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IN THE annals of human civilisation, democracy stands as a magnificent garden, a living, breathing ecosystem that requires constant care and attention. This garden, with its countless plants representing the diverse voices and ideals of society, is not a barren, untamed wilderness but a carefully cultivated space where the fruits of freedom and justice can flourish.

At the heart of this democratic garden are the journalists, the tireless gardeners, whose dedication and skill keep this delicate ecosystem in balance. Their tools are not the typical trowels and pruning shears, but the power of the written word, the captured image and the broadcast voice. With these implements, they till the soil of civic engagement, plant the seeds of truth and nurture the roots of an informed citizenry.

As a vigilant sentinel, journalism protects democratic institutions. It is the fourth estate, a powerful force that checks and balances the other branches of government. Like a sturdy bridge, it connects the people to their representatives, fostering a vibrant public sphere. And this position of power carries great responsibility. Like a fertile garden, journalism nurtures the seeds of public discourse. It cultivates a space where diverse opinions can grow and flourish. Just as a gardener tends to their plants, journalists must carefully tend to the public sphere, ensuring it remains inclusive and representative.

The great English philosopher John Stuart Mill compared free speech to a sword, a potent weapon that requires careful use. He believed that suppressing ideas was like depriving humanity of potential truths. Journalists must act with universally applicable principles, similar to the German thinker Immanuel Kant’s ‘categorical imperative,’ to ensure their actions contribute to a just and equitable society. Or, imagine the French philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s notion of ‘social contract’ as a delicate embroidered quilt sewn together by the threads of trust between the people and their government. Journalism plays a crucial role in upholding this equilibrium, guaranteeing that the government stays within its limits and amplifies the voices of the people.

The German social theorist Jürgen Habermas’s concept of the ‘public sphere’ resembles a vibrant marketplace, fostering the exchange and debate of ideas. Responsible journalism serves as a moderator, ensuring that the conversation remains civil and informed. It is a vital force in shaping the democratic discourse, ensuring that the people’s voices are heard and that the government remains accountable.

Like master botanists, journalists, as keepers of democracy, move through the garden with keen eyes and practiced hands. They observe the towering oaks of government institutions, ensuring their branches of power remain strong yet flexible, never overreaching to shade out the smaller plants beneath. They tend to the sprawling vines of corporate influence, pruning back overgrowth that threatens to choke out competition and diversity.

The journalists pay special attention to the colourful blooms of public figures — those eye-catching flowers that draw the garden’s visitors. They check for signs of rot or disease, knowing that a single corrupted bloom can spread its poison throughout the garden. With their pens and cameras, they document the health of each plant, creating a record that serves as both a celebration of the garden’s beauty and a warning against potential threats.

Yet, the role of these gardeners extends beyond mere observation. When they detect decay or parasites threatening the garden’s vitality, they sound the alarm. Their articles and reports are like a clarion call, rallying the garden’s inhabitants — the citizens — to action. Though they may not wield the power to make direct changes, their diligent chronicling and reasoned interpretations can set in motion the natural cycle of democratic renewal.

The relationship between the gardeners and the garden is complex. While they are essential to the ecosystem’s health, they are also part of it. The free press, represented by sturdy trellises supporting climbing plants, provides structure and support for the growth of new ideas. The regular cycle of fair elections is like changing seasons, bringing fresh growth and the possibility of renewal. An independent judiciary stands as a protective fence, shielding the garden from external threats while allowing it to breathe and expand.

However, this idyllic scene is not without its challenges. In some corners of the global garden, storm clouds gather, threatening to uproot the fragile saplings of free press and democratic ideals. Take, for example, a garden in Bangladesh, where a tempest was long brewing. The harsh winds of political persecution and the drought of economic instability battered the once-promising blooms of a free press in this garden. The Digital Security Act, originally intended to be a protective barrier against the pests of cybercrime, instead became an invasive species. Its tendrils reached far and wide, choking out the diverse flora of opposing views and critical journalism.

The vague and sweeping nature of this draconian legislation cast a shadow over the garden, causing many plants to wither from lack of sunlight. Journalists, who were devoted gardeners, discovered themselves operating in a state of fear, with their movements restricted and their tools constantly in danger of confiscation. This climate of apprehension led to a phenomenon known as self-censorship, where the gardeners limited their own actions, leaving parts of the garden untended and vulnerable to disease.

The threats in this garden went beyond mere legal restrictions. A poisonous fog of violence hung in the air, its toxic particles a constant reminder of the physical dangers that awaited those who dared to speak truth to power. When gardeners faced the risk of assault or even death for simply doing their job with little hope of justice, it sent a chilling message throughout the ecosystem. This pervasive fear not only endangered individual journalists but threatened the integrity of the entire garden.

Adding to these woes was a concerning trend in the ownership of the garden’s resources. Many of the tools and areas of the garden fell into the hands of powerful elites with strong political ties. This concentration of ownership created a tangled undergrowth of competing interests, often choking out the smaller, more diverse plants that are essential for a healthy ecosystem. The result was a garden that appeared lush at first glance but lacked the true diversity needed for long-term sustainability.

The financial drought affecting many journalists left them vulnerable to the temptations of corruption. Like plants starved for water, some resorted to drawing sustenance from tainted sources, accepting payments in exchange for biassed coverage. This ethical withering threatened to poison the very soil of the garden, eroding public trust and preventing the press from fulfilling its vital role as a guardian of the public interest.

Perhaps most alarming was the gradual decline in the skills and standards of the gardeners themselves. Years of working in harsh conditions with little support or training took their toll. Many lacked knowledge of proper investigative techniques or the ethical framework required to navigate complex issues. As a result, the garden often saw outbreaks of sensationalism and partisan reporting, like gaudy but short-lived flowers that quickly faded, leaving the soil depleted.

In the turbulent waters of Bangladesh’s political seascape, very few national newspapers stood as stalwart lighthouses, their beam of truth cutting through the fog of censorship and oppression. During Sheikh Hasina’s long reign, these beacons of journalism shone far and wide, illuminating the darkest corners of governmental overreach and human rights abuses.

As the ship of state lurched through choppy waters, these media outlets acted as both compass and sextant, helping the citizenry navigate the treacherous currents of political discourse. Their pages became charts, mapping out the shoals of corruption and the reefs of injustice that threatened to tear apart the hull of democracy. Their journalists were intrepid explorers, venturing into uncharted territories where others feared to tread. They dove deep into the murky depths of political intrigue, surfacing with pearls of truth that many would have preferred left hidden in their oyster beds. Instead of sinking into the abyss of forgotten news, they hoisted stories of arrested journalists and imprisoned opponents high, like warning flags for all to see.

In the face of tempests of pressure and squalls of threats, the editorial teams of these newspapers stood firm like weathered sea captains, their hands steady on the wheels. Their unwavering stance in the face of adversity became a rallying point, a port in the storm for other vessels in the country’s media fleet to drop anchor. The courage displayed by them inspired others with a sense of purpose, like persuasive agents of responsibility spreading through the nation’s media spectrum.

As the winds of change began to blow across Bangladesh, these papers began spotting the gathering storm of student-led protests on the horizon. Their pages became a barometer, measuring the dropping pressure of public opinion and the rising discontent that would eventually topple the Hasina administration like a house of cards in a gale.

Their coverage of these events was more than just a passive recording of the weather; they were an active part of the atmospheric conditions. Their reports were like gusts of wind, carrying the embers of change to every corner of the nation. The old political order capsized and sank beneath the waves, but they were there to document the final moments of a dying regime. Now, as the country sails into uncharted waters, like trusted navigators, hopefully they will continue to plot the nation’s course through the straits of political transition, ever vigilant for the pirates of corruption and the sea monsters of authoritarianism that may lurk beneath the surface.

In this era of renewed freedom, these newspapers are expected to assume a dual role as chroniclers and critics, serving not only to document the journey towards democracy but also scrutinise the government’s decisions and actions. Let their pages continue to measure the depths of political discourse, ensuring that the ship of democracy doesn’t run aground on the sandbars of complacency or negligence. If their light continues to shine in the grand odyssey of Bangladesh’s democratic journey, there is hope that the nation will find its way to the safe harbours of true democracy, accountability and freedom of expression.

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Dr Habib Zafarullah is an adjunct professor of public policy at the University of New England, Australia, and a former professor of public administration at the University of Dhaka.