Somehow it’s the violent deaths of female journalists that linger longest. Veronica Guerin, fearless Irish investigative reporter, shot dead in her car by gangsters at a traffic light. Anna Politkovskaya, gunned down in the stairwell of her Moscow flat. And now Daphne Caruana Galizia, the Maltese journalist who spent her life turning over her island’s stones, blown to bits by a car bomb.
There are two things worth saying about Caruana Galizia’s brutal killing. One is that she’s a symbol who should make us all think of countries where reporters and editors die regularly, simply because they’re doing their job: say Mexico, 11 killed already this year.
But Caruana Galizia has a greater demand for our attention. Like Guerin, slain in Dublin. Like Politkovskaya, murdered in Russia’s days of relative freedom, 11 years ago. Malta is part of our world, our European world and our colonial heritage.
Put terrorism to one side and only a handful of European journalists have died for their stories in the last 25 years. But never put complacency aside. Malta, with its stench of corruption, is not alone. Nor is Guerin’s fair city. There’s a job here, and everywhere, that needs brave correspondents to cut through official silence. Caruana Galizia is not one isolated murder. It is a murder that touches us all.
