Remnants of a Phantom: The Chivalry of a Journalist and the Ethics of a Merchant

I began writing a daily column for Al-Anbaa newspaper in 1979. In 1980, I was allocated a government house for middle-income earners in the southern area of Salm al-Adil (Khaitan South), which hosted the first housing project of its kind in Kuwait, implemented by a Kuwaiti company. This project was among the most successful model housing initiatives, despite some shortcomings in the facilities of these homes, for perfection belongs to God alone. Many residents of this project approached government officials to address these deficiencies, but to no avail. Consequently, some writers, including myself, resorted to journalistic coverage to draw the attention of government officials to the issues surrounding this project.

We, the generation, continued writing and submitting proposals to the government to rectify these shortcomings, including granting citizens housing loans to construct additional rooms, bathrooms, and facilities tailored to each citizen’s family size and urgent needs. At that time, I was working at the Kuwait Commercial Bank. The bank’s Deputy Chairman of the Board of Directors was the late Faisal Yousef Al-Marzouq, who served alongside the late Suad Hamad Al-Humaidi on the board. Coincidentally, circumstances and fate decreed that Faisal Al-Marzouq was also the editor-in-chief of Al-Anbaa newspaper at that time, while Ms. Suad Al-Humaidi was the owner of the contracting company that executed the middle-income villa project in southern Salm al-Adil.

At that time, I was a junior employee. Mr. Faisal Al-Marzouq, as one of the bank’s owners, could have issued a decision to dismiss me from the bank to appease the wish of another bank owner, Ms. Suad Al-Humaidi, but this did not happen. Similarly, the editor-in-chief of Al-Anbaa at the time, who was Faisal Al-Marzouq himself, could have issued a decision barring me from writing in the newspaper—not to appease his colleague on the bank’s board, but to prevent me from exploiting the column for purposes that might appear personal, even though I was advocating for 500 citizens. This, too, did not happen. Furthermore, this distinguished lady could have personally asked me, through my direct manager at the bank, to stop addressing her company, which had not failed to meet any government engineering requirements. This, too, did not happen. This confirms that throughout the period I exercised my right to freedom of expression regarding reality without exaggeration, the corridors of the newspaper were overflowing with journalistic chivalry, patience, and broad-mindedness, just as the bank’s halls were filled with the ethics of merchants characterized by integrity, leniency toward those in need when necessary, and avoidance of unjustified harshness or oppression. So, what happened to avoid the “vulgarity” of a writer who was compelled to deliver citizens’ message to the government?

Once, at the end of 1980, while leaving the Al-Anbaa newspaper building, I encountered the late Faisal Al-Marzouq on the stairs leading to the indoor parking lot. I greeted him, and he returned the greeting. He then stopped me, saying, “Stop writing about the Khaitan villas… the contractor is upset.” I responded politely to his request, saying, “God willing, Abu Youssef… it is done.” He thanked me, turned his back, and headed toward the elevator.

I am writing this article not only because the tenth anniversary of their passing is approaching, as I recall some of their chivalrous deeds and merchant ethics, and I pray for their mercy and forgiveness, but also to affirm that current Kuwaiti newspaper owners, without exception, have always possessed genuine chivalry and noble merchant ethics, reflecting their sincere patriotism through these media institutions.