When criticism of a dead journalist turns into abuse, where is the line?

After the untimely demise of noted Malayala Manorama journalist Jijo John Puthezhathu on September 9 in Kochi, Kerala has been witnessing an ethical paradox unfold– can the dead be mourned and still be condemned?
Image of Jijo John Puthezhathu in a grey Chinese collar shirt against a purple background
Jijo John Puthezhathu
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Death is meant to be an exit, a full stop to the world’s qualms with a person. But on the internet, everything is up for scrutiny, whether or not the person can defend themselves anymore. 

After the untimely demise of noted Malayala Manorama journalist Jijo John Puthezhathu on September 9 in Kochi, the state has been witnessing an ethical paradox unfold– can the dead be mourned and still be condemned? 

In Jijo’s case, though, what is happening is more than condemnation. An onslaught of cruel cyber abuse targeting him and the integrity of his journalistic work has triggered police action at the request of his grieving family. The police have reportedly traced over 3000 abusive social media posts targeting him and humiliating his family on his behalf. 

The primary reason for the cyber lynching is that several people had quarrels with Jijo’s reporting, which is accused of being biased against the Left in Kerala. Some also allege his investigations for Malayalam Manorama to be targeted attacks on CPI(M)-leaning individuals and institutions, without enough evidence.

Though most of his work, which is now being contested, was commissioned and published by his employer Manorama, a prominent legacy media giant in Kerala, the ire is directed towards Jijo and his family, rather than the establishment. The social media backlash, allegedly unleashed mostly by pro-Left handles, is personal and extremely brutal, prompting several journalists, even those who criticised his work, to call for empathy.

The larger question that emerges now is about the fairness of the posthumous attack on a journalist for his work. At what point does criticism become relentless personal abuse, especially when directed at someone who is no longer alive?

What other journalists say

In 2020, Jijo had reported on the alleged benami holdings of M Sivasankar, former Principal Secretary to ex-Kerala CM Pinarayi Vijayan, in a Nagercoil wind farm project. Attributing the findings to the Enforcement Directorate (ED), Jijo reported that, with this, the ED’s probe into Sivasankar’s alleged involvement in the gold smuggling case would be further extended to Nagercoil.

The report drew major criticism from several netizens and journalists for not verifying the claims. Sivasankar also filed a defamation case against Jijo, the verdict on which is yet to be pronounced. 

Jijo’s demise at 54, after suffering a cardiac arrest, came as a sudden shocker in the midst of this, leaving even his critics in a soup about the dilemma of continuing to criticise him. The problem is not with objective criticism, but with the abusive nature it has taken on, dragging his loved ones into the fold.

“On one hand, there is the rage and grief of a young man’s unfortunate demise and the impact this cyber lynching has left on his loved ones. On the other hand, though, there is also a strong sense of disagreement towards his fabricated, targeted reportage with no journalistic integrity…,” writes journalist KG Biju on Facebook.

“We are not taught to blindly believe the police or investigative agencies in our journalism classes. Has Jijo, at any point, maintained the journalistic compass of interrogating sources who approach him with vested interests?...” Biju further asks.

Commenting specifically on the Nagercoil windmill farm report, Biju says that Jijo’s byline story affirms the ED’s claims, rather than placing them as the central agency’s version of things. Biju notes that what such reportage does is project that the journalist himself has verified the agency’s claims. This, he adds, betrays the basic ethics of journalism, which places the onus of cross-checking on the reporter”. Biju says that the claims of state agencies with disproportionate power must only be reported with caution, and not parroted as they are, with a journalist’s byline.

“I am not writing this in ignorance of the grief of a dead man’s family in having to witness him be subjected to relentless scrutiny even before he is laid to rest. Let me remind you that my criticism against Jijo does not cancel out the emotional solidarity for his family in this time of pain,” Biju concludes.

This is a difficult duality to sustain: to question the work of the dead while still granting them their dignity. Much of the criticism against Jijo from fellow journalists has, however, carried this careful distinction.

Senior journalist and Jijo’s former colleague Sreejan Balakrishnan recalled the numerous situations in which Jijo helped him find scoops in a new city. In a Facebook post, Sreejan also mentioned that while he had disagreements with some of Jijo’s work, he had the space to communicate that directly with Jijo over the phone. 

Sreejan further endorsed journalist SR Sanjeev Bharathan’s Facebook post, which says that personal differences with Jijo’s work must also take into consideration the fact that all his reports went through the checks and balances of an editorial team.

“Everyone must be held responsible for the oversight, not just the journalist,” Sanjeev notes.

While it is every journalist’s duty to prioritise fact over propaganda, it is pertinent to note that most journalists rarely have the power to resist the interests of their employers, both political and other. And very often, the positions taken by individual journalists who represent their employers are hard to separate from their own personal opinions. 

Prominent journalist and Press Freedom awardee KK Shahina vehemently came down on the alleged pro-Left handles that have unleashed personal attacks against Jijo and his family. 

“Not just those who have passed, but several living journalists also report baseless allegations as facts and their own findings. They act like stenographers of the police and the ED. But I despise the Left cyber warriors who criticise such journalists, because the top guns of their party are all pally with the owners of the media barons under whose employment these journalists work,” she writes.

She also comments on how several political leaders, including Pinarayi Vijayan, have not gone to court, unlike Sivasankar, for defamatory reportage against them.

“On the contrary, the owners of media conglomerates like Manorama occupy the front seat in the guest list of these politicians…Journalists are employees. The power resides with editors and publishers. The stones are pelted at the journalists because the ones above cannot be touched…,” Shahina writes.

While most journalists agree that any oversight in Jijo John’s work must be directed towards the more powerful player, which is his employer, the discourse is further complicated by another question: does death bury the harm unsubstantiated or biased reportage does to journalism and the country?

A long-standing dilemma

To be clear, no legally binding document has addressed the veracity of Jijo John’s journalistic work. The verdict on Sivasankar’s defamation suit is also pending. But if we remove Jijo from this context, a point to ponder is whether the harm that arises from narrativising political bias can be overlooked in the process of paying condolences to a journalist.

This, of course, is an age-old dilemma. 

In our social morality, death lends immunity from mortal misgivings, and we are often reprimanded on humanitarian grounds against criticising the dead. Moreover, the deceased individual may have been more than just a journalist. A loyal friend, a loving parent, an empathetic spouse, and much more. Putting that person under scrutiny from an outsider’s vantage point may deeply impact those who held them close and knew them in an entirely different role.

But from a broader standpoint, when it comes to journalistic work, the kind that demands rigour and impacts the dissemination of truth, can death atone for an alleged lack of integrity?

In most of Jijo’s colleagues’ opinions, the answer is a resounding No.

While acknowledging the family's grief, most also write that they did not feel like putting up a condolence note for Jijo because of the overarching concern about what biased reportage and state-aligned narratives can do to courageous journalism that is already struggling to thrive.

However, in this case, the discourse has travelled far beyond criticism and become a malicious attack on the journalist himself. Such a cyber offensive which personally targets a journalist is not just unacceptable, but also counterproductive, shifting attention toward the attack alone.

While the living deserve accountability, the dead must not be dragged from the grave with indignity to further that goal.

Views expressed are the author's own.

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