In memory of truth-tellers

When will journalism be untied with danger and fear?

Whenever someone asks me what profession I’d like to take, I usually say Accountancy or anything business-related, especially when my relatives are the ones asking, because it’s the safest answer. It ends the conversation quickly, no questions, no worries. Because if I told them what my real dream profession is, I know the silence or the barrage of questions that would follow.

“Why journalism? It’s too dangerous.”

“It’s not an easy path.”

“You might end up getting killed, like the ones I heard about on the radio.”

Those were some of the reactions I remember the most, tied with fear that I might choose a path that could put me in danger. Journalism isn’t the kind of answer that makes people smile anymore; it’s the kind that makes them fall silent, their worry filling the space between us.

I sometimes imagine journalism as a path where one of your feet is already buried in the ground, always tied to fear and anxiety. And still, my heart keeps coming back to it. Maybe because it takes a kind of courage I can’t quite explain, the kind that makes you keep writing about the world, even when the world would rather you stay quiet.

Names that turned into numbers

Whenever I come across news about journalists getting killed, I think about the people behind those names; their notebooks, cameras, unfinished drafts, and families waiting for them to come home. The death toll of journalists has been alarmingly high when it shouldn’t be, especially in war-conflicted areas.

In the most recent data, Israel has killed more than 270 journalists and media workers since it launched its war on Gaza. That’s about 13 journalists a month and to look at it in a deeper perspective, that’s thirteen voices silenced, stories left untold.

According to the Committee to Protect Journalists’ 2024 Global Impunity Index, Asia remains the most represented region, with Afghanistan, the Philippines, Myanmar, and Pakistan all on the list. The Philippines and Pakistan have appeared every year since 2008, a reminder that danger still lurks even outside war zones.

Since 1986, there have been 199 journalists killed in the Philippines, based on data from the National Union of Journalists of the Philippines and Rappler. That’s nearly two hundred people who chose to keep writing, even when it cost them everything.

“Murder is the ultimate weapon to silence journalists,” said CPJ CEO Jodie Ginsberg. To think of it, silence isn’t just the absence of voices, it’s the loss of truth itself. When a journalist is killed, it’s not only a life that ends, but a story that never gets told, and a truth that never reaches the light.

Demanding justice for those who couldn’t anymore

As we recently commemorate International Day to End Impunity for Crimes Against Journalists, may this serve as a reminder that too many truth-tellers have been killed for simply doing their jobs. Some were shot on their way home, others disappeared without a trace, their stories buried along with them. Yet the people who ordered their deaths still walk free, their names untouched by justice.

This day isn’t just about remembering them but also facing the uncomfortable truth that in many places, telling the truth is treated like a crime. It’s about demanding that those who silence journalists be held accountable, so that no one else has to die just for doing what’s right.Journalism was never supposed to be a gamble between truth and safety, but somehow, that’s what it turned into.

There are so many of us, student journalists, who still hold on to that dream of becoming professionals someday. We write for small school papers, stay up late fixing articles that barely get noticed, and picture our names printed somewhere out there, beyond the classroom walls. But beneath those small dreams, there’s also fear—the same kind that makes people ask why we’d even want to take this path in the first place.

Carrying the truth forward

Maybe that’s why, even with all the fear that surrounds this profession, so many of us still choose it. We know the risks, we hear the stories, and we see how easily truth can cost a life, but still, we continue to tell the truth.

I hope the time comes when the deaths of journalists won’t just be turned into statistics or advocacy slogans and that every story they once tried to tell will finally be heard and finished in truth, not silence. Because journalists deserve more than threats and impunity. They deserve to live long enough to see the world change because of their words.

And so, the question remains: when will journalism be untied from danger and fear? Until then, we remember the names, the stories, and the courage of those who went before us; and we will keep on writing, because silence is never the answer.