Re-humanising death in the media

This writer firmly believes that all deaths are equal. As such, he confesses as a personal flaw that, being an Australian living Dhaka, it has taken the recent deaths of Italian Cesare Tavella and Japanese Hoshi Kunio for him to reconsider how such deaths are reported. Like all Bangladeshis, he is used to the violent deaths to be found in any day's broadsheet.

There can be no doubt that human life is highly valued in Bangladesh. One only needs to attend a funeral to witness the devastation of grieving friends and relatives. At times, this grief is depicted in newspaper photographs or short, grief-stricken televised statements by relatives, such as in the case of the victims burnt to death by petrol bombs earlier this year.

While the value of the media publicising such moments of sheer grief can rightly be questioned in terms of needing to be balanced with a family's right to grieve privately, all too often this is the only chance readership and viewership has to better appreciate the humanness of the tragedy.

The uniqueness of the murdered individual is almost never elaborated upon, that uniqueness which makes each of us irreplaceable. From the moment their chests ceased to rise and fall with breath, Tavella and Kunio were reduced to a list a statistics: nationality, occupation, age. A few additional details filtered through: NGO-worker Tavella had been in Bangladesh for a few short months. Kunio had a grass farm in Kaunia.

There is much more to know.

Bangladesh is not a usual choice for either Italians or Japanese to live and work. How did Tavella come to decide to move to Dhaka, what were his thoughts upon arriving, how was he settling in, what did he think of the food, culture and society? I'd be interested in what he did before and it'd be meaningful to know anecdotes such as the often humorous misunderstandings that are a part of settling in any new country. Too, I wonder about his opinions of Islam and working in a Muslim-majority nation, which likely run counter to the intolerant views of his murderers. 

With work colleagues in Dhaka, it cannot be too difficult to uncover at least some of what made him unique. Such reporting could highlight his value to Bangladesh by way of specific contribution or simply in contributing to Dhaka's wealth of human diversity. 

From a Bangladeshi perspective, Kunio's life seems even more intriguing. Did he speak Bangla? Did he often spend an evening in a teashop laughing with local friends or was he bookish? He must've known many people in Rangpur. They must know what he thought of the place, what it was that kept him returning. Given he has a long history with Bangladesh, it seems likely his contribution, at the least in building cultural bridges, is substantial. And yet we don't know.

Some days following their deaths, the two have sometimes even lost their names. They've become 'the two foreigners'. While in newsprint there are space constraints, is that entirely necessary?

Then there comes speculation about responsibility. While it is of course valid to report on such issues, at times it becomes so abstract that it borders on offensive. After all, a corpse is a corpse no matter whether or not there is a conspiracy at work, or if those responsible are home grown or directed from abroad. Even when considering possibilities, it is important not to lose sight of the fact that two precious, individual lives have been violently ended. 

Too, in reports of reaction by the government officials, there has been little focus on condolences. Often I have criticised Australia but one thing the media there seems to do a little better is to ensure that such simple gestures of sympathy and co-humanity take more central space. When the Prime Minister expresses sadness at the loss of life, she does it on behalf of all Bangladeshis. It's important, more important than the subsequent speculation about who might be responsible.

Then there is the question of the Japanese name. In some reports he is referred to as Hoshi Kunio; in others he is Kunio Hoshi. Like most of the country's journalists, I am not a Japanese expert. But it only takes a minute to discover on Google that in Japan a surname comes first. Taking a minute to clarify a man's correct name would surely demonstrate respect.

I feel that I still know nothing about these two individuals. I want to know, because the tragic irony is that reducing humans to a list of basic facts is not altogether different, though of course less extreme, than what fundamentalists do. It was dehumanising the individual that made them targets. The media could better reflect the high value life holds in Bangladeshi society. They could do more to humanise reporting of violent deaths.

The writer is an English Instructor and Feature Writer at The Daily Star.