Chronicle of a death foretold

Editorial by Lasantha Wicrematunge - written by him to be published after his death. Why I am putting this up on my post is because he says some very very important things, to which I want to keep coming back again..

No other profession calls on its practitioners to lay down their livesfor their art save the armed forces and, in Sri Lanka, journalism. Inthe course of the past few years, the independent media haveincreasingly come under attack. Electronic and print-mediainstitutions have been burnt, bombed, sealed and coerced. Countlessjournalists have been harassed, threatened and killed. It has been myhonour 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 changedin Sri Lanka during that time, and it does not need me to tell youthat the greater part of that change has been for the worse. We findourselves in the midst of a civil war ruthlessly prosecuted byprotagonists whose bloodlust knows no bounds. Terror, whetherperpetrated by terrorists or the state, has become the order of theday. Indeed, murder has become the primary tool whereby the stateseeks to control the organs of liberty. Today it is the journalists,tomorrow it will be the judges. For neither group have the risks everbeen higher or the stakes lower.Why then do we do it? I often wonder that. After all, I too am ahusband, and the father of three wonderful children. I too haveresponsibilities and obligations that transcend my profession, be itthe law or journalism. Is it worth the risk? Many people tell me it isnot. Friends tell me to revert to the bar, and goodness knows itoffers a better and safer livelihood. Others, including politicalleaders on both sides, have at various times sought to induce me totake to politics, going so far as to offer me ministries of my choice.Diplomats, recognising the risk journalists face in Sri Lanka , haveoffered me safe passage and the right of residence in their countries.Whatever else I may have been stuck for, I have not been stuck forchoice.But there is a calling that is yet above high office, fame, lucre andsecurity. It is the call of conscience.The Sunday Leader has been a controversial newspaper because we say itlike we see it: whether it be a spade, a thief or a murderer, we callit by that name. We do not hide behind euphemism. The investigativearticles we print are supported by documentary evidence thanks to thepublic-spiritedness of citizens who at great risk to themselves passon this material to us. We have exposed scandal after scandal, andnever once in these 15 years has anyone proved us wrong orsuccessfully prosecuted us.The free media serve as a mirror in which the public can see itselfsans mascara and styling gel. From us you learn the state of yournation, and especially its management by the people you elected togive your children a better future. Sometimes the image you see inthat mirror is not a pleasant one. But while you may grumble in theprivacy of your armchair, the journalists who hold the mirror up toyou do so publicly and at great risk to themselves. That is ourcalling, and we do not shirk it.Every newspaper has its angle, and we do not hide the fact that wehave ours. Our commitment is to see Sri Lanka as a transparent,secular, liberal democracy. Think about those words, for they each hasprofound meaning. Transparent because government must be openlyaccountable to the people and never abuse their trust. Secular becausein a multi-ethnic and multi-cultural society such as ours, secularismoffers the only common ground by which we might all be united. Liberalbecause we recognise that all human beings are created different, andwe need to accept others for what they are and not what we would likethem to be. And democratic... well, if you need me to explain why thatis important, you'd best stop buying this paper.The Sunday Leader has never sought safety by unquestioninglyarticulating the majority view. Let's face it that is the way to sellnewspapers. On the contrary, as our opinion pieces over the yearsamply demonstrate, we often voice ideas that many people finddistasteful. For example, we have consistently espoused the view thatwhile separatist terrorism must be eradicated, it is more important toaddress the root causes of terrorism, and urged government to view SriLanka 's ethnic strife in the context of history and not through thetelescope of terrorism. We have also agitated against state terrorismin the so-called war against terror, and made no secret of our horrorthat Sri Lanka is the only country in the world routinely to bomb itsown citizens. For these views we have been labeled traitors, and ifthis be treachery, we wear that label proudly.Many people suspect that The Sunday Leader has a political agenda: itdoes not. If we appear more critical of the government than of theopposition it is only because we believe that - pray excuse cricketingargot - there is no point in bowling to the fielding side. Rememberthat for the few years of our existence in which the UNP was inoffice, we proved to be the biggest thorn in its flesh, exposingexcess and corruption wherever it occurred. Indeed, the steady streamof embarrassing expos's we published may well have served toprecipitate the downfall of that government.Neither should our distaste for the war be interpreted to mean that wesupport the Tigers. The LTTE are among the most ruthless andbloodthirsty organisations ever to have infested the planet. There isno gainsaying that it must be eradicated. But to do so by violatingthe rights of Tamil citizens, bombing and shooting them mercilessly,is not only wrong but shames the Sinhalese, whose claim to becustodians of the dhamma is forever called into question by thissavagery, much of which is unknown to the public because ofcensorship.What is more, a military occupation of the country's north and eastwill require the Tamil people of those regions to live eternally assecond-class citizens, deprived of all self respect. Do not imaginethat you can placate them by showering "development" and"reconstruction" on them in the post-war era. The wounds of war willscar them forever, and you will also have an even more bitter andhateful Diaspora to contend with. A problem amenable to a politicalsolution will thus become a festering wound that will yield strife forall eternity. If I seem angry and frustrated, it is only because mostof my countrymen - and all of the government - cannot see this writingso plainly on the wall.It is well known that I was on two occasions brutally assaulted, whileon another my house was sprayed with machine-gun fire. Despite thegovernment's sanctimonious assurances, there was never a seriouspolice inquiry into the perpetrators of these attacks, and theattackers were never apprehended. In all these cases, I have reason tobelieve the attacks were inspired by the government. When finally I amkilled, it will be the government that kills me.The irony in this is that, unknown to most of the public, Mahinda andI have been friends for more than a quarter century. Indeed, I suspectthat I am one of the few people remaining who routinely addresses himby his first name and uses the familiar Sinhala address oya whentalking to him. Although I do not attend the meetings he periodicallyholds for newspaper editors, hardly a month passes when we do notmeet, privately or with a few close friends present, late at night atPresident's House. There we swap yarns, discuss politics and jokeabout the good old days. A few remarks to him would therefore be inorder here.Mahinda, when you finally fought your way to the SLFP presidentialnomination in 2005, nowhere were you welcomed more warmly than in thiscolumn. Indeed, we broke with a decade of tradition by referring toyou throughout by your first name. So well known were your commitmentsto human rights and liberal values that we ushered you in like abreath of fresh air. Then, through an act of folly, you got yourselfinvolved in the Helping Hambantota scandal. It was after a lot ofsoul-searching that we broke the story, at the same time urging you toreturn the money. By the time you did so several weeks later, a greatblow had been struck to your reputation. It is one you are stilltrying 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 havetold me that your sons are your greatest joy, and that you lovespending time with them, leaving your brothers to operate themachinery of state. Now, it is clear to all who will see that thatmachinery has operated so well that my sons and daughter do notthemselves have a father.In the wake of my death I know you will make all the usualsanctimonious noises and call upon the police to hold a swift andthorough inquiry. But like all the inquiries you have ordered in thepast, nothing will come of this one, too. For truth be told, we bothknow who will be behind my death, but dare not call his name. Not justmy life, but yours too, depends on it.Sadly, for all the dreams you had for our country in your youngerdays, in just three years you have reduced it to rubble. In the nameof patriotism you have trampled on human rights, nurtured unbridledcorruption and squandered public money like no other President beforeyou. Indeed, your conduct has been like a small child suddenly letloose in a toyshop. That analogy is perhaps inapt because no childcould have caused so much blood to be spilled on this land as youhave, or trampled on the rights of its citizens as you do. Althoughyou are now so drunk with power that you cannot see it, you will cometo regret your sons having so rich an inheritance of blood. It canonly bring tragedy. As for me, it is with a clear conscience that I goto meet my Maker. I wish, when your time finally comes, you could dothe same. I wish.As for me, I have the satisfaction of knowing that I walked tall andbowed to no man. And I have not travelled this journey alone. Fellowjournalists in other branches of the media walked with me: most ofthem are now dead, imprisoned without trial or exiled in far-offlands. Others walk in the shadow of death that your Presidency hascast on the freedoms for which you once fought so hard. You will neverbe allowed to forget that my death took place under your watch. Asanguished as I know you will be, I also know that you will have nochoice but to protect my killers: you will see to it that the guiltyone is never convicted. You have no choice. I feel sorry for you, andShiranthi will have a long time to spend on her knees when next shegoes for Confession for it is not just her own sins which she mustconfess, 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 Youfor supporting our mission. We have espoused unpopular causes, stoodup for those too feeble to stand up for themselves, locked horns withthe high and mighty so swollen with power that they have forgottentheir roots, exposed corruption and the waste of your hard-earned taxrupees, and made sure that whatever the propaganda of the day, youwere 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 topay. I am - and have always been - ready for that. I have done nothingto prevent this outcome: no security, no precautions. I want mymurderer to know that I am not a coward like he is, hiding behindhuman shields while condemning thousands of innocents to death. Whatam I among so many? It has long been written that my life would betaken, and by whom. All that remains to be written is when.That The Sunday Leader will continue fighting the good fight, too, iswritten. For I did not fight this fight alone. Many more of us have tobe - and will be - killed before The Leader is laid to rest. I hope myassassination will be seen not as a defeat of freedom but aninspiration for those who survive to step up their efforts. Indeed, Ihope that it will help galvanise forces that will usher in a new eraof human liberty in our beloved motherland. I also hope it will openthe eyes of your President to the fact that however many areslaughtered in the name of patriotism, the human spirit will endureand flourish. Not all the Rajapakses combined can kill that.People often ask me why I take such risks and tell me it is a matterof time before I am bumped off. Of course I know that: it isinevitable. But if we do not speak out now, there will be no one leftto speak for those who cannot, whether they be ethnic minorities, thedisadvantaged or the persecuted. An example that has inspired methroughout my career in journalism has been that of the Germantheologian, Martin Niem"ller. In his youth he was an anti-Semite andan admirer of Hitler. As Nazism took hold in Germany, however, he sawNazism for what it was: it was not just the Jews Hitler sought toextirpate, it was just about anyone with an alternate point of view.Niem"ller spoke out, and for his trouble was incarcerated in theSachsenhausen and Dachau concentration camps from 1937 to 1945, andvery nearly executed. While incarcerated, Niem"ller wrote a poem that,from the first time I read it in my teenage years, stuck hauntingly inmy mind:First they came for the Jews and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew.Then they came for the Communistsand I did not speak out because I was not a Communist.Then they came for the trade unionistsand I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist.Then they came for meand there was no one left to speak out for me.If you remember nothing else, remember this: The Leader is there foryou, be you Sinhalese, Tamil, Muslim, low-caste, homosexual, dissidentor disabled. Its staff will fight on, unbowed and unafraid, with thecourage to which you have become accustomed. Do not take thatcommitment for granted. Let there be no doubt that whatever sacrificeswe journalists make, they are not made for our own glory orenrichment: they are made for you. Whether you deserve their sacrificeis another matter. As for me, God knows I tried.Lasantha Wickrematunge