When is it a good time to be patriotic?

Therefore such stories, when they occur, require careful deliberation and thoughtful treatment. Balancing the public’s right to know with the responsibility not to be sensational is an art that emerges from experience and, life being life, learning from previous mistakes.
Those who attack unarmed civilians are relying on the power of amplification and the exponential effects of fear to turn the crack of a rifle shot in one remote corner of the country, into an avalanche of emotions, political angst, and financial ruin.

But that is only one side of the story.
The obligation to report is not an end in itself. Suppressing the publication of the facts about a terror incident, as some officials hurriedly often try to suggest whenever these unfortunate events occur, could lead other unsuspecting people into harm’s way.
It could also give cover to officials whose own incompetence, negligence or inaction allowed for the security lapses that led to the attack in the first place. At the macro level, it might conceal wider resource misalignments.

Details of the attack are only still trickling in and it is too early to apportion blame. It is also impossible to prevent all crime. Terrorists and guerrilla fighters only have to get it right once to make their mark; those who defend against them must get it right all the time.
Patriotism, the favourite ‘ism’ bandied around as a justification for the suppression of bad news carries with it an obligation to truth, justice and equity. Where security officials have a history of making up claims or dubious attributions of responsibility, it is hard to take them at their word.

Even harder when they make it a habit to harass, detain, threaten and otherwise persecute journalists and citizens who seek to find and report the truth.
Yes, journalists can be pesky, arrogant little pricks, but this does not discharge those in charge of the state from their obligations to the rule of law and respect for rights. Neither does it discharge them from the core obligation – the real patriotism – of loving the lives and property of citizens enough to respect and protect them.

Let’s pause here and pose some questions. If you woke up at night and your house was on fire, which number would you call? Would it be answered? How long would it take for a fire tender (not brigade, you UPE twits) to show up, if ever?

This failure of transmission between the engine block of the citizens who power the country and the officials, elected and otherwise, who run the state, is where the missing ‘patriotism’ can be found, buried.
A typical government minister has at least two, but often more, armed police officers at their residence, one in the front of their car riding shotgun with their driver, and maybe another six in the police pick-up escort car. Even if you ignore those guarding their office building, that is almost 10 police officers guarding just one official.

Thus, even as the number of police officers has increased and the Force’s budget has grown, the real ratio of officers to civilians has narrowed. It is not just tourists that need to be protected, their place in the value chain notwithstanding. Our security apparatus must be realigned to provide for more policing in the streets, more night patrols, and better investigative capacity to solve violent crime.
There must also be more accountability. How do we explain and justify the gaping chasm of disbelief between the many high-profile shootings we have had, and the very small number, if there, of successful convictions?  

Patriotism can’t be a pin lapel we wear when it suits us. It should be an invisible badge we proclaim less and allow to be seen more in what we do and how we do it. If we want to unite the country, we must first stop dividing it, and then protect all in it. 

Mr Kalinaki is a journalist and  poor man’s freedom fighter. 
[email protected]; @Kalinaki