These connections served both to make Wickrematunge a glaring target for the Rajapaksa government and, in the eyes of some journalists, to cast a measure of doubt on the editor’s motivations for exposing corruption and criticizing those in power. In a recent column for The Daily Mirror, M.S.M. Ayub wrote: “…journalists have not only to be balanced but also to be seen as balanced. That is not only to uphold their professionalism, but also to protect their lives.”

To some journalists with whom I spoke, Wickrematunge’s political connections, compounded by his outspokenness, amounted to foolery that resulted in an unnecessary martyrdom, possibly risking the work and safety of fellow journalists by raising the stakes in the ongoing hostilities between the government and the media.

“When the playwright and journalist Richard de Zoysa was abducted and his body finally found,” said one journalist to me, speaking carefully, “there was a sense of relief among some. Not because he was dead but because the risks he took…” The words trailed off.

Nothing can minimize the horror of Wickrematunge’s death and the situation faced by journalists here, where free speech is often suppressed at the barrel of a gun. But it does raise some bleak questions that can transcend the Sri Lankan context: Do political convictions have a place in one’s work? Are truth-telling fellow journalists at risk? Are there stories worth giving one’s life for?

No matter how these questions are answered in the future, the media in Sri Lanka has been dealt a violent blow—one that has worsened an already dire situation. As journalist Jehan Perera wrote for The Daily Mirror, “[Wickrematunge’s] long survival as a journalist, while breaking his stories and expressing his views without inhibition, gave rise to an illusion. This illusion was that there were indeed broad parameters of freedom within which the media could function.”

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