2002). Antara’s financial situation was so healthy during Hadi’s leadership that he opted to return the subsidy to the government for the April–December threequarter financial year in 1999. It was the first time that Antara management had refused the subsidy since it was introduced in 1962. Hadi says the government subsidy offered was negligible in comparison to Antara’s income, and the government could better use the money in other areas of society (personal communication, 10 July 2002). With the benefit of hindsight, the move has become significant for three reasons. First, regardless of his political affiliations, it has cemented Hadi’s reputation for efficiency as Antara’s leader. Antara had never been a profitable business, but with new ventures – such as a cooperative endeavour with Reuters to become a financial information centre – it had seemed to show promise

118 Angela Romano and Blythe Seinor of becoming a successful, independent organization (Sukardi 2000). Second, Hadi’s attempt to separate the organization from state sponsorship led some journalists and media analysts to question whether Sobary, regardless of his political independence, was a less suitable choice than Hadi to position Antara structurally as a genuinely autonomous agency within a democratizing political system. Third, as will be discussed below, returning the subsidy led others to be suspicious about Hadi’s motives for taking such actions and whether such moves were really aimed at establishing an autonomous news agency. In relation to the issue of Antara’s autonomy, Sobary acknowledges that the government does exercise elements of control over Antara, but that it would be ‘misleading’ to describe the agency as ‘government owned’ (personal communication, 3 July 2002). Antara may be best described as a semi-government agency. State-owned news organizations – such as national television station Televisi Republik Indonesia (TVRI) and national radio station Radio Republik Indonesia (RRI) – receive substantial direct government funding. By contrast, only an estimated 1 per cent of Antara’s operational budget comes from government subsidies. An estimated 25 per cent of the agency’s income is gained through the sale of its news services to domestic Indonesian news organizations. The remainder of its income is earned from ‘cooperation with foreign media offices’ (Pamuji 2002). The bulk of Antara’s revenue is collected under the provisions of a 1972 decree from the Information Minister (No.22B/Kep/Menpen/1972), which stipulates that foreign news agencies can only disseminate news, features and pictures ‘through the intermediary of the Indonesian National News Agency’. The Information Minister’s decree is still in force, and Antara thus maintains monopoly rights to distribute the news from all foreign wire services operating in Indonesia to local news organizations wishing to access such international services. Although the organization collects almost all of its revenue through commercial activities, Antara cannot separate itself from the state completely by becoming a limited company. Antara is formally an institute rather than a company, which is reflected by its formal title, Lembaga Kantor Berita Nasional Antara (Antara National News Institute). This status is at odds with Article 9(2) of Law 40/1999, which states that all news organizations are required to operate as ‘an Indonesian legal entity’. This most commonly means that news organizations are established as private or listed companies. Muaya says this means that Antara cannot comply with the definitions of a ‘press enterprise’ as a ‘legal entity’. ‘There are terms an organization can adopt that are officially recognized in our system, and institute is not one of them’ (personal communication, 25 June 2002). During his term as managing director Hadi attempted to transform Antara into a limited company. He aimed for Antara to sell shares to the public, with the government also able to buy shares if it wished (personal communication, 10 July 2002). Hadi’s refusal of direct government assistance in 1999 was the first indication of his intentions to privatize Antara. The move and the proposal to offer shares prompted both praise and apprehension in the Indonesian media. Interviews with Antara staff and other media figures in Indonesia indicate that many commended what they saw as ‘reformist’

Between dictatorship and democracy: Indonesia’s state media 119 actions. Others, however, suspected that Hadi was politically motivated. Several Antara staff, speaking anonymously, suggested that during Habibie’s presidency Hadi had wanted Antara to remain a state-controlled agency, and he only declined the government subsidy and embarked on his privatization push after Habibie failed to be re-elected in 1999. This view is supported by a small number of media observers outside Antara. Among them is Gobel, who says Hadi ‘turned 360 degrees’ not because of concern about reform and press freedom but ‘to make his position secure . . . He is recorded as being a person who takes sides’ (personal communication, 27 June 2002). Journalists’ opinions about the purity of Hadi’s intentions regarding privatization have been strongly connected to their own political affiliations or their interpretations of his mixed reputation as both a reformer and a political figure. Sobary is among those who publicly commend and support Hadi’s approach to privatization. However, even after a formal assessment was conducted of Antara’s legal status, Sobary concluded that privatization was ‘almost impossible’ because of two major obstacles (personal communication, 3 July 2002). The first obstacle was the difficulty of separating Antara’s assets from government assets. If Antara opted to privatize, it is probable that the government would reclaim its capital assets, leaving the agency depleted. The second was Antara’s limited potential to enter the private sector and operate in a commercial environment. ‘We have been associated with the working style of the government; we work slowly and at the end of the month we get our salary. There hasn’t been a serious motivation to work like people from Reuters and Kompas. That’s a different atmosphere’ (personal communication, 3 July 2002). Regardless of whether the privatization push was motivated by Hadi’s reformist zeal or his political interests, Antara’s continuing relationship with the government leaves the agency in a difficult position. Technically, the government could undermine Antara’s entire operating structure by rescinding the ministerial decree that grants it monopoly rights to distribute foreign news agency materials. The existence of such a monopoly breaches many of the current concepts of reformation. Since 1998 Indonesia has come under intense international pressure to couple political reform with economic reform, and a significant number of monopolies have subsequently been opened to free-market competition. Responding to such factors, acting State Secretary Bondan Gunawan suggested that Antara’s monopoly over foreign news wire service subscriptions had to stop, as it was important that all monopolistic practices should end (Jakarta Post 2000a). Strongly reformist groups, such as the publishers of Xpos, go so far as to describe this monopoly as a ‘dirty means’ of covering the bulk of Antara’s operating costs (Xpos 1999–2000). It is improbable that the government would end Antara’s monopoly in the near future, but the fact remains that Antara is intensely reliant on indirect government assistance through this distribution cartel. More problematic for Antara is the government’s continued power to interrogate the agency’s behaviour. In June 2002 and May 2003, for example, the House of Representatives’ Commission on Media and Defence Affairs conducted two enquiries into Antara’s fulfilment of its public duties. In the 2002 hearings,

120 Angela Romano and Blythe Seinor commission members questioned whether the government still needed Antara and whether the organization should continue to be funded. They invited chief editors from major newspapers to discuss whether they used Antara’s services and how relevant such services were to contemporary media-industry needs (Hardjono 2002: 24). In 2003 legislators queried Antara’s commitment to maintaining Indonesia’s territorial integrity. They were particular concerned about coverage of the secessionist movement in Aceh, claiming that stories dwelled on civilian casualties and suffering instead of humanitarian activities in the province (Jakarta Post 2003). In one sense it is perfectly legitimate for parliamentarians to raise questions about the relevance and balance of news provided by a publicly funded agency. However, the nature of the commission’s questions suggested a relatively conservative understanding of how Antara serves the public good, particularly in relation to promoting nationalism. The commission’s power to raise such an interrogation, which was ultimately aimed at asking whether Antara should be closed down, also indicates the continuing ability of governments to express their authority and apply constraints on the news agency above and beyond the mechanisms of regulation that affect all other media organizations. Antara’s semi-government status similarly leaves it vulnerable to political influence. Many groups, including the House of Representatives, have rejected the idea of privatization because of Antara’s historical significance in advancing the national interest (Jakarta Post 2001). On the other hand, privatization would restrict the potential for future governments to manipulate Antara’s news services. Under current conditions, Indonesia’s government could not normally take the risk of blatantly pressuring reporters or editors to change the contents of their stories, regardless of whether the journalists worked for private or state-affiliated media organizations, for fear of a political backlash. It is possible, however, that changes in socio-political conditions may allow future governments to return to the more overtly authoritarian systems and interpretations of the law that were seen in both the Sukarno and Soeharto eras. If this happens, state-affiliated organizations could conceivably revert to a system whereby the government closely controlled their day-to-day functioning. Hadi’s proposed privatization of Antara would have meant that, regardless of changes in the political sphere, the government’s direct influence of the agency’s functions would be limited to its proportional financial investment (personal communication, 10 July 2002). Although the agency might be subject to the same controls as other media organizations, the military and the government would not be able to directly approve or reject stories as they previously had.

Conclusion In discussing democracy and the media, many academics concentrate on issues of freedom of speech, especially in relation to the right to discuss political matters, and the quality of journalists’ reporting of political life. This chapter, by contrast, considers a range of other issues that affect the democratic functioning of Indonesia’s national news agency at both an organizational and a societal level.

Between dictatorship and democracy: Indonesia’s state media 121 The chapter has explored how the continued power of Indonesia’s presidents to appoint Antara’s managing director/editor-in-chief can potentially lead to a situation where news may be self-censored, even after the demise of the New Order system of direct censorship by state or military officials. Such manipulation of the top levels of Antara’s management has occurred regardless of claims by both Habibie and Wahid to support freedom of the press. In Habibie’s case, his support for the eradication of strict regulatory control within the Indonesian media did not automatically equate with complete autonomy for the state-affiliated media. Wahid, who was considered a key reformist figure of the New Order, also carried remnants of the favour-trading culture that characterized the Soeharto regime into his relationships with political and media spheres. The passage of Law No. 40/ 1999 may help this situation because, even though it does not rescind the president’s right to appoint Antara’s managing director, it obliges the president to put nominees’ names before the House of Representatives. This provides some balance. However, given that the makeup of Indonesia’s parliament has been heavily controlled by the president for more than half of the nation’s independent history, legislators may not always be in a strong position to counter presidential whims. The attitude of legislators in their response to Hadi’s protests about his removal hardly echoed the spirit of reform or democratization. Antara’s ownership and financial links with the state are also vexed issues. As a semi-government agency, Antara remains answerable to the State Secretariat and the parliament, which can question the news agency’s journalistic activities, its operating charter and even whether it should continue operating. It becomes an interesting contradiction that Hadi, whose appointment as Antara’s managing director was often viewed as evidence of cronyism, was the driving force behind the now-stalled moves to privatize the news agency to free it from state connections. Antara also faces the risk of state pressure through financial influence, because without the support of state-owned assets and the state-sanctioned monopoly on distributing international wire service materials, Antara would be unable to continue operating. The reform movement has not created strong provisions that would protect Antara’s editorial staff from such influences. It is also noteworthy that, while financial security is necessary if journalists are to behave independently of external influence, Antara journalists’ security is dependent on a monopoly that itself exists in contravention of the current spirit of political and economic liberalization. Although these issues are problematic for Antara staff, the news agency has democratized internally by allowing journalists greater rights to affiliate and organize than almost any other news organization in Indonesia. In contrast to the hesitancy of other news organizations’ managers to tolerate the inconvenience of union-style structures, Hadi was instrumental in creating such a body within Antara. This is a significant achievement in a nation where journalists regularly write critical reports on abuses of labour rights but rarely benefit from industrial organization of their own labour. Even within Antara, the right to organise collectively is precarious, as Sobary’s temporary dismissal of two leaders of Antara’s Workers’ Union shows.

122 Angela Romano and Blythe Seinor As attempts to advance the process of democratization in Indonesia continue, the progress of reform is bound to be fraught with setbacks and contradictions. There is, indeed, no guarantee that the process will be successful at all. Just as Soeharto was a relatively liberal political leader during his first years in the presidency, until his position was secured, so too might future leaders return to more authoritarian patterns once they feel assured that they can maintain support for their leadership. Such shifts in the wider political system will have a major impact on Antara’s ability to operate autonomously, as befits the largest national provider of news in the nation.

Note 1 There is often variation in the spelling of Indonesian names, with Soeharto/Suharto the best-known example. In this chapter, the spelling of Soeharto’s name conforms to the spelling that he authorized in Apa dan Siapa: Sejumlah Orang Indonesia 1985–1986 (1986), the Indonesian equivalent of Who’s Who.

10 Democratization and changing state–media relations in South Korea Ki-Sung Kwak

The relationship between the state and the media in South Korea has undergone a revolution during the country’s democratization since 1993. Indications that a long-time authoritarian regime has been replaced by democracy in less than a decade have prompted a wide range of scholarly discussion. While the political changes have attracted rigorous attention from Western scholars, less attention has been focused on the changing nature and degree of media freedom. Since the major transformation that took place in 1993, the media have been allowed to criticize the government and its policies in more vigorous, blatant tones and to report any stories they choose to cover. This chapter is concerned primarily with how the state–media relationship in South Korea (hereafter referred to as Korea) has changed and developed in a more democratized political landscape, as compared to the situation where the authoritarian state dictated the definitions and conditions of press limits. It explores how the governments of the democratic transition have maintained their relationship with the media in the post-1993 period. During this period Korea has experienced democratic governments led by three civilian presidents: Kim YoungSam (1993–97), Kim Dae-Jung (1998–2002) and Rho Mu-Hyun (2003– ). Based on several case studies, this chapter examines the way the state has exerted its control over the media on one hand, and the level of resistance from the press on the other.

State–media relations under the military regimes before 1993 The state’s control over media in Korea dates from independence from Japanese occupation (1910–45). The country was established with the help of the United States after the Korean War (1950–53) and was governed by military regimes for more than three decades. During the nation-building and nation-binding period, the development and structural changes of media in Korea were predominantly made in the political context. Consecutive military governments in the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s used the media to project their aims and goals onto the public as part of the process of shaping and changing society in accordance with their political aims. During this period, the government’s main interests were to use the media for political purposes, as a means of justifying the legitimacy of the military governments on the one hand, and maintaining political power on the other. In

124 Ki-Sung Kwak this process, television broadcasters and newspapers were forced to share the interests of the government, under direct or indirect threats. Accordingly, the level of freedom allowed to the media was decided by the government of the day. In the relationship between the state and the media, the historic responses in Korea have been more concerned with centralized government control than with developing realistic solutions to the challenges posed by political and/or social changes. This means that the relationship between the state and media has mainly been concerned with the media serving the interests and priorities of the authoritarian governments rather than public or other interests. The media were heavily controlled by successive military governments until 1987, when another military government, led by Roh Tae-Woo (1987–92), announced media liberalization allowing limited press freedom. A licensing system that had allowed only one newspaper in each province was abolished, as was a press card system that had limited access to government information. These changes brought about pluralism in news reporting. In addition, journalists were able to write more freely and critically than before. At the same time news sources became more diversified, allowing journalists to access non-government sources, such as opposition party members, for political information. However, the domain of newsgathering and the ideological boundaries of news interpretation were significantly broadened only as long as they did not damage the core faction of the Rho Tae-Woo government (Yoon 2001). This means that the Korean media that had been forced to accept and maintain a collusive relationship in the past were cautious within the boundaries of the limited freedom given to them under the Rho Tae-Woo regime. Indeed, there is little evidence to show that the Korean media played an important role in achieving democracy in 1987. During Rho Tae-Woo’s presidency the Korean media’s influence in developing democracy was minimal. This was highlighted in a comprehensive survey conducted by the Korean Press Institute in 1993, which showed the majority of Korean people regarded the role of the media as ‘not significant in the democratising process’. The survey indicated that 75 per cent of Koreans believed that the Korean media had not played a leading role in the democratization process but had taken advantage of relaxation of state control (Korean Press Institute 1993a). More than 80 per cent of Korean journalists agreed with this view (Korean Press Institute 1993b). While Western media scholars saw the 1987 move as ‘the end of dark ages of the Korean media’, Korea remained a conservative country with conservative media (Heuvel and Dennis 1993). But this situation has changed in the past ten years, during which Korea has experienced a dynamic democratic transition.

Changing state–media relations since 1993 Since 1993, when a civilian candidate won the presidential election for the first time in three decades, Korea has moved from authoritarianism to liberalism, bringing about the demise of the military regime and ushering in an era of democracy. Indeed, in a situation where Korea saw an increasing degree of freedom, the Korean media that had long been tamed under the military regimes were allowed

Democracy and state–media relations in South Korea 125 to criticize the government and its policies and to report formerly taboo issues such as North Korean matters and military news. A generation of economic dynamism met a sharp downturn in the late 1990s, throwing into question central political arrangements. Despite this, Korea’s entry into the OECD in 1996 and its speedy and sound recovery from the economic downturn in the late 1990s, together with an emerging civil society, have greatly helped Korea advance towards democracy. In 1997, Kim Dae-Jung (1998–2002) became the first leader of an opposition party to win the presidential election in Korean history. His victory meant the end of almost 50 years of conservative party dominance in Korean politics. The change of government in 1998 provided the Korean media with an opportunity to test the state’s tolerance. During Kim DaeJung’s presidency ideological issues – such as relations with North Korea and antiAmerican feelings – dominated politics in South Korea. The emergence of a weak government and a more decentralized power structure created a situation in which the press could operate more freely (Yoon 2001: 550). This has been particularly so with the conservative newspapers, which, with the support of the conservative opposition party, the Grand National Party (GNP), reinforced their stances by criticizing government policies on such ideological issues. There was a growing antagonism between the state and the media – progressive government versus conservative newspapers, opposition party versus television broadcasters. Tax audit Despite his international reputation as a champion of democracy and a Nobel Peace Prize winner, Kim Dae-Jung’s relationship with the domestic press was uneasy, and the press remained susceptible to government interference. The imposition of a tax audit on media companies exemplified this tension. The Korean media had been the subject of tax audits only once, in 1994, when Kim Young-Sam attempted to use audits as a symbolic threat, suggesting that the government could intervene at will. The 1994 attempt ended in vain under enormous pressure from the media, newspapers in particular. When Kim Young-Sam announced the tax audit, newspapers that had supported his election bid in 1993 and his reform policies early in his presidency began to criticize his reform measures (Kang 2000). Kim Young-Sam subsequently claimed that he feared ‘the media organizations’ shady practices were so rampant and shocking that a public revelation of the audit investigation’s results might jeopardize the very survival of the press’ (KPF, 2002: 30). As a result, Kim Young-Sam succumbed to pressure and the audit became much more lenient and did not lead to an imposition of tax penalties on media firms or the arrest of media executives. The detailed result of the 1994 probe still remains confidential, apparently for political reasons. Unlike the 1994 tax audit, the 2001 audit proved to be an exercise of the government’s legitimate power, entailing substantive outcomes. In order to better understand the context in which the Kim Dae-Jung government imposed the tax audit, it is worth mentioning the major issues the newspaper industry, which was the major target of the tax audit, faced. The newspaper industry has been

126 Ki-Sung Kwak dominated by three national dailies, Chosun, Dong-A, and JoongAng. These ‘big three’, which have been run as family businesses (see Table 10.1), have been responsible for nearly 70 per cent of circulation (Joo 2003) and have been conservative in their editorial stance. Another issue was that advertisements accounted for nearly 70 per cent of newspaper revenue, with only about 30 per cent coming from newspaper sales (KPF 1999). The newspaper industry also lacked transparent and fair competition, and some newspapers’ coercive sales practices included excessive free copies and expensive giveaways for attracting new readers. In early 2001, Kim Dae-Jung’s government enforced tax probes on 20 Seoulbased dailies, including pro-government newspapers, and three broadcasting networks. Korean taxation law dictates that any firms with more than 10 billion won in assets undergo tax audits at least once every five years, but media firms have been largely exempted from such audits. The granting of unlawful favours to media companies was one of the major ways in which previous governments maintained their relationship with the media. The opposition GNP claimed that the tax imposition was a clear indication that the government was trying to control the media, while the government maintained its justification that all companies should abide by the Tax Law and the Fair Trade Law. The major newspapers claimed that the tax imposition was the result of a political vendetta against their criticism of the government’s blunders, while the newcomers and pro-government newspapers in the industry welcomed the audit as long overdue. The issue attracted international attention. The International Press Institute (IPI), the Vienna-based global network of media owners and media executives, dispatched fact-finding missions to Seoul and sent a letter to President Kim stating that: ‘The tax investigation is an apparent threat to freedom of speech, as it is aimed at gagging the press.’ An IPI request for an interview with President Kim was refused, and Korea was placed on the ‘IPI Watch List’, together with Russia, Sri Lanka, Venezuela and Zimbabwe. (Korea was dropped from the list in the middle of 2004.) The IPI assessed that ‘in democratic or partial democratic countries, if the press is going back to be repressed or looks suppressed, it will be on the Watch List’ (IPI 2002). The IPI’s view was supported by the World Association of Newspapers (WAN), another organization of executives and editors. The Table 10.1 The ownership of major newspapers in South Korea Newspapers

Ownership

Chosun Daily

Bang Family: 70 per cent Bang Il-Young Cultural Foundation: 15 per cent Kim Family: 22.2 per cent; Inchon Memorial: 24.1 per cent Ilmin Cultural Foundation: 5.2 per cent Hong Family: 36.8 per cent; CJ Development: 7.3 per cent Cheil-Jedang: 14.7 per cent Chang Family: 30 per cent; Seoul Economic Daily: 30 per cent

Dong-A Daily JoongAng Daily Hankuk Daily

Source: Media Today (2004).

Democracy and state–media relations in South Korea 127 Korean government rejected the IPI’s claim. In stark contrast to the IPI’s decision, the International Federation of Journalists (IFJ), which represents rank-and-file journalists in more than 100 countries, supported the tax examination, stating that ‘the ongoing tax probe into major news outlets is essential for media reform and press freedom in Korea’ (Korea Herald 2001). Although it is debatable as to whether the tax probes were politically motivated, the 2001 tax audit appeared to target the three conservative newspapers – Chosun, JoongAng and Dong-A – which had criticized the Kim Dae-Jung government’s policies in the areas of North Korea and medical and education reform. These newspapers echoed the most critical tone against Kim Dae-Jung’s policy towards North Korea – the ‘Sunshine Policy’ which emphasized ‘engagement with North Korea’ promoting exchange, reconciliation and cooperation, replacing previous governments’ ‘confrontation policy’. These newspapers criticized the ‘Sunshine Policy’ with claims that it was nothing more than a weak appeasement policy that helped buttress the North Korean regime by making a unilateral concession – without any sign of willingness to change on North Korea’s part – while compromising South Korea’s national security. When the National Tax Office (NTO) alleged tax evasion by a number of newspaper companies and broadcasters, the large conservative newspapers topped the list – Chosun Daily (86,4 billion won), JoongAng Daily (85 billion won) and Dong-A Daily (82.7 billion won) (KPF, 2001). The pro-government papers and broadcasters were not listed. The total evasion allegations against the three papers (254.1 billion won) accounted for more than 50 per cent of the total 505.6 billion won alleged against all 23 media organizations. In addition, the Fair Trade Commission (FTC) examined the sales practices of 13 Seoul-based media organizations, and imposed a total of 24.2 billion won in fines for improper sales practices – such as handing out unsolicited copies and giving expensive gifts in return for newspaper subscriptions. Again, the three conservative papers received the highest penalties – Chosun Daily 3.4 billion won, JoongAng Daily 2.5 billion won and Dong-A Daily 6.2 billion won – while the pro-government newspapers received the lowest – Hankyoreh 15 million won and Dae-Han Maeil 0.1 billion won (KPF 2001). In addition to the heavy penalties imposed upon the newspapers, the owner of Chosun Daily and the publisher of Dong-A Daily were arrested on tax evasion charges. Both newspapers categorically denied the charges, claiming that many of them were unfairly applied (Chosun Daily 2001; Dong-A Daily 2001). Both newspapers maintained that the tax audit clearly targeted them with the aim of weakening their influence. The government’s push for correcting media practices, however, was overshadowed by domestic politics, including the National Assembly’s noconfidence vote against the Minister for Unification for his illicitly handing a huge sum of money to North Korea while he was attending the Pyongyang festival. It emerged in 2001 that the money was to bribe North Korea to the table for the 15 June 2000 summit talks between Kim Dae-Jung and North Korean leader Kim Jung-Il. A series of corruption charges against politicians, including the ruling party members, and then the September 11 terrorist attacks in New York further weakened the government’s original motivation for the tax audit.

128 Ki-Sung Kwak As a consequence, the owner of Chosun Daily and the publisher of Dong-A Daily, who had been arrested in August 2001, were soon released. The former had his sentence suspended and the latter was granted bail. In a newspaper countersuit against the NTO, the court found the amounts set by the NTO report were groundless. The penalties originally imposed on the newspapers were significantly reduced. For example, the penalty against Chosun Daily was reduced from 86.4 billion won to 2 billion won, and could be further reduced (personal communication with senior Chosun Daily staff, 8 October 2004). Many of the cases are yet to be decided by the court. Despite claims that the audits were conducted to intimidate news organizations, in the end they have barely influenced the newspapers’ practice of criticizing the government or their operational or management practices. The GNP and television broadcasters Evidence of political influence over media can also be found in the state’s frequent interference in operation and programming on national free-to-air television broadcasting. One of the ongoing major issues in democratic regimes is the state’s use of media, including television, for political goals. This includes interference in media coverage of certain issues or events. Table 10.2 summarizes the ownership and financial revenue structure of the two public broadcasters in Korea, the KBS (Korean Broadcasting System) and MBC (Munhwa Broadcasting Corporation). It is not surprising to note from these structural constraints that political parties and the government can exert influence on the operation and management of the broadcasters and the recruitment and selection of staff and members of the board of governors. The stronger degree of state control over public service television has been most visible in the appointment and nomination of the directors of public television broadcasters. The 12 members of the KBS Board of Governors are all appointed by the president of Korea on the recommendations of the Korean Table 10.2 A glimpse of KBS and MBC KBS

MBC

Ownership

Government

FBC* (70%), Jung-Soo Foundation (30%)

Status

Public corporation

Limited company

Governing body

Board of governors

FBC Board

Network stations

25 local networks

19 local networks (MBC Seoul station owns more than 51% of its networks’ stocks)

Revenue source

KBS1 (Licensee fee)KBS2 (Licensee fee + ads)

Advertising

Sources: Compiled from Korean Broadcasting System (2001). Note * FBC: Foundation for Broadcast Culture, a government-owned public corporation.

Democracy and state–media relations in South Korea 129 Broadcasting Commission (KBC), a seemingly independent regulatory body. Similarly, the ten board members of the Foundation for Broadcast Culture (FBC) that owns 70 per cent of MBC stocks are appointed by the Korean Broadcasting Commissioner on the recommendation and nomination of the Speaker of the National Assembly and the KBC. The politicization of public television has been obvious in the recent conflicts between MBC and the opposition party. In August 2002 there was an off-shore battle between the South and North Korean navies in the West Sea of the Korean peninsula. The South suffered significant losses. The majority of broadcasters and newspapers in South Korea condemned the North’s attack. MBC, however, claimed in its news programme that South Korean fishing boats went deep into disputed waters and this might have contributed to the confrontation (KPF 2002). The way MBC reported the story implied that it may not have been entirely the North’s fault. The report was soon heavily criticized by conservative newspapers which have traditionally supported the conservative opposition party, the GNP. The Monthly Chosun (Chosun’s monthly news magazine) argued that the MBC claim was wrong and questioned MBC’s intention. In October 2002 MBC sued the Monthly Chosun over the article. In early 2004 MBC lost the case. Right-wing groups campaigned to boycott MBC. The GNP asked the parliamentary audit to delve into the operation of MBC in August 2002. The relationship between the GNP, whose members outnumbered the ruling party in the National Assembly, and MBC deteriorated when the former complained about the way the broadcasters reported ongoing investigations into suspected military draft-dodging by the son of GNP leader Lee Hoe-Chang. At a critical time, just before the presidential election, the issue could have been a serious blow for the opposition candidate, who, at the time, was ahead in the opinion polls. The GNP issued guidelines to broadcasters which included: Do not show the face of Lee Jung Yeon (Lee Hoe-Chang’s son). Do not say he is Lee Hoe-Chang’s son. Do not report anything other than the prosecutor’s official statements. Do not report ‘irresponsible and unconfirmed’ statements made by MBC. (Media Today 2002) In the midst of antagonistic relations, GNP members refused interviews with MBC, and Lee Hoe-Chang announced that he would privatize MBC if he won the election. This was a serious threat to MBC, which had long enjoyed its position as public broadcaster while its main financial revenue derived entirely from advertising. In the early twenty-first century public opinion on politics was polarized, and this was exacerbated during and after the 2002 presidential election (Sohn 2004). Rho Mu-Hyun was elected as president when the generational divide was at its height. Given that regional and ideological rivalry had dominated the political landscape for the past four decades, the polarization on generational lines was a significant change that emerged in the democratization process.

130 Ki-Sung Kwak The 2002 election demonstrated the Internet’s victory over conservative newspapers in the battle to influence young voters. It was a clear indication that the evolution of the Internet had gradually been challenging the mainstream newspapers’ role in opinion-shaping. In presidential elections until 1997, newspapers played an influential role in shaping public opinion that supported conservative governments. The influence of conservative newspapers, weakened in the 1997 presidential election, proved to be weakened further in the 2002 presidential election when Rho Mu-Hyun, a reformist, became the president, beating his conservative opponent Lee Hoe-Chang, who was supported by the conservative newspapers during the campaign. Rho’s lawsuit and government perceptions of newspapers By late 2003 Rho’s approval rating had plummeted to 25 per cent. Rho was focusing on the 2004 parliamentary election in the hope of winning control of the National Assembly (The ruling party did not hold a majority in the National Assembly.) The worsening economy and other political and social issues accounted for the bulk of stories in the conservative newspapers. Rho argued that the real problem of such issues was the press, describing it as ‘tyrannical media’: ‘We have to fight against news reports that intentionally distort facts for political purposes and legal actions shouldn’t be out of consideration’ (Korea Herald, 2004a). He urged government officials to stand against the ‘tyranny of the privileged news media’. In an attempt to exercise closer monitoring over news reports, particularly those in the conservative newspapers, the Blue House (similar to the White House in the United States) instructed the major government departments to report daily on news reports covering their activities. Underlying these measures was the Rho government’s strong intention to crack down on any misleading news reporting. President Rho’s dissatisfaction with the conservative newspapers reached its height when he filed defamation suits against opposition lawmaker Moon-Soo Kim and four major newspapers, Chosun, Dong-A, JoongAng and Hankuk Daily. Rho said the four papers reported Kim’s claims that the president had engaged in real-estate speculation, influence-peddling on behalf of his brother’s business and diversion of campaign funds for personal use. Rho said the claims were groundless and argued that the papers did not try to confirm Mr Kim’s claims (Hankyoreh Daily 2003), although the four papers refuted the claim that their reports were based largely on Kim’s comments. Even before the hearings started, however, President Rho asked the court to drop the defamation suit because ‘people may not trust the court, should the lawsuits be implemented during his tenure’ (Korea Times 2004). It was a clear political setback that President Rho himself invited as the popularity in his presidential performance was dropping and the gap between his government and the media, the conservative newspapers in particular, was ever-widening. A JoongAng Daily senior staffer described it thus: ‘It was a political decision made by President Rho who wanted to maintain harmonious relations with the media. If

Democracy and state–media relations in South Korea 131 one side is damaged in the suit, it wouldn’t be good for either of them’ (personal communication with Joong-Ang Daily staff, 7 October 2004). The turbulent relationship between the government and the newspapers in 2003 was further fuelled by a senior government official’s comments about Korean newspapers. Ministry of Information Deputy Director Mr Soon-Kyun Chung, in an interview with the Asian Wall Street Journal in August 2003, criticized Korean newspapers for printing ‘irresponsible stories’ and accepting bribes to report favourably about government and business sources. He was quoted as saying: Many Korean reporters tend to file a report without checking and confirming important points, consequently resulting in instances of damaged personal reputations, infringement of privacy and business losses . . . In a classic example of collaboration, many government officers used to subscribe to the early morning issues of daily newspapers to see if there were any stories unfavourable to them so that they could call the editors before the main issue came out . . . The officials curried various favours with the media, maintained a select group of supposedly influential reporters at each government agency, wined and dined them, and handed them envelopes of cash. (Asian Wall Street Journal 2003) The major newspapers refuted his claim, saying it was groundless and interpreting the interview as an indication of a government plan to blame the press. They demanded Mr Chung’s resignation. Ironically, a 2003 survey of journalists’ attitudes and perceptions conducted by the Korea Press Foundation revealed that 60 per cent of respondents admitted that they received gifts or cash from news sources at least once (KPF 2003a). Newspapers and broadcasters have barely reported this practice, nor did they mention some reporters’ involvement in receiving bribes or favourable treatment in association with political and social events. Coverage of the impeachment of President Rho The polarized relationship between the state and the media was further evidenced in media coverage of impeachment moves against the president made on 15 March 2004. The impeachment motion was initiated by the opposition parties, who had criticized the president since his inauguration in February 2003 for mismanagement on a number of issues, and corruption charges that included his closest aides. Rho said the conservative newspapers’ reporting was biased. The impeachment was passed in the National Assembly, and both public opinion and the media were polarized. The conservative newspapers welcomed the impeachment while the three terrestrial television broadcasters suggested that it could lead to social instability, and called on the public to join in the criticism of the opposition parties. The opposition parties and civic groups claimed that the KBS and MBC news coverage of the impeachment had been biased in favour of the ruling Uri Party. Not surprisingly, the conservative newspapers that had

132 Ki-Sung Kwak supported the impeachment stressed it was done according to legal process. In stark contrast to the newspapers, the state-owned KBS and the MBC questioned the role of opposition members, charging that they misused their majority power in the National Assembly to impeach a democratically elected president. The governing Uri Party gained a National Assembly majority in the April 2004 parliamentary election. The election result was significantly influenced by President Rho’s impeachment, which made many voters sympathetic to the president and the minor ruling party. The opposition GNP claimed that the television networks’ unfair portrayal of the impeachment had caused its election defeat (Korea Herald 2004b). The party urged the Korean Broadcasting Commission to deal with its complaints against the KBS and MBC. Given the fact that nine of the KBC’s commissioners are appointed by the president (three at the recommendation of the National Assembly and six at the recommendation of the ruling party), the KBC did not want to bear any potential criticism that would emerge from its findings. Confronted with pressure from the opposition parties, the KBC, rather than examining the issue internally, assigned the task to the Korean Society for Journalism and Communication (KSJC), an organization composed of academics from various universities in Korea. This passive response by the KBC was an indication of its reluctance to pursue the issues. Further complexities arose when the KSJC revealed its findings. It stated that ‘the entire frame of the programme was formed by portraying the forces opposing the impeachment as the weaker group, while those supporting the impeachment as the stronger and unjust ones’ (KSJC 2004). But it did not specify whether such TV programmes influenced voters’ views or the outcome of the general elections. Not surprisingly, the findings soon met criticism from the television broadcasters and pro-government organizations, which questioned the methodologies used. A central issues in the controversy over the report was the definition and interpretation of ‘biased reporting’. From the opposition parties’ point of view, the content and overall tone in news reports and current affairs programmes on the KBS and MBS favoured the government and the ruling party. They also claimed that those programmes highlighted negative aspects of the impeachment, showing footage that showed people protesting against the opposition parties (despite the fact that there were rallies that supported the impeachment) and interviewing people who were angry about the impeachment (despite the fact that there were people who supported it). The opposition parties’ initial claim was largely based on their belief that the two broadcasters failed to maintain a balance in reporting the impeachment. To a large extent, these views were reinforced by the KSJC’s findings. Without exception, the conservative newspapers supported the report and criticized the two broadcasters for not accepting it. While criticizing the report as ‘purely based on numeric figures’, the two broadcasters rejected the findings and urged a re-examination. Instead of providing clear evidence for defending their position, both broadcasters argued that their programmes were not biased in any sense because they highlighted the thendominant public views. Both broadcasters based their justification on public polls conducted immediately after the impeachment. (These polls showed that 70 per

Democracy and state–media relations in South Korea 133 cent of the Korean people believed the impeachment was inappropriate.) In the midst of controversies surrounding the KSJC report, the Vice-Commissioner of the KBC criticized it. His personal statement was carried in the pro-government newspapers just a few days before the KBC announced its official response to the report and made a final decision about the case. His hasty, ill-considered response to the report, however, met further criticism that questioned the original intention of the KBC. Why did the KBC leave this important task to an external organization in the first place? Faced with enormous pressure, the KBC postponed its official statement responding to the KSJC report. The KBC’s indecision and limitation were again highlighted in its final decision statement: ‘We cannot hold a comprehensive deliberation on a great number of programmes without separately examining the specific content of each programme’ (KBC 2004a). It meant that the KBC would not go further with their examination. Although the statement implied that the examination of individual programmes could be possible, such an examination did not occur. Immediately after this announcement, two commissioners who had assigned the task to the KSJC resigned in protest against the KBC’s decision. Television coverage of the impeachment seriously tested the role of the KBC. It clearly showed the limitations of the KBC, which has long been struggling to exist as an independent regulator. It is apparent that the KBC, although a seemingly independent regulator, is extremely vulnerable to political influence. The incident raised a fundamental question about the membership of the commission. In public hearings there has been a loosely agreed consensus among the ruling and opposition parties that the KBC should be an independent regulator. But it is doubtful that such independence is possible as long as the commissioners are selected by the political parties.

Conclusion South Korea – traditionally a strong authoritarian, neo-Confucian state – has been democratized to at least some extent, although the degree of this democratization is problematic. In a decade of democratic transition since 1993, the authoritarian past has not completely gone. The political structure has advanced dramatically, but the democratic transition has not entailed a fundamental shift in the authoritarian nature of political leadership. The continuing existence of ideological as well as military threats from communist North Korea, together with the formidable legacy of cultural norms from the previous authoritarian regimes and authoritariansponsored prosperity, have kept Korea merely as a ‘delegative’ democracy. With the democratization of the country in 1993, both print and broadcast media undoubtedly became freer than they had been under consecutive authoritarian regimes which had suppressed them with overt and covert controls. While the relationship between the state and the media has moved from being ‘collusive’ towards a more ‘adversarial’ style, as practiced in Western countries, the state has still maintained a firm stance in dictating the direction of the relationship. In the past, the collusive relationship was maintained and accommodated by the media

134 Ki-Sung Kwak organizations’ self-imposed reflection of the authoritarian governments’ expectations. As demonstrated in the cases illustrated in this chapter, however, it would be wrong to say that the state–media relationship in Korea is entirely adversarial. Rather, the relationship has been predominantly shaped and maintained according to the political stance, ideologies and ownership structure that each medium pursues to maximize its benefits, both political and economic. Another interesting change noted in this chapter is the way that Korean governments have maintained relationships with the media. While the authoritarian governments (before 1993) adopted more subtle and indirect control measures in order to best camouflage their political illegitimacy, the civilian governments (after 1993) have used more direct and legitimate measures – tax audits and lawsuits. Although the 2001 tax audit and the president’s lawsuits in 2003 lost their momentum in the midst of political scandals and stand-offs, it is important to stress that these exercises should be seen as a sign of democratization. The Korean media organizations were finally being subjected to all the rules that other citizens and organizations were subjected to. This is a clear indication that the civilian governments have placed more emphasis on the rule of law – crucial to the functioning of democracy – in maintaining relationships with the media. A compelling feature noted in the transitional process has been the growing polarization of the relationship between the state and the media. The Korean media has been polarized in that the conservative newspapers have aligned themselves with the opposition parties, the GNP in particular, while the national free-to-air television broadcasters have sided with the government and the ruling party. Korea’s experience thus far shows that the reform-oriented presidents’ determination to weaken the power of the media has met strong resistance from the conservative newspapers. The progressive governments’ direction in the relationship with the press has been to incorporate both the past practice of coercion and the emerging challenges from the press. On the other hand, the Korean press’s direction in the relationship with the governments has been to incorporate both the past practice of protecting their interests and the growing pressure from reform-oriented governments. In Korea the notion of freedom of the press as a tool of democratic selfgovernment is constitutionally guaranteed, but it does not have deep historical roots as in Western European and Anglo-American thought. Since 1993, when the major transformation took place, the media have been allowed to criticize the government and its policies and to report any stories they wish. During the democratization period, however, journalism practice and operational practice of the media organizations have not significantly improved. Indeed, since the late 1990s the number of lawsuits filed against media organizations has surged (KPF 2003b), and the civil organizations’ demand for media reform has grown. This chapter shows that Korean governments and political parties have so far failed to appreciate that their policies deserve criticism. Equally importantly, however, the Korean media have failed to appreciate that their journalism practice deserves criticism. These are the critical issues that need to be raised in future relationships between the state and the media in Korea.

11 Cable television and democratization in Taiwan and South Korea Rodney Tiffen and Ki-Sung Kwak

Taiwan and South Korea are arguably the two countries in Asia which have moved most substantially from authoritarianism towards democracy in the past two decades. Both had crises in early 2004 which were manifestations of the tensions produced by their transitions. They showed the fragility but also the progress of both countries’ democracies. Taiwan and South Korea are also the two Asian countries in which cable TV has developed most strongly. In Taiwan the development of cable TV was intricately linked with the moves towards democracy. In Korea, the link was less direct, but was part of the movement toward greater media pluralism associated with greater democratization. In both countries cable TV was part of the process of breaking down the previous monopoly in news dissemination which had meant news essentially conveyed official perspectives. Cable TV has also been the site for new programming genres, such as panel discussions, which fortified political cultures moving towards dialogue and official accountability. This chapter examines the crises of 2004 and their resolution in light of the growing democratization of both countries. The middle section of the chapter then examines the growth of cable TV in each country, and the final section considers the interaction of the multi-channel environment with the quality of political reporting and of democracy.

The political crises of 2004 The Taiwanese presidential election of 20 March 2004 was one of the most remarkable elections of the contemporary era. President Chen Shui-bian of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) and candidate for the pan-Green alliance defeated Lien Chan of the Kuomingtang (KMT) and candidate for the pan-Blue forces, by 30,000 votes out of a total of almost 13 million cast, giving a margin of 50.1 per cent to 49.9 per cent. But the closeness of the vote was only the first of the election’s remarkable characteristics (Fell 2004; Rawnsley 2004). The campaign leading up to the election was spirited, with emotions high on both sides. However, until the day before the election, the large rallies had been passionate but peaceful. Then, around lunchtime on election eve, both the President and the Vice-President, Annabel Lo, were shot while campaigning in

136 Rodney Tiffen and Ki-Sung Kwak Chen’s home town in southern Taiwan. Each was superficially wounded, and able to appear briefly on television that night. Both major parties agreed that the election should proceed as scheduled. The impact of the shootings on the election result can never be known, but some observers believe it brought a sympathy vote for Chen, possibly sufficient to change the result. The pan-Blue alliance had been expecting to win. They had lost the 2000 election, ushering in the first non-KMT government in Taiwan’s postcolonial history. But the main reason for that loss was a split within the KMT. The DPP’s Chen had won in 2000 with just under 40 per cent of the vote, sufficient to beat James Soong, the Peoples First Party candidate, with the KMT’s Lien lagging badly in third place. Now Soong was running as Lien’s vice-presidential candidate and Chen would need 50 per cent plus to win. If the flowering of speculation is a sign of democracy, then Taiwanese democracy after the shooting was in full bloom. The police had been unable to arrest the assailant, and ignorance about key details allowed many competing theories to flourish. A lone madman seemed too simple or boring for most to accept, but of course it remains a possibility. Some DPP supporters thought that a KMT assassin had carried out the shootings. Apart from the absence of any supporting evidence, this lacks plausibility because at the time most KMT supporters were confident that they were going to win the election. Other supporters of the DPP thought it might be the work of Beijing, which viewed Chen as their major opponent on Taiwan. The People’s Republic of China had been forced to watch in bellicose impotence as Taiwan went into its third direct presidential election (and controversial first popular referendum), and to fume at the continuing success of what they viewed as Chen’s strongly pro-independence stance. Perhaps the most amazing of the common theories posits that it was the work of gangsters who were gambling on the result of the election, and thought that either a wounding or an assassination might change the odds in their favour. The most politically important conspiracy theories about the assassination attempt come from KMT supporters who, in their deep disappointment at their defeat, either think that the whole incident was a put-up job, or charge that the government then exploited it to aid their cause. Although it turned out to be one of history’s more convenient attempted assassinations, there is no evidence to suggest it was faked, and very considerable evidence and logic leading the other way. The President was shot in the stomach by a bullet fired through the windscreen of a vehicle travelling at 20 to 30 kilometres an hour, and if the bullet had struck a couple of centimetres differently he would have been killed. If it was a contrived stunt, it was certainly a high-risk one. Moreover, the large number of independent observers who have seen the wounds have all but eliminated the credibility of any conspiracy theory (Lee Y. 2004). After their election disappointment KMT supporters produced an array of criticisms, including that the government’s actions after the shootings, such as putting more troops and police on duty, had given them an advantage. Many KMT supporters refused to accept the result, and there were demonstrations outside the presidential palace in the following weeks, claiming counting

Cable TV and democracy in Taiwan and South Korea

137

irregularities. Eventually a re-count was ordered and conducted in an independent and transparent manner, and it confirmed Chen’s narrow victory. Despite the continuing discontent among the KMT’s supporters, the disputes have been resolved in a constitutional manner, and there were no arrests or violence, and social and political life quickly returned to normal. Around the same time, in early 2004, equally contentious and dramatic events were taking place in East Asia’s other new democracy, the Republic of Korea. On 12 March 2004 the opposition members of the National Assembly successfully moved an impeachment motion against President Rho Moo-Hyun. The parties took diametrically opposed views of the action. Ruling party members condemned it as ‘the saddest day for Korea’s democracy’, and an abuse by the opposition of their majority in the Assembly, but for the opposition it was ‘a victory of mature democracy’, carried out by democratically elected members of the National Assembly. The immediate cause of the impeachment motion was that, at an informal gathering with journalists, Rho asked the general public to support the ruling Uri Party – a party led by pro-Rho members – in the forthcoming parliamentary election. This was against the Election Law which prohibits the president from supporting or promoting any particular political party during an election campaign. However, the impeachment motion was also the climax of months of turmoil in Korean politics. In the year after Rho took office in the Blue House in February 2003 his popularity plunged from 80 per cent to 30 per cent. The Korean economy slid into recession for the first time since its recovery from the Asian financial crisis, and foreign investment declined. There had also been a constant stream of corruption allegations by each side against the other. All this was occurring amid increased tensions on the Korean peninsula. These had sharpened since October 2002 when North Korea admitted to the United States that it had covertly been developing its nuclear weapons programme, which directly contravened the 1994 Agreed Framework between North Korea and the United States. In the middle of these troubles, President Rho took the unprecedented (and to many observers bizarre) move of announcing that he would hold a referendum about his presidential performance. It was a bold, calculated move for the unpopular president who hoped to shore up his flagging support, particularly from the young, liberal voters who elected him. The March impeachment bid polarized public opinion, and the division between conservatives and liberals that had already been marked since the 2002 presidential election (Lee C.H. 2004) was further deepened. Opinion polls conducted immediately after the impeachment showed that around two-thirds of the Korean people believed the impeachment was not appropriate. This disapproval was an ominous sign for the opposition parties’ prospects in the upcoming parliamentary elections. Because of a major structural change in the political parties, there were now two major opposition parties, which had both supported the impeachment move. The majority party in the National Assembly was the Grand National Party (GNP), which years earlier had been the ruling party, but whose candidate had lost in the last two presidential elections to Kim

138 Rodney Tiffen and Ki-Sung Kwak Dae-Jung and then to Rho Moo-Hyun. When Rho won the presidential election, he ran as the candidate for the Millennium Democratic Party (MDP), the same party as Kim. However, during the first year of his presidency, Rho decided to split from the MDP because its supporters were seen to be too lukewarm in their attitudes to reform. The subsequent creation of the Uri Party with a small (fewer than 40 members) group of relatively young and vigorously reformist members meant that they became the ruling party, while the MDP was reduced to being the second largest opposition party. After the impeachment motion, internal discord and disunity surfaced in the opposition parties on a range of issues. This was particularly true of the MDP, which only decided its leader just before election day. In contrast, the impeachment had given President Rho’s governing Uri Party a focus for their campaign, highlighting that the impeachment of the president was wrong and urging voters to support them so that they could prevent the nation from spiralling further into political turmoil. The parliamentary election on 15 April gave the Uri Party a resounding victory, with 152 seats out of 299. A large part of the explanation for this victory, however, lies in the public’s discontent with the opposition parties who brought about unnecessary political confusion and division. In this changed political landscape, it was not surprising that the Constitutional Court withheld the impeachment motion, enabling President Rho to remain in power. In its statement, the court confirmed that ‘President Rho violated the election laws but [the court] decided that his transgression did not constitute sufficient grounds for his impeachment’ (Hankyoreh Daily 2004). So, as in Taiwan, after unprecedented political events, the crisis was resolved in a constitutional and peaceful manner, and social and political life returned to normal. The international headlines about the events in Korea and Taiwan naturally concentrated on the controversy and contention, and indeed they did show the fragility and problems of these young democracies. But the sense of crisis and the sharpness of the immediate conflict between the major parties obscure the progress of Taiwanese and Korean democracy. Taking the perspective of a decade or two shows just how far both countries have travelled from their previous authoritarian rule. Well into the 1980s, both South Korea and Taiwan looked very unlikely candidates to become the robust democracies they have. Both seemed locked into perpetual authoritarian rule, at least partly because both were caught up with ongoing external conflicts – with North Korea and China respectively – that made their very existence problematic. Faced with the continuing threat from the North, South Korea seemed destined to remain a military dictatorship, with various candidates from the military succeeding each other as president. Prior to 1987 the president was elected indirectly through a process effectively controlled by the ruling party. This system had been in operation since 1972 when the thenPresident Park Chung-Hee – stunned by the narrow margin of his win over Kim Dae-Jung in the 1971 presidential election – changed the constitution in a bid to install himself as permanent president, thus eliminating the possibility of challenge from his political opponents or having to face any popular general election.

Cable TV and democracy in Taiwan and South Korea

139

In 1987, Roh Tae-Woo, presidential candidate of the ruling Democratic Justice Party (DJP) who was handpicked by Chun Doo-Hwan, announced the reintroduction of a direct presidential election – the first such election in 16 years. This was a key turning point in South Korea’s transition to a fully fledged democracy. Rho Tae-Woo won the 1987 presidential election by a slight margin, mainly because the votes for opposition candidates were split between Kim Young-Sam and Kim Dae-Jung, who ran separately. In 1993, Kim Young-Sam became the first civilian president since 1960, but he did not win as an opposition candidate, having in the interim transferred to the ruling party. Then in 1997 Kim Dae-Jung became the first leader from an opposition party to win the presidential election in Korea’s political history. Kim had won the Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts in the struggle to establish Korean democracy, and because of his pursuit of an engagement policy with North Korea, the so-called ‘Sunshine Policy’. Rho Moo-Hyun’s victory in the 2002 presidential election marked an end to Korea’s first stage of democratization. It symbolized a generational change from the two Kims, but equally reflected a reaction against the way in which the traditional political parties had been personal vehicles for the leaders, and showed the mounting aspirations for broader political reform and democracy (Sohn 2004: 47). Taiwan’s route to democratization in many ways paralleled Korea’s. Its authoritarian antecedents were just as unpromising; it had a similar time frame; and a series of landmarks – each limited and with ambiguous implications at the time – eventually led to the emergence of a vibrant democracy. After Chiang Kaishek and the Kuomingtang fled from the mainland in 1949, they continued their conflict with the communists, claiming to be the government in exile of the whole of China. In 1986 the government ended martial law and allowed the legal formation of opposition political parties, with the DPP forming that year (Wang 2004; Wong, J. 2003). After decades of rapidly rising living standards, President Lee Teng-Hui captured the public mood with his Taiwan First agenda. Then he inaugurated direct presidential elections, winning the first one in 1996. The second presidential election in 2000 was won by the opposition DPP against a divided KMT, but President Chen won again in the dramatic election of 2004. Each step in Taiwan’s democratization has been accompanied by threats from China, which views Taiwan as an integral part of its territory. There have been frequent assertions that a declaration of independence by Taiwan would mean war. China went so far as to launch missile tests into the neighbouring oceans to signal its displeasure with the first direct presidential election in 1996. Beijing’s hostility has meant that Taiwan’s democratization has been fraught and surrounded by tension. Both Korea and Taiwan have passed many of the tests of a strong democracy. Parties have alternated in power. Both elections showed that the parties were responsive to public opinion and dynamic in their campaigning. The rise of democracy has been aided by their economic performance over several decades. Freedom from want and freedom from fear are two of the most basic freedoms,

140 Rodney Tiffen and Ki-Sung Kwak and allow the more directly political liberties to grow. Moreover, although there are continuing problems of corruption in both societies, both share an effective institutional infrastructure which allows democracy to be more meaningful than in some Third World countries that lack such effective governance structures. However, the dramatic events of early 2004 also showed the problems of democratization in both countries. They illustrated the continuing importance of historical divisions and that, so far at least, the competing parties do not yet grant each other complete legitimacy, as the scars of the authoritarian past are still visible. However, although the social distance between the parties’ leaderships has remained a chasm, and there is not yet trust between them, the policy distance between the parties and some of their rhetoric has come a lot closer together. Whatever reservations there may be about particular recent developments in Taiwan or Korea, and despite the considerable question marks hanging over their future development, the most fundamental conclusion is that they are two of the world’s most hopeful new democracies.

The growth of cable television Media liberalization tends to accompany political liberalization, and both Korea and Taiwan have had dynamic media environments. They have both moved from a position of authoritarian censorship and state monopoly to an increasing array of outlets. Apart from an increasing diversity of free-to-air TV channels with a variety of owners, both countries have shown a rapid growth in cable television, with penetration rates that are the highest in Asia and among the highest in the world. This raises the interesting issue of how the growth of cable TV has been intertwined with their democratization and how it may contribute to the vitality of their future democracy. Before considering this relationship, however, it is necessary first to examine the history of free-to-air TV and especially the growth of cable TV in Korea and Taiwan. Television began in both countries at the height of the Cold War, when authoritarian rule was absolute. From 1962 to 1997 all the terrestrial TV broadcasters in Taiwan were either owned by the government or the Kuomingtang. There were three channels, TTV (Taiwan Television Enterprise, begun in 1962), CTV (China Television Company, 1969) and CTS (Chinese Television Service, 1971). All were required to earn their revenue entirely from advertising. In 1997 the thenopposition party, DPP (Democratic Progress Party), established its own television broadcasting channel, FTV (Formosa Television), with pro-DPP directors and investors. Recognizing that the state-owned commercial broadcasters did not have any sense of aspiring to the ideals and standards of a public service broadcaster, the Taiwanese government introduced such a service (PTS, Public Television Service) in 1998. The development of free-to-air television in Taiwan is currently in flux. The prospective introduction of digital TV is seen by some as potentially reviving the financial fortunes of the sector following the sharp erosion of its market share by cable TV. Moreover, unified legislation bringing together all communication

Cable TV and democracy in Taiwan and South Korea

141

sectors has been drafted. Both ruling and opposition parties have agreed in principle to eliminate any political influence – in the areas of ownership, investment and appointment – in the broadcast and print media. The movement towards these reforms stalled in 2004, with political controversies around the March presidential election and the prospect of the December parliamentary election slowing the movement towards restructuring. Television began in Korea in 1961 with the KBS (Korean Broadcasting System) as the national broadcaster, owned and operated by the government. Later two commercial broadcasters, TBC (Tong-Yang Broadcasting Company, 1964–79) and MBC (Mun-Hwa Broadcasting Company, established 1969) existed until 1980 when the new military regime forced them to become public broadcasters. As a result, TBC was absorbed into the KBS to become KBS2, while MBC retained its name but was transformed into a state broadcaster. The state television monopoly lasted until 1990 when the government liberalized the industry by allowing the entry of a commercial television broadcaster, SBS (Seoul Broadcasting System). Further deregulation was achieved during the 1990s with the emergence of cable television services, and by allowing free-to-air television broadcasters to participate in other broadcast business. Since the middle 1990s both Taiwan and South Korea have seen the rapid growth of cable television. In both countries cable started in the 1960s when, as in the United States and elsewhere, it was used principally as a medium for retransmitting signals for the terrestrial channels to areas where reception was poor. However, as also in other countries, the retransmission function of cable soon became less important than the offering of extra channels not available on free-to-air TV. Cable TV became an alternative, complementary medium, and made the television environment a multi-channel one. Cable television in Taiwan has had a unique and fascinating history. It was not legalized until 1993, but before then it had been operated by a series of small-scale pirate enterprises. Apart from domestic reasons for the move, the legalization was a response to complaints by international companies about breaches of copyright by the Taiwanese cable operators. One estimate is that when the law was passed there were 600 illegal operators (Chiu and Chan-Olmstead 1999: 493). The industry’s chequered history continued well into the 1990s. In 1997, there ‘was a war between two rival operators, who were cutting each other’s cables etc. Many consumers have had bad experiences with cable operators. There has been a complete change in the industry, but we carry a lot of baggage’ (personal interview with senior cable TV manager). The local cable TV market has been stereotyped as one of poor leadership and one in which operators regularly abuse the rights of consumers (MPA 2003). From quite early the development of cable TV in Taiwan was intertwined with opposition politics. As early as 1990 an underground cable system produced its own news programmes to counter the government’s dominance of free-to-air TV news. By the end of 1993, 54 cable systems, mostly operated by members of the DPP, labelled themselves as ‘Democratic Cable Television’. By early 1998, there were eight all-news channels in Taiwan (Chiu and Chan-Olmstead 1999: 493–4),

142 Rodney Tiffen and Ki-Sung Kwak and there are still five. Part of the appeal of cable was that it offered different and more balanced news services than the Kuomingtang-dominated free-to-air channels (and over time and with political changes this competition has influenced those channels towards a fairer coverage). In this sense, the development of cable television was supported by the political opposition, and served as a vehicle for grassroots reactions to the KMT’s media monopoly (Chen, S. 1998). It is also interesting to note that, both before and after legalization, many cable operators supported the opposition’s involvement as affording them more political protection. Such mutual benefits helped the development of cable television in Taiwan. Whereas the development of cable TV in Taiwan was intermeshed with political trends towards democratization, in Korea it was introduced in order to provide channel diversity. Cable television started immediately after President Kim Young-Sam’s election in 1993, and had been one of his campaign promises. There was widespread support within the government for this decision because they believed that the reception of trans-border signals from Japan (NHK and Wowow) since the 1980s and from Hong Kong (STAR TV) since 1992 had a potentially unfavourable cultural impact on Korean society. As a result, the government’s priorities shifted from protecting the free-to-air broadcasters to the development of new broadcast media. These issues arose out of a realization that the new broadcast technologies offered opportunities which could be harnessed, but that if there was no direct Korean involvement it could leave a vacuum which international broadcasters might fill, raising the potential for undesirable cultural and economic influences. While not pleased with the spillover of broadcasts from Japan and Hong Kong, rather than restricting the possession of satellite dishes, the Korean government introduced cable television in the hope that cable services would persuade domestic viewers to stay away from foreign programming (Choe 1993). Another rationale for introducing cable television was that there was a growing dissatisfaction among the public with the homogeneous nature and the low quality of programmes on the existing free-to-air television broadcasting, even after the start of commercial television broadcasting in 1991. In response to these issues, the Korean government directed its attention to introducing diverse channels in order to provide greater programme choices while preserving the duopoly of the public– commercial broadcasting system. This change in attitude foreshadowed not only the introduction of cable but also of local commercial television stations in 1995. Beyond the legalization of cable TV, further policy changes have subsequently influenced their structure. In both Taiwan and South Korea the cable television industry is divided into three sectors: programme providers (PP), station operators (SO) and network operators (NO). The network operators develop and maintain the infrastructure. The station operators have the direct relationship with subscribers, while also deciding what channels will be provided. Taiwanese policy divided the country into 51 cable districts, with a maximum of five operators in any district. The number of cable operators jumped from 20 in 1990 to 200 in 1995, but significantly reduced to around 80 in 2002 (Mai 2002).

Cable TV and democracy in Taiwan and South Korea

143

This consolidation has led to a sharp reduction in direct competition, with most districts having a single cable operator, and in the others the companies co-exist rather than compete. In addition, the industry has consolidated with the rise of Multiple Station Operators (MSOs). Indeed the three biggest MSOs, EMC (Eastern Multimedia Co.), CNS (China Network Systems) and TBC (Taiwan Broadband Communications), occupied 60 per cent of the market in July 2004. (In the process the Democratic Cable Television group also disappeared.) Despite the high penetration rate of cable television in Taiwan – 83 per cent as of August 2003 (see Table 11.1) – the industry has been frustrated by the degree of regulation, in particular because it is answerable to both national and local governments, with the veto power of local governments having an inhibiting effect on industry development. This has slowed the degree of digitalization and, with strict price-capping, has prevented the introduction of price-tiering and premium services. As a result most Taiwanese consumers receive about 80 channels for a monthly fee of around $US16. Korean consumption patterns show a similar pattern of high penetration rates, but with the industry making a very modest amount per subscriber. The number of cable subscribers in South Korea increased sharply after 2001, when partial deregulation allowed cable operators to provide more diverse channels. Although it reached 12 million households (a penetration rate of 66 per cent) as of June 2004, more than 90 per cent of the subscribers take low tiering or cheap packages that cost U$4 to U$8 a month. The financial difficulties resulting from the cable industry’s low subscription fees can be easily noted if we look at the annual income generated from the subscription fee made by each household. For example, in 1998 when price-tiering was not allowed, the average annual income from the subscription fee was US$185 per household (KBC 2004b). It dropped to about one third of that total by 2003. Since 2001, when the registration system replaced the existing licence system for the programme providers, there has been a significant increase in the number of programme providers – from 43 in 2001 to 180 in January 2004 (KBC 2004b). As of June 2004, 103 programme providers provide programmes for cable television operators. Table 11.1 Cable subscribers and revenue in Taiwan and South Korea Taiwan Year Number of subscribers (in 000) Penetration rate (%) Total revenue from subscription (in US$ mill.) Average revenue per subscriber/month (in US$)

2000

South Korea 2001

2002

2003

4,700 4,920 5,115 5,291 80 81 82 83

2000

2001

2002

2003

2,560 6,020 7,455 10,816 16 38 46 66

867.7 918.6 969.9 1,059.8 286.5 325.3 443.8 576.3 16

Source: compiled from MPA 2004.

16

16

16

12

6

5

5

144 Rodney Tiffen and Ki-Sung Kwak While new television services in Taiwan are almost exclusively via cable, satellite has become a significant delivery platform in Korea. Although foreshadowed for some years, it only began in 2002 because of a delay in providing a legal basis for its operation. Skylife – a consortium of more than 150 companies including the major telecommunications carrier, Korea Telecom, and major television broadcasters – is the sole satellite operator. Its growth, however, has been slow, mainly because it is not permitted to retransmit terrestrial programmes broadcast on KBS2, MBC and SBS. Skylife carries 69 programme providers, 50 of which provide programmes for both cable and satellite television (KBC 2004b).

Cable Television and democracy News is a parasitic institution. It feeds off the information other institutions make available. The quality of news is therefore dependent upon the nature of the political environment in which it is operating. In many ways the political environments of Taiwan and South Korea are conducive to penetrating and pluralistic news coverage. The competition between the parties is dynamic, and they are actively wooing the public, and so very active in their pursuit of publicity through the media. The political crises of early 2004 provided insights into the political vitality of each country’s media. In neither case was there any sign of state censorship. In both cases there was heavy and continuing coverage of political developments. When the impeachment motion was passed in the Korean National Assembly on 15 March 2004 it was covered live by national broadcasters. Soon afterwards, all news media provided special programmes about the impeachment, mainly in the form of panel discussions and call-ins over several days. Similarly, the Taiwanese media gave heavy coverage to the election and to the post-election controversies. For example, the protests were covered live and almost continuously on two of Taiwan’s cable TV news stations, and were covered in all the free-to-air TV news programmes and in newspapers. In both countries there was considerable diversity between competing media. In Korea the starkest difference was between the conservative newspapers that supported the impeachment and the state-owned terrestrial broadcasters, namely KBS and MBC, which had more coverage criticizing the opposition’s misuse of its majority power in the National Assembly. The TV coverage itself became a matter of controversy. The opposition parties and civic groups contended that the news coverage of the impeachment on both KBS and MBC has been biased in favour of the ruling Uri Party, and lodged complaints to the Korean Broadcasting Commission (KBC). As Kwak discusses elsewhere in this book, the complexities surrounding the issue and its political magnitude, together with the KBC’s limited independence from the government, made the KBC a reluctant regulator, and two of its members resigned in protest. Crises such as those in early 2004, where the conflicting sides of politics deny each other’s legitimacy, can corrode a democratic political culture. Although there was a healthy diversity between media organizations in both countries, there was

Cable TV and democracy in Taiwan and South Korea

145

less pluralism within individual organizations. To some degree this partisanship is a legacy of the history of media and democracy in both countries. In both countries the development of cable TV was intricately related to democratization. This was explicitly so in the link between cable TV and the expression of opposition politics in Taiwan through the 1990s. It fed off and fed into an increasing demand for diverse political information. Its news services broke the KMT monopoly on TV news and provided a de facto platform for opposition parties. A Congressional Channel, a channel similar to the US C-Span, aired the proceedings of the Legislative Yuan and National Assembly without editing or commentary. It introduced numerous popular call-in talk shows in which officials or politicians answered called-in questions from the audience – introducing a new format for accountability. Later, candidate debates were launched and many panel discussions were held (Chiu and Chan-Olmstead 1999: 494–5, 505). Apart from their explicit content, these programme formats were implicitly establishing new norms of accountability and dialogue, and hence, over time, building democratic expectations about how politics should be conducted. Korean broadcasting showed similar developments from the middle of the 1990s. The public and political information provided on television has been significantly improved in quality and diversity. All broadcasters regularly air discussion programmes on social and political issues and show programmes produced by civil organizations. However, in Korea’s case, cable TV was less central in this move towards greater pluralism than developments within free-to-air television. In both cases cable TV was a part of breaking down old monopolies, and that was a crucial contribution to the democratizing of their political communication. The proliferation of outlets and the growth of a multi-channel environment was an important part of breaking the old patterns of control. It is clear that both these countries have seen a huge increase in the amount of publicly available political information. Suppression, either official or unofficial, has become much more difficult, perhaps even impossible. There has been a great growth of formats that involve debate, and there is considerable pluralism in the political sympathies of media organizations. However, the challenges in the future development of these democracies will be more affected by the institutions of cable TV and other media than simply by their number. In 2004 the quality of political reporting reflects both the financial situation of the media and the organizational cultures they have inherited. In Taiwan the cable all-news channels and also the free-to-air news services are struggling for revenue, and so producing news on the cheap. Panel discussions and call-in shows had the virtue of promoting democracy in the 1990s, but from the stations’ viewpoint they also have the paramount virtue of being cheap and easy to produce. It is more expensive to invest in professional journalism. However, the media play a democratic role not just by passively conveying what participants are saying but by actively investigating their claims and trying to go behind political facades. The next desirable step in the media performing a democratic role is a greater commitment to more active and in-depth journalism, probing and testing and contrasting political claims, not just reporting them.

146 Rodney Tiffen and Ki-Sung Kwak Moreover, both countries have had traditions first of journalism being subject to state control and then to varying degrees conforming to the editorial line of their organizations. Although the sum total of media in both countries now provides substantial pluralism, the views of individual news organizations are often predictable. The established patterns of the state broadcasters have all been changed, with parties alternating in government. Whereas the national broadcasters in Korea used to be criticized for being in favour of the conservative parties, now they are under fire for being in favour of the new governing parties. Having wholesale turnover in television news organizations each time there is a change of government is not the ideal way to achieve dynamism in the media. Having a succession of cultures of conformity is not the same as diversity. Greater pluralism within each news organization and a deeper commitment to the independent democratic value of journalism irrespective of which party benefits or suffers needs to be further cultivated, not only in Korea and Taiwan but in all democracies. Although the growth of the multi-channel environment was a crucial step in the growth of democratization, it carries its own dangers. As early as 1982 a leading scholar of American democracy, Benjamin Barber, warned of the fragmenting effect that a profusion of narrowcasting strategies would have. He predicted the potentially divisive effect this might have on ‘the integral American nation which heretofore had been protected from regional parochialisms by the national hearthside of network television’ (Barber 1998–9: 578). For example, the average percentage of households watching prime-time presidential appearances (televised addresses and press conferences) under Nixon, Ford and Carter was just under 50 per cent, but the figure steadily dropped until, by Clinton’s time, it was less than 30 per cent (Baum and Kernell 1999: 100), and cable television is the main explanatory factor in the decline. According to a Time magazine cover story, ‘Who owns the truth?’ (Time 2004), in the 2004 presidential election ‘the traditional [news media] compete with the authors and bloggers and filmmakers and cable barkers and radio rabble-rousers who appeal to those who tailor the news to fit their political niche’. The potential problem for the quality of democracy here is that, instead of a central dialogue with the bulk of the public being exposed to a broadly common debate and information, there will be audience fragmentation. This raises the probability that those who are marginally interested in politics will tune in even less often to politically informative programming. It also raises the risk that people will only view programmes that reinforce their prejudices. The emergence of Rupert Murdoch’s Fox News in America, which is much more overtly biased than the traditional networks, is a sign of how media proliferation can lead to the cultivation of minority audiences with a selection and presentation of news that they find comfortable rather than confronting. Such tendencies were evident in Taiwan after the election, when panel discussions on different channels were very differently weighted according to the political affiliation of the broadcaster, and presumably most viewers were choosing news channels that matched their political beliefs. One senior media official said she had to read four or five newspapers each day to find out what was

Cable TV and democracy in Taiwan and South Korea

147

happening, because of the partial views and biases of each (personal communication). The problems should not be overstated or exaggerated by idealizing a past centralized dialogue that was only erratically and occasionally a reality. The solution does not lie in artificially limiting the number of channels or trying to compel the audience into behaviour against its wishes. Nor is it helpful to project into some science fiction future of atomized individuals. There is a range of services that individuals can now choose between according to their tastes and views, but there is still as much of a broad sense of common dialogue as there ever was. Korea and Taiwan offer a combination probably so far unique in history, of being new democracies and also of having such highly developed cable TV industries. The growth of democracy in both countries was related to a liberalizing of media institutions. The greater pluralism of media in turn reinforced the tendencies towards further democratization. Authoritarian censorship of political issues has all but disappeared, while there is a degree of pluralism in the media as a whole, along with increasingly democratic expectations about its performances and prerogatives. In all these ways the media in both countries are much more democratic than they were, and the development of cable TV has been an important part of these trends. However uncertainties still abound in both the politics and media developments of both countries. The most basic factors in securing an increasingly democratic future will be political – the future shape of political conflicts and government performance – and these will feed directly on the quality of their news services. In both on these, however, the challenge of deepening and strengthening democracy will also depend on how the media develop. This will not be just a matter of commercial viability, but also of cultivating more professional journalism.

12 Protesting the 1994 Okinawa rape incident Women, democracy and television news in Japan Elizabeth Naoko MacLachlan

A growing body of literature on women and journalism shows the importance of considering the particular ways in which gendered power relationships are structured in news production. Ethnographic studies of newsrooms in the United States (Benedict 1992; Cuklanz 1994), the Netherlands (van Zoonen 1998), the United Kingdom (Young 1990), India (Bathla 1998), Indonesia (Sunindyo 2004) and developing countries in general (Byerly 1997; Anand 1992; Gifford 1984) find that men outnumber women both in total numbers and in management positions, and that where women succeed in journalism it is usually in traditionally ‘female’, and thus less prestigious, sections of the newsroom, such as in lifestyle, children, education and fashion (Skidmore 1998; Steiner 1998). In terms of actual news production, studies show that reporters routinely belittle or ignore women’s issues in their broadcasts, and present other issues in ways that are less likely to appeal to the sensibilities of their female viewers. Importantly, this is true of female as well as male reporters, suggesting that masculine perspectives reside in the ‘deep structure’ of news values, to borrow Stuart Hall’s phrase, and not merely at the level of the individual (Hall 1971). This masculine character of the news is identified in a number of ways: through the identification of stories about or of interest to men as ‘hard’ and therefore important news and the corresponding marginalization of women’s issues as ‘soft news’ (Holland 2004); the stereotyping of women as emotional, irrational and unreliable news sources (Chesney-Lind 1999; Greer 2003; Lamb 1999; Lees 1995); the emphasis on eventoriented and fact-filled news stories which overlook analysis of causes and impacts that may be of interest to women (van Zoonen 1998; Skidmore 1998); and definitions of objectivity which in fact assume male perspectives (Carter 1998; Kitzinger 1998). To what extent do these factors inhibit newsrooms from producing news that represents the interests and perspectives of their female viewers? Does news allow women the same opportunities as men to engage in public debate and to publicize their own agendas? Does news promote the political participation of women and encourage progressive values? And if news does not give a voice to women, can it still be considered a true watchdog of the state? These questions are at the heart of any discussion of the role of journalism in democracy.

Women, democracy and television news in Japan 149 The question of women, journalism and democracy in Japan is an especially salient one. Over the past 30 years scholars and journalists have written countless studies on the machinations of the Japanese news world. References to shingikai (government advisory boards) (Nomura 2002; Schwartz 1998), press clubs (Thayer 1975; Hall 1997; Freeman 2000), political pressure (Shima 1995; Krauss 2000), sponsor pressure (Altman 1996; Gatzen 2003; Westney 1996), the weakness of local news media (McNicol 2004; Kambayashi 2004), and a reluctance to refer to minority groups in the press (Farley 1996; MacLachlan 2000; Jameson 1997) have all been attributed in some way to the inability of Japanese press to meet its obligations in promoting democracy. Yet, despite the extensiveness of the research, virtually no studies on news in Japan have considered the question of women. This lack of interest in the topic of women in news in Japan is even more surprising given the actual lack of representation of women in Japanese newsrooms. Women in Japanese newsrooms today make up just over 10 per cent of the total workforce (Murakami 2001) and are disproportionately clustered in the lower age brackets (61.9 per cent under the age of 35, compared with only 28.1 per cent of the men) (Gatzen 2003). According to a survey conducted in 1993, women accounted for only 0.4 per cent of employees in higher posts within Japan’s broadcasting sector, compared with 24.1 per cent in France and 13.9 per cent in Great Britain (Gatzen 2003). In terms of actual assignments, Japanese women rarely make it more than a few years in the ‘front line’ sectors of political, economic, social affairs and international news reports, and those who refuse to retire are often sidelined into more traditionally female sections such as lifestyle and family (Nomura 2002). Several conditions conspire to make it difficult for women to succeed in Japanese television newsrooms. Female journalists note the prevailing culture of sexism among colleagues and sources which lead to expectations that female journalists pour tea, endure ‘dirty’ stories and forgive unwanted sexual advances (Oba and Takada 1994). The practice of yomawari (night attacks) in which reporters are expected to visit the homes of their sources late at night to get information makes women particularly vulnerable to sexual harassment and has provided justification for some news sources and editors to request that only male journalists be allowed to cover them (Oba and Takada 1994). The widespread practice among television news broadcasters to pair young attractive female ‘news readers’ alongside older experienced male ‘newscasters’ further embeds notions of male superiority in the newsroom, especially when, as is often the case, the young female is speaking with a regional accent in contrast to the male who speaks with the more urbane Tokyo accent. In this chapter I look at the coverage of women’s rights in Japanese television news broadcasts and ask to what extent it addresses the needs of women as equal participants in a democratic society. I look for answers through an analysis of the news coverage of the rape of a 12-year-old girl in the southern prefecture of Okinawa in 1995. I will show how early in the coverage there were two groups vying for media attention – the governor of Okinawa who, along with his supporters, lobbied against the central government to rid Okinawa of United

150 Elizabeth Naoko MacLachlan States bases, and a women’s NGO group which pressed for the removal of the military bases in the name of women’s and children’s human rights. Although both offered unique and representative perspectives on the citizens’ protest movements in Okinawa, the media devoted almost all of its attention to the governor and virtually ignored the women’s group altogether. I will show how this happened as a consequence of the operation of gendered hierarchies in the news as a physical space (the press club), a set of practices (news selection and production), and a system of beliefs (human rights and the right to privacy).

The 1995 Okinawa rape incident Okinawa is a place of extremes. It is one of the most beautiful spots in Japan and a top domestic tourist destination offering excellent scuba diving, beaches, and whale watching. It is also the smallest and poorest prefecture in Japan. In contrast to the ‘typification’ of a Japanese family as being, in Kelly’s words (1986: 603) ‘a socially and physically nuclear unit of ricewinner husband, homemaker housewife, and two samurai-student children’, Okinawans have the dubious distinction of belonging to the prefecture in Japan that has the nation’s lowest income per capita (Ota 1996: 84), the highest rate of divorce (Negishi 2000), and unemployment rates twice the national average (Kayano 2000). One of the most tangible signs of the gap in this standard of living between Okinawa and the mainland is the presence of American military bases in Okinawa, a legacy of the extended US occupation of Okinawa following Japan’s defeat in World War II. These bases make up 75 per cent of the total in Japan and occupy some of the choicest flatlands and beach areas on the island. In addition to land crowding, the bases impose the added stresses of crime, plane crashes and noise and environmental pollution (Mulgan 2000; Yonetani 2001). Opponents of the bases have described the situation of Okinawa as being that of a ‘virtual colony’ (McCormack 2003: 95); a ‘microcolon[y]’ (Johnson 2003); and a prefecture with a ‘separate peace’ (Smith 2001: 180); and over the years countless protests have been launched against the Japanese central government for allowing the situation to continue. It was not surprising that news of a rape broadcast on television in early September drew strong reactions from the public.1 The initial details were sketchy. The victim was described as an elementary school student, three suspects were described as ‘appearing to be foreigners’, and the crime was described as ‘an act of violence’ (Yoshioka 1996: 84). However, it was obvious to many that the men in question must have belonged to the US military and that this was a crime of rape. Protests came from all over, but two in particular stood out as being noteworthy. One was the governor of Okinawa, Ota Masahide. Ota, a long-time pacifist, had been elected for a second term on an anti-military-base platform. As a survivor of the infamous ‘Typhoon of Steel and Bombs’ battle in Okinawa during World War II, a well-published author on Okinawan history, and a former Fulbright scholar who studied journalism at Syracuse University, he presented a compelling and authoritative image to lead the charge against the central government politicians in Tokyo. On his authority as elected leader of the Okinawan people, he called for

Women, democracy and television news in Japan 151 the immediate handover of the suspects to Japanese authorities (they were being held by US military authorities), demanded apologies from US and Japanese officials and, in the weeks that followed, refused his signature as proxy on land leases of landlords who were themselves unwilling to sign. His overarching objective, which he stated over and over again in front of television news cameras, was to rid the island of the US bases entirely and to restore political sovereignty of the people of Okinawa. Another voice of protest came from a coalition of various Okinawan women’s rights groups known collectively as the NGO Forum ’95. The group itself was founded as a study group to prepare 71 Okinawan delegates for participation in the International Women’s Conference being held in Beijing that September. It represented thousands of women belonging to 32 separate women’s organizations in Okinawa and was helmed by Naha City councilwoman Takazato Suzuyo. The NGO Forum ’95 had all the makings of an excellent news source for reporters covering reactions to the rape incident. The group was focused, passionate about its cause, and willing to work with the media to show their objection to the rape and the way military authorities were dealing with the situation. The leader of the group herself was an accomplished public speaker who had experience with the media through a long history of social activism. Furthermore, many of the delegates to the Beijing conference had attended workshops and talks focusing on military violence against women and were thus equipped with recent statistics, legal precedents and comparative case studies that could be used in news reports. From their very first press conference a week after news of the rape was first broadcast on television, the group identified its objectives as representing the rights of women and children and opposing the presence of military bases in Okinawa, and organized a variety of protest activities to demonstrate their anger over the rape and their resolve to prevent it from happening again. Both the governor and the women’s NGO were compelling images for TV news cameras and both actively sought the media’s attention. But from the very beginning the media almost completely ignored the women’s group and focused all its attention on the governor. I argue that access to the press club, a gendered news value system, and a highly conservative conception of human rights, contributed to this.

The press club One key advantage that Ota had over the women’s group in getting his protest activities covered was access to the media through the governor’s office press club. This press club was made up of representatives from all the dailies, wire services and television stations in Okinawa and was located just a short distance away from his office. Reporters assigned to the press club visited the club every day to collect reports, announcements and schedules of events relating to the activities of the governor’s office. When Ota heard the news of the rape and the apprehension of suspects, he immediately informed the press via the press club of his intention to formally protest to the American Consulate and Military Command in Okinawa

152 Elizabeth Naoko MacLachlan and demand the immediate handover of the suspects to the Japanese authorities. He then made himself available to reporters who wanted to ask questions and film meetings between the governor and his American counterparts. The events Ota planned were scheduled to meet the reporters’ convenience, and located to ensure that the press cameras would be able to film. They were followed by interview opportunities and background briefings and accompanied by copies of statements and speeches which freed reporters from the need to take notes while they were being delivered. More importantly, they were scheduled in such a way that there was something new to cover each day. For example, on the Monday following the initial broadcast of the rape news, Ota invited the press to film his meeting with American Consul-General Aloysius O’Neill; on the Tuesday he sent military bases policy coordinator Takayama Choko to the gates of one of the military bases in Okinawa to deliver a protest letter; on the Wednesday he sent Takayama to Tokyo to deliver the same letter to American Ambassador Walter Mondale; and on the Thursday he announced at a press conference that he would travel to Tokyo the following week to meet with Foreign Affairs Minister Kono Yohei to discuss the matter. The only day that week when an event was not planned was the Friday, which was a national holiday during which the evening news would be pre-empted. All the reporters needed to do to collect information on the governor’s activities was to show up at the press club. The reporters’ greatest challenges were not in finding news stories, but in choosing which news stories to use. The governor used the press club in a second way – to develop personal relationships with individual reporters who were responsible for covering his side of the base issue. He endeared himself to reporters by taking time out of his busy schedule to talk with them, sometimes for hours, sharing his personal thoughts, off-the-record information, his plans for protest and his hopes for Okinawa’s future. The governor also sought advice and help from reporters, asking them which strategies they felt would elicit media attention, or which would generate the best public responses. This only strengthened his ties with reporters, who now felt they were active participants in the reform movement rather than mere bystanders. One reporter assigned to cover Ota openly admitted (personal communication, 1995) to siding with his source: I was talking with Governor Ota and we talked about one and a half hours. He asked me ‘where is the democracy in this country?’ Everyone believes we have a democracy, but he is trying to do something for the Okinawan people, only he can’t. What he is trying to do is strengthen people’s rights, and when I heard this I felt I should be helping to change this. Because of the press club and Ota’s close relationship with its reporters, the governor quickly became the most sought-after source in Okinawa and stories about his anti-base protest soon dominated the line-ups on evening news broadcasts. The women’s group could hardly have been more different from the governor

Women, democracy and television news in Japan 153 in its relationship with the media. As a volunteer association of disparate groups with competing agendas, the NGO Forum ’95 was unwieldy and indecisive. The Forum represented members from 32 separate women’s groups in Okinawa, including Christian fellowships, communist political parties, single mothers’ welfare federations, Okinawan history study groups, girl scout troops, agricultural co-ops, and prefectural and national teachers’ unions. Given its sheer size and diversity, it had trouble adjusting to changing situations quickly and could not always accommodate the needs of the media, such as responding to developments or statements in time for the evening news. In addition to this, the NGO Forum ’95 had to contend with the fact that, as a volunteer organization, it could only mobilize members at their convenience. Since most were housewives or working women rather than professional activists, this made it difficult to get members to spend more than a few hours a day on protest activities. Some of these attracted a great deal of participation among members, but most failed to generate the numbers or intensity that the media and the women themselves were hoping for. Even more critically, most activities needed to be scheduled during the weekend or after hours when the women had free time. This meant that if their activities were to be broadcast, they would air on the abbreviated weekend reports or late weeknight reports rather than on the main weekday evening news. The unpredictability of the events themselves, their timing on weekends and after hours, and the fact that attendance at events was unpredictable and haphazard made reporters less inclined to cover them. Most fundamentally, as a newly formed organization and one intended to be a temporary association only, it had no official relationship with the media. Unlike the governor’s office, which had formal relations to the press through official press clubs, the members of the NGO forum had to call each media organization every time they wanted to publicize an event or press release. With no designated reporter assigned to cover them, these bulletins often got lost in the newsroom shuffle. With no established track record or public familiarity, the stories about them that did get through were rejected as an unknown quantity. And with no central office from which to stage media events or centralize information, coverage just seemed too much like hard work for many reporters.

News selection and production From the outset, Japanese newsrooms had trouble categorizing the NGO Forum ’95’s protests within the context of Okinawan base politics. The group defined the rape as a basic violation of the human rights of women and children for which the existence of the military on Okinawa was to blame. Rather than attacking a specific and identifiable target such as the suspects or the law that kept these suspects out of a Japanese jail, the women attacked the abstract notion of ‘structural violence by military bases’ which created a hazardous environment for women and children and deprived them of their inalienable human rights. Takazato, in a speech given at a rally in Tokyo on 27 September 1995, defined this structural violence:

154 Elizabeth Naoko MacLachlan [I]t seems that the more education the servicemen receive, the more common violent crimes become. We need to open our eyes to this contradiction. Education does not help because the military itself is a form of structural violence. A soldier may be a good son to his mother or a good husband to his wife. However, once he is integrated into the military, he learns the imperative of killing the enemy before the enemy kills him. The ‘education’ he receives drives this in day-in and day-out. The soldier is trained to inflict violence. In fact, this is the whole purpose of military training. Teaching humanity in the military is a gross contradiction. The military is a place for teaching brutality. This refusal on the part of female protestors to pinpoint specific individuals or legal issues as targets of their anti-base campaign made it difficult for reporters to convey in reports what exactly it was that the women were fighting against or whether or not their methods were justified. The women’s primary anti-base activities – protest rallies, sit-ins, telephone hotlines, counselling services, rap sessions and petitions – were subsequently used to demonstrate the women’s anger and resolve to rid Okinawa of its bases, but never presented in a way that made explicit the linkage between the women’s protest and actual changes taking place in Okinawa. This proved a sharp contrast to the governor, who was depicted as leading the cause through strategic meetings with officials in Tokyo and the US military and making headway through discussions on specific issues and demands. At the same time, by claiming to represent the interests of women and children in Okinawa, the women’s protest group also gave the impression to some that the women represented the special interests of women and children only. In one of the early press releases sent out by the group, the rape was said to represent ‘the violence perpetrated against all girls and women in Okinawa’. In the same speech as above, Takazato pointed to a chronic failure to include women’s and children’s rights in listing base-related damages: When demanding the withdrawal of the US military, when asking for the revision of the SOFA [Status of Forces Agreement], when protesting against the US–Japan Security Treaty, do we all remember that violence against women and girls has been and continues to happen today? Why is this threat not listed – alongside helicopter crashes, airplane engine noise, and bullets accidentally whizzing over fences – as damages to Okinawans’ lives? In appealing specifically about the human rights of women and children who were exposed to military violence, the women’s group lost the support of many of the public and the interest of the media who felt this interpretation of the rape’s significance was too narrow. For many, the point was that the victim was Okinawan, and not simply that she was female. Many reporters consequently began to think of the NGO as a special interest block representing women’s rights only. One of the consequences of this was that in news broadcasts, stories relating

Women, democracy and television news in Japan 155 to the group’s activities were given to junior female news readers and not the main male newscaster, indicating they were less important and ‘soft’.

Human rights and the right to privacy The reluctance to refer to the rape or cover stories relating to rape was another factor that kept television news reporters from giving the women’s protest more than minimal coverage. Yuii Hideki, the first reporter to break the news of the capture of the suspects, explained how he had initially been asked by police sources not to broadcast the story at all in the interests of protecting the victim’s identity. What made him decide to defy the ban was a meeting with a police officer a few days after the rape in which he was told of the dispute between Okinawan authorities and military police over the custody of the suspects. This dispute centred on a clause in the Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA) – an agreement between the American and Japanese governments outlining the conditions under which US military members and their families live in Japan – which stated that when American criminal suspects were apprehended by US military police they would remain in military custody until indictment. Although the matter of custody would not materially affect the progress of the investigation, Okinawan police authorities, according to the source, felt that the lack of custody represented a lack of sovereignty over their own legal justice system. Yuii explained the difference between the two stories (personal communication, 1996): Normally, I had never thought about why neither NHK nor the newspapers report rape cases. Rape is only reported when it leads to murder. We reporters are told that since it involves human rights and privacy, we shouldn’t cover it. That is why it is not common to see reports of rape. But this time, it was not an individual matter, but more about Okinawan society. This is what I argued. Although Yuii was able to convince his editors that the story should be made public, reminders that the rape was still a taboo subject came in the form of criticisms from members of the audience who called the station once the story had been aired. At NHK, where Yuii worked, the first call to come in came from a woman who objected to the tone and detail of news of the rape. According to her, the use of phrases such as shôgakusei, meaning ‘elementary school student’, and shojo bôkô, translated as ‘an act of violence inflicted upon a girl’, would not only compromise the anonymity of the victim, but would cause her ‘unbearable’ pain. Later, two other women, both married to American soldiers, called in to express their concerns about the effect that such negative news reports about the US military would have on them and their husbands. These criticisms were a reminder to news staff that, while some members of the public accepted the discussion of the rape as a legitimate news topic, many others did not. If local newsrooms were to continue with coverage of the rape incident, they would have to do it in a way that would not offend the more conservative elements of the audience. At NHK the first step taken towards this goal was to

156 Elizabeth Naoko MacLachlan de-emphasize details pertaining to the rape itself. Nakamura Ryoichi, head of the news division, instructed reporters not to mention the name of the town, the name of the girl’s school, or the name of the base adjacent to the town where the incident occurred. He also told them to soften the words used in association with the rape case and change the name they were using to describe the incident from the ‘incident of the rape of a young girl’ (shojo boko jiken) to the ‘incident of the American soldier’s act of violence’ (beihei boko jiken). These changes may have been cosmetic, but they signalled a fundamental shift in the way news staff at NHK Okinawa perceived and portrayed the incident. The issue was no longer the rape itself, but reaction to the rape. The less directly a story referred to the rape the more likely it would be covered. While NHK and other stations were retreating from earlier decisions to defy the taboos on public discussions of rape, the women’s group was moving in exactly the opposite direction. Members interpreted local news organizations’ acceptance of the rape as a legitimate news topic to be a sign that the taboo had been lifted, and several began to engage in a dialogue that referred to the rape in unprecedentedly graphic terms. For this vocal minority, it was wrong to gloss over the horrid details of this violent crime. The physical damage and mental anguish caused by the rape was the issue, and sugar-coating through the use of such vague words as bôkô and ranbô (both translated roughly as ‘violence’) only trivialized the act. In an attempt to reconnect the issue of rape with the issue of violence against women, several of the more radical members of the group began to refer to it with more direct words such as gôkan (rape) and the English loan word rêpu. At the same time, many members of the group harboured deep suspicions about the motivations of the media in addressing the rape issue in the first place. They feared, with some justification, that the incident would grow to attract exploitative and sensationalist media coverage that would intrude on the privacy of the victim and her family. To prevent this from happening, they stood watch over the media coverage of the event, and openly warned the local news organizations to refrain from any information-gathering practices that might compromise the identity of the young victim and cause her even greater harm. In an open letter to the press dated 27 September 1995, Takazato wrote the following: There have been some ‘wide show’ reporters who have actually ventured into the community to locate the victim herself in order to produce sensationalist news stories out of her misfortune. This has renewed her anguish and acted as a second rape by the media. This is extremely regrettable. We protest such broadcasts that lack these basic considerations of privacy. We implore various mass communications companies to refrain from excessive reporting that violate these individual human rights. As a result of these seemingly mixed signals – on the one hand discussing the rape in graphic terms and on the other warning the press not to commit ‘a second rape’ by sensationalizing the rape case – the reaction of most reporters at NHK and other

Women, democracy and television news in Japan 157 local television stations was to take the most prudent course of action and avoid reference to the NGO Forum ’95 altogether.

The fate of the NGO Forum ’95 Infighting and frustration over the inability to come to more concrete decisions about the way to organize the protest eventually led to the dissolution of the NGO group within a few weeks of its formation. Some groups continued with their antibase protests, staging smaller rallies and other publicity events. Some sought support from feminist groups abroad, taking an ‘Okinawa Peace Caravan’ to several cities in the United States to publicize the plight of Okinawan women. Most of the others dropped out of the protest movement, going back to their daily lives and watching the development of the protest from their living rooms as the governor took centre stage. It is interesting to speculate on the ways in which the media could have covered the perspective of the women more sympathetically. One would be through more extensive coverage of the military violence against which they protested. Opportunities to explore this angle through discussions of other cases of violent attacks against women by the military, for example, were possible, but proved too deviant from the norms of reporting standards to merit sustained consideration. In one telling case, NHK broadcast a programme on national television criticizing its own Okinawa bureau reporters for news bias in an early report of the rape. The story in question described the anger of the anti-base protestors against film footage of a fight between US soldiers outside a bar in Okinawa and interview clips of two soldiers, one who professed to have never heard of the incident, and the other who shouted obscenities at the interviewer, claiming the rape incident ‘is over with. It’s done with’ (Media Today 1996). Footage of this report was compared to footage broadcast on the American ABC news in which interviews with soldiers expressed their regret and shock over the incident, followed by commentary by a representative of ABC News in which he expressed his opinion that: the majority of the American soldiers sympathized with the victim and were angry about the crime. Many Japanese media knew this deep down inside, but they just wanted to show Americans in a bad light. Even a Japanese reporter must have felt that there were many American soldiers who felt very bad. (Media Today 1996) The analysis concluded that NHK Okinawa chose sound bites that represented the most extreme minority of voices and, as a result, gave the mistaken impression that the military as a whole was unapologetic and continued to present a grave danger to its civilian neighbours. The overriding message was that attacking the issue of military violence was a cheap shot and unprofessional by serious news standards. In retracing the respective strategies of Ota and the NGO group in protesting the rape, it is clear that the women were not successful in getting the attention of the media and the public because they failed to present themselves in a way that fit

158 Elizabeth Naoko MacLachlan into a category that reporters recognized and were able to process as news. They did not present a political story that would be covered by reporters assigned to the political section, nor did they present a legal or crime story that would be covered by social affairs reporters covering the police and courts. They did not have familiar or famous faces among them, nor were their actions unusual enough or forceful enough to imbue them with the uniqueness required to be considered a human interest story. The associations they did connote, namely rape issues and feminist issues, were rejected as inappropriate for media coverage because of their taboo and special interest reputations. The women’s group, in other words, presented new ideas that did not fit in anywhere. Reporters did not cover them simply because, using the experience and training they received as reporters, they looked straight at the story and saw nothing worth covering.

Note 1 Angst (2001) has written about the strategies of women’s and political groups in Okinawa protesting against the 1995 rape and the use of the girl as a symbol of sacrifice.

13 The ‘Straight’ Times News media and sexual citizenship in Singapore Laurence Wai-Teng Leong

Speakers cornered On 1 September 2000, government authorities in Singapore created a ‘Speakers’ Corner’ modelled on the institution in London’s Hyde Park where individuals were free to express themselves. While the official objective was to instil active citizenship through the articulation of public issues, the initiative was fraught with contradictions and paradoxes. Under Singapore law, a gathering of five or more people without a permit constitutes an illegal assembly or a breach of the Public Entertainment and Meetings Act. Speakers’ Corner is free from the constraint of having to apply for a licence to speak publicly. However, Speakers’ Corner has the effect of zoning speech. By demarcating public speech to be exercised in a specific geographical area, it implies that outside this zone, in realms like the mass media, cyberspace or café bars, one may not be free to express oneself or realize oneself as a public citizen. Second, speech at Singapore’s Speakers’ Corner is not as free as speech in the London case because a series of restrictions that amount to ‘prior restraint’ is imposed. A prospective speaker must be a Singapore citizen, must register in advance at the adjacent police post, and must not use loudspeakers. Taboo topics include religion, ethnicity or anything that could potentially offend public sensibilities or incite violence. Speech is zoned not only spatially but also temporally from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. Third, the area chosen as Speakers’ Corner is a tiny green lung in the city centre, located between Chinatown and the financial district. Called ‘Hong Lim Park’, it was a major gay cruising ground from the 1950s to the late 1990s. The setting-up of a police post and the trimming of bushes have laid bare the park and effectively destroyed one of the few public venues for gay male sociability. As a result of the restraints and contradictions, Speakers’ Corner has never been taken seriously by the public. Few people use the space to air their opinions or exercise their rights of citizenship in the form of public participation and engagement with debate. Those who have taken it seriously have risked state persecution. A member of an opposition political party was fined for raising the issue of a ban on Muslim headgear in schools. And a celebrant of International Human Rights Day on 10 December, clad in a T-shirt depicting Anwar Ibrahim,

160 Laurence Wai-Teng Leong the former Malaysian deputy Prime Minister jailed on sodomy and corruption charges, spoke of a range of human rights issues. His speech-act was construed by officials as verging on an illegal demonstration (Vasoo 2001: H5). Though no legal action was taken in his case, police investigation of the matter put a chill on subsequent speakers. Speakers’ Corner illustrates certain underlying principles concerning freedom of speech, the state and citizenship in Singapore, and these principles enable us to understand the character of relationships between the news media and sexual minorities in Singapore. If public speech is circumscribed, how can gays and lesbians expect the news media to represent them and to channel their ideas? What kinds of constraints do the newsroom workers themselves face in order that they may work with groups that represent civil society? What avenues are open to gays and lesbians to claim the benefits of citizenship rights such as equality, nondiscrimination, fairness and identity politics? This chapter examines the role of the news media in inhibiting or facilitating sexual citizenship. I look at how officials set the terms of public discussion through the contentious idea of ‘out-of-bounds markers’ (OB markers). These restrictions on expression create taboos not only on what can be covered in the news but also on how topics are to be reported. The constraints leave very few options for homosexual citizens to be represented in the Singaporean media. This study is based on analysis of all actual (as contrasted to virtual) news reports on gays and lesbians that appeared in the Straits Times (ST) over the 14-year period from 1990 to 2004. Newspaper cuttings have advantages over digital sources in databases or on the Internet. Library search engines such as Lexis-Nexis do not include visuals and do not cover the early 1990s when police crackdowns on gays were rampant. Keyword searches often produce duplicated or irrelevant articles which bear references in passing but no relevant content. Actual newspaper reports may cover two women in love (or at war). Without the word ‘lesbian’ occurring, one has to read between the lines. The literalness of LexisNexis would have missed out stories about what Oscar Wilde called ‘the love that dares not speak its name’. While digital searches can generate comprehensive results, I try to be as complete as possible in my collection of press cuttings. Living in Singapore and having this newspaper as practically the only morning daily, I have been able to comb through each issue of the ST. And as a scholar of media and the sociology of deviance, I was first intrigued in 1990 by the appearance of a relatively large number of news reports on gays charged in court with indecency and molestation. Since then I have kept all these press clippings, which now afford me an opportunity to understand changes in the news representation of gays and lesbians over a span of 14 years.

Monopoly of control Although a parliamentary democracy on paper, Singapore is run by a political party (People’s Action Party) which has established its hegemony since 1959.

The ‘Straight’ Times: news and sexual citizenship in Singapore 161 Unwilling to relinquish or share power, the party has created a political monopoly that restricts new entrants and is intolerant of dissent. In a monopoly situation, the political party has become synonymous with the state, as it has controlled all the major arms and tissue of government for more than 40 years. Like the political party that has a monopoly of power, the Straits Times is an English-medium daily that dominates the newspaper industry. Its foothold is sustained by Singapore Press Holdings (SPH), an umbrella group that publishes other newspapers and magazines. Temasek Holdings, a government investment corporation, owns shares in SPH. The Straits Times has the major market share of advertising and subscription revenues. New entrants to the news media field either fail (e.g. Project Eyeball) or survive precariously (e.g. Today, a tabloid published by MediaCorp, which has to be distributed free, and is strapped for financial and manpower resources). State control of mass media in Singapore is achieved through licensing (and prohibition) of media firms, the appointment of directors (and, through that, the control of editors), secrecy and libel laws, surveillance institutions like the Singapore Broadcasting Authority, and subtler tactics of intimidation (Seow 1998). News editors working in Singapore have been socialized to toe the party line in the same way that Vietnamese or Chinese news teams have been disciplined to conform to communist party codes. The net effect is that the press in Singapore is seldom, if ever, adversarial to the single dominant political party (George 2000), and reporters practise a high degree of self-censorship (Gomez 2000). Because of the lack of independence from the political party, the press in Singapore tends to serve one master, which does not constitute citizens. It plays the role of lapdog rather than acting as a watchdog on behalf of citizens. David Marshall, Singapore’s first chief minister, observed in 1994 that the press is far more controlled today than in colonial days, and chided journalists for being ‘running dogs of the PAP and poor prostitutes’ (Koh, B.S. 1994: L4). Singapore earns a miserably low grade on the international score card of press freedom. Reporters Without Borders (2003) ranks Singapore 144th in a list of 166 nations, and uses Singapore as an example to demonstrate that economic development is not linked to respect for press freedom. Freedom House (2004) rates Singapore 135th in a global assessment of the press freedom of 193 countries, and confers it the ‘not free’ status.

Out of bounds Moritz (1996: 143) has noted that unwritten news codes that stem from structured inequalities in society hamper news organizations from positive coverage of many minority groups. In Singapore, these tacit norms are known as OB markers. They set the limits of free expression particularly in (although not restricted to) the news media. However, they arise not so much from the social structure as from the hegemonic state which itself sets its own agenda of public debate, and will not tolerate a range of issues (Tan et al. 2004: H12). Although OB markers set the parameters for media reporting concerning the

162 Laurence Wai-Teng Leong kind and nature of issues that can or cannot be covered, they are never clearly defined. Some civic-minded Singaporeans who formed the Remaking Singapore Committee in 1992 set up a series of proposals to improve the quality of life. Their recommendations were made to state officials, and one of these included the clarification of OB markers. However, the government refused to commit on any definition of these codes of restrictions (ST 2004b: H3) The refusal to define OB markers is a deliberate strategy to leave them ambiguous so that, on the one hand, state authorities can exercise discretionary powers in deciding the limits of speech and, on the other hand, media professionals will engage in self-censorship in the context of uncertainty. If the rules are not clearly stated, one way to ascertain them is when they are being broken – but this is a painful process of discovery because the violator faces the threat of punishment. Indeed, historical precedents have shown that OB markers are known mainly through transgression followed by disciplinary action from the state. In November 1991 Woman’s Affair magazine was suspended for a critical article on the PAP’s female members of parliament (and their under-representation). In June 1993 the state prosecuted an editor, a journalist and three economists under the Official Secrets Act for the publication of early estimates of the gross domestic product figures a few days before they were scheduled to be officially released (Chong, E. 1992). In November 1994, popular writer Catherine Lim (1994: 12) wrote an op-ed piece on the authoritarian style of political leadership in Singapore. She was swiftly and harshly chided by the Prime Minister, who maintained that writers had no right to set the political agenda and that only politicians could do so. These episodes demonstrate that OB markers delimit certain topics as taboo: critiques of party officials; political commentaries; and statistical data that are yet to be screened by the state for public consumption. In addition, OB markers can be gleaned from the Censorship Review Committee Report by the Ministry of Information and the Arts (MITA 1992). Issues of religious and ethnic differences are gagged lest they incite conflict in a multicultural society. Thus, minorities like Malays, Indians and migrant workers, who may have legitimate grievances in a Chinese-dominated society, find very few outlets of public expression and representation. In particular, censorship bodies in Singapore police issues concerning homosexuality. Heterosexual erotica has been allowed in sex manuals, novels and cinema, but MITA (1992: 24) dictates that ‘in the light of the sensitivity of homosexuality as an issue, materials encouraging homosexuality should continue to be disallowed’. Major Asian films with gay content and made by brand-name directors such as Wong Kar Wai’s Happy Together (1997), Stanley Kwan’s Lan Yu (2001), and Tsai Ming-Liang’s films are screened only once at the annual international film festival, but are not available for general release. A more recent Censorship Review Committee (MITA 2003: 15) recommended a ‘more flexible and contextual approach when dealing with homosexual themes and scenes in content’ and ‘greater leeway for adults, through suitable channels, to access such content provided it is not exploitative’. Yet in July 2004, Formula 17, a film that was a box-office success in Taiwan, about happy gays with a happy

The ‘Straight’ Times: news and sexual citizenship in Singapore 163 ending, was banned on the ground that it ‘creates an illusion of a homosexual utopia, where everyone, including passers-by, is homosexual and no ills or problems are reflected. It conveys the message that homosexuality is normal, and a natural progression of society’ (Taipei Times 2004). When positive images of gays and lesbians are denied, all that are left are ‘images that injure’ (Lester and Ross 2003). Fifty years ago in England newspapers portrayed gays as immoral and ill, dangerous and pathetic (Pearce 1973). Singaporean media, bound by OB markers – which are determined more by the state than the homophobia of news professionals – continue to generate unfavourable images of gays and lesbians. George (2000: 70) wrote that the Straits Times was incapable of sympathetic coverage of gay rights.

Coming out edited out There is an almost universal pattern in the way gays and lesbians have been depicted in the mainstream media: invisibility and demeaning stereotypes (Alwood 1996; Fejes and Petrich 1993; Fuller 1995; Gamson 2000; Gross 1991, 1996; Moritz 1992, 1996; Nardi 2000; Pearce 1973; Sanderson 1989) and, in more recent times, glamorous images of consumption (Chasin 2000; Walters 2001). The representation of gays and lesbians in the Straits Times can be traced along similar paths of exclusion, marginality and visibility. The Straits Times has four sections. The major headlines, important local news, world events, editorials, news analyses and letters are featured in the main body. World news comes from news agencies and feature articles are reprinted from the New York Times and other foreign newspapers. The second section is Asian news that covers regional events. The Home section reports hard and soft news about happenings in Singapore. The Life section includes cartoons, TV and cinema listings, entertainment news, celebrity gossip, fashion and reviews of arts events. If one were solely dependent on the Straits Times (particularly the main and Asia sections) for hard news concerning gays and lesbians in the world, one would get the impression that the world was basically straight, with not much happening in the lives of gays and lesbians elsewhere. OB markers provide the codes of newsworthiness that dismiss global news about gays and lesbians as irrelevant. Positive milestones in the development of gay rights as well as outrageous events of rights violations are equally excluded in the Straits Times. In the last 20 years major strides have been made by gays and lesbians in Europe. With the advancement of the European Union and the affirmation of the European Court of Human Rights, Europe is now free of laws banning same-sex relationships, and more and more states are granting benefits to same-sex partners. England has liberalized so much that ‘gay and lesbian culture has never been as visible and confident as it is now’ (Observer 2003). These phenomenal shifts are never reported in the Straits Times. When the head of a German political party came out of the closet in 2004, appearing at official functions with his partner, it was reported in many regional newspapers, like the Hindustan Times, but was not mentioned in the Straits Times.

164 Laurence Wai-Teng Leong Gross rights violations that are newsworthy in most news publications are conspicuously excluded from the Straits Times. The following were all wired through Reuters, Agence France Presse and the BBC but were missing in the Straits Times: the murder of Matthew Shepherd in 1998 as an instance of hate crimes in America, the long-drawn-out saga of Egypt’s crackdown and abuse of gay men in 2001–3, and police brutality against Nepalese gays in 2003. The Straits Times Asia news net also misses gay events in the region. Taiwan’s first public gay marriage was blessed in 1996 by a mayor, and today the legalization of same-sex marriage is under parliamentary review. The Chinese Psychiatric Association depathologized homosexuality in March 2001 by removing it from the mental disorders list. The Bangkok Post and the Nation, both from Thailand, have featured news and pictures of gay parades in Thailand (Bangkok Post 2000), Sydney, Taiwan and Japan. Such Pride events have no place in the Straits Times pages lest Singaporeans be exposed to the idea that there are happy, loud and proud gays somewhere in the world. Since 2000, more than 6,000 people have participated in an annual gay party festival called Nation Pride, coinciding with Singapore’s National Day. Because it has been successful in attracting tourists, in the way that Sydney’s Mardi Gras has drawn visitors, Singaporean authorities begrudgingly allow this event to happen. However, the Straits Times has never reported Nation Pride, whereas foreign press like the Sydney Morning Herald and the Bangkok Post have featured lengthy stories replete with photographs of gays and lesbians in high spirits (Levett 2004; Wong, F. 2004). In the wake of the debate over gay marriage in the United States, the Straits Times featured only two articles. One was a New York Times article, ‘Gay marriages: US gets cold feet’ (Bumiller 2003) that addressed the ambivalence Americans felt toward same-sex unions. Another was a Reuters piece on the usual religious opposition to such unions: ‘Gay marriages pose threat to society: Vatican’ (ST 2003a). The article recounts the Vatican’s condemnation of same-sex unions and responses from gay rights’ groups in Sweden and Brazil. But the Straits Times has stopped short of printing news and pictures about actual same-sex marriages that have occurred in various parts of the world. Lesbians are also excluded from the Singaporean news. Articles may make reference to lesbian characters in movies (as in Monster) but, by and large, lesbians are invisible in real time. A possible occasion for newsworthiness is a feud, which fosters the impression that lesbians are catty, vengeful and treacherous (e.g. ST 2002e). The case involved the relationship between two women which turned sour: the aggrieved was alleged to have set fire to her partner’s apartment. The news coverage (ST 2002a–e) made reference to their ‘long-term relationship’, the accused’s indulgence as she splurged S$200,000 in gifts for her partner, and the ‘promiscuity’ of the accuser, who was said to have had ‘liaisons with both men and women’. The court sentenced the accused to five years’ imprisonment for arson. Family conflicts and divorce disputes are grist for the news mill, but these are taken for granted by the public as routine occurrences because of their frequency.

The ‘Straight’ Times: news and sexual citizenship in Singapore 165 The rare appearance of a two-woman feud breaks the conventional code, and the story is rendered more gripping as the audience anticipates the dramatic resolution. Photographs of the two women further grab the attention of the reader. And when lesbians appear in the news largely in such contexts of conflict, unsophisticated readers would assume that lesbians are prone to bitter enmity. Another incidence of lesbians’ appearance in the news is the tragedy of a double suicide (Chong, E. 2001b). The two women wore red and had red strings tied around their ring fingers, and each had a tattoo on the arm to express eternal love. They leapt to their deaths from an apartment complex. In Imperial Japan, Robertson (1999) argued that female double suicide was so common as to constitute a trope for resistance against traditional feminine roles. On the other hand, the Straits Times story conveyed the message that the suicide was based on sexual confusion: the younger woman was reported to be suicidal several times before the final straw, because she had problems deciding between her boyfriend and girlfriend.

Molesters and perverts As the OB markers zone out positive representations of gays and lesbians, gays and lesbians appear in the hard news of the Straits Times mostly in the least favourable of circumstances, or under conditions not of their own choosing. Thus, when lesbians do appear, the contexts present them as belligerent or suicidal. Gays appear as criminals convicted of making indecent advances towards ordinary people. The root of this negative image of gays stems from (a) the continued criminalization of (male) homosexuality in Singapore, which has inherited antiquated British Commonwealth penal codes, and (b) the self-defined role of the mainstream press as agents of law and order. The phallocentricism of the penal code is underscored by the fact that all sexual activities that do not involve vaginal intercourse – oral sex, mutual masturbation, anal sex, etc. – are labelled ‘unnatural’ and punishable (Leong, L.W. 1997). Consent between adults engaging in such acts is not a defence. As the laws of ‘indecency’ and ‘unnatural sex’ were formulated by the British in the Victorian era, they were targeted at men rather than women because the prevailing assumption then was that women were asexual and incapable of such acts. No woman in Singapore has ever been tried under such laws. Since editors of the mainstream press have learned to endorse the existing sociopolitical system (George 2000: 71), one of the roles the press defines for itself involves the maintenance of law and order (Latif 1994). When the press has no function to check on the legislative, executive and judiciary arms of Singapore government, no questions are raised concerning jurisprudence or the ethics of law enforcement. Court decisions are accepted without challenge, and existing laws are assumed to be right. The format of crime news includes details (name, age, occupation) and often photographs of any accused person or defendant on trial. Such public exposure of personal information is justified by the press agents as a deterrent factor for

166 Laurence Wai-Teng Leong potential criminals. Anyone having the audacity to commit a crime must bear the consequences of punishment by disclosure. As there are countless gay men living in the closet, a conviction results in the double jeopardy of a court sentence (jail, fine, flogging) and the outing of one’s sexuality through the press release of personal details. Just as scandal and gossip are powerful means of social control in small communities, media exposure of one’s homosexuality as ‘criminality’ is particularly consequential in this small city-state with a population density of 5,000 per square kilometre. News about gay criminality can be broken down into three categories. These are stories based on police entrapment, ‘gross indecency’ charges against men who consented to the acts, and adult–child same-gender intimate relations. Between 1989 and 1994 police entrapment of gays was a routine affair and religiously reported in the news (ST 1994a, e). Typically at the beach and at restrooms in shopping complexes, ‘pretty police’ dressed in provocative garb (tank tops and cut-off shorts) made sexual overtures towards men. Those who responded to the invitation were then arrested, either for molestation (if they touched the buttocks or genitals of the police decoy) or for attempting to procure the commission of ‘gross indecency’. Out of all the cases reported in the news, 67 men were convicted under criminal charges of molestation, and were punished with jail sentences (2–6 months) and/or floggings (three strokes), or a fine of S$600 to $2,000. There were 20 Straits Times reports (1989–94) on these convictions generated by agents provocateurs. Most of these reports were brief (no more than five paragraphs) and mechanical (who did what, when, how and with what consequences). Although the narratives refrained from labelling these men as gay or ‘immoral’, they clearly presumed that the men initiated the transaction or instigated the act, and absolved the police of the ethical issue of entrapment. The overall image was that these men molested or solicited the ostensibly innocent police officers. Under the category of ‘gross indecency’, men having sex in public toilets, swimming pools or parked cars were discovered and reported by security guards or patrolling officers. Their jail sentences ranged from two to six months (ST 1991b, f, 1992a, 1993d, 1994d, g, h, i, j, m). In a feature article, men who were ‘behaving indecently’ in the swimming pools or bathrooms were given the labels ‘aqua-perverts’ and ‘shower room perverts’ (Leong, C.T. 1991). The reporter ended with a call for action by citing a lifeguard: ‘Non-action would only embolden the perverts, and when they strike again, it may be too late to act.’ The years 1991 to 1994 were probably the darkest periods in the history of gays in Singapore, as police surveillance of gay spaces was at its greatest intensity. Almost every month there were news reports about men being convicted for molestation, soliciting and ‘gross indecency’. While the reports by and large did not appear to moralize, the general message conveyed was that gay men were a public nuisance engaging in public sex and making advances to others, and therefore earned sentences of jail, fines or flogging or a combination of these forms of punishment. In 1994 a man who was arrested by a police decoy during an anti-gay raid at a

The ‘Straight’ Times: news and sexual citizenship in Singapore 167 secluded beach appealed to the higher courts against a sentence of four months’ jail and three strokes of the cane. The Chief Justice substituted a S$2,000 fine for the imprisonment and caning. He opined that there was a difference between a male ‘molesting’ another male and a male molesting a woman. In the former case, the police set the trap, and ‘molestation’ was an inappropriate characterization of the transaction (ST 1994c). Taking the cue from the Chief Justice’s landmark decision, police operations shifted from zealous entrapment to anti-narcotic raids on bars, but gays were not specifically targeted because heterosexual clubs and pubs were also subject to routine surveillance. From 1995 onwards, as a reflection of the change in focus on the types of crimes policed, stories of police entrapment and ‘gross indecency’ charges disappeared from the pages of crime news. That lacuna is now filled by news about man–boy relationships. All the news about an adult male having intimate relations with a teen male is framed within the rubric of crime, in the language of ‘molestation’ of which the punishment ranges from three months to 20 years in jail, a fine of between S$1,000 and $2,000, and/or six to 24 strokes of the cane (ST 1978, 1988, 1989, 1991a, c, d, e, 1992b, c, d, 1993a, b, c, e, 1994b, f, k, l, n, 1995a, b, c, 1997a, b, 1998a, b, c, 1999, 2001, 2002f, 2004a; Chong, E. 2000, 2001a; Lim, A. 2001; Chong, E. 2003a; Chong, O.K. 2003; Gwee 2003). As a mainstream newspaper, the Straits Times avoids emotive language in the reporting of male adult–teen relations: words like ‘monster’, ‘parasite preying on the innocent’ and ‘cradle-snatcher’ that one may find in sensationalist tabloids are generally avoided in the Straits Times. And, up until recently, the sexual orientation of the adult alleged to have sexual relations with underage teens was not specified. In 2000 a crime reporter (Chong, E. 2000: 6) used the term ‘homosexual paedophile’ to characterize the convicted man. Another reporter (Chong, C.K. 2003) also described the offender charged with paedophilic crime as ‘a self-confessed homosexual’. Cases of men having sexual relations with under-aged girls (Chong, E. 2002; Chong, E. 2003b; Lim, A. 2002) are never labelled as ‘heterosexual paedophiles’.

The soft option Whereas the hard news of the Straits Times either excludes lesbians and gays or straitjackets gay men into images of molesters and perverts, soft news opens up spaces for alternative representations of gays and lesbians. The Straits Times Life section, consisting of entertainment and lifestyles pages, has popular appeal, particularly to the young because it has more visuals and colour than other sections have, and the topics are light and fluffy. But beyond the triviality of celebrity gossip and the restlessness of fashion trends is a dramaturgy of gay and lesbian issues played out in the theatre reviews. In the nascent stages of nation-building, state officials prioritized industrial development before cultural and artistic sponsorship. After years of high economic growth, they began to take the arts more seriously. Money has been pumped into this sector in the quest to style Singapore as a ‘Renaissance city’, aspiring to be ‘one

168 Laurence Wai-Teng Leong of the top cities in the world to live, work and play in, where there is an environment conducive to creative and knowledge-based industries and talent’ (MITA 2000). Theatre in Singapore has benefited from this new cultural policy. International brand-name plays and musicals are being staged, local theatre groups sprout here and there, and dramatic themes touch on areas that were hitherto out of bounds (Peterson 2001). Theatre enjoys relative (though not complete) immunity from state control as compared with other forms of media. Richard Randall (1989: 190) has observed the principle that the more popular or accessible a particular form of medium (such as television), the lower the degree of operating freedom (i.e. content will be subject to greater censorship and regulation). An episode of the first season of Six Feet Under was pulled from cable television in Singapore because drugs and homosexuality are taboo topics for television (ST 2002g; Fong 2002). Theatre is live performance in essentially a small space, in front of a limited number of people who have some kind of cultural capital (e.g. knowledge of dramaturgical semiotics) to appreciate plays and opera. Because the theatre audience tends to be small, educated, homogeneous and regular members (mostly the same crowd watching different plays), state authorities have allowed some room for it to develop far more than the film or broadcasting industries which have very large audiences. Theatre in Singapore has developed as a form of social critique because the themes are inextricably linked to politics (Chua, B.H. 2004; Peterson 2001). Although playwrights (e.g. Kuo Pao Kun) in the past have been detained by state authorities, today the liberalization of theatre is evident, thanks to a new cultural policy that seeks to put Singapore on the global map of high art. Under such conditions, queer theatre has blossomed in the past five years: themes about transgendered people, gays, lesbians and marginalized groups like AIDS communities have been popular. Plays normally run two or three nights or at best two weeks. And while the live audience may be small, the reviews in the press can potentially reach a million or more readers. The first lesbian play staged in Singapore was Mergers and Accusations in 1993, with a sequel, Wills and Secession (1995), and a finale, Jointly and Severably (2003). One reviewer calls the first a ‘controversial hit play’ about a lesbian who, ‘not being able to live an open lifestyle in Singapore, runs away to London and, in the process, runs away from her family responsibilities’ (Koh, B.P. 1995). Another reviewer sees the trilogy as ‘plays about the gay community initiating a discussion with society’ (Chow 2003a), exploring ‘brave new issues’, and ‘are to be commended for pushing out of the closet issues that mainstream audiences are not used to facing. Straight audiences, used to having heterosexual story lines tailored for them, now have to deal with a different kind of love story’ (Chow 2003b). Initially when local plays with queer characters emerged (such as Three Fat Virgins Unassembled, Lest the Demons Get to Me, Private Parts, Another Tribe, Glass Roots), there were letters to the press condemning such ‘deviant plays’ (Peterson 2001: 148). Such negative response has since waned. Straits Times arts reporters remain supportive. Thus, Oon (2000) heralds the trend of increasing lesbian and

The ‘Straight’ Times: news and sexual citizenship in Singapore 169 transgender characters on stage as important statements about womanhood in various settings and manifestations. Gay plays are by far the fastest growing genre of theatre in Singapore. On 4 August 2003 the Straits Times ran an ad with a picture of a semi-nude actor and the caption, ‘Homosexuality: the new rage in local theatres?’ (ST 2003b). The ad was for a Chinese newspaper (issued by the same parent company, SPH) that featured an article on the topic. Rarely do newspapers use their features article as an advertisement to sell themselves unless the topic is likely to grab widespread attention. So, suddenly, gays in the cultural scene become not only newsworthy, but also a rallying point for sales. Gay plays run the gamut of emotion, from happiness, as in Beautiful Thing (Oon 2003c), to tragedy, as in A Tinted Edge (Wee 2000), and most of the earlier plays expressed social intolerance and the psychic costs of negotiating acceptance and identity (Teo, P.L. 2003). More recently, the newsworthiness of gay plays is exemplified by the novelty of seeing two leading males kiss in Shakespeare’s R&J (Chan, F. 2001); and by naked male bodies, as in Asian Boys I (Yeow 2000), Asian Boys II (Oon 2004a, b), Autumn Tom Yam (Oon 2001), Bent (Oon 2003a, b), and Mardi Gras (Hong 2003, 2004). Many theatrical reviews follow the mantra that sex sells, and so focus on the sexualization of bodies in gay plays: ‘The actors wear almost nothing at all or body-hugging clothes that reveal more than they hide in the publicity photograph … a lot of skin will be on view on stage’ (Tan, J. 2000: L5); ‘the spectacularly toned bodies of the two men, displayed to perfection in one tight T-shirt after another’ (Hong 2003: L6); ‘seeing 10 good-looking actors shirtless on stage . . . as cast members . . . have to bare their torsos’ (Oon 2003a). The visuality of bodies in gay drama suggests a new confidence in the way men loving men enjoy each other’s bodies, are proud of their own commodification, and make no apologies for their sexuality. But the flesh exposure itself is used as a medium to convey social and political issues pertinent to gays in Singapore. Thus, Mardi Gras was an attempt to organize Singapore’s first Gay Pride parade (Hong 2004). Bent drew the analogy of Nazi persecution of gays with Singapore’s legislation that outlaws homosexual behaviour (Oon 2003a). Asian Boys II recounted the 1993 arrest of 12 men in a police raid at a gay beach (Oon 2004b). Social-political issues are explored through commodified bodies.

Intimate citizenship The struggle for democratic participation has traditionally involved claims for civil, political and social citizenship – the right to justice under the law, the right to political representation, and the right to basic welfare and security. Today, when private lives are increasingly subject to public scrutiny, when public policies (such as laws) impinge on bodies, relationships and identities, we need a more updated notion of citizenship. Ken Plummer (1995, 2003) has introduced the term ‘intimate citizenship’ to extend the notion of rights to include matters of our intimate desires, pleasures and ways of being. When gays and lesbians seek the right to marry and

170 Laurence Wai-Teng Leong the right to partnership benefits, they are staking claims to full citizenship enjoyed by others. Journalism can support and strengthen the roles of citizens in democracy (Gans 2003). Claims of citizenship require forms of communication that can articulate grievances and redress. In Singapore, gays and lesbians have made claims of intimate citizenship but seldom through the mainstream press. In the context of the police entrapment of gay men, the decriminalization of homosexuality was the most pressing issue of the early 1990s (Ong 1993). An informal group, People Like Us, emerged in 1993. It made two unsuccessful attempts to register as a society. It had no voice or representation in the Straits Times, and so sought a liberal publisher to print its manifesto (Lo and Huang 2003). Its most active member turned to cyberspace (Yawning Bread website and Signel discussion list) to disseminate alternative news and commentaries (Offord 2003: 156). A mainstream press that framed gay men convicted for homosexual activities as a standard crime story rather than as a story of entrapment, and that published the court judgements as if the punishment were just and right, cannot be an ally of sexual minorities. The relationship between the Straits Times and gays is subsumed under a more fundamental relationship between journalism and democracy in Singapore. In America, commercialism is alleged to be the culprit that constrains freedom of expression and that produces an illiberal media (Herman 1999). In Singapore, politics overrides economics: it is more the state than the profit motive that shapes the news media. The term ‘OB markers’ in Singapore is really a euphemism for limiting freedom of speech and expression. Sometimes the boundaries are defined in censorship reports, but sometimes they are deliberately left undefined by the state. This openendedness is a double-edged sword. When the lines are unclear, journalists may fear to tread on new frontiers and end up practising self-censorship. On the other hand, the hard and soft divisions of news open up possibilities for alternative representations. In the hard news of global and local events, gays and lesbians are rendered invisible and muted, or appear in court cases concerning suicide, revenge, molestation and indecency. In the soft news of entertainment, they appear mostly in the theatre as human characters with wants and desires, sorrows and joys, and as bodies exuding an unapologetic sexuality. This cultural turn suggests that any nascent democratic movement in Singapore for sexual minorities and perhaps citizens at large works at the level of culture rather than politics – in other words, through the art scene rather than the ballot box, in the ‘Life’ (entertainment) pages of the Straits Times rather than the local politics pages. News professionals have a critical role to play in this democratization effort: while they may be gagged in other sections of the newspaper, the zone of freedom is given relatively wider expression in the entertainment news. But a note of caution is in order. Suzanna Walters (2001) has meticulously documented the media visibility of American gays and lesbians in recent years. Increasingly, gays and lesbians not only take centre stage in advertising, television and film, but also enjoy positive representations. She asks whether or not visibility can be equated with progress, and argues that there is a difference or disjunction

The ‘Straight’ Times: news and sexual citizenship in Singapore 171 between cultural trends and political realities. Gays in America may be represented in the cultural media as witty, absolutely fabulous, superior in aesthetic tastes and successful, but in the real world they still have to contest for all kinds of rights, and material achievements (the right to serve in the military, the right to partner benefits, etc.) lag behind cultural advances in representation. In the context of intimate citizenship, cultural change as exemplified by media visibility is only one dimension of full citizenship. Nevertheless, given the socialpolitical climate in Singapore, the appearance of gays and lesbians in the soft news of the Straits Times is a major step forward. Theatre is a forum to air social issues and, while its audience may be small, the reviews of individual plays by art correspondents in the newspapers give an opportunity for gays and lesbians to voice themselves publicly.

Bibliography

Agence France Presse (2003a) ‘Press told how to report as Beijing gears up for more bad SARS news’, 9 April. —— (2003b) ‘Chinese police stop SARS rumour-mongers, warn of hostile foreign forces’, 8 May. Aggarwala, N.K. (1978) ‘News with Third World perspectives: a practical suggestion’, in P.C. Horton (ed.) The Third World and Press Freedom, New York: Praeger. —— (1979) ‘News: a matter of people’, in J.A. Lent (ed.) Third World Mass Media: Issues, Theory and Research, Williamsburg: Department of Anthropology, College of William and Mary. Aitkin, S. (1991) Notes on the Media in Cambodia, Phnom Penh: Personal report. Ali, O.A. (1994) ‘Roundtable’, Media Asia, 21(2): 90. Alston, L.J. (1996) ‘Empirical work in institutional economics: an overview’, in L.J. Alston, T. Eggertsson and D. North (eds) Empirical Studies in Institutional Change, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Altman, K.K. (1996) ‘Television and political turmoil: Japan’s summer of 1993’, in S.J. Pharr and E.S. Krauss (eds) Media and Politics in Japan, Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Alwood, E. (1996) Straight News: Gays, Lesbians and the News Media, New York: Columbia University Press. Anand, A. (1992) ‘Introduction: in women’s feature service’, in A. Anand (ed.) The Power to Change: Women in the Third World Redefine their Environment, New Delhi: Kali Press for Women. Angst, L.I. (2001) ‘The sacrifice of a schoolgirl: the 1995 rape case, discourses of power, and women’s lives in Okinawa’, Critical Asian Studies, 33(2): 243–66. Antara Interactive: Profile (2002) homepage of Antara National News Agency. Available at http://www.antara-online.com/e_profile.asp (accessed 15 October 2002). Anwar, D.F. (1999) ‘The Habibie presidency’, in G. Forester (ed.) Post-Suharto Indonesia: Renewal or Chaos?, New York: St Martins Press. Anwar, I. (1995) ‘Media and society in Asia’, Media Asia, 22(1): 41–2. Apa dan Siapa: Sejumlah Orang Indonesia 1985–1986 (1986) Jakarta: Tempo and Grafitipers. Argyris, C. (1974) Behind the Front Page: Organizational Self-renewal in a Metropolitan Newspaper, San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Asian Wall Street Journal (2003) ‘Korean press under scrutiny’, 16 June. Asohan, A. (2003) ‘TV Smith – plagiarism reaches regional heights’, Star, ‘In-Tech’, Malaysia, 30 September: 2. Athreya, V. (2004) ‘Pollsters versus voters’, Frontline 21(12). Available at http://www. flonnet.com/fl2112/stories/20040618002204200.htm (accessed 15 October 2004).

Bibliography

173

Awanohara, S. (1984) ‘The media freedom fighters’, Far Eastern Economic Review, 123: 24–6. Banerjee, I. (2002) ‘The locals strike back? Media globalization and localization in the new Asian television landscape’, Gazette, 64(6): 517–36. Bangkok Post (2000) ‘Gay Time on Silom’, 6 November: 1. Banik, D. (1997) ‘Freedom from Famine’, thesis submitted to the Department of Political Science, University of Oslo. Barber, B.R. (1998–9) ‘Three scenarios for the future of technology and strong democracy’, Political Science Quarterly, 113(4): 573–89. Barman, A., Bhatia, G. and Annuncio, C. (2003) ‘Reality bites with images’, Outlook, 17 February. Available at http://www.outlookindia.com. Barton, G. (2002) Gus Dur: The Authorised Biography of Abdurrahman Wahid, Jakarta: Equinox. Bathla, S. (1998) Women, Democracy and the Media: Cultural and Political Representations in the Indian Press, New Delhi: Sage. Baum, M.A. and Kernell, S. (1999) ‘Has cable ended the golden age of presidential television?’, American Political Science Review, 93(1), March: 99–114. BBC (2004) ‘China confines new Sars suspect’, 8 January. Available at http://news.bbc. co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/3377997.stm (accessed 10 October 2004). Becker, L.B. and Lowrey, W. (2000) ‘Independent journalism training initiatives: their impact on journalists and journalism education’, paper presented at the International Association for Media and Communication Research conference, Singapore, July. Beijing Daily (2003a) ‘Global ATP cases totalled 4,288 on 23rd’, 25 April. —— (2003b) ‘Beijing rises in ATP battle’, 4 July. Beltrán, L.R. (1980) ‘A farewell to Aristotle: “Horizontal communication”’, Communication, 5: 5–41. Benedict, H. (1992) Virgin or Vamp: How the Press Covers Sex Crimes, New York: Oxford University Press. Bennett, W. (1990) ‘Towards a theory of press–state relations in the United States’, Journal of Communication, 40(2): 103–25. Bennett, W. and Paletz, D. (1994) Taken by Storm: The Media, Public Opinion, and US Foreign Policy in the Gulf War, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Bhattacharjee, A. (1972) The Indian Press – Profession to Industry, New Delhi: Vikas. Birch, D. (1993) Singapore Media: Communication Strategies and Practices, Melbourne: Longman Cheshire. Botes, J. (1996) ‘Journalism and conflict resolution’, Media Development, 4. Available at http://212.67.202.188/~wacc01/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=311 (accessed 10 October 2004). Breed, W. (1958) ‘Mass communication and social integration’, Social Forces, 37: 109–16. British Council (1999) Media and Information: How Media Training Can Promote Democracy and Economic Reform in Transitional Developing Countries, Manchester: British Council. Broadbent, L. (1993) ‘Backyard on the front page: the case of Nicaragua’, in Glasgow University Media Group, Getting the Message: News, Truth and Power, London: Routledge. Brown, D. (2003) ‘Searching for online gold’, American Journalism Review, 25(5): 54–60. Brown, J.C. (1997a) The Khmer Language Print Media Since the UN Intervention: An Historical and Quantitative Overview, Phnom Penh: Cambodia Communication Institute. —— (1997b) Report on Cambodian Editors’ Preferences, Needs and Priorities for the Training of Cambodian Journalists, Phnom Penh: Cambodia Communication Institute. —— (1997c) Report on Cambodian Journalists’ Perception of their own Training Needs, Phnom Penh: Cambodia Communication Institute.

174 Bibliography Brown, J.D., Bybee, C.R., Wearden, S.T. and Straughan, D.M. (1987) ‘Invisible power: newspaper news sources and the limits of diversity’, Journalism Quarterly, 64: 45–54. Bumiller, E. (2003) ‘Gay marriages: US gets cold feet’, Straits Times (reprinted from the New York Times), 18 August: 15. Butcher, M. (2003) Transnational Television, Cultural Identity and Change: When Star came to India, New Delhi: Sage. Byerly, C.M. (1997) ‘News, consciousness, and social participation: the role of women’s feature service in world news’, in A. Sreberny-Mohammadi, D. Winseck, J. McKenna and O. Boyd-Barrett (eds) Media in Global Context: A Reader, New York: Arnold. Calhoun, C. (ed.) (1992) Habermas and the Public Sphere, London: MIT Press. Cantor, M. (1971) The Hollywood Television Producer, New York: Basic Books. Cao, P. (1999) Zhongguo baoye jituan fazhan yanjiu (A Study of the Development of China’s Newspaper Groups), Beijing: Xinhua Press. Carter, C. (1998) ‘When the “extraordinary” becomes “ordinary”: Everyday news of sexual violence’, in C. Carter, G. Branston and S. Allan (eds) News, Gender and Power, London: Routledge. Central Political–Legal Commission (1981) ‘Opinion on the question of whether viciously attacking or slandering central leading comrades constitutes a crime’, translated by D.C. Clarke. Available at http://faculty.washington.edu/dclarke/public/clpc-opinion.htm (accessed 10 October 2004). Chan, F. (2001) ‘Boy oh boy, it’s Shakespeare in love’, Straits Times, 24 April: L11. Chan, J.M. (1992) ‘Mass media and socio-political formation in Hong Kong, 1949–1992’, Asian Journal of Communication, fall: 106–29. —— (1995) ‘Calling the tune without playing the piper: the reassertion of media controls in China’, in C.K. Lo, S. Pepper and K. Y. Tsui (eds) China Review 1995, Hong Kong: Chinese University of Hong Kong. —— (2001) ‘Media, democratization and globalization: a comparative framework’, The Public, 8(4): 103–18. Chan, J.M. and Lee, C. (1991) Mass Media and Political Transition: The Hong Kong Press in China’s Orbit, New York: Guilford Press. Chan, J.M., Lee, P.S.N. and Lee, C. (1996) Hong Kong Journalists in Transition, Hong Kong: Hong Kong Institute of Asia-Pacific Studies, Chinese University of Hong Kong. Chan, J.M., Pan, Z. and Lee, F.L.F. (2004) ‘Professional aspirations and job satisfaction: Chinese journalists at a time of change in the media’, Journalism and Mass Communication Quarterly, 81: 254–73. Chasin, A. (2000) Selling Out: The Gay and Lesbian Movement Goes to Market. New York: St Martin’s Press. Chatterjee, P.C. (1991) Broadcasting in India, New Delhi: Sage. Chen, H. (1998) ‘China’s media institutional change motivated by economic interests: a case of the press’, in Z. He and H. Chen (eds) Zhongguo chuanmei xinlun (The Chinese Media: A New Perspective), Hong Kong: Pacific Century Press. Chen, L. (2004) Xinwen lilun yanjiu de huigu yu zhanwang (A Review and Forecast of the Research in Journalism Theories). Available at http://academic.mediachina.net/lw_ view.jsp?id=964 (accessed 20 August 2004). Chen, S.Y. (1998) ‘State, media and democracy in Taiwan’, Media, Culture and Society, 20: 11–29. Chesnais, F. (1998) ‘Will the world catch Asian flu?’, Le Monde Diplomatique, 13 August. Available at http://mondediplo.com/1998/09/13chesnais (accessed 10 October 2004). Chesney-Lind, M. (1999) ‘Media misogyny: demonizing “violent” girls and women’, in J.

Bibliography

175

Ferrell and N. Websdale (eds) Making Trouble: Cultural Constructions of Crime, Deviance, and Control, New York: Aldine de Gruyter. Chin, J. (2003) ‘Malaysiakini.com and its impact on journalism and politics in Malaysia’, in K.C. Ho, R. Kluver and K.C.C. Yang (eds) Asia.com: Asia Encounters the Internet, London: RoutledgeCurzon: 129–42. China Electronic Post (2003) ‘Information industries pull efforts to fight ATP’, 27 May. China Industrial and Commercial Times (2003) ‘Web real name helps Beijing fight ATP’, 27 May. Chiu, P. and Chan-Olmstead, S.M. (1999) ‘The impact of cable television on political campaigns in Taiwan’, Gazette, 61(6): 491–507. Choe, S.H. (1993) ‘Cable television firms look to new tech’, Newsreview, 25 September: 8–9. Chong, C.K. (2003) ‘18 years for tutor who preyed on students’, Straits Times, 11 March. Chong, E. (1992) ‘Four charged under Official Secrets Act in BT report case’, Straits Times, 10 December: 16. —— (2000) ‘Sex predator faces record 40-year-term’, Straits Times, 5 December: 6. —— (2001a) ‘40-year term halved for child molester’, Straits Times, 20 March: 6. —— (2001b) ‘2-death tragedy: woman was torn between lovers’, Straits Times, 17 July: 3. —— (2002) ‘Family friend molested a 7-year-old’, Straits Times, 24 April. —— (2003a) ‘52-year-old man admits sexually abusing five boys’, Straits Times, 8 March. —— (2003b) ‘Teenage monster gets 20 years and 24 strokes’, Straits Times, 13 September. Chopra, P. (1980) ‘Asian news values: a barrier or a bridge?’, in News Values and Principles of Cross-Cultural Communication, UNESCO Papers no. 85, Paris: UNESCO, 27–38. Chosun Daily (2001) ‘Flaws in NTO report’, 30 June. Chow, C. (2003a) ‘Hits from two legal misses’, Straits Times (Life section), 10 March. —— (2003b) ‘Brave new issues: new chapter in Eleanor Wong’s trilogy brings out love of a different kind but issues are still left unresolved’, Straits Times (Life section), 14 April. Chowdhury, A. (1978) ‘Development reporting: it gives us the chance to manoeuvre with honour’, IPI Report, April–May: 8–10. Chu, L.L. (1988) ‘Mass communication theory: a Chinese perspective’, in W. Dissanayake (ed.) Communication Theory: The Asian Perspective, Singapore: AMIC. Chua, B.H. (1994) ‘For a communitarian democracy in Singapore’, in D. da Cunha (ed.) Debating Singapore: Reflective Essays, Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. —— (2000) ‘The relative autonomies of state and civil society in Singapore’, in G. Koh and G.L. Ooi (eds) State–Society Relations in Singapore, Singapore: Oxford University Press. —— (2004) ‘Theatre, social critique and politics’, in C.K. Tan and T. Ng (eds) Ask Not: The Necessary Stage in Singapore Theatre, Singapore: Times Editions. Chua, M.H. (2004) ‘Media rivals strike deal to curb losses’, Straits Times, 18 September: 1–4. Clarke, J. (1995) ‘Phoenix from the ashes: the influence of the past on Cambodia’s resurgent free media’, Gazette, 55: 93–111. Cockerell, M., Hennessy, P. and Walker, D. (1985) Sources Close to the Prime Minister: Inside the Hidden World of the News Manipulators, London: Macmillan. Communications Industry (2003) ‘China Liangtong joins hands with SK in love’, 21 May. Conley, D. (2002) ‘Ethical journalism: is it an oxymoron?’, in The Daily Miracle, Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Contemporary Life Post (2003) ‘Chronology of Guangdong pneumonia rumour’, 13 February. Cuklanz, L.M. (1974) Rape on Trial: How the Mass Media Construct Legal Reform and Social Change, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Curran, J. (2000) ‘Press reformism 1918-98: a study in failure’, in H. Tumber (ed.) Media Power, Professionals and Policies, London: Routledge.

176 Bibliography Dagron, A.G. (2001) Making Waves: Stories of Participatory Communication for Social Change, New York: Rockefeller Foundation. Dahlan, M.A. (2000) ‘Preface’, in A. Razak (ed.) Mass Media Laws and Regulations in Indonesia, Singapore: Asian Media Information and Communication Centre; Jakarta: ASEAN Committee of Culture and Information. Dahlgren, P. (1995) Television and the Public Sphere: Citizenship, democracy and the Media, London: Sage. Dailami (1998) Himpunan Ceremah Direktur Jenderal Pembinaan Pers dan Grafika Departemen Penerangan Republik Indonesia 1997–1998 (Collection of Speeches by the Director General of Press and Graphics, Department of Information, Republic of Indonesia, 1997–1998), Direktorat Jenderal Pembinaan Pers and Grafika, Jakarta: Deppen RI. D’Arcy, K., and Mayne, J. (1997) ‘How the media can promote democracy: exploring the impact of media training in transitional and developing countries’, discussion paper, London: British Council and the Economic Development Institute of the World Bank. Davis, A. (2000) ‘Public relations, news production and changing patterns of source access in the British National Press’, Media, Culture and Society, 22(1): 33–59. —— (2002) Public Relations Democracy: Public Relations, Political Communications and the Mass Media in Britain, Manchester: Manchester University Press. De Certeau, M. (1984) The Practice of Everyday Life, trans. by Rendall, Berkeley: University of California Press. De Waal, A. (1990) Starving in Silence: A Report on Famine and Censorship, London: Article 19. Deacon, D. and Golding, P. (1994) Taxation and Representation, London: John Libby Press. Delli Carpini, M. and Williams, B. (2001) ‘Let us infotain you: politics in the new media environment’, in W.L. Bennett and R.M. Entman (eds) Mediated Politics: Communication in the Future of Democracy, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 160–81. Deuze, M. (2003) ‘The web and its journalisms: considering the consequences of different types of newsmedia online’, New Media and Society, 5(2): 203–30. Dickie, M. (2003) ‘China tries to draw a mask over deadly Sars’, Financial Times, 5 April. Dimmick, J. (1974) ‘The gatekeepers: media organization as political coalitions’, Communication Research, 6: 203–22. —— (1979) ‘The gatekeeper: an uncertainty theory’, Journalism Monograph, no. 37. Dixit, K. (1994) ‘Global news: a view from the south’, in Who’s Telling the Story: A Conference on Media and Development in Australia and the Region, Melbourne: Community Aid Abroad. Dong-A Daily (2001) ‘Our response to tax examination’, 30 June. Doordarshan website (2004) http://www.ddindia.net. Downie, S. (2000) ‘Journalism training in Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam’, Asia-Pacific MediaEducator, 8: 99–112. Du, P. (2003) Zhongnanhai wei xinwen gaige kai lüdeng (Zhongnanhai Give Green Lights for Press Reforms). Available at http://www.tv-view.com/pressreform/2003/husandian.htm (accessed 20 August 2004). The Economist (2000) ‘Sins of the secular missionaries’, 29 January: 25–7. —— (2001) ‘No laughing matter’, 24 May. Elliot, P. (1970) ‘Selection and communication in a television production – a case study’, in J. Tunstall (ed.) Media Sociology, London: Constable. Ellis, E. (2002) ‘Singapore authorities use libel laws to silence critics’, The Australian (media supplement) 26 September: 9. Ericson, R., Baranek, P. and Chan, J. (1989) Negotiating Control: A Study of News Sources, Milton Keynes: Open University Press.

Bibliography

177

Escobar, A. (1995) Encountering Development: The Making and Unmaking of the Third World, Princeton: Princeton University Press. Ettema, J. (1982) ‘The organizational context of creativity’, in J. Ettema and D. Whitney (eds) Individuals in Mass Media Organizations: Creativity and constraint, Beverly Hills: Sage. Ewen, S. (1996) PR! A Social History of Spin, New York: Basic Books. Fair, J.E. (1989) ‘29 years of theory and research on media and development: the dominant paradigm impact’, Gazette, 44: 129–50. Fair, J.E. and Shah, H. (1997) ‘Continuities and discontinuities in communication and development research since 1958’, Journal of International Communication, 4(2): 3–23. Fang, Y. (1996) ‘Lun shehuizhuyi shichangjingji tiaojian xia xinwen lilun yu shijian de bian yu bubian’ (On the Changes and no Changes in Press Theory and Practices Under the Socialist Market Economy), Xinwen Chuanbo Luntan (Journalism and Communication Forum), 1: 63–75. Far Eastern Economic Review (1995) ‘In Other Words’, 22 June: 11. Farley, M. (1996) ‘Japan’s press and the politics of scandal’, in S.J. Pharr and E.S. Krauss (eds) Media and Politics in Japan, Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Fejes, F. and Petrich, K. (1993) ‘Invisibility, homophobia and heterosexism: lesbians, gays and the media’, Critical Studies in Mass Communication 10(4): 396–422. Fell, D. (2004) ‘Pluses and minuses for Taiwan’s democratic evolution’, Taiwan Perspective ePaper, 20, 15 April: Institute for National Policy Research. Available at http:// www.tp.org.tw/eletter/story.htm?id=20000841 (accessed 20 October 2004). Fenton, N. and Downey, J. (2003) ‘Constructing a counter-public sphere’, New Media and Society 5(2): 185–202. Fishman, M. (1980) Manufacturing of News, Austin: University of Texas Press. Flor, A.G. (2003) ‘Philippines’, in M. Rao (ed.) News Media and New Media: The Asia-Pacific Internet Handbook, vol. V, Singapore: Eastern Universities Press. Fong, C.X. (2002) ‘Use episode nine to educate’, Straits Times (Life section), 8 November. Franklin, B. (1994) Packaging Politics: Political Communications in Britain’s Media Democracy, London: Arnold. Freedom House (2004) Press Freedom Survey. Available at http://www.freedomhouse.org/ research/pressurvey.htm (accessed 20 October 2004). Freeman, L. (2000) Closing the Shop: Information Cartels and Japan’s Mass Media, Princeton: Princeton University Press. Freire, P. (1974) ‘Conscientisation – unveiling and transforming reality’, in Education for Liberation and Community, Melbourne: Australian Council of Churches. —— (1997) Pedagogy of the Oppressed (revised 20th anniversary edn), New York: Continuum Publishing. Froehlich, R. (2000) ‘Between obstacles and progress – journalism and journalism education in Eastern Europe’, paper presented to the International Association for Media and Communication Research conference, Singapore, July. Fuller, L. (1995) Media-Mediated Relationships: Straight and Gay, Mainstream and Alternative Perspectives, New York: Haworth. Galtung, J. and Vincent, R.C. (1992) Toward a New World Information and Communication Order?, Cresskill, NJ: Hampton Press. Gamson, J. (2000) ‘Lesbians, gays, straights and the media’, GLQ: A Journal of Gay and Lesbian Studies 6 (3): 451–4. Gan, S., Gomez, G. and Johannen, U. (eds) (2004) Asian Cyberactivism: Freedom of Expression and Media Censorship, Bangkok: Friedrich Naumann Foundation and the University of Hong Kong.

178 Bibliography Gandhi, M.K. (1970) Gandhi – Essential Writings, ed. V.V. Ramana Murti, New Delhi: Gandhi Peace Foundation. Gans, H. (1979). Deciding What’s News: A Study of CBS Evening News, NBC Nightly News, Newsweek, and Time, New York: Pantheon. —— (1985a) Deciding What’s News, New York: Vintage Books. —— (1985b) ‘Are U.S. journalists dangerously liberal?’, Columbia Journalism Review, 24 (November–December): 32. —— (2003) Democracy and the News, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Gatzen, B. (2003) ‘Japan media: the stone unturned’, Japan Media Review, 26 February. Available at http://www.ojr.org/japan/media/1043974972p.php (accessed 22 July 2003). Gaunt, P. (1992) Making the Newsmakers: International Handbook on Journalism Training, Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. George, C. (2000) Singapore, The Air-conditioned Nation, Singapore: Landmark. —— (2002) ‘Singapore: Media at the mainstream and the margins’, in R.H.K. Heng (ed.) Media Fortune, Changing Times: ASEAN States in Transition, Singapore: ISEAS. —— (2003) The Internet’s Political Impact and the Penetration/Participation Paradox in Malaysia and Singapore, Working Paper no. 14, Singapore: Asia Research Institute, National University of Singapore. —— (2004) ‘Asian journalism: neglected alternatives’, unpublished paper, Singapore: Asia Research Institute, NUS. Giddens, A. (1984) The Constitution of Society: Outline of the Theory of Structuration, Berkeley: University of California Press. Gifford, C.A. (1984) ‘Inter press service: news from the Third World’, Journal of Communication, 34(4): 41–59. Gitlin, T. (1980) The Whole World is Watching: Mass Media in the Making and Unmaking of the New Left. Berkeley: University of California Press. Goffman, E. (1974) Frame Analysis: An Essay on the Organization of Experience, New York: Harper and Row. Goh, S. (2001) ‘Website with “political content” told to register’, Straits Times Interactive, 18 July. Gomez, J. (2000) Self-censorship: Singapore’s Shame, Singapore: Think Centre. Gopalakrishnan, A. (2004) ‘Doordarshan’s dilemma’, Frontline, 21(13). Available at http:// www.flonnet.com/fl2113/stories/20040702001508400.htm (accessed 15 October 2004). Greer, C. (2003) ‘Sex crime and the media: press representations in Northern Ireland’, in P. Mason (ed.) Criminal Visions: Media Representations of Crime and Justice, Portland: William Publishing. Gross, L. (1991) ‘Out of the mainstream: sexual minorities and the mass media’, in M. Wolf and A. Kielwasser (eds) Gay People, Sex and the Media. New York: Haworth Press. —— (1996) ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell: lesbian and gay people in the media’, in P.M. Lester (ed.) Images that Injure: Pictorial Stereotypes in the Media, Westport: Praeger. Gu, E. (2001) ‘State corporatism and the politics of the state–profession relationship in China: a case study of three professional communities’, American Asian Review, 19(4): 163–99. Guancha, B. (2003) Hu Jingtao haozhao zhichi xinwen baodao, zhongguo xinwen gaige chunchao lailin (Hu Jingtao Calls for Support of News Coverage, the Spring Breeze of China’s Press Reform Arrives), 15 April. Available at http://my9w.com/baoyedongxiang/zhuantibao gao/xinwengaige/6.htm (accessed 20 September 2004). Guo, C. (1997) Houshe Lun (On the Throat and Tongue Theory), Beijing: Xinhua Press.

Bibliography

179

Gupta, N. (1998) Switching Channels – Ideologies of Television in India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Gwee, E. (2003) ‘Touch me not’, Straits Times, 7 December. Habermas, J. (1989) Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere, Cambridge: Polity Press. Hachten, W.A. (1999) The World News Prism, 5th edn, Ames: Iowa State University Press. Hall, I. (1997) Cartels of the Mind: Japan’s Intellectual Closed Shop, New York: W.W. Norton. Hall, S. (1971) ‘The determination of news photographs’, in S. Cohen and J. Young (eds) The Manufacture of News: A Reader, Beverly Hills: Sage. —— (1980) ‘Encoding/decoding’, in S. Hall, A Hobson, A. Lowe and P. Willis (eds) Culture, Media, Language: Working Papers in Cultural Studies, 1972–79, London: Hutchinson. Hall, S., Critcher, S., Jefferson, T., Clarke, J. and Roberts, B. (1978) Policing the Crisis – Mugging, the State, and Law and Order, London: Macmillan. Hallin, D. (1994) We Keep America on Top of the World: Television Journalism and the Public Sphere, London: Routledge. —— (2000) ‘Commercialism and professionalism in the American news media’, in J. Curran and M. Gurevitch (eds) Mass Media and Society, 3rd edn, London: Arnold. Hamilton, J.M. and Krimsky, G.A. (1998) ‘Exporting American media’, in E.E. Dennis and R.W. Snyder (eds) Media and Democracy, New Brunswick: Transaction Publishers. Hamrin, C.L. and Cheek, T. (eds) (1986) China’s Establishment Intellectuals, Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe. Hankyoreh Daily (2003) ‘Rho sues Mr Kim and 4 newspapers’, 13 August. —— (2004) ‘Constitutional court frees Rho’, 15 May. Haque, M. (1991) ‘Information and media technology and the Third World’, Media Asia, 18(3): 219–28. Hardjono, R. (1998) ‘The Indonesian media still censoring itself’, Nieman Reports, 52(3): 51–2. Harris, P. (1978) Hong Kong: A study in Bureaucratic Politics, Hong Kong: Heinemann Asia. Hartley, J. (1996) Popular Reality: Journalism, Modernity and Popular Culture, London: Routledge. Hasnain, I. (1988) ‘Communication: an Islamic approach’, in W. Dissanayake (ed.) Communication Theory: The Asian Perspective, Singapore: AMIC. He, Z. (1998) Cong houshe dao dangying yulun gongsi: Zhonggong dangbao de yanhua (From Mouthpiece to Party’s Propaganda Incorporation: The Evolution of Chinese Party-Press), in Z. He and H. Chen (eds) Zhongguo chuanmei xinlun (The Chinese Media: A New Perspective), Hong Kong: Pacific Century Press. Hedebro, G. (1982) Communication and Social Change in Developing Nations: A Critical View, Ames: Iowa State University Press. Herman, E. (1999) The Myth of the Liberal Media, New York: P. Lang. Herman, E. and Chomsky, N. (1988) Manufacturing Consent, New York: Pantheon. Hess, S. (2000) ‘The Washington reporters redux, 1978–98’, in H. Tumber (ed.) Media Power, Professionals and Policies, London: Routledge. Hester, A.L. and To, W.L.J. (eds) (1987) Handbook for Third World Journalists, Athens, GA: University of Georgia. Heuvel, J.V. and Dennis, E. (1993) The Unfolding Lotus: East Asia’s Changing Media, New York: Freedom Forum Media Studies Centre. Hill, D. (1994) The Press in New Order Indonesia, Nedlands: University of Western Australia Press. Hill, D. and Sen, K. (2000) The Media Culture and Politics in Indonesia, South Melbourne: Oxford University Press.

180 Bibliography Hira, A. and Hira, R. (2000) ‘The new institutionalism: contradictory notions of change’, American Journal of Economics and Sociology, 59: 267–82. Hirsch, P. (1972) ‘Occupational, organizational and institutional models in mass media research: toward an integrated framework’, in P. Hirsch, P. Miller and G. Kline (eds) Strategies for Communication Research, Beverly Hills: Sage. Hirst, P. (1994) Associative Democracy: New Forms of Social and Economic Governance, Cambridge: Polity Press. Holland, P. (2004) ‘The politics of the smile: soft news and the sexualization of the popular press’, in C. Carter and L. Steiner (eds) Critical Readings: Media and Gender, Maidenhead, UK: Open University Press. Hong Kong Economic Times (2003) ‘Police “mask” Net information’, 2 May. Hong Kong Journalists Association and Article 19 (2004) Beijing Turns the Screws: Freedom of Expression in Hong Kong under Attack, Hong Kong: HKJA and Article 19. Hong, X. (2003) ‘Muddled Mardi’, Straits Times, 18 August: L6. —— (2004) ‘Revolution still on hold’, Straits Times, 2 August: L6. Hu, Y. (1985) ‘Guanyu dang de xinwen gongzuo’ (On the Party’s journalism work), Xinwen Zhanxian (Journalism Frontier), May: 2–10. Huang, S. (1997) ‘Zhongguo guanggao de xiaoshi he fuxing’ (The disappearance and resurrection of Chinese advertising), in J.M. Chan, L.L. Chu, and Z. Pan (eds) Dazhong chuanbo yu shichang jingji (Mass Communication and Market Economy), Hong Kong: Lo Fung Learned Society. Huang, Y. (1994) ‘Peaceful evolution: The case of television reform in post-Mao China’, Media, Culture and Society, 16: 217–41. Human Rights Watch – Asia (1994) The Limits of Openness: Human Rights in Indonesia and East Timor, New York: Human Rights Watch. Hume, E. (2004) The Media Missionaries: American Support for Journalism Excellence and Press Freedom around the Globe. Available at http://www.ellenhume.com/articles/ missionaries.htm (accessed 22 October 2004). Huntington, S.P. (1968) Political Order in Changing Societies, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Ibrahim, A. (1995) ‘Media and society in Asia’, Media Asia 22(1): 41–2. Idid, S.A. and Pawanteh, L. (1989) ‘Media, ethnicity and national unity: a Malaysian report’, Media Asia, 16(2): 78–85. Indomedia.com (2000) ‘Parni Hadi ancam Gus Dur’ (Parni Hadi threatens Gus Dur), 22 March. Available at http://www.indomedia.com/bpost/032000/22/depan/depan1.htm (accessed 10 October 2004). Information Daily (2003) ‘Information Daily joins Dai Jiang SMS in anti-ATP specials’, 24 April. Ingram, P. and Clay, K. (2000) ‘The choice-within-constraints: new institutionalism and implications for sociology’, Annual Review of Sociology, 26: 525–46. Interfax (2004) ‘Ministry of public security licenses China’s first system for monitoring and recording SMS’, 15 June. International Press Institute (1999) 1999 World Press Freedom Review. Available at http:// www.freemedia.at/wpfr/Asia/indonesi.htm (accessed 10 October 2004). —— (2002) IPI Watch List: South Korea. Available at http://www.freemedia.at/wl_ southkorea.htm. Ip, P. (1997) ‘Development of civil society in Hong Kong: constraints, problems and risks’, in P.K. Li (ed.) Political Order and Power Transition in Hong Kong, Hong Kong: Chinese University Press.

Bibliography

181

Isham, J., Kaufmann, D. and Pritchett, L.H. (1997) ‘Civil liberties, democracy, and the performance of government projects’, World Bank Economic Review, 11(2): 219–42. Jacka, E. and Ray, M. (1996) ‘Indian television: an emerging regional force’, in J. Sinclair, E. Jacka and S. Cunningham. (eds) New Patterns in Global Television – Peripheral Vision, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Jakarta Post (2000a) ‘“Antara” news agency gets new chief’, 21 March. —— (2000b) ‘Replaced news agency head threatens court action’, 22 March. —— (2000c) ‘President backs greater naval stronghold’, 25 March. —— (2000d) ‘Sobary officially heads Antara’, 7 April. —— (2000e) ‘“Antara” Bali has new chief’, 3 June: 2. —— (2000f) ‘PTUN drops Parni Hadi’s law suit against Gus Dur’, 21 July. —— (2001) ‘Legal status of “Antara” assessed, Sobary says’, 14 December. —— (2002) ‘“Antara” labor activists fired’, 26 August. —— (2003) ‘“Antara” lashes out at subscribers’, 27 May. Jakes, S. (2003) ‘People who mattered: Jiang Yanyong’, Time Asia, 21 December. Jameson, S. (1997) A Veteran American Journalist Looks at the Japanese Media, Japan Policy Research Institute. Available at http://www.jpri.org/publications/workingpapers/wp40. html (accessed 23 July 2003). Jenkins, D. (1986) ‘Indonesia: government attitudes towards the domestic and foreign media’, Australian Outlook, 40(3): 153–61. Jiang, Z. (1993) ‘Xuanchuan sixiang zhanxian shi women dang de yitiao jiqi zhongyao de zhanxian’ (The frontier of propaganda and thoughts is extremely important for our Party), in Zhongguo Xinwen Nianjian ’93 (China Journalism Yearbook ’93), Beijing: China Social Science Press. Johnson, C. (2003) The Status of Forces Agreement and Okinawa, Japan Focus. Available at http:/ /www.japanfocus.org/071.html (accessed 9 December 2003). Johnson, J. and Dyson, L. (2003) News Management: The Anatomy of Spin, New York: Routledge. Johnstone, J., Slawski, E., and Bowman, W. (1976) The News People, Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Joo, D.H (2003) ‘Oligopoly of Newspapers in Korea’, Newspaper and Broadcasting (in Korean) 392: 8–12. Journalism Asia (2001) ‘Press freedom: a fragile reality’ 1(1): 1. Jukes, S. (2002). ‘Real-time responsibility: journalism’s challenges in an instantaneous age’, Harvard International Review, summer: 14–18. Kalathil, S. and Boas, T.C. (2001) The Internet and State Control in Authoritarian Regimes, Washington: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. Kambayashi, T. (2004) Japanese Reporters’ Political Allegiances Create Bias, Japan Media Review. Available at http://www.ojr.org/japan/media/1078440176.php (accessed 31 March 2004). Kang, J.M. (2000) Change of Power: The History of Korean Press (in Korean), Seoul: InmulgwaSasang-Sa. Kaufmann, D., Kraay, A. and Zoido-Lobatón, P. (1999) Governance Matters, World Bank Policy Research Working Paper no. 2196, Washington: World Bank. Kausikan, B. (1994) ‘Human rights: Asia’s different stand’, Media Asia, 21(1): 45–51. Kayano, J. (2000) ‘Unemployment among young people in Okinawa’, Japan Labor Bulletin. Available at http://www.jil.go.jp/bulletin/year/2000/vol39-06/04.htm (accessed 18 October 2004). Kellner, P. (1983) ‘The lobby, official secrets and good government’, Parliamentary Affairs, 36 (summer): 275–81.

182 Bibliography Kelly, W. (1986) ‘Rationalization and nostalgia: cultural dynamics of new middle class Japan’, American Ethnologist 13(4): 603–18. Khaiyath, N. (1996) ‘Red is nice but blue’s better’, paper presented to Communications With-In Asia, 20th Anniversary Conference of the Asian Studies Association of Australia, LaTrobe University, Melbourne, 4–6 July. Kimball, P. (1994) Downsizing the News: Network Cutbacks in the Nation’s Capital, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. King, A.Y.C. (1975) ‘Administrative absorption of politics in Hong Kong: emphasis on the grass roots level’, Asian Survey, 15(5): 422–39. Kitzinger, J. (1998) ‘The gender-politics of news production: silenced voices and false memories’, in C. Carter, G. Branston and S. Allan (eds) News, Gender and Power, London: Routledge. Knach, S. and Keefer, P. (1995) ‘Institutions and economic performance: cross country tests using alternative institutional measures’, Economics and Policies, 7(3): 220–7. Koh, B.P. (1995) ‘Tear-filled rehearsals as stars tackle sequel to controversial hit play’, Straits Times, 13 September: L6. Koh, B.S. (1994) ‘Is the press really the devil that Mr Marshall makes it to be?’, Straits Times, 20 January: L4. Kohli, V. (2003) The Indian Media Business, New Delhi: Sage. Kompas (1998a) ‘113 Juta penduduk miskin Indonesia’ (113 million poor Indonesian citizens), 18 June: 8. —— (1998b) ‘Menaker: Serikat buruh boleh berdiri’ (Manpower minister: labour unions permitted to form), 26 May: 6. Korea Herald (2001) ‘IFJ congress and media reform’, 14 June. Available at http:// www.journalist.or.kr/ifjseoul/Korean/press_68.htm (accessed 16 October 2004). —— (2004a) ‘Rho’s media policy lacks consistency’, 26 February. —— (2004b) ‘Report accusing networks of bias sparks fiery debate’, 16 June. Korea Press Foundation (KPF) (1999) Newspaper Industry in South Korea (in Korean), Seoul: KPF. —— (2001) ‘The results of the 2001 tax audit’, Newspaper and Broadcasting (in Korean) 368: special brochure. —— (2002) The Korea Press 2002, Seoul: KPF. —— (2003a) Journalists in Korea 2003 (in Korean), Seoul: KPF. —— (2003b) The Korea Press 2003, Seoul: KPF. Korea Times (2004) ‘Court resumes procedure of Rho’s damage suit against newspapers’, 8 June. Korean Broadcasting Commission (KBC) (2004a) Press release (in Korean), Seoul, 1 July. —— (2004b) ‘Cable television industry in South Korea’, internal report, Seoul: KBC. Korean Broadcasting System (2001) KBS Annual Report (in Korean), Seoul: KBS. Korean Press Institute (1993a) Audience Survey – The Influence and Reliability of Media (in Korean), Seoul: KPI. —— (1993b) Korean Journalists’ Responsibility and Ethics (in Korean), Seoul: KPI. Korean Society for Journalism and Communication (2004) Content Analysis of TV Coverage of the President’s Impeachment (in Korean), Seoul: KSJC. Krauss, E.S. (2000) Broadcasting Politics in Japan, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Kuan, H.C. (1991) ‘Power dependence and democratic transition: the case of Hong Kong’, China Quarterly, 128: 773–93. Kuan, H.C. and Lau, S.K. (1989) ‘Mass media and politics in Hong Kong’, Media Asia, 16(4): 185–92, 222.

Bibliography

183

Kuhn, A. (2003) ‘Chinese learn true scope of SARS from the Internet’, USC Annenberg Online Journalism Review, 28 May. Available at http://www.ojr.org/ojr/world_reports/ 1053657288.php (accessed 25 May 2004). Kunczcik, M. (1988) Concepts of Journalism: North and South, Bonn: Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung. Kuo, E.C.Y., Choi, A., Mahizhnan, A., Lee, W.P. and Soh, C. (2002) Internet in Singapore: A Study on Usage and Impact, Singapore: Times Academic Press. Kurniawan, H. (2002) ‘Legislators, editors reject tax on reading materials’, Jakarta Post, 28 June: 1. Kwok, B (2003) ‘Outbreak brings about telecoms innovation’, South China Morning Post, 22 April. Lam, W.W. (2000) ‘China: state power versus the Internet’, in L. Williams and R. Rich (eds) Losing Control: Freedom of the Press in Asia, Australian National University, Canberra: Asia Pacific Press. —— (2003) ‘Lessons from China’s SARS debacle’, CNN, 21 April. Available at http:// www.cnn.com/2003/WORLD/asiapcf/east/04/21/willy.column/ (accessed 10 October 2004). Lamb, S. (1999) ‘Constructing the victim: popular images and lasting labels’, in S. Lamb (ed.) New Versions of Victims: Feminists Struggle with the Concept, New York: New York University Press. Langer, J. (1997) Tabloid Television: Popular Journalism and the ‘Other News’, London: Routledge. Latif, A. (1994) The Flogging of Singapore: The Michael Fay Affair, Singapore: Times. —— (1998) ‘The press in Asia: taking a stand’, in A. Latif (ed.) Walking the Tightrope: Press Freedom and Professional Standards in Asia, Singapore: AMIC. Lau, S.K (1982) Society and Politics in Hong Kong, Hong Kong: Chinese University Press. —— (1995) ‘Hong Kong’s path of democratization’, Swiss Asian Studies, 49(1): 71–90. Lau, S.K., Lee, M.K., Wan, P.S. and Wong, S.L. (eds) (2003) Indicators of Social Development: Hong Kong 2001, Hong Kong: Hong Kong Institute of Asia-Pacific Studies, Chinese University of Hong Kong. Lee, C.C. (1990) ‘Mass media: of China and about China’, in C.C. Lee (ed.) Voices of China: The Interplay of Politics and Journalism, New York: The Guilford Press. —— (1994) ‘Ambiguities and contradictions: issues in China’s changing political communication’, Gazette, 53: 7–21. —— (1998) ‘Press self-censorship and political transition in Hong Kong’, Harvard International Journal of Press/Politics, 3(2): 55–73. —— (2004) ‘The concept of Chinese journalists: ideological convergence and contestation’, Perspectives: Working papers in English and Communication, 16(1): 1–23. Lee, C.H. (2004) ‘Conservative-progressive conflict in Korea’, Korea Focus, 12(2): 53–76. Lee, C.W. (2003) ‘SPH: no plans to exit broadcasting’, Today Online, 6 December. Lee, E. (2003) ‘Officials from HK to visit hospitals in Guangzhou’, South China Morning Post, 2 April. Lee, F.L.F. (2002) ‘Radio phone-in talk shows as politically significant infotainment in Hong Kong’, Harvard International Journal of Press/Politics, 7(4): 57–79. Lee, H.L. (2004a) ‘Building a civic society’, speech by Deputy Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong at Singapore’s Harvard Club’s 35th Anniversary Dinner, 6 January (printed in the Straits Times Interactive, 7 January). —— (2004b) ‘Let’s shape our future together’, Prime Minister’s swearing-in speech, Singapore government media release, 12 August. Lee, K.Y. (1992) ‘Discipline versus democracy’, Far Eastern Economic Review, 10 December: 29.

184 Bibliography Lee, P. (2003) ‘Television, identity and civil society – the role of a non-controversial public space in Hong Kong’, in P. Kitley (ed.) Television, Regulation and Civil Society in Asia, London: RoutledgeCurzon. Lee, P. and Chu, L. (1998) ‘Inherent dependence on power: the Hong Kong press in political transition’, Media, Culture and Society, 20(1): 59–77. Lee, T. (2002a) ‘The politics of civil society in Singapore’, Asian Studies Review, 26(1): 91– 117. —— (2002b) ‘New regulatory politics and communication technologies in Singapore’, AsiaPacific MediaEducator, 12/13: 4–25. Lee, T. and Birch, D. (2000) ‘Internet regulation in Singapore: a policy/ing discourse’, Media International Australia Incorporating Culture and Policy, 95: 147–69. Lee, Y. (2004) ‘Let the evidence speak!’, Taiwan Perspective e-Paper, 35, 11 August, Institute for National Policy Research. Available at http://www.tp.org.tw/eletter/story.htm?id =20003355 (accessed 20 October 2004). Lees, S. (1995) ‘Media reporting of rape: the 1993 British “date rape” controversy’, in D. Kidd-Hewitt and R. Osborne (eds) Crime and the Media: The Post-modern Spectacle, London, CT: Pluto Press. Lent, J.A. (1976) ‘Malaysia and Singapore: media for national development for the development of national leaders’, in J.A. Lent (ed.) Guided Press in Southeast Asia: National Development versus Freedom of Expression, New York: State University of New York. —— (1977) ‘A Third World news deal? Part one: the guiding light’, Index on Censorship, 6(5): 17–26. —— (1979) Topics in Third World Mass Communication: Rural and Development Journalism, Cultural Imperialism, Research and Development, Hong Kong: Asian Research Service. Leo, P. and Lee, T. (2004) ‘The “new” Singapore: mediating culture and creativity’, Continuum: Journal of Media and Cultural Studies, 18(2): 205–18. Leong, C.T. (1991) ‘Looking out for aqua-perverts’, Sunday Times (Singapore), 16 June. Leong, L.W. (1997) ‘Singapore’, in Donald J. West and Richard Green (eds) Sociolegal Control of Homosexuality, New York: Plenum Press. Lerner, D. (1958) The Passing of Traditional Society, New York: Free Press. Lester, P.M. and Ross, S.D. (2003) Images that Injure: Pictorial Stereotypes in the Media, Westport: Praeger. Levett, C. (2004) ‘Pink pride of Lion City glows a patriotic red and white’, Sydney Morning Herald, 14 August: 19. Li, L. (1995) ‘Xinwen gaige 15 nian lai de huigu yu zhanwang’ (Reflection and projection of the 15-year journalism reforms), Xinwen Daxue (Journalism University), Spring: 3–8. Li, R. (1989) ‘Zai quanguo shenbao zhubian huiyi shang de jianghua’ (An address at the national conference of provincial newspaper chief editors), cited in H. Fang and Z. Zhang Zhongguo xinwenshiye jianshi (A Brief History of Chinese Journalism), 2nd edn, Beijing: Chinese People’s University Press. Liang, H. (1992) ‘Lun baozhi zouxiang shichang’ (On newspapers getting into the market), Xinwen Jizhe (Reporters), December: 10–13. Liberation Daily (2003) ‘Eastday.com introduces free SMS for authoritative ATP information’, 24 April. Lim, A. (2001) ‘Teen abused 6-year-old boy sexually’, Straits Times, 11 September: H4. —— (2002) ‘The act: “I’m a cop” . . . The victims: 31 girls . . .’ Straits Times, 27 April. Lim, C. (1994) ‘One government, two styles’, Sunday Times (Singapore), 20 November: 12. Lim, L. and Wong, K. (2004) ‘New competition law – will it be a fair game?’, Straits Times Interactive, 12 June.

Bibliography

185

Liu, A.P.L. (1971) Communication and National Integration in Communist China, Berkeley: University of California Press. Lo, J. and Huang, G. (eds) (2003) People Like Us: Sexual Minorities in Singapore, Singapore: Select Publishing. Loo, E. (1995) ‘Teaching community service reporting values as an identifiable component of Asian-centred journalism’, paper presented at AMIC Asian Values in Journalism Conference, Kuala Lumpur, 24–25 August. —— (1996) ‘Value formation in journalism education in Asia’, in M. Masterton (ed.) Asian Values in Journalism, Singapore: AMIC. Lowe, V. (1987) Dependency Within Bounds: Media and Information Technologies Within the ASEAN Region, Bangkok: Chulalongkorn University. Lu, Y. and Xia, N. (2002) WTO beijing xia de zhongguo guangdian ye shichang chongzu: Yi shengji guangdian jituan weili (The Reconfiguration of China’s Broadcasting Market in the Background of WTO: The Case of a Provincial Broadcasting Group), Media Academic Net. Available at http://academic.mediachina.net/lw_view.jsp?id=358 (accessed 10 May 2002). Ma, J. and staff reporters (2003) ‘Party leaders in emergency talks on Sars’, South China Morning Post, 18 April. McChesney, R. (1999) Rich Media, Poor Democracy – Communication Politics in Dubious Times, Urbana: University of Illinois Press. McCormack, G. (2003) ‘Okinawa and the structure of dependence’, in G.D. Hook and R. Siddle (eds) Japan and Okinawa: Structure and Subjectivity, New York: Routledge. McGregor, R. (2003) ‘Former Chinese propaganda chief moves to control liberal newspaper; crackdown on media’, Financial Times, 5 May. McHenry, F.A. (1941) ‘A note on homosexuality, crime and the newspapers’, Criminal Psychopathology 2(4): 533–48. MacLachlan, E.N. (2000) National Television News in Japan: A Production Study, New York: Columbia University. McNicol, T. (2004) Covering Japan’s Royals, Japan Media Review. Available at http:// www.ojr.org/japan/search/index.php (accessed 6 October 2004). McQuail, D. (1987) Mass Communication Theory: An Introduction, 2nd edn, London: Sage. Mahathir, M. (1985) ‘A prescription for a socially responsible press’, Media Asia, 12 (4): 212–15. Mai, L.C. (2002) ‘Company size, operational type, ownership structure and business strategy: an analysis of Taiwanese satellite channel companies’, in R. Picard (ed.) Media Firm: Structure, Operation and Performances, Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Maltese, J.A. (1992) ‘Spin control: the White House office of communications and the management of presidential news’, Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. March, J. and Simon, H. (1958) Organizations, New York: John Wiley. Marpaung, A. (1983) ‘Antara – between Indonesia and the world’, Media Asia, 10(1): 27–30. Marston, J. (1996) ‘Cambodian news media in the UNTAC period and after’, in S. Heder and J. Ledgerwood (eds) Propaganda, Politics, and Violence in Cambodia, Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe. —— (1999) ‘Cambodian news media’, in D. Kingsbury, E. Loo and P. Payne (eds) Foreign Devils and Other Journalists, Clayton: Monash Asia Institute. Mauricio, L.R. (1985) ‘Freedom of the press: the Philippine experience’, in A. Razak (ed.) Press Laws and Systems in Asean States, Jakarta: Confederation of ASEAN Journalists. Mauro, P. (1995) ‘Corruption and growth’, Quarterly Journal of Economics, 110(3): 681–712.

186 Bibliography Mazzarella, W. (2003) Shoveling Smoke: Advertising and Globalization in Contemporary India, Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Media Today (1996) ‘Broadcast on NHK’, 26 January. —— (2002) ‘Measures to control broadcasting?’, 5 September. —— (2004) ‘Silence on media’, 9 June. Mehra, A. (1989) ‘Introduction’, in Press Systems in Asean States, Singapore: AMIC. Melkote, S. (1991) Communication for Development in the Third World: Theory and Practice, New Delhi: Sage. Melkote, S., Shields, P. and Agrawal, B.C. (eds) (1998) International Satellite Broadcasting in South Asia – Political, Economic and Cultural Implications, Lanham, MD: University Press of America. Ming Pao (2003a) ‘Patient travel record kept secret to avoid finger pointing of mainland: Yeoh’, 21 March. —— (2003b) ‘Top government instruction: face the media daily’, 8 April. The Mirror (2004) ‘Implementing the rectangular strategy’, 19–25 September, 8/387: 1. MITA (1992) Censorship Review Committee Report 1992, Singapore: Ministry of Information and the Arts. —— (2000) Renaissance City Report: Culture and the Arts in Renaissance Singapore, Singapore: Ministry of Information and the Arts. —— (2003) Censorship Review Committee Report 2003, Singapore: Ministry of Information and the Arts. Molotch, H. and Lester, M. (1974) ‘News as purposive behavior: The strategic use of routine events, accidents and scandals’, American Sociological Review, 39: 101–12. —— (1975) ‘Accidental news: the great oil spill as local occurrence and national event’, American Journal of Sociology, 81(2): 235–60. —— (1981) ‘News as purposive behaviour: on the strategic use of routine events, accidents and scandals’, in S. Cohen and J. Young (eds) The Manufacture of News, 2nd edn, London: Constable: 118–37. Mongkonsiri, S. (2003) ‘Thailand’, in M. Rao (ed.) News Media and New Media: The AsiaPacific Internet Handbook, vol. V, Singapore: Eastern Universities Press. Moritz, M. (1992) ‘How US news media represent sexual minorities’, in P. Dahlgreen and C. Sparks (eds) Journalism and Popular Culture, London: Sage. —— (1996) ‘Reframing gay and lesbian media images’, in P.M. Lester (ed.) Images that Injure: Pictorial Stereotypes in the Media, Westport: Praeger. Morrison, D. (1991) Television and the Gulf War, London: John Libby Press. MPA (2003) MPA Releases Taiwan Cable Report, 23 June, Hong Kong: Media Partners Asia Ltd. —— (2004) Asia Pacific Cable and Satellite Markets 2004, Hong Kong: Media Partners Asia Ltd. Mulgan, A.G. (2000) ‘Managing the US base issue in Okinawa: a test for Japanese democracy’, Japan Studies, 20: 159–77. Murakami, S. (2001) The Japanese Press 2001, Tokyo: Nihon Shinbun Kyokai. Murdoch, R. (1993) ‘The consumer is in the saddle, driving the telecommunications industry’, The Times, 2 September. Mydans, S. (2000) ‘Indonesia’s presidential flash in the pan’, New York Times, 28 May: 3. Nardi, P.M. (2000) ‘Media’, in George Haggerty (ed.) Gay Histories and Cultures: An Encyclopaedia, New York: Garland. National Condition Investigation Research Group (2002) WTO yu zhongguo chuanmeye (WTO and China’s media industries). Available at http://academic.mediachina.net/ xsjd_view.jsp?id=390 (accessed 9 July 2004).

Bibliography

187

Negishi, M. (2000) ‘Amerasian kids get short shrift in divorce capital of Japan’, Japan Times, 20 July. Negrine, R. (1996) The Communication of Politics, London: Sage. New Express (2003a) ‘Heyuan people snapping up antibiotics in Guangzhou’, 5 January. —— (2003b) ‘Pneumonia of unknown cause attacks Zhongshan; experts say nothing to fear’, 17 January. —— (2003c) ‘Six big rumours fuel panic buying’, 14 February. —— (2003d) ‘Health Minister Zhang: Guangdong disease under effective control’, 20 March. Ninan, S. (2003) ‘Changing journalism’, The Hindu, 2 March. Available at http:// www.hinduonnet.com. —— (2004) ‘Overdose’, The Hindu, 23 May. Available at http://www.hinduonnet.com. Nip, J. (1998a) ‘Clash and compatibility of journalistic cultures: mainland China and Hong Kong’, in D.R. Heisey and W. Gong (eds) Communication and Culture: China and the World Entering the 21st Century, Amsterdam/Atlanta, GA: Editions Rodopi B.V.: 83–102. —— (1998b) ‘Shifting political power and news sources: the case in Hong Kong’s political transition’, Asia-Pacific MediaEducator, 3: 49–69. Niven, D. (2003) ‘Partisan bias in the media? A new test’, Social Science Quarterly, 80: 847–58. Nomura, T. (2002) ‘The press in Japan: job security versus journalistic mission’, in J. Atkins (ed.) The Mission: Journalism, Ethics and the World, Boise: Iowa State University Press. Nordenstreng, K. and Varis, T. (1973) ‘The non-homogeneity of the national state and the international flow of communication’, in G. Gerbner, L. Gross and W. Melody (eds) Communications Technology and Social Policy, New York: John Wiley. North, D.C. (1990) Institutions, Institutional Change and Economic Performance, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Oba, M. and Takada, K. (1994) ‘Sexual wars in the fourth estate’, Asahi Evening News, 9 February: 9. Observer (2003) ‘The gay team’, The Observer, 26 October. Oetama, J. (1989) ‘The press and society’, in A. Mehra (ed.) Press Systems in ASEAN States, Singapore: AMIC. Offord, B. (2003) Homosexual Rights as Human Rights: Activism in Indonesia, Singapore and Australia, Oxford: Peter Lang. Ogan, C.L. (1982) ‘Development journalism/communication: the status of the concept’, Gazette 29: 3–13. Ong, W. (1993) ‘Decriminalising homosexuality’, Commentary, 1(1): 114–19. Oon, C. (2000) ‘Femme fare slowly but surely takes centrestage’, Straits Times, 29 September: L11. —— (2001) ‘Human drama with all the write ingredients’, Straits Times, 20 August: L3. —— (2003a) ‘Bent on baring the truth’, Straits Times (Life section), 4 June. —— (2003b) ‘Love conquers all’, Straits Times, 28 July: L5. —— (2003c) ‘A beautiful move’, Straits Times, 6 October: L8. —— (2004a) ‘Finding love on the pink map’, Straits Times, 2 February: L5. —— (2004b) ‘These boys get serious’, Straits Times, 9 February: L7. Ota, M. (1996) ‘I’m an amateur politician’, in T. Barrett and R. Tanaka (eds) Okinawa Dreams OK, Berlin: Die Gestalten Verlag. Page, B. (2003) The Murdoch Archipelago, London: Simon and Schuster. Page, D. and Crawley, W. (2001) Satellites over South Asia – Broadcasting, Culture and the Public Interest, New Delhi: Sage.

188 Bibliography Palmer, J. (2000) Spinning into Control: News Values and Source Strategies, London: Leicester University Press. Pamuji, H. (2002) ‘Sumber pengisi kocek’ (The source that fills the pockets), Gatra, 9 September. Available at http://www.gatra.com/2002-09-09/majalah/artikel.php?pil= 23&id=38783 (accessed 10 October 2004). Pamuji, H., Pratisto, S.D. and Mala, A.K. (2002) ‘Perlawanan orang-orang tergusur’ (Opposition of rejected people), Gatra, 9 September. Available at http://www.gatra.com/ 2002-09-09/majalah/artikel.php?pil=23&id=38783 (accessed 10 October 2004). Pan, Z. (1996) ‘Zhongguo dalu xinwen gaige guocheng zhong de xiangzheng zhi ziyuan tihuan xingtai’ (Alternative symbolic resources and their patterns in Mainland China’s journalism reforms), Xinwenxue Yanjiu (Mass Communication Research), 54: 113–39. —— (1997) ‘Woguo xinwen gaige zhong de tizhi chonggou’ (Institutional reconfiguration in China’s journalism reforms), Xinwen yu Chuanbo Yanjiu (Journalism and Communication Research), 3: 62–80. —— (2000a) ‘Spatial configuration in institutional change: the case of China’s journalism reforms’, Journalism: Theory, Practice and Criticism, 1(3): 253–81. —— (2000b). ‘Improvising reform activities: interpreting China’s journalism reforms’, in C.C. Lee (ed.) Power, Money, and Media: Communication Patterns in Cultural China, Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press. Pan, Z. and Chan, J.M. (2000) ‘Building a market-based party organ: television and national integration in the People’s Republic of China’, in D. French and M. Richards (eds) Television in Asia, New Delhi: Sage. —— (2003) ‘Shifting journalistic paradigms: how China’s journalists assess “media exemplars”’, Communication Research, 30: 649–82. Pan, Z., Chan, J.M., Lee, C.C. and So, C.Y.K. (2001) ‘Orchestrating the family-nation chorus: the Chinese media and nationalism in the Hong Kong handover’, Mass Communication and Society, 4: 331–47. Pan, Z. and Lu, Y. (2003) ‘Localizing professionalism: discursive practices in China’s media reforms’, in C.C. Lee (ed.) Chinese Media, Global Context, London: Routledge. Pearce, F. (1973) ‘How to be immoral and ill, dangerous and pathetic, all at the same time: mass media and homosexuality’, in S. Cohen and J. Young (eds) The Manufacture of News, London: Constable. Pendakur, M. and Kapur, J. (1997) ‘Think globally, program locally: privatisation of Indian national television’, in M. Bailie and D. Winseck (eds) Democratising Communication? Comparative Perspectives on Information and Power, Cresskill, NJ: Hampton Press. People’s Daily (2003) ‘WHO satisfied with China’s cooperation in ATP control; holds consistent stance over Taiwan’, 24 April. People’s Daily Eastern Edition (2003) ‘Who needs the most rethinking?’, 21 February. Petersen, N. (1992) ‘Asian news values: changes and challenges’, Media Asia, 19(4): 183–90. Peterson, W. (2001) Theater and the Politics of Culture in Contemporary Singapore, Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press. Pin, S. (2003) ‘Cambodia’, in M. Rao (ed.) News Media and New Media: The Asia-Pacific Internet Handbook, vol. V, Singapore: Eastern Universities Press. Plummer, K. (1995) Telling Sexual Stories: Power, Change, and Social Worlds, London: Routledge. —— (2003) Intimate Citizenship: Private Decisions and Public Dialogues, Seattle: University of Washington Press. Polumbaum, J. (1990) ‘The tribulations of China’s journalists after a decade of reform’, in C.C. Lee (ed.) Voices of China: The Interplay of Politics and Journalism, New York: Guilford Press.

Bibliography

189

—— (1994) ‘Striving for predictability: the bureaucratization of media management in China’, in C.C. Lee (ed.) China’s Media, Media’s China, Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Pomfret, J. (2003) ‘Outbreak gave China’s Hu an opening’, Washington Post, 13 May. Ponteñila, R. (1990) ‘Development communication and total human development’, in F. Imperial-Soledad (ed.) Monograph on Development Communication, Manila: Communication Foundation for Asia Media Group. Pratap, A. (2004) ‘TV and the non-sensex’, Outlook, 21 June. Available at http:// www.outlookindia.com. Price, M.E. and Verhulst, S.G. (eds) (1998) Broadcasting Reform in India: A Case Study in the Uses of Comparative Media Law, New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Pudjomartono, S. (1998) ‘Indonesia’, in A. Latif (ed.) Walking the Tightrope: Press Freedom and Professional Standards in Asia, Singapore: AMIC. Pye, L.W. (ed.) (1963) Communications and Political Development, Princeton: Princeton University Press. Qi, S. (ed.) (2004) Zhongguo wenhua chanye guoji jingzhengli baogao (Report on the International Competitiveness of China’s Cultural Industry), Beijing: Social Science Documentation Publishing House. Radio TV Hong Kong (2003a) ‘Speaking from 1928: special edition of 75 years of broadcasting in Hong Kong’, Hong Kong: Radio TV Hong Kong (in Chinese). —— (2003b) ‘Citizens’ assessment of media coverage of SARS’, survey commissioned by the RTHK’s Media Digest, conducted 20–22 May by the Asia-Pacific Research Centre of the Chinese University of Hong Kong. Ram City Evening News (2003a) ‘News of unknown disease caused Heyuan citizens’ panic buying of antibiotics’, 3 January. —— (2003b) ‘Zhongshan plagued by infectious disease, according to rumour’, 19 January. —— (2003c) ‘Guangdong found atypical pneumonia cases; experts alert public of preventive measures’, 10 February. —— (2003d) ‘Guangdong atypical pneumonia under initial control’, 11 February. —— (2003e) ‘Rethinking two big issues. Communication topic – rumours stop at rationality and trust’, 15 February. —— (2003f) ‘Beneficial communication counteracts crisis’, 18 February. —— (2003g) ‘Performance of Ram City Evening News in ATP’, 24 February. —— (2003h) ‘Guangdong atypical pneumonia under effective control’, 20 March. Ram, N. (1990) ‘An independent press and anti-hunger strategies: the Indian experience’, in J. Dreze and A. Sen (eds) The Political Economy of Hunger, vol. 1, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Randall, R. (1989) Freedom and Taboo, Berkeley: University of California Press. Rao, M. (2003) ‘India’, in M. Rao (ed.) News Media and New Media: The Asia-Pacific Internet Handbook, Singapore: Eastern Universities Press. Rau, M.C. (1974) The Press, New Delhi: National Book Trust. Rawnsley, G. (2004) ‘The day after the night before: thoughts on the 2004 presidential election in Taiwan’, Taiwan Perspective e-Paper, 19, 12 April, Institute for National Policy Research. Available at http://www.tp.org.tw/eletter/story.htm?id=20000708 (accessed 20 October 2004). Reddy, R.C. (2004) ‘The great media let-down’, The Hindu, 23 May. Available at http:// www.hinduonnet.com. Reeves, R. (1997) ‘The question of media bias’, in S. Iyengar and R. Reeves (eds) Do the Media Govern? Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Reporters Without Borders (2003) Second World Press Freedom Ranking (October). Available at http://www.rsf.org/article.php3?id_article=8247 (accessed 20 October 2004).

190 Bibliography Rich, R. (2000) ‘Brunei, Burma, Cambodia, Laos, Mongolia’, in R. Rich and L. Williams (eds) Losing Control: Freedom of the Press in Asia, Canberra: Asia Pacific Press. Richstad, J. (1998) ‘Asian values and transnational television: the battle in the sky for markets and cultures’, in A. Goonasekra and P.S.N. Lee (eds) TV Without Borders: Asia Speaks Out, Singapore: AMIC. Righter, R. (1978) Whose News? Politics, the Press and the Third World, London: André Deutsch. Ritonga, R. (2001) ‘Pers dan integrasi nasional’ (The press and national integration), unpublished Masters thesis, University of Indonesia, Jakarta. Robertson, J. (1999) ‘Dying to tell: sexuality and suicide in imperial Japan’, Signs, 25(1) (autumn): 1–36. Rodan, G. (2001) ‘Singapore tightens grip’, The West Australian, 30 June: 26. Rogers, E.M. (1976) ‘Communication and development: the passing of a dominant paradigm’, Communication Research, 3(2): 213–40. —— (1993) ‘Perspectives on development communication’, in K. Sadanandan Nair and S. White (eds) Perspectives on Development Communication, New Delhi: Sage. Romano, A. (1996) ‘The open wound: Keterbukaan and press freedom in Indonesia’, Australian Journal of International Affairs, 50(2): 157–69. —— (2003) Politics and the Press in Indonesia: Understanding an Evolving Political Culture, London: RoutledgeCurzon. Rosenthal, E. and Altman, L.K. (2003) ‘A respiratory disease: the disease; Beijing’s total of infected is revised up, to over 50’, New York Times, 4 April. Rostow, W.W. (1960) The Stages of Economic Growth, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sainath, P. (2004a) ‘The feel good factory’, Frontline, 21(5). Available at http://www. flonnet.com/fl2105/stories/20040312007800400.htm (accessed 15 October 2004). —— (2004b) ‘McMedia and market jihad’, The Hindu, 2 June. Available at http://www. hinduonnet.com. Salam, Z. (2004) ‘Focus on “real” India’, The Hindu, 2 July. Available at http://www. hinduonnet.com. Sanderson, T. (1989) ‘Gays and the press’, in S. Shepherd and M. Wallis (eds) Coming On Strong: Gay Politics and Culture, London: Unwin and Hyman. Sarkar, P.P. (2003) ‘Bangladesh’, in M. Rao (ed.) News Media and New Media: The Asia-Pacific Internet Handbook, vol. V, Singapore: Eastern Universities Press. Satellite and Cable TV (2004) ‘A flood of news channels soon’, Satellite and Cable TV (Mumbai), June. Available at http://www.scatmag.com. Sautedé, E. (2003) ‘The snares of modernity: Internet, information and the SARS crisis in China’, China Perspectives, 47 (March–April): 10–16. Schlesinger, P. and Tumber, H. (1994) Reporting Crime: The Media Politics of Criminal Justice, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Schramm, W. (1964) Mass Media and National Development, Stanford: Stanford University Press. Schwartz, B.I. (1964) In Search of Wealth and Power: Yen Fu and the West, New York: Harper. Schwartz, F. (1998) Advice and Consent, New York: Cambridge University Press. Schwarz, A. (1999) A Nation in Waiting: Indonesia’s Search for Stability, St Leonards: Allen and Unwin. Scott, J.C. (1990) Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Seligman, A. (1973) ‘Reporting the news: an organizational analysis’, American Journal of Sociology, 79: 132–51.

Bibliography

191

—— (1993) ‘The fragile ethical vision of civil society’, in B. Turner (ed.) Citizenship and Social Theory, London: Sage. Sen, A. (1999), Development as Freedom, New York, Random House. —— (2003) ‘Democracy and its global roots’, The New Republic, 6 October: 28–35. Seow, F. (1998) The Media Enthralled: Singapore Revisited, Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner. Seymour-Ure, C. (1996) The British Press and Broadcasting Since 1945, 2nd edn, Oxford: Blackwell. Shafer, R. (1994) ‘Women’s page editors as agents of political change’, Media Asia 21(1): 21–31. Shah, H. (1996) ‘Modernization, marginalization and emancipation: toward a normative model of journalism and national development’, Communication Theory 6(2): 143–66. Shen, S.M. (2003) ‘Methodological and technical details of the survey’, in S.K. Lau et al. (eds) Indicators of Social Development: Hong Kong 2001, Hong Kong Institute of Asia-Pacific Studies, Chinese University of Hong Kong. Shils, E. (1975) Center and Periphery: Essays in Nacrosociology, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Shima, K. (1995) Funroku: Hodo to Kenryoku – 40 nen (Threatened Records: 40 Years of Reporting and Power), Tokyo: Bungei Shunju. Sigal, L.V. (1973) Reporters and Officials: The Organization and Politics of Newsmaking, Lexington, MA: D.C. Heath. Simon, E. (2004) ‘Digital cameras are changing how Iraq is perceived’, Associated Press, 7 May. Sinaga, E.J. (1989) ‘Indonesia’, in A. Mehra (ed.) Press Systems in Asean States, Singapore: AMIC. Singhal, A. and Rogers, E.M. (2001) India’s Communication Revolution: From Bullock Carts to Cyber Marts, New Delhi: Sage. Siriwardena, I. and Gunawardena, N.D. (2003) ‘Sri Lanka’, in M. Rao (ed.) News Media and New Media: The Asia-Pacific Internet Handbook, vol. V, Singapore: Eastern Universities Press. Sivakkumaran, G. (2001) ‘Founder ready to shut down Sintercom website’, Straits Times Interactive, 16 August. Skidmore, P. (1998) ‘Gender and the agenda: news reporting of child sexual abuse’, in C. Carter, G. Branston and S. Allan (eds) News, Gender and Power, London: Routledge. Smith, S.A. (2001) ‘A place apart: Okinawa and Japan’s postwar peace’, in A. Iriye and R.A. Wampler (eds) Partnership: The United States and Japan 1951–2001, New York: Kodansha International. Snijders, M.L. (1994) ‘Communication ethics in a changing Asia’, Media Asia, 21(3): 167–9. So, A.Y. (1999) Hong Kong’s Embattled Democracy: A Societal Analysis, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. So, C.Y.K. and Chan, J.C. (1999) ‘Research on press and politics in Hong Kong: an overview’, in Clement Y.K. So and J.M. Chan (eds) Press and Politics in Hong Kong: Case Studies from 1967 to 1997, Hong Kong: Hong Kong Institute of Asia-Pacific Studies, Chinese University of Hong Kong. So, C.Y.K., Chan, J.M. and Lee, C. (2000) ‘Hong Kong SAR (China)’, in S.A. Gunaratne (ed.) Handbook of the Media in Asia, New Delhi: Sage. Soeharto (1989) ‘Role of the press in national development’, in A. Mehra (ed.) Press Systems in Asean States, Singapore: AMIC. Sohn, H. (2004) ‘Conceptual issues and peculiarities of Korean democracy’, Korea Focus 12(1): 47–70.

192 Bibliography Sonwalkar, P. (2002) ‘Murdochization of the Indian press: from by-line to bottom line’, Media, Culture and Society, 24(6): 821–34. sosick.org (2003) ‘Timeline’. Available at http://www.sosick.org/timeline.html#english (accessed 17 October 2004). South Nation Morning Post (2003) ‘Rumour more ferocious than virus: the tale of rumour mongering on ATP in Guangdong’, 13 February. Sparks, C. (1998) ‘Is there a global public sphere?’, in D.K. Thussu (ed.) Electronic Empires – Global Media and Local Resistance, London: Arnold. Sparks, C. and Tulloch, J. (eds) (2000) Tabloid Tales – Global Debates over Media Standards, Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. Spring City Evening News (2003) ‘Guangzhou resumes unstoppable energy after 7-day rest’, 14 February. Stapenhurst, R. (2000) The Media’s Role in Curbing Corruption, Washington: World Bank Institute. Steiner, L. (1998) ‘Newsroom accounts of power at work’, in C. Carter, G. Branston and S. Allan (eds) News, Gender and Power, London: Routledge. Stevenson, R.L. (1994) Global Communication in the Twenty-First Century, New York: Longman. Straits Times (1978) ‘Accused of having sex with boys’, 17 October. —— (1988) ‘12 punished for rape or molest of minors’, 20 October. —— (1989) ‘Company director jailed for indecent acts on 2 teenage boys’, 19 September. —— (1991a) ‘Jail and caning for man who molested two boys’, 28 April. —— (1991b) ‘2 men caught for indecent act’, 27 June. —— (1991c) ‘Man molested boy who was dozing on bus’, 19 July. —— (1991d) ‘Sexual attacks on boys: counsellors seeing more cases’, 21 July. —— (1991e) ‘Technician gets jail for posing in the nude with 13-year-old boy’, 5 September. —— (1991f) ‘Jailed for sex through toilet wall hole’, 11 August. —— (1992a) ‘2 men jailed for indecent act’, 28 January. —— (1992b) ‘Car-washer molested boy’, 9 March. —— (1992c) ‘More male victims of physical, sexual abuse’, 21 May: 21. —— (1992d) ‘Unnatural sex with son’s friend: man loses court appeal’, 10 July. —— (1993a) ‘Youth molested schoolboys’, 16 July. —— (1993b) Man rubbed against boys’, 17 August. —— (1993c) ‘Indecent act: man jailed’, 9 September. —— (1993d) ‘2 jailed for indecent act in pool’, 30 September. —— (1993e) ‘Exposed himself to 3 boys’, 10 December. —— (1994a) ‘Anti-gay operation at Tanjong Rhu’, 15 February. —— (1994b) ‘Pervert jailed 20 years for sex attack on boy’, 5 April. —— (1994c) ‘Victim’s gender matters, so molester’s sentence reduced’, 7 April. —— (1994d) ‘Two did indecent act in toilet’, 30 April. —— (1994e) ‘“Sex offer” man fined’, 25 May. —— (1994f) ‘Plumber gets six months jail for indecent act on boy’, 31 May. —— (1994g) ‘Guard caught two men performing indecent act’, 1 June. —— (1994h) ‘Annoying pool act’, 1 June. —— (1994i) ‘Man did indecent act’, 15 June. —— (1994j) ‘Convicted of gross indecency’, 19 June. —— (1994k) ‘Tourist molested boy and cheated woman’, 29 June. —— (1994l) ‘Man molested youth in changing room’, 1 October. —— (1994m) ‘3 charged with indecent act’, 1 October. —— (1994n) ‘Ex-technician jailed for indecent acts on two boys’, 24 December.

Bibliography

193

—— (1995a) ‘This man posed as police officer and molested five schoolboys’, 7 June. —— (1995b) ‘20 years, 24 strokes for molesting boys’, 24 June. —— (1995c) ‘Man who molested schoolboy gets 32 months’ jail, caning’, 27 August. —— (1997a) ‘Schoolbus attendant, 68, molested boys’, 27 June: H61. —— (1997b) ‘Athletics coach molested boys who trained under him’, 28 October: 2. —— (1998a) ‘Jailed for 18 months for molesting boys’, 27 May: H40. —— (1998b) ‘Jobless man molested boy and woman’, 14 June: H27. —— (1998c) ‘Man gets jail and caning’, 13 August: H41. —— (1999) ‘Sex offender locked away for seven years’, 19 December: H33. —— (2001) ‘Warden molested boys under his care’, 16 October: H11. —— (2002a) ‘Woman on trial for setting flat on fire’, 11 June: H4. —— (2002b) ‘Friend received “$200,000 in gifts”’, 12 June: H4. —— (2002c) ‘Accused fire-starter says she was coaxed to confess’, 13 June: H4. —— (2002d) ‘Woman denies setting fire to flat’, 24 September: H2. —— (2002e) ‘5 years’ jail for setting fire to friend’s flat’, 28 September: H10. —— (2002f) ‘Man jailed for sexual abuse of boy’, 29 October. —— (2002g) ‘Episode Nine gets killed’, 31 October. —— (2003a) ‘Gay marriages pose threat to society: Vatican’, 2 August: 16. —— (2003b) ‘Homosexuality: the new rage in local theatres?’ (advertisement), 4 August: A15. —— (2004a) ‘Man accused of trying to remove boy’s trousers’, 19 February. —— (2004b) ‘So, what now? Remaking Singapore’, 16 April: H3. Straits Times Interactive (2003) ‘Talking cock and talking about taboo’, 28 September. —— (2004) ‘Netizens: in Singapore’, 24 January. Su, M. (2004) Zhongyang queding 8 jia baozhi gaige shidian, guanyuan shengchen juxian zai jingying lingyu (The central authority designates eight papers for reform experiments, official says the experiment is limited to management). Available at http://www.chinanews. com.cn/ news/2004year/2004-08-03/26/467286.shtml (accessed 20 September 2004). Sukardi, G. (2000) ‘Change of guard at “Antara”’, Jakarta Post, 22 March. Sun, Y. (2003) Shinian: Cong gaibian dianshi de yutai kaishi (Ten Years: Starting from Changing Mode of TV Narrative), Beijing: Sanlian Shudian Press. Sunindyo, S. (2004) ‘Murder, gender and the media: sexualizing politics and violence’, in C. Carter and L. Steiner (eds) Critical Readings: Media and Gender, Maidenhead, UK: Open University. Sussman, L.R. (1978) ‘Development journalism: the ideological factor’, in P.C. Horton (ed.) The Third World and Press Freedom, New York: Praeger. Szende, A. (1986) From Torrent to Trickle: Managing the Flow of News in Southeast Asia, Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. Taipei Times (2004) ‘Socially conservative Singapore bans popular gay-oriented Taiwanese film’, Taipei Times, 23 July: 4. Tan, J. (2000) ‘Net and bush fantasies on stage’, Straits Times, 11 October: L5. Tan, T.H. (2001) ‘Sintercom founder fades out of cyberspace’, Straits Times Interactive, 22 August. —— (2003) ‘Virtual coffee shop talk, or a force to be reckoned with?’, Straits Times, 4 October: 15. Tan, T.H., Chia, S. and Lee, R. (2004) ‘Of OB markers and growing open spaces’, Straits Times, 10 January: H12. Tan, T.L. (1990) The Singapore Press: Freedom, Responsibility and Credibility, Occasional Paper no. 3, Institute of Policy Studies, Singapore: Times Academic Press.

194 Bibliography Teo, L. (2004) ‘PM Lee: No U-turn in opening up of media’, Sunday Times (Singapore), 19 September: 8. Teo, P.L. (2003) ‘Deception at the reception’, Straits Times, 18 August: L3. Thayer, N. (1975) ‘Competition and conformity: an inquiry into the structure of Japanese newspapers’, in E. Vogel (ed.) Modern Japanese Organization and Decision-Making, Berkeley: University of California Press. Thelen, K. (1999) ‘Historical institutionalism in comparative politics’, Annual Review of Political Science, 2: 369–404. This Evening Post (2003) ‘WHO latest figure: global ATP patients totalled 4,288; Bulgaria found first suspected case’, 25 April. Thomas, P. (2002) ‘Beyond the pale: poverty in an ear of cutting edge communication’, Media Development, 2. Available at http://www.wacc.org.uk/publications/md/md2002-2/ thomas_poverty.html (accessed 27 March 2003). Thompson, J. (1967) Organizations in Action, New York: McGraw-Hill. Thussu, D.K. (1998) ‘Localising the global – Zee TV in India’, in D.K. Thussu (ed.) Electronic Empires – Global Media and Local Resistance, London: Arnold. —— (2000) International Communication – Continuity and Change, London: Arnold. Tiffen, R. (1989) News and Power, Sydney: Allen and Unwin. Time (2004) ‘Who owns the truth?’, 27 September. Transforming Asia’s Media Landscape (2004). Available at http://www.startv.com/eng/ frame_aboutus.cfm (accessed 13 October). Tsou, T. (2000) ‘Interpreting the revolution in China’, Modern China, 26: 205–38. Tuchman, G. (1977) ‘The exception proves the rule: the study of routine news practices’, in P. Hirsch, P. Miller and G. Kline (eds) Strategies for Communication Research, Beverly Hills: Sage. —— (1978) Making news: a study in the construction of reality, New York: The Free Press. Tulloch, J. (1993) ‘Policing the public sphere: the British machinery of news management’, Media, Culture and Society, 15 (July): 363–84. Tunstall, J. (1971) Journalists at Work, London: Constable. —— (1996) Newspaper Power: The National Press in Britain, Oxford: Oxford University Press. UNESCO (1994) Report for the Ministry of Information on the Results of the Program of Cooperation with UNESCO in the 12 Months from November 1993, Phnom Penh: UNESCO. UNESCO Office for Cambodia (1993) UNESCO in Cambodia, 1951–1993, Phnom Penh: UNESCO. United Nations Development Program (1998) Integrating Human Rights with Sustainable Human Development: A UNDP Policy Document, New York: UNDP. Available at http:// magnet.undp.org/Docs/policy5.html#Annex%203 (accessed 10 October 2004). Unnikrishnan, C. (2003) Glamourization of news, Screen, 18 April. Available at http:// www.screenindia.com. Upadhaya, G.R. (2003) ‘Nepal’, in M. Rao (ed.) News Media and New Media: The Asia-Pacific Internet Handbook, vol. V, Singapore: Eastern Universities Press. Van Zoonen, L. (1998) ‘One of the girls? The changing gender of journalism’, in C. Carter, G. Branston and S. Allan (eds) News, Gender and Power, London: Routledge. Vasoo, S. (2001) ‘Grappling with the reins of free speech’, Straits Times, 23 February: H5. Walters, S.D. (2001) All the Rage: The Story of Gay Visibility in America, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Wang, P. (2002) WTO yu zhongguo meitiye qiantu (WTO and the Prospect of China’s Media Industries). Available at http://academic.mediachina.net/xsjd_view.jsp?id=389 (accessed 9 July 2004).

Bibliography

195

Wang, Y. (2004) ‘Taiwan’s democratization and cross-strait security’, Orbis, spring: 293–304. Watson, A. (1992) ‘Introduction’, in A. Watson (ed.) Economic Reform and Social Change in China, London: Routledge. Wee, J. (2000) ‘Tragic tale of a gay son’, Straits Times, 24 June: L10. Wei, S. and Sievers, S.E. (1999) ‘The cost of crony capitalism’, Straits Times, 4 July: 32–3. Wei, Y. (2001) ‘Zhongguo chuanmei liyong waizi hefaxing yanjiu’ (A study on the legality of China’s media using foreign capitals), Xinwen yu Chuanbo Yanjiu (Journalism and Communication Research, 2. Available at http://academic.mediachina.net/lw_view. jsp?id=782 (accessed 20 July 2004). Weir, M. (1992) ‘Ideas and the politics of bounded innovation’, in S. Steinmo, K. Thelen, and F. Longstreth (eds) Structuring Politics: Historical Institutionalism in Comparative Analysis, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wen Wei Po (Shanghai) (2003) ‘Shanghai capable of countering ATP attack’, 9 April. Westney, D.E. (1996) ‘Mass media as business organizations: a US–Japanese comparison’, in S.J. Pharr and E.S. Krauss (eds) Media and Politics in Japan, Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. White, D. (1950) ‘The gatekeeper: a case in the selection of news’, Journalism Quarterly, 27: 383–90. White, L.T. (1999) Unstately power, vol. II: Local Causes of China’s Intellectual, Legal, and Governmental Reforms, Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe. Whitney, D.C., Fritzler, M., Jones, S., Mazzarella, A.S. and Rakow, L. (1989) ‘Geographic and source biases in network television news 1982–1984’, Journal of Broadcasting and Electronic Media, 33: 159–74. WHO (2003) ‘WHO update 95’. Available at www.who.int/csr/don/2003_07_04/en/ (accessed 14 June 2003). Wilkins, K. and Waters, J. (2000) ‘New technologies in development communications’, Media Development, 1. Available HTTP at http://www.wacc.org.uk/modules.php? name=News&file=article&sid=593 (accessed 10 October 2004). Williams, K. (1993) ‘The light at the end of the tunnel: the mass media public opinion and the Vietnam War’, in Glasgow University Media Group, Getting the Message: News, Truth and Power, London: Routledge. Wisudo, B. (2000) ‘Bulan madu pers telah berakhir’ (The press honeymoon is already over), Kompas, 9 February: 7. Witoelar, W. (2002) No Regrets: Reflections of a Presidential Spokesperson, Jakarta: Equinox. Wong, F. (2004) ‘Asian gays party in Singapore despite tough laws’, Bangkok Post (Outlook section), 10 August: 3 Wong, J. (2003) ‘Deepening democracy in Taiwan’, Pacific Affairs 76(2), summer: 235–56. Wonohito, M. (1977) Teknik Jurnalistik: Sistim Pers Pancasila (Journalistic Technique: The Pancasila Press System), Jakarta: PT Garda. World Bank Group (2004) Seizing the Opportunity: Investment Climate Assessment and Reform Strategy for Cambodia, World Bank Group. Available at http://web.worldbank.org/ WBSITE/EXTERNAL/COUNTRIES/EASTASIAPACIFICEXT/CAMBODIA EXTN/0,,contentMDK:20240002~pagePK:141137~piPK:217854~theSitePK: 293856,00.html (accessed 22 October 2004). Xpos (1999–2000) ‘Membongkar LKBN Antara’ (Opening up Antara), December–January. Available at http://www.mail-archive.com/siarlist@minipostgresql/msg02681.html (accessed 10 October 2004). Xu, G. (2000) Xinwen Zongheng Tan (Talking about Journalism), Hangzhou: Zhejiang Educational Press.

196 Bibliography Xu, N. and Gao, L. (2004) Nanfang Zhoumo Chanwu Fuzhubian Xiang Xi fanwenlu (An Interview with the Managing Editor of Southern Weekend). Available at http:// my9w.com/baozhidaguan/pinbao/14.htm (accessed 20 September 2004). Xu, P. (1991) ‘Xinwenxue zhengming’ (Debates in journalism), in Y. Shen and G. Wang (eds) Zouxiang 21 shiji de zhengming (The Debates Leading to the 21st Century), Kunming: Yunnan People’s Press. Yao, L. (2002) Zhongguo meiti guanggao jingying de shengtai huanjing (The Ecological Environment of China’s Media Advertising Management). Available at http://www. rixin.com.cn/Industry/service/2002-9-26.htm (accessed 10 November 2002). Yeow, K.C. (2000) ‘A saucy serving of five male morsels’, Straits Times, 2 December: L7. Yeung, C. (2000) ‘Hong Kong: a handover of freedom?’, in L. Williams and R. Rich (eds) Losing Control: Freedom of the Press in Asia, Canberra: Asia Pacific Press. Yonetani, J. (2001) ‘Playing base politics in a global strategic theater: Futenma relocation, the G-8 Summit, and Okinawa’, Critical Asian Studies, 33(1): 70–95. Yoon, S. (1994) ‘Editors debate “Western” versus “Asian” approaches’, paper delivered to Asian Values and the Role of the Media in Society conference, Freedom Forum Asia Center and the Foreign Correspondents’ Club, Hong Kong, 1–3 December. Yoon, Y.C. (2001) ‘Democratisation and media control in South Korea’, Korean Journal of Journalism and Communication Studies, special English edition: 531–55. Yoshioka, S. (1996) ‘Okinawa repu hM´dM no shikaku’ (The dead angle of reporting the Okinawan rape), Shincho 45, May: 78–102. Young, A. (1990) Femininity in Dissent, London: Routledge. Yuan, Z. and Liang, J. (2000) Yong shishi shuohua: Zhongguo dianshi jiaodian jiemu toushi (Speaking with Facts: A Look at China’s TV Focus Programming), Shanghai: Shanghai People’s Press. Zee TV website (2004) online at http://www.zeetelevision.com. Zhao, S. (1997) ‘Chinese intellectuals’ quest for national greatness and nationalistic writing in the 1990s’, China Quarterly, 152: 725–45. Zhao, Y. (1998) Media, Market, and Democracy in China: Between the Party Lines and the Bottom Line. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. —— (2000) ‘From commercialization to conglomeration: the transformation of the Chinese press within the orbit of the Party state’, Journal of Communication, 50: 3–26. —— (2003) ‘“Enter the world”: neo-liberal globalization, the dream for a strong nation, and Chinese press discourse on the WTO’, in C.C. Lee (ed.) Chinese Media, Global Context, London: Routledge. Zhou, C. (2004) Zhongguo meiti zhence shanbian yu shangshi lujing (China’s Media Policy Changes and Ways of Getting on the Financial Market). Available at http://www. stanchina.com/shop/t34.htm#h (accessed 20 September 2004). Zhou, M. (1994) Radio UNTAC of Cambodia: Winning Ears, Hearts and Minds, Bangkok: White Lotus. Zhou, X. (2001) ‘Economic transformation and income inequality in urban China: evidence from panel data’, American Journal of Sociology, 105: 1135–174.

Bibliography

Other websites used Channel NewsAsia.com: www.channelnewsasia.com Doordarshan website: www.ddindia.net The New Sintercom: www.newsintercom.org The Optical: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/theoptical/ Sammyboy: www.sammyboy.com Singapore Window: www.singapore-window.org Singaporeans for Democracy: www.sfdonline.org Straits Times Interactive: www.straitstimes.asiaone.com.sg Talkingcock.com: www.talkingcock.com Think Centre: www.thinkcentre.org Today Online: www.todayonline.com.sg The Void Deck: www.thevoiddeck.org Yawning Bread: www.yawningbread.org

197

Index

Note: page numbers in bold refer to tables. Aaj Tak 59 ABC (US) 157 Agence France Presse (AFP) 50, 164 Agence Khmère de Presse (AKP) 47 Agreed Framework (1994) 137 aid 43–53 AIDS 52, 168 Aitken, S. 46, 47, 50, 52 All China Journalists’ Association (ACJA) 102, 103 All India Radio 55, 56 alternative journalism 16, 19–20, 20–6 Amazon.com 26 America see USA Amnesty International 14 Another Tribe 168 Antara 108–22; National News Institute 118; Workers’ Council 117; Workers’ Union (SPA) 117, 121 Anwar Ibrahim 5, 159–60 Apple Daily 83, 85, 86, 87, 89, 93, 94 Article 19 14 ASEAN 42 Asia Foundation, The (TAF) 48–51 Asia One 18–19, 24, 27n2 Asia Television (HKSAR) 70, 83, 84 Asian Boys I 169: Asian Boys II 169 Asian flu10 Asian Press Board 109 Asian values 6–7, 8, 10, 12 Asian Wall Street Journal 17, 131 Asia-Pacific Institute for Broadcasting Development (AIBD) 46 Asiaweek 17 Associated Press (AP) 50 Australia 9, 49, 50: AusAID 44;Australian

International Development Assistance Bureau (AIDAB) 46, 47 Autumn Tom Yam 169 Aw, S. 88 Bangkok 48, 50 Bangkok Post 164 Bangladesh 13 Barber, B. 146 Barisoth, S. 47, 50 BBC 44, 55–6, 57, 61, 62, 63, 85, 86, 164 Beautiful Thing 169 Beijing 33, 35, 36, 37, 40, 82, 83, 84, 85–6, 87, 94, 99, 136, 139, 151; Disease Prevention and Control Centre 37, 38; mayor of 36; SARS Prevention and Cure Joint Task Force 36 Bengal Gazette 54–5 Bent 169 Berita Harian 18 Bloomberg 17 Bollywood 60, 61 Brazil 62, 164 Britain see also United Kingdom: British Commonwealth 165; British Council 44 Buddism 52 Bush, G. 40 Business Times 18, 19 Cable Television (HKSAR) 70, 83 Cambodia 13, 41–53; FUNCINPEC 42, 43, 47, 48; Ministry of Information 42, 47, 52; 1993 constitution 41; 1995 Press Law 42, 47, 52; People’s Party (CPP) 42–3, 47, 48, 49; People’s Republic of Kampuchea (PRK) 42, 52; Sam Rainsy Party (SRP) 43, 49

Index Canada 33; Centre Canadien d’Etude et Coopération Internationale 47; International Development Agency 48 Canberra Times 46 Carter, J. 146 CBS 102 censorship 5, 17, 22; Index on Censorship 14 Chalkley, A. 1 Channel NewsAsia 18–19, 25, 27n3 Chen Group 83 Chen Shui-bian 135–7, 139 Cheng, A. 84, 91, 92; ‘Teacup in a Storm’ 84 Cheung Man-yee 86 Chiang Kai-shek 139 China see People’s Republic of China China Central Television (CCTV) 35, 102–3; Department of Commentaries 102; Focused Interviewing 102; News Probes 102, 103; Oriental Horizon 102; Reporter’s Perspective 103; Tell It Like It Is 103 China Liangtong Telecom 38 China Network Systems (CNS) 143 China Television Company (CTV) 140 Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference 88, 89 Chinese Psychiatric Association 164 Chinese Television Service (CTS) 140 Chinese University of Hong Kong 69; School of Journalism and Communication 89 Chosun Daily 126, 127, 128, 130; Monthly Chosun 129 Chun Doo-Hwan 139 civil liberties 11 Civil Rights United Front 93 Clinton, B. 146; Clinton–Lewinsky scandal 30 Club for Cambodian Journalists 49 CNBC 57, 63 CNN 57, 58, 60, 63 Cold War 41, 43, 56, 140 Columbia University (USA) 50 Commercial Radio (HKSAR) 71, 82, 83, 84, 93 Congressional Channel (Taiwan) 145 corruption 10 crony-ism 10 crusading journalism 16, 20 C-Span 145 Dae-Han Maeil 127 Dahlan, A. 109

199

Daya Bay 91 Delhi, University of 58 Democratic Cable Television 141, 143 Democratic Party (HKSAR) 89 Denmark: Danida 44, 46, 47, 48, 49; Foreign Ministry 44 Desert Storm, Operation 58, 60 development 1–10; journalism 1–10, 11; media theory 2 Dili 9 Direct-to-Home Television (DTH) 64 Disney 57 Dong-A Daily 126, 127, 128, 130 Doordarshan 56, 57, 61–2; DD1 61; DDBharati 62; DD-Gyandarshan 62; Prasar Bharati 62 Downie, S. 46, 50, 51 East India Company 55 Eastern Multimedia Co. (EMC) 143 Eastweek 83 Ecole Supérieure de Journalisme, Lille 47 Economist, The 17, 25, 44 Egypt 165 8 Days 26 email 21 Emperor Group 83 Eng, P. 50–1, 52 Europe 44, 45, 50, 54; Court of Human Rights 163; Eastern Europe 43, 45, 46; European Union 163; Western Europe 134 Far Eastern Economic Review 17 Ford, G. 146 foreign correspondents 9 Formosa Television (FTV) 140 Formula 17 162 Forum ’95 151, 153, 157–8 Foshan City 31 Forum CYD 49 Foundation for Broadcast Culture 128, 129 Fowler, M. 48 Fox News (Channel) 60, 146 France 41, 42, 149; Culture Ministry 44; embassy in Cambodia 47; Foreign Ministry 44; French Revolution 54 freedom: of expression/speech 4, 10, 11, 112, 159–60; of information 10; of the press 67–8, 79, 97, 115, 134, 161 Freedom Forum 14, 47, 48 Freedom House 161 Friedrich Naumann Foundation 47 Friere, P. 7

200

Index

Fuden University 37 Fung family 83 Gandhi, M. 55 Gao Qiang 36 gay 160, 162–4, 166–7, 169–71;Gay Pride 169 Germany 44, 47, 163 Glass Roots 168 Gobel, R. 113, 119 Goh, C. 24–6 Goh Chok Tong 22 Guangdong 31, 33, 35, 37, 39, 40, 91; Board of Health 32; Mobile Communciation 32 Guangzhou 31–2, 40, 72 Gunawan, B. 119 Habibie, B.J. 108, 111–13, 116, 117, 119, 121 Hadi, P. 113–21 Hangzhou 101, 104 Hankuk Daily 126, 130 Hankyoreh 127 Happy Together 162 HarperCollins 60 Hawthorne, J. 85 Hayes, K. 50, 52 Heyuan City 31–2 Hickey, J.A. 55 Hindustan Times 163 Ho family 83, 88 Hong Kong 12, 28–40, 52, 66–80, 81–95, 105, 142; Amoy Gardens 34; Basic Law 81, 84, 88, 89, 92–3, 94; District Board 93; Economic and Trade Office 86; Election Committee 82; Executive Council 67, 82; Government Information Service 85; Health Department 34, 92; Hospital Authority 92; Legislative Council 67, 75–6, 81, 89, 92–3; Prince of Wales Hospital 33; Telford Gardens 34; University Hospital 91 Hong Kong Commercial Daily 83 Hong Kong Daily News 83, 84 Hong Kong Economic Journal 83, 84, 93; HKEJ Monthly 83 Hong Kong Economic News 83 Hong Kong Economic Times 84 Hong Kong Institute of Asia-Pacific Studies 69 Hong Kong Standard 83 Hong Lim Park 159

Hu Jintao 32, 36 Huan Huahua 32 human rights 10, 11, 150, 155–7; Human Rights Watch Asia 14n1; International Human Rights Day 159 Huntington, S.P. 4, 5–6 Hutchins Commission 4–5 Hutchison Group 83 IMF 10–11 India 7, 13, 54–65, 148; Bharatiya Janata Party 63–4; Constituent Assembly 55–6; Information and Broadcasting Ministry 56; National Democratic Alliance 63–4 India Today group 59; Headlines Today 59; India Today 59 India TV 64 Indo-China Media Memorial Foundation (IMMF) 48, 50, 51 Indonesia 4, 5, 9, 10, 13, 14, 108–22, 148; Gestapu 110; House of Representatives 115, 116, 117, 119–20, 121; Information Department 10, 111; Information Minister 118; Information Ministry 113; Law No. 40/1999 115–16, 117, 121; Manpower Minister 116; New Order 9, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 116, 121; press laws 111, 112; State/Cabinet Secretary’s office 112; State Secretariat 121 Indonesian Association of Muslim Intellectuals (ICMI) 113, 114 Indonesian Journalists’ Association (PWI) 113, 117 Indonesian Market Quote 117 Indonesian National Press and Publicity Service 109 Indonesian Press Bureau 109 information and communications technologies (ICTs) 1, 12–14, 28–30, 37–40 infotainment 54, 85 Institute for Media, Policy and Civil Society (IMPACS) 47, 51–2 Inter Press Service (IPS) 9 Intermatrix Communications 113 International Federation of Journalists (IFJ) 127 International Herald Tribune 17 International Press Institute (IPI) 126–7 International Research and Exchange Board (IREX) 44; Pro Media 44 International Women’s Conference 151

Index Internet 12–14, 18, 20–7, 28, 37 investigative journalism 8, 16, 84–5, 102, 105 Iraq 29, 60 Jakarta 110 Jakarta Post 115 Japan 7, 46, 49, 52, 105, 123, 142, 148–58, 164, 165; Japan International Cooperation Agency 49; shingikia 149 Japan Foundation 48 Jiang Yanyong 35, 37, 40 Jiang Zemin 32, 36 Jiangsu 38; Public Security Department 38–9 Jointly and Severably 168 JoongAng Daily 126, 127, 130 journalism training 44–50, 52 Jung-Soo Foundation 128 Kartawigoena, P. 109 Khmer Journalists’ Association 48 Khmer People’s National Liberation Front 42, 46 Khmer Rouge 41–2 Kim Dae-Jung 123, 125, 126, 127, 137–8, 139 Kim Jung-Il 127 Kim Young-Sam 123, 125, 139, 142 Knight International Press Fellowship Program 44 Koh Santhepheap 50 Kompas 119 Kono Yohei 152 Konrad Adenauer Foundation 44, 48, 49 Korea 7, 10, 38, 123–34, 135–47; Blue House 130, 137; Constitutional Court 138; Democratic Justice Party (DJP) 139; Election Law 137; Fair Trade Commission 127; Fair Trade Law 126; Grand National Party (GNP) 125, 126, 129, 132, 134, 137; Korean War 123; Millennium Democratic Party (MDP) 138; Minister for Unification 127; Ministry of Information 131; National Assembly 127, 129, 130, 131, 137, 144; National Tax Office (NTO) 127, 128; ‘Sunshine Policy’ 127, 139; Tax Law 126; Uri Party 131–2, 136, 138, 144 Korea Press Foundation 131 Korea Telecom 144 Korean Broadcasting Commission (KBC) 128–9, 132–3, 144 Korean Broadcasting System (KBS) 128,

201

131–2, 141, 144; KBS1 128; KBS2 128, 141, 144 Korean Press Institute 124 Korean Society for Journalism and Communication (KSJC) 132, 133 Krisher, B. 48 Kuo Pao Kun 168 Kwan, S. 162 Kway Kah Chng 25 Lai, J. 87 Lakme India Fashion Week 61 Lan Yu 162 larusso.net 34, 37, 38, 40 Lee Boon Yang 16–17 Lee, D.P.M. 15–17, 25 Lee Hoe-Chang 129, 130 Lee Hsien Loong 15, 17, 19, 22–3 Lee Jung Yeon 129 Lee Kuan Yew 4, 15, 16–17 Lerner, D. 2 lesbian 160, 164–5, 168–71 Lest the Demons Get to Me 168 Li Ka-shing 86 Lianhe Zaobao 18 Lien Chan 135, 136 Lim, C. 162 Lin family 83 Lo, A. 135 Lon Nol 41 London 168 Macau 40 magazines 55, 56, 70, 108, 129; see also individual titles Mahathir Mohamad 4 Malaysia 4, 5, 9, 10, 46, 160 Malaysiakini 22, 27n6 Malik, A. 109 Mardis Gras 169 Marshall, D. 161 Maslog, C. 47 Media Corporation of Singapore (MediaCorp) 16, 17, 18, 23, 26, 161 Meng Xuenong 36 Mergers and Accusations 168 Metro Radio (HKSAR) 71, 83, 84 Mexico 62 Ming Pao 38, 83, 84, 89, 93; Ming Pao Monthly 83; Ming Pao Weekly 83 Ming Pao Group 83 mobile telephones 21 modernization 2–4; journalism and 3; mass media and 2

202

Index

Mondale, W. 152 Moneaksekar Khmer 49 Monster 164 Moon-Soo Kim 130 MTV 57 Muaya, A.J. 112 Muis, A.A. 115 Mumbai 61 Munhwa Broadcasting Corporation (MBC) 128, 129, 131–2, 141, 144 Murdoch, R. 12–13, 57–8, 59–60, 64–5, 146 Naha City 151 Nakamura Ryoichi 156 Nasution, R. 110 Nation 164 Nation Pride (Singapore) 164 nation-building 2–4, 19, 44, 167 Nehru, J. 55–6 Nepal 13, 164 Netherlands 148 New Delhi Television (NDTV) 58–9, 62; NDTV 24/7 59; NDTV India 59 New Paper 18 New York 127 New York Times 163, 164 news agencies 42, 56; see also individual agenciess News Corp 57–8, 60 News Radio (Singapore) 19 newspapers 17, 32, 35, 40, 42, 43, 47, 52, 53, 55, 56, 60, 70, 77, 89, 98, 108, 120, 125–6, 127, 129–31, 133, 134, 144, 146, 151, 155, 163, 168, 169–71; see also individual titles Newsweek 17 Next Group 83 Next Magazine 82, 83 non-governmental organisations (NGOs) 43–5, 47, 150; see also individual organizations NHK (Japan) 142, 155–7, 158 Ninan, S. 63 Nixon, R. 146 Nobel Peace Prize 125, 139 Northern Territory University (Aus) 46 OB markers 161–3, 165, 170 objectivity 19, 82 Okinawa 149, 150–1, 152, 154, 155 O’Neill, A. 152 Onion, The 25 Open Society Initiative (OSI) 44

Operation Iraqi Freedom 60 Optical, The 22, 24 Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) 125 Oriental Daily News 83, 85, 86, 88, 89, 93 Oriental Group 83, 88 OSB (Ireland) 49 Ota Masahide 150, 152, 157 Oxford English Dictionary, The 26 Page, T. 48 Paris Peace Accords (1991) 41, 42, 46, 53 Park Chung-Hee 138 Patten, C. 67 peace journalism 8 Pentagon 60 People Like Us 170 People’s Daily (PRC) 36, 103; Eastern Edition 39 People’s Republic of China 6, 7, 12, 13, 28–40, 67, 68, 81, 89, 91, 92, 93, 94, 96–107, 136, 138, 161; Central Political–Legal Commission 6; Communist Party 6, 30, 36, 38, 70, 82, 89, 96–107; Cultural Revolution 100; Disease Prevention and Control Centre 36, 37; Ministry of Health 35, 38; Ministry of Public Security 39; National Peoples’ Congress 35, 89; politburo 36, 38; State Council 35, 36; State Press and Publication Administration 99 Philippines 1, 10, 13 Philippines Press Institute 1 Phnom Penh 46, 50 Phnom Penh Post 50, 52 Phoenix Satellite Television 35 Plummer, K. 169 press clubs 149, 151–3 Press Foundation of Asia 1 Private Parts 168 Project Eyeball 161 public sphere 54, 56, 58, 82, 90 Public Television Service (PTS) 140 Pye, L. 2 Pyongyang 127 radio 16, 42, 43, 46, 70–1, 77, 79, 98; phone-in shows 77, 83, 84, 91, 92; see also individual stations and broadcasters Radio Republik Indonesia (RRI) 118 Radio Television Hong Kong (RTHK) 70–1, 83, 84, 85–6, 93, 94 Radio WMC FM102 49 Raksme Kampuchea 49, 50

Index Ram City Evening News 31, 33 Rashtriya Sahara 59 Remaking Singapore Committee 162 Reporters sans Frontières (Reporters Without Borders) 14, 161 Republika (Indonesia) 113 Reuters 17, 44, 119, 164 Rho Mu-Hyun (also Rho Moo-Hyun) 123, 129–32, 136, 139 Rho Tae-Woo 124, 139 Rostow, W. 2 Royal University of Phnom Penh 47–9, 51 Russia 44, 126; see also Soviet Union Sahara Samy 59 Sambath, R. 50 Samitty, P. 49, 50, 52 Sammyboy 22, 23 Satellite Instructional Television Experiment (SITE) 64 Satellite Television Asia Region (STAR) 12, 57–62, 64, 65, 142; STAR News 58–61; STAR Plus 58 Schramm, W. 2 SCMP Group 83 Seoul 126, 127, 128 Seoul Broadcasting System (SBS) 141, 144 September 11 127 Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS) 28–40, 81, 88, 90, 91–2, 93, 95, 99 Shakespeare’s R&J 169 Shanghai 37, 72, 100, 101, 104 Sharma, R. 64 Shaw Group 83 Shenxi 37–8 Shenzhen City 32, 37, 40, 72 Shepherd, M. 164 Shipping Times 18 short messaging services (SMS) 21, 31–2, 37, 38, 39 Signel 170 Sihanouk, Prince N. 41 Singapore 4, 13, 15–27, 33, 159–71; Censorship Review Committee 162; Ministry of Information, Communication and the Arts 16, 162; National Day 164; National Union of Journalists 47; Peoples’ Action Party 16, 18, 160–1, 162; Public Entertainment and Meetings Act 159 Singapore Broadcasting Authority 161

203

Singapore Internet Community (Sintercom) 20–1, 24, 27n5; New Sintercom 22 Singapore Press Holdings (SPH) 16, 17 18, 23, 27, 161, 169 Singapore Review 22, 24 Singapore Window 22, 24 Sing Pao 83 Sing Tao Daily 83, 88, 89, 93 Six Feet Under168 60 Minutes (USA) 102, 105 Sipanhoentar, A.M. 109 SK Telecom 38 Skylife 144 Sky Television 61: Sky News 60 Sobary, M. 115–19, 121 soc.culture.singapore 20 Sochea, L. 52 Soeharto 108, 110–14, 116, 120 Soemanang 109 Sokheang, C. 48 Sony Entertainment Television 57 Soong, J. 136 Soon-Kyun Chung 131 Soros, G. 44 sosick.org 34, 37, 38 South China Morning Post 83, 84 Southern Metropolitan News 32–3 Southern Weekend 99 Soviet Union 43, 45, 46; see also Russia ‘Speakers’ Corner’ (Singapore) 159–60 SPK 46 Sri Lanka 13, 126 Star, The (Malaysia) 17 Starr, K. 30 Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA) 154, 155 Straits Times 17, 18, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 27n4, 160, 161, 163–7, 168–71; interactive 20, 27n4 Streats 17, 18 Sukarno 109, 110, 120 Sukarnoputri, M. 108, 110, 116 Sun, The: HKSAR 83, 85, 88, 89, 93; Sun, The: London 60 Sunday Times (Singapore) 26 Sunshine Group 83 Sutichi Yoon 8 Sweden 164; Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency 48 Sydney 164 Sydney Morning Herald 164 Syracuse University 150

204

Index

Ta Kung Po 83 Taiwan 28, 30, 33, 35, 40, 70, 135–47; Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) 135, 136, 139, 140, 162, 164; Kuomingtang (KMT) 70, 135–7, 139, 140, 142, 145; National Assembly 145; pan-Blues 135; pan-Green alliance 135; Peoples First Party 136 Taiwan Broadband Communications (TBC) 143 Taiwan Television Enterprise (TTV) 140 Takayama Choko 152 Takazato Suzuyo 151, 153, 154, 156 TalkingCock.com 22, 23–6; the movie 26 Tamil Murasu 18 Tan Chong Kee 21 Tan Tarn How 22 Tata 64 telenovelas 62 Televisi Republik Indonesia (TVRI) 118 television 16, 17, 40, 42, 54, 56, 57, 58–65, 70, 98, 105, 125, 132–3, 134, 135–47, 149, 150, 151, 168; cable television 141–4; see also individual stations and broadcasters Television Broadcasts (TVB) 70 Temasek Holdings 161 Thailand 10, 13, 42, 46, 49, 52, 164 theatre 167–8, 171 Think Centre 22 Thomson Foundation 44, 47, 48 Three Fat Virgins Unassembled 168 Tiananmen (Square) 91, 93 Time 17, 25, 35 Times, The 17, 60 Times of India, The 55, 61 Tinted Edge, A 169 Today (Singapore) 19, 23, 161 Tokyo 149, 150, 152, 153, 154 Tong-Yang Broadcasting Company (TBC) 141 ‘Total Defence’ 19 Tsai Ming-Liang 162 Tung Chee-hwa 66, 77, 80, 86, 88, 90, 91, 92, 93 United Kingdom 30, 44, 48, 49, 52, 55, 67, 68, 81, 85, 148, 149, 163; see also Britain United Nations 42, 44, 64; Development Program (UNDP) 10–11, 47; Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) 44, 46–50; Environment Program 48; International Children’s Emergency Fund (UNICEF)

49; Transitional Authority in Cambodia (UNTAC) 41, 42, 46; UNESCO Cambodian Communication Institute (CCI) 47–51 US–Japan Security Treaty 154 USA 4, 16, 40, 42, 43, 44, 50, 52, 54, 60, 85, 105, 123, 125, 130, 136, 141, 146, 148, 155, 156, 157, 164, 170–1; Consulate and Military Command, Okinawa 151–3; military bases 149–58; US Information Service 47, 48 Vatican 164 Venezuela 126 Vietnam 33, 45, 161; army of 41–2; war 48 Void Deck, The 22, 23–5 Wahid, A. 108, 110, 113–16, 121 Wall Street Journal 19 Walters, S. 170 Washington Post 32 watchdog role 8–9, 10, 51, 54, 56, 67–8, 72–3, 80, 148 Wem Jiabao 35–6 Wen Wei Po 83 West Sea 129 Wharf Group 83 Wilde, O. 160 Wills and Secession 168 WiseNews 30, 40 Wisudo, B. 116 Witoelar, W. 115 Woman’s Affair 162 Women’s Media Centre (Cambodia) 49, 50 Wong Kar Wai 162 World Association of Newspapers (WAN) 126 World Bank 10–11, 43 World Health Organization (WHO) 30, 33, 35, 36, 37, 40 World Trade Organization 97 World War II 2, 4, 150 worldwide web 20, 29, 38; websites 16, 18, 19–27, 34, 104; see also individual sites Wowow 142 Xinhua News Agency 36, 39, 103 Xpos 119 Yawning Bread 23, 170 Yazhou Zhoukan 83 Yeoh Eng-kiong 33–4 yomawari 149

Index Young India 55 Yudhoyono, S.B. 116 Yuii Hideki 155 Zee Network 58–9; News 59 Zhang Dejiang 31–3, 35

205

Zhang Jiluan 69 Zhang Wenkang 35, 36 Zhangshen 31; City Hospital 31; Disease Prevention and Control Centre 31, 36 Zhongshan City 31, 33 Zimbabwe 12