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Correspondent

23 August 2024 at 9:59:04 pm

Hidden Questions

For six years, the Disha Salian case has remained trapped in a fog of unanswered questions, disputed narratives and institutional inaction. It appears that the fog is now finally beginning to lift. The CBI’s recent FIR has brought into the investigation a startling array of names including Shiv Sena (UBT) leader and MLA Aaditya Thackeray, his father, Sena (UBT) chief and former Chief Minister Uddhav Thackeray, Dino Morea, Sooraj Pancholi, Rhea Chakraborty, Sachin Vaze, Param Bir Singh, and...

Hidden Questions

For six years, the Disha Salian case has remained trapped in a fog of unanswered questions, disputed narratives and institutional inaction. It appears that the fog is now finally beginning to lift. The CBI’s recent FIR has brought into the investigation a startling array of names including Shiv Sena (UBT) leader and MLA Aaditya Thackeray, his father, Sena (UBT) chief and former Chief Minister Uddhav Thackeray, Dino Morea, Sooraj Pancholi, Rhea Chakraborty, Sachin Vaze, Param Bir Singh, and former home minister Anil Deshmukh. The allegations being investigated include conspiracy, destruction or suppression of evidence and an alleged attempt to establish a false narrative around Salian’s death. For Aaditya and the MVA, the instinctive political response will be to dub the CBI’s fresh probe as ‘vendetta’ and portray the investigation as an assault on the Thackeray family. But such a response would evade the much larger question of why this case was allowed to remain where it was for so long? At the very least, the filing of the FIR against the Thackerays’ and others lays bare the failure on part of the erstwhile MVA government headed by Uddhav Thackeray to properly investigate the case. This aspect cannot be wished away now by invoking political persecution as the Bombay High Court’s intervention has itself exposed the extraordinary manner in which the matter was handled. For years, Salian’s death remained an accidental-death case rather than being subjected to the kind of criminal investigation demanded by the allegations surrounding it. Her family has repeatedly sought a CBI probe only to be rebuffed by the previous Maharashtra government headed by Uddhav Thackeray. If the Thackeray-led MVA government had nothing to fear, why was a transparent investigation not pursued with greater urgency? If there was no attempt to protect anyone, why were questions about the circumstances of Salian’s death allowed to accumulate rather than being conclusively answered? And if there was no political sensitivity involved, why did the machinery of government appear so reluctant to let an independent agency examine the matter? The more aggressively the Opposition cries “vendetta,” the more obvious another question becomes: what exactly is it afraid the investigation might uncover? Aaditya Thackeray’s political inheritance cannot become an institutional exemption. Being Balasaheb Thackeray’s grandson may provide a formidable political surname; it cannot provide immunity from scrutiny. The CBI must be allowed to pursue every lead, examine every witness, reconstruct every missing link and establish the truth as to what happened to Disha Salian. If the allegations against anyone are false, the investigation should establish that too. But if wrongdoing has occurred, then those responsible must face the consequences. After six years, neither political power nor a famous surname can be allowed to stand between the investigation and the truth.

Algorithmic Anarchy

Jul 28
2 min read

The NEET paper leak protests at Delhi’s Jantar Mantar should have remained a legitimate expression of student anger over the collapse of examination integrity. Instead, as the agitation escalated into clashes with the police, abusive sloganeering and an increasingly radical political campaign, Meta’s algorithms emerged as an invisible force multiplying the unrest.


The controversy surrounding the brief removal of Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s message to the youth in the aftermath of the protests only reinforces that concern. Meta has attributed the takedown to a “technical glitch” and apologised. But when the world’s largest social media platform can temporarily suppress the message of the elected leader of the world’s largest democracy during a politically charged moments, the issue extends well beyond a single deleted post.


Who decides what India sees? That question has become impossible to ignore during the Cockroach Janta Party’s protests. Across Instagram and Facebook, users have reported being inundated with CJP videos, reels and protest clips despite never following the organisation or engaging with similar political content. Whether this resulted from coordinated paid collaborations, recommendation algorithms or both deserves a thorough investigation. But the larger democratic concern is that public opinion is increasingly being mediated not by citizens, journalists or elected representatives, but by opaque algorithms designed in Silicon Valley and optimised for engagement rather than democratic responsibility.


Meta’s recommendation engine is not a passive notice board. Every piece of political content that reaches millions has first been selected by an algorithm whose workings remain largely hidden from public scrutiny.


This is hardly unique to India. Around the world, Meta has repeatedly been accused of amplifying polarisation, misinformation and political extremism because outrage keeps users engaged. From elections to ethnic conflicts and episodes of civil unrest, the company has faced persistent criticism that its commercial incentives reward divisive content over balanced discourse.


Democracies cannot afford to outsource the architecture of public debate to corporations whose primary obligation is to shareholders rather than constitutional values. While citizens are entitled to challenge governments and demand accountability, there is an important distinction between a movement that expands because people are persuaded and one that appears to be algorithmically amplified into omnipresence.


Equally disturbing has been the normalisation of abusive political language during the protests. When such content is repeatedly amplified through recommendation systems, platforms cease to be neutral intermediaries and become active participants in degrading democratic discourse.


Platforms that influence elections, protests and public opinion must explain how political recommendations are generated and why particular narratives receive extraordinary amplification.


Silicon Valley companies insist they are merely technology platforms. But their algorithms increasingly exercise editorial power. When software determines which protests dominate national conversations and whose voices disappear, technology has already become politics.

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