For Pakistani reporters, lives in peril Sherry Ricchiardi
I have worked with Pakistani journalists in their country and mine for the past five years. I marvel at their resilience in a region swarming with terrorists and religious fanatics who view the news media as an archenemy.
A recent email hammered home that reality.
I met Waqas A. Khan last summer through a program sponsored by the International Center for Journalists. We kept in touch, but this time there was a sense of urgency.
Khan wrote that he had begun traveling in secrecy and keeping a pistol in his car, moves that seemed out of sync for a congenial reporter who champions religious diversity and human rights in his violence-plagued homeland.
“An impartial eye on religion is taboo in Pakistan,” he explained, “and in some cases can cost your life.” Many of his stories “go in dustbins because newspapers are not willing to become a target of extremists.” Khan, a bureau chief for The Nation and Daily Pakistan Observer, reports on Christians, Shiites and others under attack in Pakistan. His wife urges him to pull back. “But,” he asks, “how can I stop writing when my country is on the edge of disaster because of religious extremism?”
Over the years, dozens of Pa- kistani journalists have been abducted, tortured and murdered in the name of religion. Many have gone into hiding or fled the country to escape fanatics who label them infidels and apostates.
During a visit to Pakistan in May 2010, I caught a glimpse of this rabid radicalism.
I had been invited to the Lahore Press Club one evening for a roundtable on a Pakistani court ruling blocking Facebook after an American cartoonist posted an online competition titled “Draw Mohammad Day.”
The place was a fortress. There were tank traps, armed guards and a sniper peering down from the rooftop.
As the Facebook ruling was debated, an older, gray-haired man sprung to his feet and shouted, “Those who insult the holy prophet should be killed, should be hung, should be butchered.” As he continued his venomous tirade, silence hung heavy in the room.
Afterward, some of the club members came up to say they disagreed with their colleague’s rant, but taking him on publicly would have been akin to poking a viper’s nest. The next day, their paranoia over Islamic fanaticism was borne out.
I was at the Avari Hotel on May 28, 2010, when thunderous blasts ripped through the quiet afternoon. Suicide bombers and gunmen simultaneously struck two mosques during Friday prayers. Their target: Ahmadis, a minority Muslim sect that Pakistan had declared to be un-Islamic. The death count stood at 94; more than 120 were injured.
Later that day, I returned to the press club where journalists were editing photos and filing stories on the “Lahore Massacre.” I learned that a cameraman from a TV station had been killed in the crossfire.
For years, the Committee to Protect Journalists has listed Pakistan among the most dangerous countries for the news media. It is also one of the most hostile nations for religious minorities, according to a 2014 Pew Research Center report. The government has done little to stem the tide of murder and torment.
A chilling effect fueled by terror has paralyzed media organizations and unleashed self-censorship that plays into the hands of the tormentors. At times, it is a matter of life or death.
Prominent television personality Raza Rumi of Lahore was warned he would “pay a price with his blood” for reporting on the persecution of religious minorities and condemning Pakistan’s flawed blasphemy laws.
As he rode home March 28, 2014, a hail of bullets killed his driver and wounded a bodyguard. After surviving the ambush, he fled to America. “I feel safe here. That is of paramount importance,” Rumi told me from the National Endowment for Democracy, where he is a visiting fellow.
He still writes for publications back home, he says — and still receives threats.
As I watch helplessly from the sidelines, the least I can do is weave safety strategies into every workshop I conduct with Pakistani journalists, keeping fingers crossed that some of the tips might provide a smidgen of protection. And I can be a listening post for those who hear noises in the night.
A chilling effect fueled by terror has paralyzed media organizations. ... At times, it is a matter of life or death.
Sherry Ricchiardi works in Lahore after the attacks on Amadi mosques in May 2010.