And still we stand tall…

The death of an Editor
Having been at meetings all morning, I heard about the brutal attack on
courageous editor Lasantha Wickramatunga only around 12.30 pm on Thursday,
January 8 - almost two full hours after it happened. At that moment, doctors

were desperately trying to save his life at a public hospital just two
kilometres from our office.

My colleague Manori, who passed on the shocking news, added hopefully: “If I
know anything about Lasantha, he’s a fighter.” We both clung on to the slim

chance that he would somehow make it. Across the nation, thousands
collectively held their breath.

Just past 1 pm, I phoned my friend Dilrukshi, one of Lasantha’s deputy
editors. She wasn’t answering so I didn’t persist. But she phoned back a few

minutes later to say Lasantha was in a ‘critical condition’ - doctors
won’t/can’t say anything else. She briefly described what she knew and saw -
details that would soon be reported by a myriad news outlets across the

media spectrum. Lasantha and his team always knew how much of a marked man
he was. Their worst fears were now unfolding…

Having spent a couple of hours at the Kalubowila Hospital, Dilrukshi was
heading back to their newspaper office in Ratmalana. Thursday was typically

the busiest day of the week for the folks at The Sunday Leader. “We have to
put the paper together, no matter what,” she said in a strained voice laced
with determination. “He would expect nothing less.”


The grim news came barely an hour later: Lasantha had lost his final battle.

I decided to leave Dilrukshi and team to do their job. Later that afternoon,
I sent her a text message, saying: “I am so very sorry. Been in tears most

of this pm. Suggest you print Pastor Niemoeller as a caution to our zombies
who still cheerlead blood thirsty war heroes.”

Before the sun went down that day, I also wrote a brief blog post in memory
of my one time colleague:

http://movingimages.wordpress.com/2009/01/08/lasantha-wickramatunga-in-memoriam/

By coincidence, I had already invoked the famous words (”First they came for

the Jews…”) by the German theologian, Martin Niemoeller, in a blog comment
protesting the attack on Sirasa/MTV,  the country’s largest private
broadcaster, on the night of January 6. The two attacks both aimed to

silence independent voices that were not tamed by the rhetoric of patriotism
and Sinhala nationalism. What I didn’t know at the time was that Lasantha
had been fond of these very words of Niemoeller, and quoted it often.


And Niemoeller figures prominently in - and provides the apt heading for -
the very last editorial to be signed under Lasantha’s name, which appears in
today’s edition of The Sunday Leader, produced and delivered to the

newsstands to the same standard as day broke. I have no idea which one - or
several - of his team members actually penned it, but I can’t find the
slightest difference in style. Therein lies our only hope: their mentor lies

fallen in a casket, but his spirit and passion are out there…

So here it is, the one and only Lasantha Wickramatunga for the last time:

http://www.thesundayleader.lk/20090111/editorial-.htm

The Sunday Leader Editorial: 11 January 2009
And Then They Came For Me

No other profession calls on its practitioners to lay down their lives for
their art save the armed forces and, in Sri Lanka, journalism. In the course

of the past few years, the independent media have increasingly come under
attack. Electronic and print-media institutions have been burnt, bombed,
sealed and coerced. Countless journalists have been harassed, threatened and

killed. It has been my honour to belong to all those categories and now
especially the last.

I have been in the business of journalism a good long time. Indeed, 2009
will be The Sunday Leader’s 15th year. Many things have changed in Sri Lanka

during that time, and it does not need me to tell you that the greater part
of that change has been for the worse. We find ourselves in the midst of a
civil war ruthlessly prosecuted by protagonists whose bloodlust knows no

bounds. Terror, whether perpetrated by terrorists or the state, has become
the order of the day. Indeed, murder has become the primary tool whereby the
state seeks to control the organs of liberty. Today it is the journalists,

tomorrow it will be the judges. For neither group have the risks ever been
higher or the stakes lower.

Why then do we do it? I often wonder that. After all, I too am a husband,
and the father of three wonderful children. I too have responsibilities and

obligations that transcend my profession, be it the law or journalism. Is it
worth the risk? Many people tell me it is not. Friends tell me to revert to
the bar, and goodness knows it offers a better and safer livelihood. Others,

including political leaders on both sides, have at various times sought to
induce me to take to politics, going so far as to offer me ministries of my
choice. Diplomats, recognising the risk journalists face in Sri Lanka, have

offered me safe passage and the right of residence in their countries.
Whatever else I may have been stuck for, I have not been stuck for choice.

But there is a calling that is yet above high office, fame, lucre and

security. It is the call of conscience.

The Sunday Leader has been a controversial newspaper because we say it like
we see it: whether it be a spade, a thief or a murderer, we call it by that
name. We do not hide behind euphemism. The investigative articles we print

are supported by documentary evidence thanks to the public-spiritedness of
citizens who at great risk to themselves pass on this material to us. We
have exposed scandal after scandal, and never once in these 15 years has

anyone proved us wrong or successfully prosecuted us.

The free media serve as a mirror in which the public can see itself sans
mascara and styling gel. From us you learn the state of your nation, and
especially its management by the people you elected to give your children a

better future. Sometimes the image you see in that mirror is not a pleasant
one. But while you may grumble in the privacy of your armchair, the
journalists who hold the mirror up to you do so publicly and at great risk

to themselves. That is our calling, and we do not shirk it.

Every newspaper has its angle, and we do not hide the fact that we have
ours. Our commitment is to see Sri Lanka as a transparent, secular, liberal

democracy. Think about those words, for they each has profound meaning.
Transparent because government must be openly accountable to the people and
never abuse their trust. Secular because in a multi-ethnic and
multi-cultural society such as ours, secularism offers the only common

ground by which we might all be united. Liberal because we recognise that
all human beings are created different, and we need to accept others for
what they are and not what we would like them to be. And democratic… well,

if you need me to explain why that is important, you’d best stop buying this
paper.

The Sunday Leader has never sought safety by unquestioningly articulating
the majority view. Let’s face it, that is the way to sell newspapers. On the

contrary, as our opinion pieces over the years amply demonstrate, we often
voice ideas that many people find distasteful. For example,  we have
consistently espoused the view that while separatist terrorism must be

eradicated, it is more important to address the root causes of terrorism,
and urged government to view Sri Lanka’s ethnic strife in the context of
history and not through the telescope of terrorism. We have also agitated

against state terrorism in the so-called war against terror, and made no
secret of our horror that Sri Lanka is the only country in the world
routinely to bomb its own citizens. For these views we have been labelled

traitors, and if this be treachery, we wear that label proudly.

Many people suspect that The Sunday Leader has a political agenda: it does
not. If we appear more critical of the government than of the opposition it

is only because we believe that - pray excuse cricketing argot - there is no
point in bowling to the fielding side. Remember that for the few years of
our existence in which the UNP was in office, we proved to be the biggest

thorn in its flesh, exposing excess and corruption wherever it occurred.
Indeed, the steady stream of embarrassing expos‚s we published may well have
served to precipitate the downfall of that government.

Neither should our distaste for the war be interpreted to mean that we

support the Tigers. The LTTE are among the most ruthless and bloodthirsty
organisations ever to have infested the planet. There is no gainsaying that
it must be eradicated. But to do so by violating the rights of Tamil

citizens, bombing and shooting them mercilessly, is not only wrong but
shames the Sinhalese, whose claim to be custodians of the dhamma is forever
called into question by this savagery, much of which is unknown to the

public because of censorship.

What is more, a military occupation of the country’s north and east will
require the Tamil people of those regions to live eternally as second-class
citizens, deprived of all self respect. Do not imagine that you can placate

them by showering “development” and “reconstruction” on them in the post-war
era. The wounds of war will scar them forever, and you will also have an
even more bitter and hateful Diaspora to contend with. A problem amenable to

a political solution will thus become a festering wound that will yield
strife for all eternity. If I seem angry and frustrated, it is only because
most of my countrymen - and all of the government - cannot see this writing

so plainly on the wall.

It is well known that I was on two occasions brutally assaulted, while on
another my house was sprayed with machine-gun fire. Despite the government’s
sanctimonious assurances, there was never a serious police inquiry into the

perpetrators of these attacks, and the attackers were never apprehended. In
all these cases, I have reason to believe the attacks were inspired by the
government. When finally I am killed, it will be the government that kills

me.

The irony in this is that, unknown to most of the public, Mahinda and I have
been friends for more than a quarter century. Indeed, I suspect that I am
one of the few people remaining who routinely addresses him by his first

name and uses the familiar Sinhala address oya when talking to him. Although
I do not attend the meetings he periodically holds for newspaper editors,
hardly a month passes when we do not meet, privately or with a few close

friends present, late at night at President’s House. There we swap yarns,
discuss politics and joke about the good old days. A few remarks to him
would therefore be in order here.

Mahinda, when you finally fought your way to the SLFP presidential

nomination in 2005, nowhere were you welcomed more warmly than in this
column. Indeed, we broke with a decade of tradition by referring to you
throughout by your first name. So well known were your commitments to human

rights and liberal values that we ushered you in like a breath of fresh air.
Then, through an act of folly, you got yourself involved in the Helping
Hambantota scandal. It was after a lot of soul-searching that we broke the

story, at the same time urging you to return the money. By the time you did
so several weeks later, a great blow had been struck to your reputation. It
is one you are still trying to live down.

You have told me yourself that you were not greedy for the presidency. You

did not have to hanker after it: it fell into your lap. You have told me
that your sons are your greatest joy, and that you love spending time with
them, leaving your brothers to operate the machinery of state. Now, it is

clear to all who will see that that machinery has operated so well that my
sons and daughter do not themselves have a father.

In the wake of my death I know you will make all the usual sanctimonious
noises and call upon the police to hold a swift and thorough inquiry. But

like all the inquiries you have ordered in the past, nothing will come of
this one, too. For truth be told, we both know who will be behind my death,
but dare not call his name. Not just my life, but yours too, depends on it.


Sadly, for all the dreams you had for our country in your younger days, in
just three years you have reduced it to rubble. In the name of patriotism
you have trampled on human rights, nurtured unbridled corruption and

squandered public money like no other President before you. Indeed, your
conduct has been like a small child suddenly let loose in a toyshop. That
analogy is perhaps inapt because no child could have caused so much blood to

be spilled on this land as you have, or trampled on the rights of its
citizens as you do. Although you are now so drunk with power that you cannot
see it, you will come to regret your sons having so rich an inheritance of

blood. It can only bring tragedy. As for me, it is with a clear conscience
that I go to meet my Maker. I wish, when your time finally comes, you could
do the same. I wish.

As for me, I have the satisfaction of knowing that I walked tall and bowed

to no man. And I have not travelled this journey alone. Fellow journalists
in other branches of the media walked with me: most of them are now dead,
imprisoned without trial or exiled in far-off lands. Others walk in the

shadow of death that your Presidency has cast on the freedoms for which you
once fought so hard. You will never be allowed to forget that my death took
place under your watch. As anguished as I know you will be, I also know that

you will have no choice but to protect my killers: you will see to it that
the guilty one is never convicted. You have no choice. I feel sorry for you,
and Shiranthi will have a long time to spend on her knees when next she goes

for Confession for it is not just her owns sins which she must confess, but
those of her extended family that keeps you in office.

As for the readers of The Sunday Leader, what can I say but Thank You for
supporting our mission. We have espoused unpopular causes, stood up for

those too feeble to stand up for themselves, locked horns with the high and
mighty so swollen with power that they have forgotten their roots, exposed
corruption and the waste of your hard-earned tax rupees, and made sure that

whatever the propaganda of the day, you were allowed to hear a contrary
view. For this I - and my family - have now paid the price that I have long
known I will one day have to pay. I am - and have always been - ready for

that. I have done nothing to prevent this outcome: no security, no
precautions. I want my murderer to know that I am not a coward like he is,
hiding behind human shields while condemning thousands of innocents to

death. What am I among so many? It has long been written that my life would
be taken, and by whom. All that remains to be written is when.

That The Sunday Leader will continue fighting the good fight, too, is

written. For I did not fight this fight alone. Many more of us have to be -
and will be - killed before The Leader is laid to rest. I hope my
assassination will be seen not as a defeat of freedom but an inspiration for

those who survive to step up their efforts. Indeed, I hope that it will help
galvanise forces that will usher in a new era of human liberty in our
beloved motherland. I also hope it will open the eyes of your President to

the fact that however many are slaughtered in the name of patriotism, the
human spirit will endure and flourish. Not all the Rajapakses combined can
kill that.

People often ask me why I take such risks and tell me it is a matter of time

before I am bumped off. Of course I know that: it is inevitable. But if we
do not speak out now, there will be no one left to speak for those who
cannot, whether they be ethnic minorities, the disadvantaged or the

persecuted. An example that has inspired me throughout my career in
journalism has been that of the German theologian, Martin Niem”ller. In his
youth he was an anti-Semite and an admirer of  Hitler. As Nazism took hold

in Germany, however, he saw Nazism for what it was: it was not just the Jews
Hitler sought to extirpate, it was just about anyone with an alternate point
of view. Niem”ller spoke out, and for his trouble was incarcerated in the

Sachsenhausen and Dachau concentration camps from 1937 to 1945, and very
nearly executed. While incarcerated, Niem”ller wrote a poem that, from the
first time I read it in my teenage years, stuck hauntingly in my mind:


First they came for the Jews

           and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for the Communists

           and I did not speak out because I was not a Communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists

           and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for me

           and there was no one left to speak out for me.

If you remember nothing else, remember this: The Leader is there for you, be

you Sinhalese, Tamil, Muslim, low-caste, homosexual, dissident or disabled.
Its staff will fight on, unbowed and unafraid, with the courage to which you
have become accustomed. Do not take that commitment for granted.  Let there

be no doubt that whatever sacrifices we journalists make, they are not made
for our own glory or enrichment: they are made for you. Whether you deserve
their sacrifice is another matter. As for me, God knows I tried.