For Journalists, the Best of Times, the Worst of Times

I was having a 45-minute long conversation in the NPC president's office recently with a young man named Mukesh and one of his fellow countrymen, both journalists. Mukesh works in television news in Pakistan and had been on an academic fellowship in the U.S. He told me about having been detained in his country for four months just for practicing his craft. Another Pakistan-based peer was killed during this time, he told me.

I had the opportunity to meet Mukesh after presiding over the final session of World Press Freedom Day. This phenomenal three-day event had its concluding prize-awarding at the National Press Club. It had never been held in the U.S. before and the organizers decided this session would be held at the NPC. Mukesh, who had a gentle smile and wise eyes came up to me after the prize ceremony to ask to have his photo taken with me. He then described his horrific experience. A number of people from abroad told me about their similar challenges and travails while reporting. It was at once deeply touching and humbling. I did my best to encourage them, telling them that we will never forget their plight, that the National Press Club will stand behind them. Even then, it felt like the words were not adequate.

Only a few days before this, I had a similarly exciting, but completely different experience, attending the annual White House Correspondents Dinner. This is at the other end of the spectrum. Washington's equivalent of Oscar Night, complete with black tie and gown, plenty of food and drink, and something new in recent years, an abundance of entertainment-world celebrities.

It is amazing to see all of the famed entertainers and high-profile politicians in attendance, while enjoying the company of dressed-up friends and colleagues. And, I had the good fortune to continue on to one of the glitzy after-parties. A star-studded, dazzling night, to be sure.

These events were otherwise not parallel and unrelated, but coinciding so closely in my life, I was struggling to process how they co-exist. As a journalist based in the U.S., I've had the great privilege of almost always enjoying safe passage. Over the past decade and a-half, my beat has been business and financial news, not war zones. Compared to others around the world, American journalists generally have it pretty good. But we can use this advantage to motivate ourselves in a positive way. Given this opportunity, we must not forget the responsibility to stand behind people like Mukesh. When he's back in Pakistan, he'll be working in a country where he tells me the profession of journalism is on the rise. Journalism schools are helping to put people on the path of their chosen profession, even when they risk being killed on the job. He tells me that aspiring journalists there don't worry much about death.

That's why we'll continue to issue statements reminding governments that they owe journalists safe passage. When they detain our colleagues, we'll draw attention to their plight. And if you doubt that it matters, I'll show you one of the emails we were sent from a foreign government in response to one of our statements. Or, I can tell you about the phone call from the friend of the family of freelance journalist Matthew Van Dyke missing in Libya, desperately asking for help in drawing attention to his plight.

Americans who have died fighting for our freedoms, as well as fellow journalists who've fought the fight in other settings, deserve nothing less. Yes, we should and will continue to enjoy the creature comforts of the National Press Club, as well as the congenial company of our fellow NPC members. But we also must remember we have important work to do.