Uthayan in Jaffna: All the news thats fit

to print, and then some

by Kannan Arunasalam

- on 11/29/2014

JAFFNA. Even though the war is over

and the guns are silentit doesnt change a thing. We still face threats. We
are still feeling the fear, said 35 year old Thevanayagam Premananth, the
editor of Uthayan newspapers. We talked in his office, part of the compound
that had once been the torture chambers of the Tamil Tigers. A mug with
Happy birthday to the best editor in the world printed on it rested on top
of some old newspapers. Certainly Prem was one of the bravest. Last year
Reporters Without Border recognised Uthayans commitment to freedom of
expression with its Freedom Prize.
Today, Prem has just six news journalists working for him. All of them are in
their twenties. We dont have a single journalist over forty, Prem told me
as he led me to the staff room and introduced me to Thadsa, his newest
recruit. Prem faced a difficult task. He needed compelling, critical stories to

fill the pages of his newspaper, but he couldnt put his young reporters in
harms way. They have the guns. We have only pens, said Prem as he
talked about the military presence in Jaffna, the climate of fear, and the
self-censorship that even Uthayan, with its reputation for bold stories, were
sometimes forced to practise.

Thadsa had just completed a political story, the kind of article her parents
feared the most. It was a story about Tamils who had joined the army.
Thadsa had interviewed fresh recruits at the Palaly Air Base. Often Thadsa
avoids telling her parents what she was working on until close to the
publication date. That way they dont worry and she still gets to write the
story. When her father had seen this particular article he had been upset.
Even the neighbours wanted to know why she took on such a controversial
topic, especially at her age. For them, it was better for more experienced
journalists to tackle political issues. However, at Uthayan there werent any.
Thadsa doesnt tell her parents every detail about incidents that happen at
the office. A few weeks ago the army surrounded the office, she told me.

This was a reference to the fifth anniversary of the end of the war when the
military prevented staff from entering Uthayan. I didnt tell my parents
about that, she smiled. I understood this. I was often sparing with detail
with my parents on what I was working on. She took the view, as I did, that
they would just worry unnecessarily.
Uthayan has faced many struggles in the past. Two workers were killed
during an armed attack in 2005, there have been numerous attacks on
journalists, and last year, the printing press was torched. Ten serious
assaults on staff have taken place since 2011. Police guards stand watch at
the gates but have offered little protection against the growing list of
attacks on Uthayan.
I took a tour of the compound. It had been many years since I last visited.
My connection to Uthayans journalists started with a short film I made in
2011. Paper, a film commissioned by Groundviews for its Moving Images
project, was a portrait on how the newspaper overcame restrictions on
newsprint and yet still managed to get the news to the people of Jaffna.
In the printing room there was a sense of urgency. The men hurried around
the noisy machines as they rattled out the colour pages for the coming
weekends supplement. One man in his fifties came over to me. You were
here before, he said, wiping the ink from his hands and the sweat from his
brow. We shook hands. It was good to see a familiar face. Suthakaran had
worked in the printing section for the last fifteen years. Apart from the
stalwarts in their eighties, its rare for someone to work here for that long.
There was a high turnover of staff. Pressure from families meant that not
many people stayed very long.
Sri Lanka may be the most dangerous place in the world for journalists, but
what many forget is that it is also perilous for the people manning the
printing presses, for the administrative staff, and even the paper boy. They
may not be writers, but their knowledge and skill were essential in the
conveyor belt that begins with a thought and ends up in the pages of

newspapers in Jaffna readers hands. Without printers, or staff to work the

machines, or people to deliver the papers, it follows that newspapers
cannot be read. A simple logic exploited by those trying to stifle the
newspapers freedom.
Journalists are attacked. The printing presses are burned. But resilience and
a commitment to freedom of expression continues at Uthayan.
This time around, I wanted to make a film about the next generation of
journalists that had joined the ranks. Why do young people like Thadsa take
such risks? How to they deal with the family pressure to find a safer job? My
film followed Thadsa for a week as she reported on a story about the
disappearance of another Uthayan journalist, Nimalarajah, seven years ago.
What struck me was the age of the characters in Thadsas story. There was
the octogenarian Mrs Subramanium, who had worked at Uthayan and
witnessed the worst attacks. The elderly Mr Thangarajah, the only man in
the building who spoke Sinhala and to whom journalists turned to when
they needed to contact the army or the police. The former news editor Mr
Kuganathan, in his sixties, who was himself a victim of a terrible attack and
which led him to seek refuge in Switzerland. What the old guard had been
through, their resilience, was inspiring the next generation of journalists. It
was wonderful to observe and I captured this in my film. Uthayans
journalists have no fear, Thadsa told me once during filming. Only it can
report the truth.
At the end of our week together, a final scene unfolded between Thadsa
and her father as he read her latest article in the Sunday papers. Thadsas
father was clearly torn between the joy he felt for his talented and driven
daughter, and the fear of any parent over the safety of a child. These were
not your usual dangers. In a poignant moment, Thadsas father noticed that
the article highlighted how journalists from the south had also faced
attacks, been murdered or gone missing. It struck me that, despite her age
and inexperience, Thadsa had the maturity to connect with Sinhalese

journalists on the other side of the island. They also write like this?

Object 1

The documentary News from Jaffna was commissioned by Al Jazeera English

under its Viewfinder Asia programme and first broadcast on 29 September
2014.
Posted by Thavam