This piece is by a former journalist working in Malta:
Daphne Caruana Galizia’s assassination this week brought back memories of my time as a journalist. Time when following the publication of a report, I would get abusive and threatening phone calls… unsigned letters – sometimes incomprehensible and in broken Maltenglish – full of rude and offensive threats against me, colleagues and our extended family tree. It also reminded me of the times I used to go round with a mirror to check the underside of my car before I went in and drove off… It reminded me of the times I used to take the long way to go somewhere, swiftly changing directions making sure that I was not being followed. I became paranoid about it.
And after a number of years of this ongoing struggle, I gave up. Yes… I admit. I did. I said to myself that it was not worth it. The meagre pay and the threats made me give up. I also admit that I’m not proud about it. But I did. I can only imagine the internal debate and the strife with which Daphne must have decided to continue with her blog. It is the strife many journalists the world over have to deal with on a daily basis. I was a coward… Daphne wasn’t.
But what happened last Monday is not just about that. It is about the dystopia we are experiencing. When an assassination plot like the one against Daphne is hatched and manages to succeed, it suddenly makes us come to terms with the utter degradation of what society should be and what we all should stand for.
Let’s not be utopian and dream of a world wherein crime does not exist. It is part of human nature and there will always be those who resort to crime and murder to advance their interests. But what is worrying is that following the assassination, we are faced with the gruesome realisation that the power of organised crime and the money which is associated with it, have taken over… safe in the knowledge that, most probably, they will go unpunished. That thought scares the living hell out of me…