For Cabu, Charb, Wolinski, and All the Others...

Friends are dead. These familiar figures -- victims of unspeakable barbarism -- are no more. Men have been annihilated. Slaughtered like dogs. Although we wouldn't dare to slaughter dogs like this.

A newspaper has been essentially decapitated. This wasn't a random act. The killers clearly knew of the exact date of the editorial meeting. And this wasn't just any newspaper. This one was the most willing to transgress against self-righteousness. It stood for caricatures. Blasphemy against all dogmas remained sacred to the country of secularism and freedom.

They were our colleagues. They were my friends. Jean Cabut, who accompanied me through my first steps in television. My dear Cabu, it is with a heavy heart that I honor your memory. The shy, indignant, anxious one. Always eager to learn, always with the same haircut. Those great drawings that packed a punch. Never cruel, but always tickling at those in power, the army, and priests of all religions. Your family, your partner, and your friends are all in my thoughts. I am honored to have been your friend.

Keep going. Fight back. Draw. Laugh at everything. That's what the Charlie journalists did, and that's what we need to do in order to show the victims that we continue to admire their talent and their commitment to freedom. Freedom has a price, and sometimes we forget that it can be steep, that this is not just some hackneyed old saying. Freedom has requirements: protect civil peace at all costs, and do not allow our willingness to live together in a privileged country such as France to be shaken by suspicion and hate.

Signed by Anne Sinclair and all the editors of Le Huffington Post.