Hi all,

In any good-sized news operation, there are a few people who really are the way Marianne Pearl describes Danny below. I'll stop harping on it now, but it really feels important to me to let you all know how amazing are some of the people working to get information and understanding out to other people through the media. Even a big, materialist, capitalist-oriented publication like the WSJ. And the vast majority of news people whom I know from a span of years, truly are trying to make the world a better place by increasing understanding of what's going on so we can make informed choices. Nobody's perfect, but that's an overwhelmingly common motivating factor in journalism.

Maria

Wall Street Journal reporter remembered
with collection of writings

June 25 — Wall Street Journal reporter Daniel Pearl became the focus of international concern when he was kidnapped by Islamic extremists in Pakistan while investigating a story. News of his brutal murder in February 2002 was universally denounced, a tragic loss of a good man and a compassionate journalist who was at home anywhere in the world. Read an excerpt of “At Home in the World,” to learn more about the life of Daniel Pearl.

FOREWORD

IT WAS IN London that I first stepped into one of Danny’s offices.

The office floor was divided into little cubicles. Danny wore a stylish suit topped with a splashy tie pulled from his trademark crazy collection. He introduced me to his cramped space, inviting me to lounge in a beach chair that sat beside him, a totally inappropriate piece of office furniture filling most of his cubicle. I sat in that beach chair and took a good hard look at the man of my life as he spun out a tale from another of his reporting adventures in the Middle East, quickly sweeping his fingers over the keyboard without looking at the keys, surrounded by mountains of papers and books. Touchstones from his travels surrounded him. He had spread a big black tapestry that said “Allahu Akbar” — “God is great” — in scrolling red Arabic letters. He had propped a larger-than-life-sized picture of Iranian revolutionary leader Ayatollah Khomeini, brought back from one of his countless trips to Iran. He also had the most amazing collection of little monster figurines perched on a shelf.

I could tell he was a fast thinker, constantly synthesizing new ideas. He was a man who was going to illuminate my life. Sharing his existence would be like turning the pages of a comic book packed with lots of fun, unexpected turns of events and plenty of plane rides. Most important, I felt I had met the man who shared my approach toward the world and stood committed to change the world for the better. Lying in his beach chair, an exotic spot in London’s gray, I felt great respect and trust in him.

As a journalist and sojourner of the world, Danny held no prejudices about the people we interviewed and met. He first and foremost considered the human being in front of him, regardless of religion, race or social status. Very suspicious of groups and organizations, he had a natural tendency to trust individuals. Once he started to work on an article, he would literally throw himself at it, working days and nights, tracking facts for weeks and experiencing pure delight when he found the littlest detail that would make the story livelier. He liked to walk on beaten paths and discover tales of the unexpected. He was a hunter of human contradictions, as well as of the small and immense absurdities of existence. In reporting from mosques and villages, deserts and world capitals, he was witness to the difficulties of communication between humans. He was like a tightrope walker, a funamble, happily linking worlds with his writings.

As journalists, Danny and I traveled so much that we began to live without acknowledging borders. We were truly citizens of the globe. We were beyond cosmopolitan. Danny was Jewish; I am Buddhist. Danny was born in Princeton, New Jersey; I was born in Paris, France. Danny’s father was born in Israel, his mother in Baghdad, Iraq; my mother was born in Havana, Cuba, my father in Amsterdam, the Netherlands. We last lived together in Bombay, India, and last traveled together in Pakistan.

Our commitment to journalism as our means of changing the world deepened every day. The world often seemed to be a mess, but it was our world and somehow our mess. It became clear to us that we enjoyed a privileged position. That enabled us to expose corruption, injustice and ignorance. It empowered us to question vested interests, fundamentalism and untruths. For us — for Danny — journalism epitomized the path for charting a better world future. Danny cherished truth more than anything. He called it his religion. He had undertaken a lifelong struggle against conventional wisdom. In all those respects, Danny was a hero — an ordinary hero.

We were legitimate citizens of the 21st century.

I can only hope that more individuals will think independently, give voice to their thoughts and take responsible action so that this world starts belonging to its people. It is our task to educate, inform and provide keys to people so that they will not be held hostage to the ignorance bred in every corner of the world. It takes courage.

Danny’s kidnappers tried to behead freedom. The absurdity of his death belied the life we lived together. We were journalists. We were free. We met people and told their tales to the world. Nobody could harm us. Why would they? We were open-minded and respectful. We were not corrupt. We were not running after power or fame. We were not political or militants. We needn’t hide anything. We were ambitious. We believed ordinary people like us could change the world by changing the way people think about each other. We believed you only had to be a journalist armed with intellectual courage, curiosity, a writing talent, a solid sense of humor and a genuine willingness to fight your own limits.

The terrorists who killed Danny stood at the other extreme of what Danny represents. They could only wield their knife and cowardice against Danny’s intellectual courage and bold spirit. Danny died holding only a pen. They stole his life but were unable to seize his soul. By killing Danny, terrorists took my life as well but could not lay claim to my spirit. Dead and alive we will never let them win.

I wish you a good journey through Danny’s writings. It is my sincere hope that his spirit and values will radiate from all of you who he inspires. I hope that, like me, you will be able to laugh with Danny as he navigates you through the absurdités de l’existence. Mainly, I trust that Danny’s flame will keep burning in you as it does in me, his wife.

— Mariane Pearl
Paris, France

Excerpted from “At Home In The World Collected Writings from The Wall Street Journal” by Daniel Pearl, Mariane Pearl and Helene Cooper. Copyright © 2002 by Dow Jones & Company, Inc. Foreword copyright © 2002 by Mariane Pearl. Eulogy in Part One copyright © 2002 by Judea Pearl. Published by Free Press a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Thanks Maria, that was really inspiring. Daniel Pearl's courage and convictions, exempllify not only the best qualities of the free press and its dedication to truth, but the best qualities of people of courage, integrity and love in all walks of life.

"They stole his life but were unable to seize his soul." Indeed!

Love,
Greg