Recently, more people have begun to speak out against the irresponsible and unethical practices of some journalists and media groups. Maitullah Jan’s expose of journalists taking advantage of government funded Hajj facility gets to the very heart of corruption among those who are supposed to be watchdogs of society. Likewise, the column by Zohra Yusuf recommending media groups follow the leadership of Express Tribune by hiring ombudsmans to manage complaints by the public is another example of media taking responsibility for improving its own sector.

The latest column of Hajrah Mumtaz who is on the staff at Dawn is the latest example of journalists speaking up about ways that journalism can be improved if media groups will adopt some basic policies to ensure accuracy and accountability.

DURING the past couple of months, particularly in the wake of controversy over the proposal to bring the blasphemy laws under review, there has been much discussion over the airwaves about religious dictates.

The proposal, which never even made it to the stage of being tabled before parliament, has been dropped by a government that appears to be perennially on the back foot — the ways of government are often strange to behold. What concerns me, though, is that while the discussion of religion continues, an accusation is being made with increasing incidence in various columns and blogspots.

A number of writers have pointed to certain guests on different talk shows, claiming that the citations (mainly from religious sources) that these guests presented in favour of their argument were taken out of context, their meaning was altered by omitting to mention context, or were plain incorrect.

In many cases, those levelling this criticism have attached transcripts of or uploaded clips from the television programme in question, so that readers can themselves look up the original text to check whether the accusation is justified. I found it worrying enough to undertake this exercise. And in all the cases I checked, the accusation was justified.

Be that as it may, it is hardly unknown, anywhere in the world, for personalities of standing and power, particularly those of a stature to be invited on televised talk shows, to resort to glossing over facts to suit their ends, or to twist facts to their desired end.

What I find particularly worrying, however, is the role of our programme hosts who, in most such cases, evidently had neither the knowledge to pick up on altered ‘facts’ nor, perhaps, the gumption to point them out. In most cases, while X guest made Y announcement that, upon investigation, turned out to be incorrect, the host was merely sitting there nodding his or her head in agreement,.

Which leads us to the question, what good is the much-mentioned power of the fourth estate — the media — if it fails to pick up on shady statements pronounced by the people it claims to be bringing under review? The media’s ability to bring contradictions and inconsistencies to light is, after all, one of the prime sources from which it claims its power.

This is what allows the media to act as an entity that imposes checks and forces balance upon opinion-makers and the otherwise powerful. If anyone can get away with any sort of story, and the host can’t tell the difference or won’t, then what is the point of all these supposedly erudite programmes? Who watches the watchmen?

As I said earlier, everywhere in the world, people expect politicians and other powerful people to talk according to their agendas, and this often involves twisting and glossing over facts. They ought not resort to this, of course, but that seems to be the nature of the beast and people have come to accept it. Guests on television, similarly, are in many cases there to express their opinions — and sometimes those opinions are not or not entirely factual.

For these reasons, the abilities of the programme host are of crucial importance. Viewers look to the host to be able to spot the erroneous statement, the inconsistency, the prevarication or the U-turn — and this requires the host to have serious levels of knowledge about the topic under discussion.

This is where the value of a professional programme host lies, for only then can he or she meaningfully explore the subject. If the host has little knowledge about the subject, then really, it may as well be you or I, a layperson, sitting there asking the questions.

The argument could be made that every host is not expected to — simply cannot — have knowledge about all things under the sun to a sufficient degree that allows him or her to be able to challenge the experts. True. But the answer is, this is precisely why different hosts specialise in different areas.

In countries where the media industry is a little more professional, a host who specialises in current affairs and politics will rarely, if ever, host a debate on Catholicism or the relevance of religion in everyday affairs — unless the two spheres have overlapped, in which case considerable research is undertaken. There are specialists in for the environment, for public policy and governance, international affairs, economics and business, culture and the arts, and so on.

Most of the developed world has grown beyond the sort of jack-of-all-trades hosts that are the norm in Pakistan. I gave the example of debate over religious matter in the beginning of this column, but as television viewers are well aware, this is far from the only area where topics outside the purview of the hosts are taken up.

It is tempting to blame the hosts themselves, and to be sure they must shoulder at least part of the responsibility for this sorry situation — the lack of research, for one. But the real problem is systemic, and has to do with the way and the speed with which the televised media industry developed.

Media organisations hired talk show hosts, many of whom became celebrities and most of whom are paid salaries in accordance with this status. If you’re paying an employee such large sums, there is obviously the expectation that (s)he will handle whatever topic is given.

Yet a more constructive model may be to employ a greater number of specialists. The pie might have to be divided into smaller slices, but organisations as well as their audiences would benefit. A crime reporter is not expected to also be writing theatre reviews or political commentary; such expectations ought not be thrust on, or appropriated by, television personalities either.

Jamal Hussain is a retired Air Commodore, former director Centre for Aerospace Power Studies PAF Base Faisal, Karachi, and former Commandant Joint Services Staff College. With all of his knowledge and experience, one might also say he is an expert. But Mr. Hussain does not like to be called ‘expert’ when he appears on TV since he says that word has become so misused that it has lost all meaning.

In his column in today’s Daily Times, Mr. Hussain points to a troubling problem with media, and lists specific examples of where so-called ‘experts’ were influenced in their speaking by their personal biases. Far from saying that we should try to magically erase all personal bias, Mr. Hussain makes a more modest proposal, and one that would be an easy remedy: Simply have the TV talk shows reveal the bias of the so-called ‘expert’ before and after he speaks.

This way, the people can judge for themselves if the speaker is neutral or, if he has some bias, it can be considered with his remarks.

When an expert has a known political bias or an obvious political leaning, this should be mentioned in the introductory phase in all forums where politics or diplomacy is under discussion. To introduce them as independent neutral experts would be unfair to the audience

“And how shall I introduce you besides your rank?” asked my TV host as I settled down on a one-to-one live TV interview with him. It got me thinking. For the past thirty years, I had held imposing titles of either commander of some operational units while in active service or the director of a number of set-ups in semi-government organisations. My last appointment was as the head of a think tank on air power and when I finally relinquished the post after seven long years, I decided not to tie myself down to any nine to five assignments and instead indulge wholeheartedly in my latest passion — golf, a game I could still participate in despite my aching bones and one which I could now financially afford.

Being a late starter in golf, I have managed to qualify as an 18 handicapper. In the absence of any impressive sounding title that I could currently lay claim to, I suggested in jest that he might introduce me as a handicapped golfer. My host displayed a puzzled yet sympathetic expression as he dolefully enquired what physical handicap I was afflicted with. “Never mind,” I replied, and hastily added, “the handicap I refer to is my prowess or rather the lack of it on the golf course and not to any physical disability.” “Shall I introduce you as a defence expert,” he suggested. “No, a defence analyst may be more appropriate,” I replied. Having watched and heard so many experts on talk shows, displaying less than required expertise in their chosen fields, I was loath to be labelled as one.

The Musharraf decade had witnessed a mushrooming of private TV channels where, surprisingly, talk shows on political and defence-related issues became more popular than dramas and other entertainment programmes. Talk shows as a result proliferated and as the viewership soared, some of the more successful anchors achieved celebrity status. University professors, retired bureaucrats and military officers featured as experts in their respective fields. As the number of talk shows grew, the demand for such specialists rose exponentially and as my dear friend and a renowned columnist would write, “everybody and his uncle joined the party”. The expertise of the experts got diluted as a result. Here are three examples of some rather inane utterances of some of the so-called experts.

Immediately following the overthrow of Saddam Hussein in 2003, a senior retired military officer appearing as a guest was explaining the war strategies the two sides had adopted during the conflict. “Saddam had opted for the suck in strategy,” he explained, and added, “Saddam Hussein withdrew his main forces from the border in order to suck in the aggressors deep inside his territory with a view to extending their logistics supply lines, and at the appropriate moment sever it through rapier attacks on their supply routes. Once the attacking forces were cut off from their main base, they will be engulfed and destroyed piecemeal.” The anchor remarked that Saddam’s grand scheme failed to isolate the advancing enemy because of their mobility, massive firepower and air domination, and instead his own forces were routed. Under such adverse operational conditions the “suck in” strategy was bound to fail. This was, therefore, a bad strategy in the given environment. “No,” emphasized the guest. “The strategy was good but it failed because of poor implementation,” he added. An interesting comment coming from a specialist on warfare, one might add. One thought that a good strategy is one that has taken into account all external and internal factors and will succeed in achieving the laid down objectives despite all odds. If it fails, it has to be labelled as a bad or wrong strategy. Period.

The rolling out of the first co-produced JF-17 Thunder combat aircraft from Pakistan Aeronautical Complex Kamra was a red-letter day for the nation and the Pakistan Air Force. In one of the talk shows, a senior retired officer of the armed forces was asked to compare the Thunder with the F-16. The gentleman pointed out that overall the F-16 had a slight edge over the JF-17 Thunder but then in a surprising burst of patriotism he added, “In some aspects the Thunder outclasses the F-16s but in all other areas it matches it.” What was that? Thunder then should be overall superior to the F-16. Perhaps the gentleman got carried away and momentarily allowed his patriotic fervour overtake his professional judgment.

The first two examples featured military men. Now a look at the exuberance of a bureaucrat would be in order. A heated discussion on the repealed National Reconciliation Ordinance (NRO) was in full swing where a retired ambassador who regularly features as an expert on political and diplomatic fields on the electronic media was one of the guests. Commenting on the NRO, he loudly proclaimed that the ordinance was a discrimination against the PPP as it affected only those criminal and corruption cases that had been registered during the 1990s. Since many of the cases during the 1990s related to the period when PPP was in power twice, hence it discriminated against the party, he maintained. The gentleman probably forgot that the restricted timeframe of the ordinance went in favour of the party rather than against it, as all criminal and corruption charges involving the politicians and bureaucrats during the period when it was in power were withdrawn. Perhaps His Excellency got carried away in the heat of the moment and committed the faux pas.

These are just three incidences that I have mentioned where the expertise of the experts fell short of the mark. They are but minor infringements when compared to numerous howlers one hears when politicians are on display. However, they may be forgiven to an extent because like the lawyers they have to defend their client/party position no matter what the truth may be or how ridiculous it may appear to unbiased observers. But from the neutral experts one expects better.

Let me conclude by making one small suggestion to the talk show producers. When an expert has a known political bias or an obvious political leaning, this should be mentioned in the introductory phase in all forums where politics or diplomacy is under discussion. To introduce them as independent neutral experts would be unfair to the audience.