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And then there was no one left to speak out for me

by Tariq Rahman, 9 June 2011

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The Express Tribune, June 5, 2011

Idid not know Syed Saleem Shahzad but the news of his death through torture made me unspeakably sad. Yes, sad — not traumatised. Not traumatised because I live in a post-9/11 world in Pakistan where human life is cheap; where terrorists kill hundreds in one fell blow; where the uncanny bizarre events of fiction get played out on our TV screens; where chaos and craziness seems to be let loose upon the earth. Speculation about his killers, said to be intelligence agencies, is found in almost all newspapers. The gist of the matter is that there are people and institutions out there who are afraid of the truth. That is why the profession of investigative journalism is so dangerous. This is what I will focus upon.

Since 2000, at least 70 journalists have been killed which makes Pakistan a dangerous country for journalists. The Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) has put Pakistan sixth on the list of the 20 deadliest countries on which India is the 8th and the first is Iraq. There is a certain Impunity Index which measures how many journalists die without there being a proper investigation, affixing of responsibility and judicial action against the perpetrators of offences against them. Journalism is a tough job all over the world. It is probably the most dangerous profession except the military in combat situations. But, during peacetime at least, the military is not as dangerous as investigative journalism. According to world reports, as much as 70 per cent of deaths of journalists are work-related. Out of these, as many as 50 per cent are target killings while 20 per cent are a result of being caught in crossfire and other such accidents.

Another difference between the death of a journalist and a military functionary during combat is that the latter is supported by comrades-in-arms; psychologically bucked-up by the regimental esprit de corps and also buoyed by a galvanised nation which regards military officers as heroes. The journalist is not supported by anyone except, possibly, by his editor if he is lucky. Even the other journalists are actually rivals and, in any case, his job is a lonely one. There are very few medals, no parades, no ostentation, no songs — almost nothing to bank upon while filing unpopular stories. Secondly, while there is the Geneva Convention in modern warfare there is none as far as journalists are concerned. These, after all, are shadowy groups, either private parties or intelligence agencies and the police, generally carrying out instructions by people whose identities will remain unknown. So, while good soldiers honour each other in death and captivity — there being numerous instances of citations of courage coming from the enemy — the poor journalist is degraded and abused by his killers. In short, it is probably correct to claim that investigative journalism is the most dangerous and difficult profession in the world.

A brief survey of how journalists were killed in Pakistan’s recent history is sufficient to convince one of the courage of journalists. In October 2002, Shahid Soomro was killed when he wrote about the abuses of local landlords in the elections held earlier that month. Fazal Wahab was killed on January 21, 2003, in Mingora, when he wrote critically on the interpretation of Islam by certain hardliners. Some point to his book Mullah ka Kirdar which may have outraged his opponents. Amir Nawab’s killing on February 7, 2005, was claimed by Sipah-e-Islam as he was considered an agent of ‘the infidels’. Hayatullah Khan, reporting from Fata, was killed in 2006 and the prime suspects were intelligence agencies. Misri Khan died in Hangu on September 14, 2010, after being threatened by militants. Similarly the August 24, 2009, killing of Janullah Hashimzada was blamed on the Taliban or al Qaeda as he was critical of both and had received threats from them. Musa Khankhel, killed on February 18, 2009, in Swat, was also a very courageous and outspoken person and the region was so volatile that such a person had many trigger-happy enemies. But deaths because of powerful individuals and interest groups are also well known. Abdul Razzak Johra was killed on November 3, 2008, in Mianwali because he had reported on the drug trade. Ghulam Rasool Birhamani died on May 9 or 10, 2010, because what he wrote had angered powerful ethnic groups or individuals. Sajid Tanoli was murdered on January 29, 2004, because he investigated the illicit liquor business. And the best known is the case of Wali Khan Babar who died on January 13, 2011, after reporting on clashes between gangs involved in the land mafia. About 17 people had died that day and he had just given his story to Geo TV. There are other cases but these are some of the prominent ones.

So, when a journalist threatens the powerful excessively he is eliminated in lawless societies. And, as our society is sliding towards anarchy, the chances of this happening to brave journalists are increasing. Robert Fisk, that veteran of wars and all kinds of violent doings, has written about his experiences which should be compulsory reading for those who do not realise how dangerous this profession is and what respect is due to it. Anyone who has followed the murder of the Wall Street Journal reporter Daniel Pearl will realise just what sense of professional commitment makes a person walk to his death following a lead. That even in death he remains unsung, unknown, unappreciated — this the world does not bother about! We do have Umar Cheema and Ansar Abbasi among us, for instance, but how many medals have they got for courage in the line of duty from us? And what about people like Mazhar Ali Khan or Razia Bhatti who did get a medal for courage in journalism, but from New York.

In the world of today, Zameer Niazi’s account of censorship (Press in Chains, etc) seems as if it belongs to a bygone world of a civilisation which is dead. Our savage times need not just be a record of the dead and the injured and those whose minds have been blighted but of government probes and action. But can we expect the government to act? Or are we barking up the wrong tree! Meanwhile the respect which such bravery merits from members of the civil society, human rights groups and concerned citizens must not be grudged to the dead. Let us not forget the words of Pastor Martin Niemoller (1892-1984) about the lack of courage of German intellectuals in the face of Hitler’s fascism: “First they came for the communists/ and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a communist/ Then they came for the trade unionists/ and I didn’t speak up out because I wasn’t a trade unionist.? Then they came for the Jews/ and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a Jew/Then the came for me? And there was no one left to speak out for me.â€

The writer is Distinguished National Professor Emeritus of Linguistic History

Published in The Express Tribune, June 5th, 2011.

P.S.

The above article from The Express Tribune is reproduced here for educational and non commercial use only