[Congressional Record Volume 155, Number 13 (Thursday, January 22, 2009)]
[House]
[Pages H473-H475]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]
HONORING JOURNALIST LASANTHA WICKRAMATUNGA
The SPEAKER pro tempore. Under a previous order of the House, the
gentleman from California (Mr. Schiff) is recognized for 5 minutes.
Mr. SCHIFF. Mr. Speaker, in 2006 I cofounded the Congressional Caucus
for Freedom of the Press, and since then this bipartisan, bicameral
caucus has sought to highlight the importance of free expression around
the world. I rise today to honor Lasantha Wickramatunga, a brave
journalist who was gunned down while driving to work in the Sri Lankan
capital of Colombo.
Threats, attacks and murders of journalists are becoming all too
common in Sri Lanka. Mr. Wickramatunga knew the dangers too well but
courageously continued reporting. Recognizing his work might cost him
his life, Mr. Wickramatunga wrote a letter to be published in the event
of his assassination.
Today I will read excerpts of his letter which was published by his
paper, The Sunday Leader, on January 11, 3 days after he was killed.
He wrote, ``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
honor to belong to all those categories and now especially the last.
``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.
``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
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.
``If I seem angry and frustrated, it is because most of my
countrymen--and all of the government--cannot see this writing plainly
on the wall.
``It is well known that on two occasions I was 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.
``As for me, I have the satisfaction of knowing that I walk tall and
bowed to no man. And I have not traveled 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.
``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 waste of your hard-earned tax
rupees, and make 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.
``That The Sunday Leader will continue fighting the good fight, too,
is written. For I did not fight this 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 galvanize 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.''
These were the words he wrote in anticipation of his own
assassination.
Mr. Speaker, I submit the entire text of his letter for the Record.
The following editorial by Lasantha Wickramatunga, was
published in The Sunday Leader on January 11.
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
[[Page H474]]
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, recognizing 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 have 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 exposes 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.
[[Page H475]]
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 Niemoller. 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. Niemoller 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, Niemoller 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.
____________________