Tuesday, December 08, 2009

'The mass murder in Maguindanao has come to define our generation as journalists'

A rare sight--Conrado De Quiros in the flesh reading the Inquirer's stand against the Maguindanao massacre [video below], especially the mind-boggling murder of 27 fellow journalists in one fell swoop. That horrific crime has vaulted the Philippines beyond Iraq as the most dangerous place in the world for journalists these days.

Last Friday, December 4, the paper held its own indignation rally and moment of remembrance on the front steps of the office. How grave the present circumstances are--not only for Filipino journalists but for the general civil order--was underscored by the early sight of our veteran newsman-publisher, Isagani Yambot, breaking into tears in deep anger and sadness during his brief remarks. The gentlemanly Mr. Yambot never once cried during the Marcoses' Martial Law; he did now.

For his part, Mr. De Quiros--arguably the fiercest, most fearless and piercingly prescient critic of the Arroyo regime (everything he has foretold about the woman in the Palace has come true)--lent his own outraged voice by reading the ringing Inquirer editorial of November 29, 2009, which paid tribute to our 27 slain colleagues by committing us their peers to bearing witness to their murders--and to the call for truth and justice, under a shameless, brazen government hell-bent on denying the nation both.

Yes, We will keep asking the terrible question: How could this have happened?

[Apologies for the skewed view at the start of the vid--I was wielding a phone camera the normal way while watching Mr. De Quiros and didn't realize I should have switched to landscape mode. The view rights itself after a minute or so.]


We will retrace their steps, those early hours before their shocking extinction, when they, at least 27 journalists, set out for a day’s work. We will piece together the bloody shards of the crime--the point in the highway in Ampatuan country where the convoy in which they were part was waylaid, the guns that snuffed them out, the grassy field where they, along with the rest of the unfortunate lot, breathed their last.

We will approximate the horror, mindful of the limitations of words but galvanized by the same calling that ultimately led them to their doom.

We will keep asking the terrible question: How could this have happened?

The mass murder in Maguindanao on Nov. 23 has come to define our generation as journalists. Nowhere in our history as an endangered breed has a similar occurrence approached such a degree of enormity or the body count been so outrageously high. Yet a more significant aspect casts a large shadow on the crime--the climate of impunity that served as fertile ground for it to happen. Let not the staggering dimensions of the killings take the edge off that fact.

We will be their witness. Removed as we are from the arena of their toil, we will acknowledge the peculiar nature of their daily terrain as shaped by the unbridled, unabashed power that holds sway. We will presume that getting into the vehicles that made up the convoy heading to the Commission on Elections office in Shariff Aguak, thence to witness and record a process that would have made official Esmael Mangudadatu’s gubernatorial candidacy, they pushed trepidation aside and sought comfort in the idea, hitherto unshakable, that journalism is a power unto itself, sufficient to stand up to fear itself.

That they are dead now is heart-wrenching, and we will mourn their--our--having been proven wrong. Yet, despite having been crudely disabused of the idea that reporting on an event, for the benefit of the public that we are sworn to inform, is no longer a guarantee of even safe passage, we will persevere. For too long have we lived gripped by a particular tension as Gordimer had defined it: that of being participant and recorder of events--a necessary burden of writers and, by extension, journalists. And we will continue to record our times and the evil that men and women do even as we rail at oppression and injustice.

We will not lose sight of the fact that as many as 68 journalists, not counting the 27 murdered in Maguindanao, have been killed since 2001, when Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo took power. (Once upon a time, her husband, addressing a group of journalists in Negros, said no journalist on the island had been killed because “journalists here are responsible reporters.") To Camus’ requirements of "courage in one’s life and talent in one’s work” we will add strength and commitment.

There will be justice for the 27 journalists (and the women and other civilians) who perished in the badlands of Maguindanao.

We will be their witness. Though we may be under the gun, we will endure.

[Photos and video taken with a Sony Ericsson W995]


rudeboy said...

Strange. I had just been thinking of de Quiros and the Maguindanao massacre.

Thank you for this, Gibbs. Conrad de Quiros is my hero, a strident voice of reason in a vast howling wasteland of idiocy.

May he be right as well that justice be served - and not just for the Maguindanao massacre victims. But for all of us who have endured this unspeakable travesty of government and all the vile, wicked things it has wrought.

Yj said...

what had happened is way beyond my understanding....

i just hope that justice will be served....

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