Talal Salman, RIP

The passing of one of Arab journalism’s greats

I must be one of only a few Palestinian or Arab writers who never contributed to as-Safir, the newspaper founded and edited by Talal Salman whose passing was announced on Friday. But throughout our long friendship, I always felt politically and intellectually bound to that great publication.

Talal Salman launched as-Safir in 1974 as a voice for the poor and for Pan-Arabists and revolutionaries. It broke the monopoly held over the Arab press by family dynasties, businessmen, and clients of various regimes. It channelled revolutionary journalism away from ideological outpourings towards professional reporting that was more objective without losing its appeal to readers. Through this distinctive mix, as-Safir under his guidance managed to stake a place in the front rank of Arab journalism at a time of high Arab hopes about countering Western imperialist schemes.

Palestine was his paramount concern. He believed in its total liberation, and turned his paper into the premier platform for the Palestinian cause. He was also vehemently opposed to sectarianism. He transcended sects and religions and resisted all attempts and inducements to divert him from that deep-rooted conviction. That resistance persisted until as-Safir took its last breath. He chose the painful option of closing the paper down rather than resorting to the begging-bowl. A courageous decision by a man who never bowed his head.

I didn’t live in Beirut when it was a haven for Arab revolutionaries and leftists who had to leave their home countries. But I experienced how inhospitable it became for Palestinians afterwards in the early 1990s. When ‘Abu-Ahmad’ invited me to join him at the press conference to announce as-Safir’s closure in 2016, I declined, pleading family commitments. The real reason was that I did not want to bear witness to the closure of such an important forum at a time when the Arab media were being completely taken over by the goliaths of disinformation and deception. For me and many others like me, as-Safir had remained a sanctuary where honesty, justice, and Arab self-respect were still valued.

After the closure, I never saw him smile when I met him, whether in his office — which had been a place of pilgrimage for writers, intellectuals, and politicians, and an unmatched cultural form — or in the corner of some hotel lobby. The only consolation for his depression was, as he said repeatedly, that he never abandoned his colleagues at the paper and ensured they were paid their compensation in full.

Many colleagues who will write about Talal Salman knew him better than I did, especially those who accompanied him in person through his eventful and dangerous journey. But as-Safir did not belong to them alone, but to all of us who were emotionally, professionally, and politically attached to it. Indeed, the paper was not just a school but a professional, political, and moral academy for a great many Arab journalists who either worked on it or were, like myself, loyal readers.

Hostility, resentment, and jealousy are facts of life, but people of integrity tend to make more enemies. That is testimony to their success, honesty, and loyalty to their principles, and their refusal to flatter, kow-tow, or sell out. So it does not shame Talal Salman that there were people who disliked and derided him. Critics say he yielded at various times in his professional life, which might have been to keep as-Safir afloat and prevent it from being sunk in stormy waters. But he emerged from all the ordeals and challenges with his head held high and never compromised his principles.

I met up with him whenever I visited Beirut, except the last time due to his illness, and those encounters were my favourite part of every trip. Nothing is harder than seeing the journalistic project to which you devoted your life’s work before your eyes when you can do nothing to save it because you have self-respect and refuse to submit to pressure or poisoned inducements. That is why I empathised with Talal Salman and tried in any way to help lighten his load.

I met him a few weeks after as-Safir in a favourite cafe he seemed distracted and gloomy and not his usual cheerful and chatty self. When I asked him why, he replied there were three reasons. First, because he felt life had little taste left without as-Safir, secondly because he had learned how cruel, hypocritical, and treacherous people could be, and third the behaviour of some former colleagues he had naively believed thought well of him.

Talal Salman could have saved as-Safir if he had wanted to, but only if he had made humiliating concessions. So he did not, because, as he told me, he did not want to soil his record with such a heinous act. “Newspapers should be like trees,” he said, “they should die standing.”

Later, at the suggestion of colleagues in occupied Palestine, I asked if he would contribute articles to Raialyom. He welcomed the idea and began sending occasional columns, which invariably made the number one spot on our ‘most read’ list. He was deeply touched when I told him that, saying he felt Palestine and its people were repaying his lifelong love for them.

God have mercy on Ustaz Talal Salman. His passing is a very great loss.

Talal Salman, RIP