Journalism is not a crime

That journalism remains one of the most perilous professions in Pakistan is a grim reality we are forced to confront time and again. For those who choose to tell the truth, the cost is often terrifyingly high – threats, intimidation, violence and, far too frequently, death. The recent killing of journalist Abdul Latif Baloch in Balochistan is another tragic addition to a long list of journalists who have paid with their lives for the simple act of doing their job. Baloch, who worked for some well-known media outlets, was gunned down in his home, reportedly shot four times with AK-47 rifles. His murder follows a disturbing pattern of attacks on journalists in Pakistan, especially those reporting from sensitive regions. While local police have launched an investigation, the motive behind the murder remains unclear. But the broader context is clear as day: journalists in Pakistan, particularly those covering issues that challenge the powerful – whether state or non-state – do so at immense personal risk.

According to the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), Pakistan ranks 12th on its 2024 Global Impunity Index. Since 1992, at least 75 journalists and media workers have been killed in the country for reasons directly related to their work. Many of these killings remain unresolved, their perpetrators walking free – shielded by a culture of impunity and the glaring failure of the state to ensure justice. Balochistan presents a particularly bleak landscape for press freedom. Here, journalists are often caught in the crosshairs of competing powers: the state, which seeks to control the narrative, and insurgent or extremist groups, who punish any reporting they deem threatening. The result is a suffocating environment in which truth-telling becomes a matter of life and death. The killing of Baloch is far from an isolated incident. Cases like that of Nazim Jokhio serve as chilling reminders of the dangers journalists face when they try to hold the powerful to account. The dismissal of such cases, often through pressure tactics or settlements under the guise of blood money, sends a dangerous message: that the lives of journalists are expendable.

While successive governments have made lofty claims about protecting journalists, the reality remains grim. Protection remains a promise on paper. Journalists who manage to survive are often left with no option but to flee the country, seeking asylum in places where their right to report freely is respected. The silence surrounding attacks on journalists is just as dangerous as the attacks themselves. Critics often deride the profession as little more than PR, but they do not stand with those who are targeted for exposing the truth. At a time when journalists across the world are being targeted for daring to document crimes and demand accountability, the need for solidarity and protection has never been more urgent. There is no journalism without journalists. And there can be no democracy without a free press. The killing of Abdul Latif Baloch must not be allowed to fade into the long list of forgotten names. The state must muster the political will to bring perpetrators to account, provide meaningful protection to media professionals, and end the culture of impunity that has made journalism in Pakistan a deadly profession.