“Whoever controls the media, controls the mind”—Jim Morrison. On an oppressive August day back in 1986, after shifting from Karachi to Lahore, my husband took me to the offices of the Viewpoint magazine at 4A Lawrence Road to meet his former colleagues. The very first question Mr IA Rehman [Ibn Abdur Rehman, popularly known as Rehman Sahib] asked me, with that signature twinkle in his eyes was, “So, how is Lahore treating you?” One single question, yet so full of hospitality, concern and above all, camaraderie, that it swept me off my feet. That singular brush with this titan of print media journalism left me awestruck. He appeared to be the most unassuming character, someone who could easily pass for a ‘commoner’ in a crowd while keeping his larger-than-life personality intact. As many others have said before me, Rehman Sahib was the kind of person whom one could proudly introduce – not just as a prominent professional – but as a friend. From our very first encounter, he became part of that limited edition of intellectuals whom I hold in exceptionally high esteem. Journalism is a noble profession in the sense that those who practice it have an obligation to speak the truth but must do so responsibly. In practice, however, each news organisation and its team of reporters follow individual editorial policies. Oftentimes, the truth is unacceptable to governments of the day, which try to suppress its voice by targeting those who dare to write or speak truth to power. Rehman Sahib was among those stalwarts who stoically withstood continuous governmental onslaughts on freedom of expression; even as many newsmen sold out, happily singing along to government-composed tunes. Prior to 2002, Rehman Sahib was one of the few proponents of a free (read truthful) but ethical press and openly condemned the selling out of the media, which he considered more disastrous than censorship Mass media in Pakistan has had a long and arduous history of taking on the state to expose major scandals that are in the public interest. On September 2 1963, President Ayub Khan formed the National Press Trust (NPT) that swiftly took control of some 15 independent papers, under the slogan: “to raise the standards of journalism in the country.” This was a smokescreen as it was common knowledge that loyalists to the government would be rewarded. This was a legacy Gen Zia-ul-Haq held close to his heart during his own bout of military rule (1977-1988), which saw the mass media subjected to even more ferocious and intense censorship. This resulted in projection of the government’s position, which many conceded to in order to survive, even if it meant making false assertions. Pakistan had to wait until 2002 before welcoming the concept of a free press; introduced, ironically by another military dictator, Gen Pervez Musharraf. Even here, both print and electronic media, notably ones with leftist inclinations, continued their struggle towards openness and liberation. Prior to 2002, Rehman Sahib was one of the few proponents of a free (read truthful) but ethical press and openly condemned the selling out of the media, which he considered more disastrous than censorship. He, and his like-minded colleagues, were continuously subjected to the wrath of successive governments that felt insecure in front of those who tried to expose their real faces. The military rule of General Zia saw journalists flogged, humiliated, banned and imprisoned on the slightest pretext. Any opposing narrative, even if purely humanitarian, was promptly declared anti-Islamic and therefore anti-Pakistan; the implication being anyone holding such views were, in fact, traitors. Rehman Sahib, too, endured his share of ordeals but at no moment did he ever surrender his convictions of promoting humanity, peace and general public welfare both in the country and the region, which is perhaps why he joined the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan (HRCP) in 1990 as director. His life was dedicated to the service of humanity, or as he said while giving an interview in India to The Hindu in November 2007: “I’ve been working to defend people’s human rights all my life. And, I will continue to do so.” Rehman Sahib never refrained from raising his voice against anything that defied humanitarian sensibilities, even if it meant being slammed as irreligious or an atheist. His resolve never succumbed to exigency despite losing his lawyer nephew to fundamentalist assassins simply for defending a university professor accused of blasphemy. Nor did he ever shy away from criticising military regimes especially when it came to violation of human rights. Even partial body paralysis could not deter him from pursuing his mission, which he did with ever greater zeal. Few people practice what they preach but Rehman Sahib actively took ownership of his words by standing side-by-side with protestors, whether they belonged to the Aurat Foundation, or were landless farmers, families of missing persons or any other camp fighting tooth and nail for the restoration of human rights all too regularly deprived to all echelons of society. He definitely understood that, during his life-time, his endeavours would not bear the desired results—but his perseverance became an impetus for others. Through his relentless commitment to the human rights cause, Rehman Sahib has successfully inspired humanists and humanitarians to never lose their optimism, regardless of the odds. The writer, lawyer and author, is an Adjunct Faculty at Lahore University of Management Sciences (LUMS)