Tribute to Carsten Thomassen

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Carsten Thomassen was a communicator.

Not a communicator with a fixed political agenda or a particular view of the world. He was a communicator of what he experienced and saw – both at home and abroad – from his perspective as a knowledgeable and accomplished political journalist.

He spent nearly half his short life writing for newspapers, and his words have made a lasting mark.

Critical journalism was Carsten Thomassen’s métier. Meetings with him could be challenging for those of us with political responsibility. His task was to delve beneath the surface, to look beyond the official versions of events.

He thus lived out his deeply held conviction that a free press and critical journalism are cornerstones of any democracy; that people should be given the space, opportunity and facts they need to be able to think for themselves; that there should be no monopoly on the truth.

Independent communicators have a vital function in society.

And this is why meetings with Carsten Thomassen left a strong impression. We developed a close relationship: the particular closeness that can arise between a journalist and the person he holds responsible and questions closely.

In his quiet way, Carsten Thomassen had certain qualities that set him apart from others. He had a warmth and integrity that won respect and trust: the type of trust that only a journalist who is confident in his role and bases his work on facts can earn; the type of trust that got his interview subjects talking.

He was an exceptional communicator, whether he was talking to politicians in the central hall at the Storting, to victims of the Asian tsunami, or to local people in Afghanistan.

That is how I remember him on the afternoon of 14 January in Kabul. His sharp mind focusing on his task as a journalist. He asked for an interview later that evening. He had questions he wanted answers to, and impressions he wanted to share. He also had other plans. He wanted – as usual – to look behind and beyond the set programme of ministerial visits and meetings.

But then he became a victim of an appalling act of terrorism. An act of terrorism that hit this very person who was seeking to communicate a broader picture. An act that demonstrated terrorism’s wanton, irrational nature.

For those of us who experienced the events in Kabul on 14 and 15 January, the death of Carsten Thomassen is permanently imprinted on our memories.

It is a death that has outraged people all over the world, as I have discovered over the last few days from the many expressions of condolence from foreign colleagues and other contacts. Our message must be clear: we will not allow terrorism to silence independent communicators.

All over Norway, people have expressed their sorrow and distress at the loss of one of the country’s leading journalists, someone with whom many people felt a connection.

I would like to pay tribute to the members of the press who fought to save his life in the hotel lobby and on the way to the hospital. You showed great courage. This is a terrible loss for all Carsten Thomassen’s colleagues at Dagbladet, and our thoughts are with you.

But the heaviest and most painful burden rests on his family. I would like to turn to you now, Ellen, Aurora and Eiril, and express heartfelt sympathy, solidarity and concern. You are not alone. Although this is a day of great darkness, we know that the days will gradually grow longer and brighter. Our memories of Carsten’s life and work as a fellow human being, as a journalist and as a communicator will live on, and illuminate our lives.

For one thing is certain: Carsten Thomassen made the world easier to grasp. He was an important part of the mosaic of Norwegian democracy. All that he wrote lives on. So do our memories, which we will cherish – as you will.

May Carsten Thomassen rest in peace.

Translated from the Norwegian