Several days ago, Sri Lankan investigative reporter Faraz Shaukataly was shot in the neck at his home. Shaukataly is expected to survive but the shooting brings to mind the death of Lasantha Wickramatunga, who was the editor at Shaukataly’s newspaper, the Sunday Leader.

Wickramatunga was shot to death on his way to work in January 2009. He had been assaulted before and his home sprayed with machine-gun fire. Because he expected to die in the service of journalism, Wickramatunga penned a letter to be published in that event of his assassination.

It’s an eloquent description of the thankless job of journalism under a corrupt state and the motivations for those who still pursue it despite the danger and hardships. It is also personal, addressing the man whom Wickramatunga considers a long-time friend, and who Wickramatunga believes will be ultimately responsible for his death: President Mahinda Rajapaksa.

The letter was first published by Steve Coll at the New Yorker:

No other profession calls on its practitioners to lay down their lives for their art save the armed forces and, in Sri Lanka, journalism. In the course of the past few years, the independent media have increasingly come under attack. Electronic and print-media institutions have been burnt, bombed, sealed and coerced. Countless journalists have been harassed, threatened and killed. It has been my honor to belong to all those categories and now especially the last.

I have been in the business of journalism a good long time. Indeed, 2009 will be The Sunday Leader’s 15th year. Many things have changed in Sri Lanka during that time, and it does not need me to tell you that the greater part of that change has been for the worse. We find ourselves in the midst of a civil war ruthlessly prosecuted by protagonists whose bloodlust knows no bounds. Terror, whether perpetrated by terrorists or the state, has become the order of the day. Indeed, murder has become the primary tool whereby the state seeks to control the organs of liberty. Today it is the journalists, tomorrow it will be the judges. For neither group have the risks ever been higher or the stakes lower.

Why then do we do it? I often wonder that. After all, I too am a husband, and the father of three wonderful children. I too have responsibilities and obligations that transcend my profession, be it the law or journalism. Is it worth the risk? Many people tell me it is not. Friends tell me to revert to the bar, and goodness knows it offers a better and safer livelihood. Others, including political leaders on both sides, have at various times sought to induce me to take to politics, going so far as to offer me ministries of my choice. Diplomats, recognizing the risk journalists face in Sri Lanka, have offered me safe passage and the right of residence in their countries. Whatever else I may have been stuck for, I have not been stuck for choice.

But there is a calling that is yet above high office, fame, lucre and security. It is the call of conscience.
The Sunday Leader has been a controversial newspaper because we say it like we see it: whether it be a spade, a thief or a murderer, we call it by that name. We do not hide behind euphemism. The investigative articles we print are supported by documentary evidence thanks to the public-spiritedness of citizens who at great risk to themselves pass on this material to us. We have exposed scandal after scandal, and never once in these 15 years has anyone proved us wrong or successfully prosecuted us.
…

Every newspaper has its angle, and we do not hide the fact that we have ours. Our commitment is to see Sri Lanka as a transparent, secular, liberal democracy. Think about those words, for they each has profound meaning.

Transparent because government must be openly accountable to the people and never abuse their trust. Secular because in a multi-ethnic and multi-cultural society such as ours, secularism offers the only common ground by which we might all be united. Liberal because we recognize that all human beings are created different, and we need to accept others for what they are and not what we would like them to be. And democratic… well, if you need me to explain why that is important, you’d best stop buying this paper.

…

Many people suspect that The Sunday Leader has a political agenda: it does not. If we appear more critical of the government than of the opposition it is only because we believe that – pray excuse cricketing argot – there is no point in bowling to the fielding side. Remember that for the few years of our existence in which the UNP was in office, we proved to be the biggest thorn in its flesh, exposing excess and corruption wherever it occurred. Indeed, the steady stream of embarrassing exposes we published may well have served to precipitate the downfall of that government.

…

It is well known that I was on two occasions brutally assaulted, while on another my house was sprayed with machine-gun fire. Despite the government’s sanctimonious assurances, there was never a serious police inquiry into the perpetrators of these attacks, and the attackers were never apprehended. In all these cases, I have reason to believe the attacks were inspired by the government. When finally I am killed, it will be the government that kills me.

The irony in this is that, unknown to most of the public, Mahinda and I have been friends for more than a quarter century. Indeed, I suspect that I am one of the few people remaining who routinely addresses him by his first name and uses the familiar Sinhala address oya when talking to him. Although I do not attend the meetings he periodically holds for newspaper editors, hardly a month passes when we do not meet, privately or with a few close friends present, late at night at President’s House. There we swap yarns, discuss politics and joke about the good old days. A few remarks to him would therefore be in order here.

Mahinda, when you finally fought your way to the SLFP presidential nomination in 2005, nowhere were you welcomed more warmly than in this column. Indeed, we broke with a decade of tradition by referring to you throughout by your first name. So well known were your commitments to human rights and liberal values that we ushered you in like a breath of fresh air. Then, through an act of folly, you got yourself involved in the Helping Hambantota scandal. It was after a lot of soul-searching that we broke the story, at the same time urging you to return the money. By the time you did so several weeks later, a great blow had been struck to your reputation. It is one you are still trying to live down.

You have told me yourself that you were not greedy for the presidency. You did not have to hanker after it: it fell into your lap. You have told me that your sons are your greatest joy, and that you love spending time with them, leaving your brothers to operate the machinery of state. Now, it is clear to all who will see that that machinery has operated so well that my sons and daughter do not themselves have a father.

In the wake of my death I know you will make all the usual sanctimonious noises and call upon the police to hold a swift and thorough inquiry. But like all the inquiries you have ordered in the past, nothing will come of this one, too. For truth be told, we both know who will be behind my death, but dare not call his name. Not just my life, but yours too, depends on it.

…

As for me, I have the satisfaction of knowing that I walked tall and bowed to no man. And I have not travelled this journey alone. Fellow journalists in other branches of the media walked with me: most of them are now dead, imprisoned without trial or exiled in far-off lands. Others walk in the shadow of death that your Presidency has cast on the freedoms for which you once fought so hard. You will never be allowed to forget that my death took place under your watch. As anguished as I know you will be, I also know that you will have no choice but to protect my killers: you will see to it that the guilty one is never convicted. You have no choice. I feel sorry for you

…

That The Sunday Leader will continue fighting the good fight, too, is written. For I did not fight this fight alone. Many more of us have to be – and will be – killed before The Leader is laid to rest. I hope my assassination will be seen not as a defeat of freedom but an inspiration for those who survive to step up their efforts. Indeed, I hope that it will help galvanise forces that will usher in a new era of human liberty in our beloved motherland. I also hope it will open the eyes of your President to the fact that however many are slaughtered in the name of patriotism, the human spirit will endure and flourish. Not all the Rajapakses combined can kill that.

You can read the full letter at the New Yorker.

In September 2012, a majority stake in the Sunday Leader was bought by one of President Rajapksa’s allies. The Leader’s editor was reportedly sacked for continuing to publish critical articles of the Sri Lankan government. The newspaper‘s tagline, though, still remains: “Unbowed and Unafraid”

It’s kind of fun to read through the New York Times’ historical archive and read what the tech coverage back in 1851 – a recent gem posted on HN concerned the controversy behind Thomas Edison’s 141-question job interview (‘Where do we get borax from?‘).

I was looking up some computer history and was wondering when the word “computer” made its first appearance in the Grey Lady. The NYT’s archive search allows for some fuzziness, so “computer” brings up numerous articles with “compute” and “computed” – as in, to calculate.

I didn’t search through every individual article, as the old articles are still in PDF form. But I think May 2, 1892 (the job posting says May 1), may at least be the first time the word “computer” shows up in a NYT headline (PDF).

The short blurb appears to be in the Classifieds section. It reads:

A COMPUTER WANTED

WASHINGTON, May 1. – A civil service examination will be held May 18 in Washington, and, if necessary, in other cities, to secure eligibles for the position of computer in the Nautical Almanac Office, where two vacancies exist – one at $1,000, the other at $1,400.

The examination will include the subjects of algebra, geometry, trigonometry, and astronomy. Application blanks may be obtained of the United States Civil Service Commission.

FYI, according to this inflation calculator, $1,000 in 1892 is equivalent to about $24,650 today.

Again, the “to calculate” meaning is implied here, with the applicant expected to help compile the used by the U.S. Navy for celestial navigation. The almanac office is still in existence (as a part of the U.S. Naval Observatory) and you can still purchase your own copy of the almanac, which includes “the following data tabulated at hourly intervals to a precision of 0.1 arcminute: the Greenwich hour angle and declination of the Sun, Moon, and navigational planets; the Greenwich hour angle of Aries” and more.

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edit: Menachem Wecker ‏says there are earlier references and puts my archive searching to shame:

@dancow there’s earlier. eg 4/15/1857 (on Staffel’s arithmetical machine); 4/1/1871 “double power computer”; etc. 2/24/1858 may be earliest

— Menachem Wecker (@mwecker) February 18, 2013

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It wouldn’t be surprising, though, to see “computer” as machine referred to in the 19th century. The concept of a calculating machine dates back to the English mathematician and engineer, Charles Babbage, though his “Difference engine” was never built during his lifetime.

In his 1953 book, “Faster Than Thought,” author B.V. Bowden refers to the job of (human) computer as unskilled labor and that the French had figured out a method of assembly-line computing:

In 1812 [Charles Babbage] was sitting in his rooms in the Analytical Society looking at a table of logarithms, which he knew to be full of mistakes, when the idea occurred to him of computing all tabular functions by machinery. The French government had produced several tables by a new method. Three or four of their mathematicians decided how to compute the tables, half a dozen more broke down the operations into simple stages, and the work itself, which was restricted to addition and subtraction, was done by eighty [human] computers who knew only these two arithmetical processes. Here, for the first time, mass production was applied to arithmetic, and Babbage was seized by the idea that the labours of the unskilled computers could be taken over completely by machinery which would be quicker and more reliable.

When was “Charles Babbage” first mentioned in the Times? Again, the fuzzy searching feature makes it hard to narrow down articles that contain only “Charles Babbage”. The earliest I found was this “Scientific Gossip” column, dated Feb. 6, 1881, which mentions his son, Henry P. Babbage, who “has recalled to public attention the numerical system of signals proposed by his father…a system which is applicable to light and sound.” According to that method:

Every light house would have its own number, which would be continually repeated, either by light or sound, as long as necessary. Thus, if the light-house was numbered 73, there would be during foggy weather seven blasts at short intervals, then a pause: then three blasts, and a longer pause; after which the same would be repeated as long as the fog lasted. The number of the light-house could be given in 30 seconds.

As the light-houses on either side would be arranged with numbers not having the same digits, (say, for example, 25 and 48,) the counting of one digit would in most cases indicate the light-house and the counting of the second would afford a check and give positive assurance of the correctness of the observation if it was found to tally with the number found on the chart.

In this system nothing else has to be done beyond counting the number of the blasts; no special training is required, and a glance at the chart tells everything wanted. Surely this is within the intellect of almost any sailor of any nation.

If you read the rest of that Scientific Gossip column, it seems that the audience of 1881 had more patience than the audience of today for verbose technical explanations.

Another random first-mention-in-the-Times search: Nintendo, found on Oct. 8, 1955. It’s a brief note on how the “Nintendo Playing Card Company” and the approximate translation of “Nintendo” is “a corporation whose fortune or prosperity should be left to the mercy of heaven.”

The article notes, “evidently heaven has smiled on the Nintendo Company, because it has been using the mark since 1887.”