Jamal Khashoggi is an tragic example of "First They Came"

This opinion echo was published in The Dallas Morning News, by Robert Mahoney.  In fact, the tragic murder of Jamal Khasoggi, now confirmed by the Saudi government, was finally disclosed in the face of evidence about the cause of his death at the hands of assassins. Yet, he was one journalist among many who are living in harms way because "the pen appears mightier than the sword".  International media have covered this story and, in so doing, the reporting reminds me of the poem "First They Came" by  German Lutheran pastor Martin Niemöller (1892–1984). He wrote about the cowardice of German intellectuals following the Nazis' rise to power and subsequent purging of their chosen targets, group after group.  Journalists did not let Mr. Khashoggi's death go without "speaking out". Thank you to the international media and hopefully all journalists who are targeted and killed will receive equal coverage.

First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a socialist.

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

Maybe you saw the security footage of a man walking into a nondescript building in Turkey, and you shrugged. Maybe you were intrigued and watched or read a little more.

Opinion:  Whatever your reaction, there's a reason the story of Saudi journalist Jamal Khashoggi leaving his fiancée in an Istanbul street and disappearing into his country's consulate has been all over the news. And there's a reason we should all care about it.

Independent journalism is under attack globally. More journalists are behind bars for their work than ever — 262 last year according to the Committee to Protect Journalists. Just this year 44 journalists have been killed, 27 of them deliberately murdered just like, we assume, Jamal Khashoggi.

Hollywood often portrays reporters dodging bullets to bring us news from the front lines of conflict. Many do cover war, and some pay with their lives. But the majority of the 1,323 journalists killed since 1992, when CPJ began compiling these figures, were murdered. They were deliberately sought out and killed because of their reporting.

Many were digging into political and financial corruption, fraud, smuggling, money laundering or organized crime. They probed too deep, touched a nerve, and paid with their lives. In Mexico, at least four journalists have been murdered so far this year, adding to the tally of 47 murders — most of which have occurred in the past 15 years since the drug cartels expanded. Covering crime in Mexico can be a death sentence.

Even in Europe, reporters are no longer safe. Daphne Caruana Galizia, who worked on the Panama Papers with the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists, was probing the links between politicians and criminals in her native Malta. She angered powerful people. Someone ordered a bomb placed in her car a year ago this month, hoping her reporting would die along with her. 

A few months later in Slovakia, a gunman broke into the apartment of investigative reporter Ján Kuciak and shot him to death along with his fiancée. Kuciak, 27, was uncovering dirt on the central European country's top political and business leaders, including alleged links to a branch of the Italian mafia.

These high-profile murders caused outrage and a backlash. But despite all that, the people who ordered and paid for the assassinations have still not been brought to justice. That is the sad pattern when it comes to journalist killings. In nearly nine out of 10 journalist murders the masterminds are never punished.

This impunity eats away at the foundations of democracy. It breeds fear and self-censorship. If police and judges are in the pockets of criminals, what reporters from a poorly resourced news outlet are going to stick their necks out when they see what has happened to colleagues who did so?

A democracy cannot function without transparency and accountability. Citizens need independent journalists to inform them of what the government is doing in their name and how it is spending their tax money.

Control of information is power, and there are many ways to choke the flow of news. In countries like Hungary, politicians and their business allies buy up major media companies and shrink the space for critical journalism. Others like Turkey and China throw troublesome reporters in prison, usually on sham charges and with no due process, as a warning to others. In the United States, there are no journalists in jail and relatively few have been killed for their work (11 since 1992, according to CPJ).

But that should not be a cause for complacency. Donald Trump has consistently belittled individual journalists, undermined the legitimacy of the press' role in a democracy, branded journalists the enemy of the people, and waved away awkward truths as fake news. The hatred toward journalists in some quarters is palpable and the atmosphere for the press generally is toxic.

Now Trump stands accused of failing to insist that his Saudi allies and erstwhile business partners explain what exactly has happened to Khashoggi.

Khashoggi angered Saudi royals with his critical insights into power and corruption in the kingdom in his columns for The Washington Post. That Saudi Arabia, a key U.S. ally, could lure him to its diplomatic mission and butcher him with impunity, as Turkish officials report, sends a chilling message not only to would-be critical Saudi journalists but to journalists everywhere. It emboldens autocrats and says that journalists' lives are cheap.

That's why the Khashoggi case matters to Americans and why the president can't carry on with business as usual.

Robert Mahoney is a journalist and advocate for press freedom and the deputy executive director of the Committee to Protect Journalists. He wrote this column for The Dallas Morning News.