Political and media landscapes are witnessing their own version of McCarthyism.
The writer is a security analyst.
MCCARTHYISM is a ghost that survives within political and institutional systems. It thrives on witch-hunts, rejects scrutiny, and shields itself with distorted logic, manufactured fears, and convenient lies. It brands itself as the custodian of ‘true patriotism’, while relegating all dissenters to the category of the less loyal. Today, this spectre is once again dominating parts of the world, including the US and Pakistan.
George Clooney’s Good Night, and Good Luck captures this phenomenon by revisiting the confrontation between journalist Edward R. Murrow and Senator Joseph McCarthy during the 1950s. The term ‘McCarthyism’ itself emerged from the senator’s methods, which included wild accusations hurled without proof, careers destroyed on suspicion, and a climate of fear promoted to silence critical voices.
Yet the film does not unfold McCarthy’s character as much as it peels back the layers of the newsroom. It shows how editorial boundaries, commercial pressures, and fear of losing business gradually suffocate journalistic courage. It reminds us that compromises do not arrive abruptly but creep in quietly. But it also shows that there is always a way out, a path that begins with vigilance, integrity and the refusal to accept intimidation.
Though set in the 1950s, Good Night, and Good Luck resonates with today’s local scenario in which political and media landscapes are witnessing their own version of McCarthyism where narratives are policed, loyalties questioned and fear weaponised. The film invites us to reflect not only on history, but on our own moment.
Political and media landscapes are witnessing their own version of McCarthyism.
An op-ed piece cannot do a full film review, and there is no plan to act as spoiler for those who have the film on their watch list. However, Cole Porter’s famous 1940s’ song, I’ve Got My Eyes On You, which also has the line ‘I’m checking all you do from A to Z’ has been masterfully used in the film and one can easily understand the context.
These are difficult times for journalism, especially the kind that once stood firmly against McCarthyism. The challenge intensifies when the media landscape drifts towards sensationalism and embraces the notion, as referenced in the film, that ‘yellow is better than red’. Those who attempt to expose strong-arm tactics today face familiar reprisals: loss of advertisements, government pressure, accusations of being unpatriotic, and even direct threats.
Yet vigilance makes all the difference. Logic, objectivity and professional reporting covering all essential angles of a story remain possible, though not without hardship. Whether in Gaza during Israel’s genocidal campaign against Palestinians, the recent events in Venezuela or the tragic incident in Minneapolis that law enforcement and President Donald Trump attempted to cover up, segments of the media have continued to perform their professional responsibilities despite immense pressure.
The world over, those subscribing to the tenets of McCarthyism, in every age, remain obsessed with the idea that hidden forces or subversive actors are out to destroy a nation. They believe only a coercive approach can confront such imagined threats. Witch-hunts become their tool; ‘witchcraft’ their political art. For those unfamiliar with the origins of this mentality, Europe’s experience between the 15th and 17th centuries is instructive. That era saw widespread accusations of witchcraft amid political instability, famine, disease, economic crises, and religious conflict. The clergy scapegoated ‘witches’ — mostly poor women — and Heinrich Kramer, a priest, authored the Hammer of Witches, a manual that claimed that the devil targeted women, especially those who defied husbands and social norms. Kramer weaponised fear with pseudo-logic, legitimising the witch trials that haunted Europe for nearly two centuries.
The ‘McCarthyism’ of any age depends on the same logic of ‘witchcraft’ and witch trials. If journalists or media groups anywhere come under pressure, the reason is often simple: they are challenging the McCarthyism of their time.
Pakistan has a long history of confronting a similar state-led approach — from sanctions and censorship under the Press and Publications Ordinance of 1960, which empowered the state to shut down newspapers and arrest journalists, to the pre-publication censorship imposed during the Bhutto and Zia regimes, and later the clampdowns, bans, and channel closures witnessed under Nawaz Sharif and Gen Pervez Musharraf. Since then, restrictions have only become more layered, whether under the PTI government or the PDM-led administrations.
Although a large proportion of media groups and even well-known journalists have compromised at various stages, a small but resilient community of journalists, along with a few strong-nerved media owners, has continued to challenge these pressures. Zameer Niazi documented much of this struggle, but in recent years, two important accounts have emerged from senior journalist Hussain Naqi. The first is his memoir, Mujh Se Jo Ho Saka, and the second is a compilation of an extended interview conducted by Dr Syed Jaffar Ahmed, published under the title Jurat-i-Inkaar. Both works capture not only Naqi’s personal journey but also the collective struggle that defines Pakistan’s political, social and journalistic history over the last seven decades.
This is, in many ways, a Pakistani version of Good Night and Good Luck, a narrative that deserves equal praise and could well be adapted into a screenplay. Hussain Naqi’s story makes one truth abundantly clear: subscribers to the McCarthy approach in successive Pakistani regimes have believed that the media is responsible for creating political instability and chaos. They succeeded in silencing the press for years, sometimes for entire decades, yet the country never escaped chronic instability.
Instead of reassessing their approach, they continue to rely on the same tactic of suppressing dissent, a strategy that has never produced the desired outcomes, nor is likely to in the future. The title of the film is borrowed from the famous line in Romeo and Juliet, ‘Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow”. But the film also subtly invokes another Shakespearean truth: “The fault … is not in our stars, but in ourselves.”
Published in Dawn, January 11th, 2026
Muhammad Amir Rana is a security analyst. He is the Director of Pak Institute for Peace Studies (PIPS), Islamabad, Pakistan.
Published January 11, 2026
DAWN
The writer is a security analyst.
MCCARTHYISM is a ghost that survives within political and institutional systems. It thrives on witch-hunts, rejects scrutiny, and shields itself with distorted logic, manufactured fears, and convenient lies. It brands itself as the custodian of ‘true patriotism’, while relegating all dissenters to the category of the less loyal. Today, this spectre is once again dominating parts of the world, including the US and Pakistan.
George Clooney’s Good Night, and Good Luck captures this phenomenon by revisiting the confrontation between journalist Edward R. Murrow and Senator Joseph McCarthy during the 1950s. The term ‘McCarthyism’ itself emerged from the senator’s methods, which included wild accusations hurled without proof, careers destroyed on suspicion, and a climate of fear promoted to silence critical voices.
Yet the film does not unfold McCarthy’s character as much as it peels back the layers of the newsroom. It shows how editorial boundaries, commercial pressures, and fear of losing business gradually suffocate journalistic courage. It reminds us that compromises do not arrive abruptly but creep in quietly. But it also shows that there is always a way out, a path that begins with vigilance, integrity and the refusal to accept intimidation.
Though set in the 1950s, Good Night, and Good Luck resonates with today’s local scenario in which political and media landscapes are witnessing their own version of McCarthyism where narratives are policed, loyalties questioned and fear weaponised. The film invites us to reflect not only on history, but on our own moment.
Political and media landscapes are witnessing their own version of McCarthyism.
An op-ed piece cannot do a full film review, and there is no plan to act as spoiler for those who have the film on their watch list. However, Cole Porter’s famous 1940s’ song, I’ve Got My Eyes On You, which also has the line ‘I’m checking all you do from A to Z’ has been masterfully used in the film and one can easily understand the context.
These are difficult times for journalism, especially the kind that once stood firmly against McCarthyism. The challenge intensifies when the media landscape drifts towards sensationalism and embraces the notion, as referenced in the film, that ‘yellow is better than red’. Those who attempt to expose strong-arm tactics today face familiar reprisals: loss of advertisements, government pressure, accusations of being unpatriotic, and even direct threats.
Yet vigilance makes all the difference. Logic, objectivity and professional reporting covering all essential angles of a story remain possible, though not without hardship. Whether in Gaza during Israel’s genocidal campaign against Palestinians, the recent events in Venezuela or the tragic incident in Minneapolis that law enforcement and President Donald Trump attempted to cover up, segments of the media have continued to perform their professional responsibilities despite immense pressure.
The world over, those subscribing to the tenets of McCarthyism, in every age, remain obsessed with the idea that hidden forces or subversive actors are out to destroy a nation. They believe only a coercive approach can confront such imagined threats. Witch-hunts become their tool; ‘witchcraft’ their political art. For those unfamiliar with the origins of this mentality, Europe’s experience between the 15th and 17th centuries is instructive. That era saw widespread accusations of witchcraft amid political instability, famine, disease, economic crises, and religious conflict. The clergy scapegoated ‘witches’ — mostly poor women — and Heinrich Kramer, a priest, authored the Hammer of Witches, a manual that claimed that the devil targeted women, especially those who defied husbands and social norms. Kramer weaponised fear with pseudo-logic, legitimising the witch trials that haunted Europe for nearly two centuries.
The ‘McCarthyism’ of any age depends on the same logic of ‘witchcraft’ and witch trials. If journalists or media groups anywhere come under pressure, the reason is often simple: they are challenging the McCarthyism of their time.
Pakistan has a long history of confronting a similar state-led approach — from sanctions and censorship under the Press and Publications Ordinance of 1960, which empowered the state to shut down newspapers and arrest journalists, to the pre-publication censorship imposed during the Bhutto and Zia regimes, and later the clampdowns, bans, and channel closures witnessed under Nawaz Sharif and Gen Pervez Musharraf. Since then, restrictions have only become more layered, whether under the PTI government or the PDM-led administrations.
Although a large proportion of media groups and even well-known journalists have compromised at various stages, a small but resilient community of journalists, along with a few strong-nerved media owners, has continued to challenge these pressures. Zameer Niazi documented much of this struggle, but in recent years, two important accounts have emerged from senior journalist Hussain Naqi. The first is his memoir, Mujh Se Jo Ho Saka, and the second is a compilation of an extended interview conducted by Dr Syed Jaffar Ahmed, published under the title Jurat-i-Inkaar. Both works capture not only Naqi’s personal journey but also the collective struggle that defines Pakistan’s political, social and journalistic history over the last seven decades.
This is, in many ways, a Pakistani version of Good Night and Good Luck, a narrative that deserves equal praise and could well be adapted into a screenplay. Hussain Naqi’s story makes one truth abundantly clear: subscribers to the McCarthy approach in successive Pakistani regimes have believed that the media is responsible for creating political instability and chaos. They succeeded in silencing the press for years, sometimes for entire decades, yet the country never escaped chronic instability.
Instead of reassessing their approach, they continue to rely on the same tactic of suppressing dissent, a strategy that has never produced the desired outcomes, nor is likely to in the future. The title of the film is borrowed from the famous line in Romeo and Juliet, ‘Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow”. But the film also subtly invokes another Shakespearean truth: “The fault … is not in our stars, but in ourselves.”
Published in Dawn, January 11th, 2026
Muhammad Amir Rana is a security analyst. He is the Director of Pak Institute for Peace Studies (PIPS), Islamabad, Pakistan.
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