---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Sukla Sen <sukla...@yahoo.com>
Date: Sun, Apr 19, 2009 at 10:39 PM
Subject: [humanrights-movement:1423] Free Dr. Binayak Sen!
To: humanrights-movem...@googlegroups.com,
insaaniyatl...@yahoogroups.com, h...@topica.com,
csdmum...@yahoogroups.com


I/II.
http://www.hindu.com/2009/04/19/stories/2009041955680900.htm

Krishna Iyer’s plea on behalf of Binayak Sen


Binayak Sen

The text of a letter written by Justice V.R. Krishna Iyer, former
Supreme Court Judge, to Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, dated April 17,
2009:

I would like to bring to your attention a case of grave injustice
which is a cause of much shame to Indian democracy: that of Dr.
Binayak Sen, the well known paediatrician and defender of human
rights.

This good doctor has been incarcerated in a Raipur jail for nearly two
years now under the Chhattisgarh State Public Security Act, 2005.
Among the charges against Dr. Sen, who is renowned worldwide for his
public health work among the rural poor, are “treason and waging war
against the state.”

Chhattisgarh State prosecutors claim that Binayak, as part of an
unproven conspiracy, passed on a set of letters from Narayan Sanyal, a
senior Maoist leader who is in the Raipur jail, to Piyush Guha, a
local businessman with allegedly close links to the left-wing
extremists. He was supposed to have done this while visiting Sanyal in
prison both in his capacity as a human rights activist and as a doctor
treating him for various medical ailments.

The trial of Dr. Sen, which began in a Raipur Sessions Court late
April 2008, has, however, not thrown up even a shred of evidence to
justify any of these charges against him. By March 2009, of the 83
witnesses listed for deposition by the prosecution as part of the
original charge-sheet, 16 were dropped by the prosecutors themselves
and six declared ‘hostile’, while 61 others have deposed without
corroborating any of the accusations against Dr. Sen. Irrespective of
the merits of the case against Dr. Sen, there are very disturbing
aspects to the way the trial process has been carried out so far.

As if all this were not enough, Dr. Sen has also been repeatedly
denied bail by the Bilaspur High Court (in September 2007 and December
2008). And the Supreme Court of India rejected his special leave
petition to have the bail application heard before it (in December
2007).

Given the paucity of evidence in the trial of Dr. Sen so far, in all
fairness the Raipur court should have dismissed the case against him
altogether by now. Certainly the weakness of the prosecution’s
position should entitle him to at least grant of bail. Dr. Sen is a
person of international standing and reputation, with a record of
impeccable behaviour throughout his distinguished career. In May 2008,
in an unprecedented move 22 Nobel Prize winners even signed a public
statement calling him a ‘professional colleague’ and asking for his
release.

Normally bail is refused only in cases where courts believe an accused
can tamper with evidence, prejudice witnesses or run away. In Dr.
Sen’s case none of these apply, as shown by the simple fact that at
the time of his arrest he chose to come to the Chhattisgarh police
voluntarily and made no attempt to abscond despite knowing about his
possible detention.

Today Dr. Sen, a diabetic who is also hypertensive, is himself in
urgent need of medical treatment for his deteriorating heart
condition. In recent weeks his health has worsened and a doctor
appointed by the court to examine him recommended that he be
transferred to Vellore for an angiography and perhaps, if needed, an
angioplasty or coronary artery bypass graft without further delay.

Instead of recognising their social contributions, the Indian state,
by wrongly branding Dr. Sen and many other human rights defenders like
him as ‘terrorists’, is making a complete mockery of not just
democratic norms and fair governance but its entire anti-terrorist
strategy and operations.

The repeated denial of bail which results in ‘punishment by trial’
constitutes an even graver threat to Indian society. The sheer
injustice involved will only breed cynicism among ordinary citizens
about the credibility and efficacy of Indian democracy itself.

II.

The art of not writing

“Journalism here is the art of not writing,” he said. “I earn around
Rs 5,000 every month by not writing.”
SHUBHRANSHU CHOUDHARY's tales of media realities in Chattisgarh

How does the media in Chhattisgarh report the conflict between the
Naxalites and the Salwa Judum, or the conflict between local
communities and corporations? Quite simply, it doesn’t. The pressures
on journalists in Chhattisgarh are unique. They are paid not to report
stories that are critical of the powers-that-be, whether they are
industrial lobbies or state authorities.



I was in Bhairamgarh to cover a Salwa Judum rally. Bhairamgarh is a
small town in the Bijapur district of southern Chhattisgarh where the
State is engaged in a bloody war with the Maoists.



According to the government, the Salwa Judum is a “spontaneous
people’s movement” against Maoists; human rights activists call it a
brutal State-created militia.



The rally was scheduled to pass along narrow tribal paths deep in the
jungle where no vehicle can go. So the Salwa Judum leader Mahendra
Karma very kindly arranged for me to ride on the back of a motorcycle.



The bike moved easily through the jungle, weaving in and out of
several tribal groups en route to the rally. I discovered in the
course of my conversation with the bike rider that he was a local
journalist. Indeed, the ride turned into a crash course in local
journalism for me.



The journalist worked for one of the top dailies in Chhattisgarh.



“How much salary do you get,” I asked him. “I do not get a salary,” he
replied. “Oh, so how do you earn a living?” “By not writing,” was the
answer.



Noting my surprise, he clarified.



“Journalism here is the art of not writing,” he said. “I earn around
Rs 5,000 every month by not writing.”



I still could not make sense of what he was saying.



“Being journalists, we know who is doing what; the ins and the outs of
corrupt practice, and the perpetrators,” he continued. “We get a fee
for not writing about the corruption. That is our salary.”



He added: “Not only do we not get a salary, we spend from our own
pockets to collect and send the news to the head office. It is still
worth our while. There are a handful of journalists in the district
headquarters who do get a token salary. But in reality they earn many
times more than that.”



“It is an easy profession for making money,” he explained. “As we know
good things about the Salwa Judum, similarly we also know all the bad
things about the Salwa Judum. But we do not write about the bad
things, for obvious reasons,” he added, watching leader of the Salwa
Judum, Mahendra Karma, who was standing nearby. Karma is also leader
of the opposition in Chhattisgarh.



Almost every newspaper in Chhattisgarh still refers to the Salwa Judum
as a “peaceful people’s movement” even though there are numerous
reports in the national press about human rights violations
perpetrated by the group.



After the rally, I proceeded to Dhurli village to cover a possible
meeting between Essar and local villagers. The corporate house was
seeking a no objection certificate (NOC) from local landowners to set
up a plant.



When we reached Dhurli, a group of villagers approached us and said
threateningly: “You must be a broker for Essar.” They spotted our
camera, paused a bit, but then added: “All journalists are also
brokers of the industrialists. You must leave the village. We do not
want to talk to you.”



I was shocked at the level of hatred for journalists in the village.



In Dantewada town, after hearing my story, some journalists explained
to me in great detail how much Essar was paying journalists to “keep
their mouths shut”. They could not give me any proof, unfortunately.



People in Dhurli had told me: “Tell the government, if they want to
take our land they must first kill us. They can take this land only
over our dead bodies.”



Back in Delhi, I was amazed to read a report by the Indo Asian News
Service claiming that the people of Dhurli had agreed to give their
land to Essar. They were so happy with Essar’s rehabilitation package,
the report said, that they had written a letter to the government
expressing their willingness to give away their land.



The report received prominent coverage by newspapers like The Times of
India, The Hindu Business Line and The Economic Times.



It also furnished details of how many people had signed the letter and
to whom the letter had been given.



I could not believe it! The story must be true, I thought, if so many
papers had carried it.



After reflecting on this for a few days, I could not help calling the
officer named in the newspaper report. SDM Ambalgam was shocked: “What
letter? And which newspaper are you talking about,” she asked. “I have
not got any letter, and no one has agreed to give land as far as I
know.” “Have they given the letter to another officer,” I ventured to
ask. “No. I am the officer in charge of land acquisition here. Even if
they had given the letter to another officer it would have come to
me,” she replied. “I can’t believe what you are saying,” she added.



I faxed the articles to Ambalgam, at her request.



She issued a show cause notice to Essar asking for an explanation for
the news item. The article also featured a quote from the head of
Essar in Chhattisgarh commenting on the “letter from the villagers”.



According to Ambalgam, Essar replied saying it had been misled by the reporter.



Ambalgam was subsequently transferred from Dantewada. No one followed
the matter up with the reporter or the newspaper.



That incident prompted me to look more carefully at news items being
generated from Raipur in the national newspapers. This is what I
found.



The Indian Express carried a report on the front page saying that
Naxals had killed three farmers because they had continued farming in
defiance of a Naxal ban on all farm activities.



I had not heard of any Naxal ban on farming whilst I was there!



A few phone calls told me that the three people had indeed been killed
by Naxals but that the killings had no connection with farming.
Farming was on full swing in Chintagufa village, I was told.



  “These people were killed because of their alleged connection with
the police, not because they were farming,” former sarpanch of
Chintagufa told me over the phone.



If I was able to speak to the people of Chintagufa by phone to
crosscheck a story from Delhi, why couldn’t journalists from Raipur do
the same? I wrote about this in my column in a local daily the
following week.



No one took notice of the article. In fact, the very next day The
Times of India carried the same old story about Naxals attacking
farmers because of the ban.



Some journalists told me, off the record, from which intelligence
officer’s desk the story had been generated. But they could not
provide any proof. “The officer gave the story only to his trusted
ones,” a journalist explained.



In the meantime I had begun working on a story about farmer suicides
in Chhattisgarh. I was shocked to find that, according to National
Crime Records Bureau figures, Chhattisgarh has the highest number of
farmer suicides in the country, each year.



Despite the alarming numbers, and eight years after the state came
into existence, not a single journalist in Chhattisgarh had written
about it!



I mentioned this in my column. Shortly after, there was an article on
the front page of the paper with the headline, ‘Everybody loves a good
fraud; untruth of farmer suicides in Chhattisgarh’. The article called
the National Crime Records Bureau data a lie, to which, astonishingly,
the Bureau did not respond -- a basic journalistic procedural
requirement.



My column in the local newspaper was stopped. After years I was
suddenly told that my writing was inaccurate and full of lies!



Journalists who do not wish to be named have told me: “We want to
write the story of farmer suicides. We can see it happening around us.
But the story will go against the government and then the government
will stop (publishing) advertisements in our newspapers. So we cannot
write the story.”



Kamlesh Painkra’s story



The story of Kamlesh Painkra probably best explains the situation of
journalists in Chhattisgarh today.



Painkra was the first journalist to write about human rights
violations by the Salwa Judum. Following his report, he was told by
the local superintendent of police (SP) to apologise and admit that
his story had been a mistake.



When Painkra refused, he lost his job. His brother, who was a teacher,
was put behind bars, ostensibly for sheltering Naxalites.



The district administration cancelled Painkra’s licence to sell public
distribution system (PDS) grain in the local market for no apparent
reason. It was his main source of income.



Painkra was finally forced to flee his home, taking his family with
him, when a friendly policeman told him that the police was going to
kill him in an “encounter”. They still live like refugees.



No local newspaper reported his ordeal.



I tried to help out by asking a few editor friends to hire him as
their Dantewada district correspondent. Painkra now lives in Dantewada
after fleeing his home district of Bijapur.



Painkra was hired, but the fine print of his appointment letter was
interesting. The letter stated that his salary would be Rs 3,000 a
month. It went on to say that he would also have to collect
advertisements worth Rs 20,000 every month and that his salary would
be a proportion of the amount he managed to collect.



“That means that if the advertising money goes down the salary will go
down accordingly,” Painkra explained.



He declined the offer, saying: “If I have to collect Rs 20,000 every
month in a town with a population of less than 25,000, you can imagine
from whom I will have to collect the advertisements. How can I do any
journalism after that?”



Last month, the Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) bulldozed
Painkra’s house in Bijapur to make room for a volleyball ground for
soldiers. There were no reports in the papers about this. Painkra’s
family was not informed of the demolition. Nor was any compensation
paid to them.



The pressures on journalists in Chhattisgarh are special.



Some time ago, the Naxals sent an audio CD to every newspaper office
in Raipur. The CD contained, among other things, a recording of a
conversation, via walkie-talkie, between the same superintendent of
police, Bijapur, who had threatened Painkra, and his deputy.



During the conversation, the SP tells his subordinate: “Keep an eye on
the area and if you see any journalists just kill them.”



The government reacted by saying the recording was bogus. Police
officials in private accept that the voice was indeed that of the SP
and that the Naxals had tuned into his conversation on the
walkie-talkie.



...

[Message clipped]


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