t was reported that the director of the Oscar-winning film No Other Land had been attacked in the West Bank. He was later arrested and taken into custody by the authorities.

It is now being reported that Hammad Ballal has been released after spending a night – or several nights – in detention. This should come as no surprise, for the first action of those in power is often to root out any semblance of truth. And the truth is: this film tells the story of a people subjected to the worst kinds of violence over the past year and a half.

One of the defining markers of a civilised society is the space it provides for freedom of expression – the ability to give voice to those who dissent or who challenge the dominant powers. After centuries of struggle, it was once believed that civilisation had reached a stage where certain freedoms could be taken for granted, and that rulers were not only accountable to the people, but also beholden to them for their position.

But time and again, despite all the rhetoric, the opposite proves to be true. The moment any meaningful difference is voiced, this carefully constructed web of security and assurance collapses. Once again, power and brute force rise to the surface.

What is the film about? It is a form of documentary that lays bare the scale of atrocities unleashed upon a defenceless population. More bombs have been dropped on a tiny stretch of land than during the entire course of the World War II. The result is a grotesque exhibition of the instruments of destruction that science and technology have handed to the powerful.

These acts of violence and intimidation are more than symbolic – they are warnings that the life of the person is under threat.

And yet, no one comes to the aid of these victims of suffering on an industrial scale – this defenceless population is being forced to seek refuge in foreign lands. It appears that the territory is being cleared to make way for resorts to rival those of the Riviera along the Mediterranean.

This is not the first time such a violent reaction has been observed. Over the decades, whenever a film, an exhibition, a piece of music, or a piece of writing has dared to address this particular, one-sided conflict, it has been forcibly removed, destroyed or vandalised – sometimes by state officials, including ambassadors, across the world.

And how does the so-called civilised world respond? Either with muted silence, or with vague, diluted condemnations in the softest of terms.

It must be acknowledged that the Oscars had the courage to award this film. Many others have cowered under pressure, abandoning the path of merit and truth. But these acts of violence and intimidation are more than symbolic – they are warnings that the life of the person is under threat. It is a message to him, and to others like him, that the consequences for speaking the truth and standing with the oppressed can be dire.

In the past year and a half, more journalists have been killed than in possibly any other conflict – because the story of the “other side” is not meant to reach the wider world. The first step is to silence those who have access, and the ability, to share that story with readers and viewers.

Hats off to those who still have the courage to tell the truth. At its core, it is nothing more – and nothing less – than reporting, visually or verbally, what is happening on the ground.

The writer is a Lahore-based culture critic