The self-congratulatory rhetoric of the inter-governmental merry-go-round will once again be heard at the 15th SAARC Summit in Colombo. In reality, SAARC at (almost) 23 has the mental development of a three-year-old. The proof in the SAARC pudding will not be found in over-hyped summits or crusty declarations, but in the free flow of people, ideas, creativity and culture across political boundaries that, currently, remain jealously guarded by governments and their militaries. Most official SAARC initiatives fail this test miserably. Typical of this arrested development is the SAARC Audio-Visual Exchange, or SAVE.
Announced in 1986 and established a year later, SAVE was to be "a South Asian broadcasting programme covering both radio and television." Its mandate was to "increase the awareness of each other among the peoples of the region through disseminating information on the socio-cultural, economic and technical aspects." SAVE connected Southasia's state-owned, government-controlled radio and TV stations, in order to share selected content for broadcasting in each country. Some joint productions were also to be undertaken. Over the years, some content-swapping has indeed taken place, and the SAVE Committee members have met more than two dozen times. All of this hard work apparently pleased their masters. According to the website of the SAARC Secretariat, "The successive SAARC Summits had lauded the smooth functioning of SAVE programme [sic] as being a useful medium for promoting a South Asian consciousness among the people in the region."
So what was produced by these Himalayan labours, and where has it all gone? SAVE's founders chose relatively 'safe' topics for coverage – the environment, disability, youth, literacy, clean water, mountains. Even without a close analysis of SAVE-distributed content over the years, we can safely bet that nothing remotely critical of governments or militaries ever came out of the process. These state mouthpieces diligently avoid critical issues such as the rise of religious fundamentalism and ultra-nationalism, the saffronisation of politics, the militarisation of whole societies and the uncritical cheerleading of market economics. Indeed, Southasia as covered by state TV and radio is so detached from reality that it could just as well exist in a parallel universe. For example, the democracy struggles in Karachi, Kathmandu or Male are reported as little more than civic disturbances or anti-government mayhem. Everyone who does not completely agree with the ruling oligarchies is branded a traitor or a potential 'terrorist'.
Who would consume such perversions on the air? As it turns out, fewer people with each passing year. During the mid-1980s when SAVE began, most viewers had access to an average of 2.4 TV channels, all state-owned. Since then, the numbers have changed dramatically – first with the advent of satellite television in 1991, and then through gradual (albeit partial) broadcast liberalisation. Southasian audiences, at last freed from the unimaginative, propaganda-laden state channels, quickly migrated to privately owned options. Soon, 'Babu TVs' everywhere found themselves with ever-shrinking audiences and declining revenue. For the past decade, most have survived only because governments have continued to infuse them with taxpayer money.