THE GREAT INDIAN DEBATE — DAY 61 Is Indian mainstream media functionally state media?
THE STAKES Last month, the Editors Guild of India released a report on the 2024 general elections, noting that Doordarshan and All India Radio gave the ruling party 72% of their prime-time coverage, while opposition parties received 16%. Meanwhile, private news channels faced raids, tax notices, and the withdrawal of government advertising after critical reporting. The Supreme Court is currently hearing a petition challenging the Centre’s power to suspend journalists’ accreditation without due process. If the media’s role is to hold power to account, what happens when the line between watchdog and lapdog blurs?
THE ARGUMENT FOR Those who argue that Indian mainstream media has become functionally state-controlled point to three concrete shifts: ownership, incentives, and intimidation.
First, ownership. Over the past decade, nearly 70% of India’s top news channels and newspapers have come under the control of conglomerates with deep ties to the government. Reliance’s Network18, the Adani Group’s acquisition of NDTV, and the Zee-Sony merger—all involve entities with major infrastructure, energy, or defence contracts. When a media house’s parent company depends on state clearances for its core business, editorial independence becomes a luxury. As former NDTV editor Sreenivasan Jain put it, "The question isn’t whether the government calls the editor. It’s whether the editor picks up the phone before the government does."
Second, the carrot-and-stick economics of government advertising. In 2022-23, the Centre spent ₹1,100 crore on ads in print and digital media—nearly 60% of which went to just 10 outlets. The message is clear: toe the line, and the revenue flows; step out of it, and the taps turn off. The Wire’s 2023 investigation found that channels critical of the government saw their ad share drop by 80% in some cases, while compliant ones saw a 300% increase.
Third, the legal and extralegal pressure. The use of the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA) against journalists, the selective application of defamation laws, and the IT Rules 2021—which empower the government to demand takedowns of "unlawful" content within hours—create a climate where self-censorship is the default. A 2023 report by the Committee to Protect Journalists ranked India 161st out of 180 countries in press freedom, below Afghanistan and Myanmar. When editors preemptively avoid stories on farmer protests, electoral bonds, or the PM’s educational qualifications, the media isn’t just biased—it’s performing the state’s work.
The constitutional principle at stake is Article 19(1)(a), which guarantees freedom of the press. But as legal scholar Gautam Bhatia argues, "A free press isn’t just about the absence of censorship. It’s about the absence of fear." When fear dictates coverage, the media ceases to be a check on power and becomes its amplifier.
THE ARGUMENT AGAINST The counterargument is that Indian media remains far too chaotic, diverse, and commercially driven to be called "state media." Unlike China’s Xinhua or Russia’s RT, India’s media landscape is fragmented, competitive, and often oppositional—just not in the way liberals might prefer.
First, the sheer volume of dissent. Even at the height of the Modi government’s popularity, outlets like The Wire, Scroll, and Caravan have published investigations into electoral bonds, the Rafale deal, and the PM-CARES fund. Regional media—from Malayalam Manorama to Dainik Bhaskar—routinely criticise the Centre on issues like GST, inflation, and federalism. If this were state media, why would the government tolerate such scrutiny? The answer, say defenders, is that India’s media is too large and decentralised to control entirely. As journalist Shekhar Gupta notes, "The Indian state is strong, but it’s not omnipotent. It can’t micromanage 100,000 journalists."
Second, the profit motive. Indian media is not a monolith; it’s a marketplace. Channels like Republic TV and Times Now thrive on hyper-nationalist rhetoric not because the government forces them to, but because it sells. Ratings data shows that jingoistic coverage of Pakistan, China, or "anti-national" dissent drives viewership. The government may benefit from this, but it doesn’t create it. If anything, the state is often a victim of media sensationalism—see the 2019 Balakot coverage, where channels competed to outdo each other in claims of "300 terrorists killed," only to be contradicted by international reports.
Third, the legal safeguards. India’s judiciary has repeatedly pushed back against government overreach. In 2021, the Supreme Court stayed the IT Rules’ provision allowing the government to demand content takedowns. In 2023, it quashed the Centre’s attempt to ban a BBC documentary on the 2002 Gujarat riots. If the media were truly state-controlled, these interventions wouldn’t happen. As former Chief Justice U.U. Lalit argued, "The courts are the last line of defence for press freedom. And they have not failed."
Finally, the comparison to actual state media is misleading. In China, journalists are state employees; in India, they are private actors with their own agendas. The problem, say critics, isn’t state control—it’s corporate capture, sensationalism, and the collapse of ethical journalism. Blaming the government alone lets the media off the hook for its own failures.
THE HIDDEN DIMENSION The debate over media independence misses a critical economic reality: Indian journalism was never truly independent—it was always advertiser-dependent. The crisis today isn’t just about government pressure; it’s about the collapse of the old business model.
In the 1990s, newspapers and TV channels thrived on a mix of circulation revenue and advertising. But the rise of digital media and the decline of print have gutted this model. Today, 70% of a newspaper’s revenue comes from ads, and 60% of that is from government sources. For TV news, the figure is even higher. When your survival depends on pleasing the state, "independence" becomes a luxury you can’t afford.
This isn’t a new problem. In the 1970s, during the Emergency, Indira Gandhi’s government used ad revenue to coerce media houses. The difference now is scale. With 1,200 TV channels and 100,000 registered newspapers, the competition for government ads is fiercer than ever. The result? A race to the bottom, where compliance is the only way to stay afloat.
The hidden dimension, then, is this: the media’s subservience isn’t just about ideology—it’s about survival. Until journalism finds a new business model (subscriptions, philanthropy, or public funding), the state will always have the upper hand.
WHERE INDIANS STAND A 2023 Pew Research survey found that 55% of Indians believe the media is "too critical" of the government, while only 28% say it is "not critical enough." However, a 2024 Lokniti-CSDS poll revealed that 62% of urban Indians trust "independent digital media" more than traditional TV news. The divide isn’t just ideological—it’s generational. Younger Indians, who consume news via YouTube and social media, are far more sceptical of mainstream outlets than their parents.
YOUR VIEW If the media’s job is to hold power to account, but its survival depends on not offending power—is the problem the state, or is it the system itself?
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