Column

What has politics got to do with literature? Politics is about power and literature has to do with sensitive matters pertaining to feelings and sensibilities. But there is no culture without politics though there could be politics without culture. So, we have a dead controversy being raked up by some antiquated clerics whose knowledge of Islam is fossilised, and there is alarm among the literary chatterati. Perhaps this is what the doctor ordered for a festival that was becoming routinised. Controversy lends colour and spice. The literati may express shock and horror at the barbarians at the gates but they know the alarm has its uses.

Salman Rushdie was not quite innocent when he wrote The Satanic Verses. He wanted to provoke the conservatives and reactionaries among the Muslims, with the intent to open up Muslim minds and societies. Rushdie did not provoke Muslim creative writers or intellectuals, who ignored him.

Arab governments, the most conservative in the world, did not ban the book; the Organisation of Islamic Countries ignored the issue. This could be for two reasons. Not many people read English novels written by an India-born author in Britain, and there are not many translations from other languages into Arabic. In India, it is not necessary to read a book to call for its burning. But the Arab world is more complex and their writers are engaged in serious issues of their own.

In India, the Rushdie controversy has had some interesting consequences. The BJP and the Hindutva band are in the forefront of defending Rushdie’s freedom of speech! The liberals are acutely embarrassed by this support from the most unwanted quarter. There is also the paradox of Indian secularists, who do not want to hurt the religious sentiments of Muslims, and who find themselves arguing for a ban on the book!

For conservative Muslims and leaders, the Rushdie affair is useful to create a common voice for Muslims. The strategy has its limited uses. For a moment, it would seem that Muslims are rallying round the anti-Rushdie protestors. During those short anxious moments, there is enough fear and panic to fill the atmosphere. Even if it were to have some impact on one election, it would be difficult to keep it alive for the next.

All these might appear to be rationalisations, and weak ones at that. To argue that if you ignore something uncomfortable, it will fade away may be practical but not honest. Everyone, including Muslims, will have to read The Satanic Verses if they want to argue against it. An informed critique of the novel from a learned Muslim cleric or a literary critic would be a better refutation than any fatwa or threat of violence. Also, it would be good if The Satanic Verses and Rushdie’s other novels are translated into Urdu so that readers can decide for themselves about their literary merit. The Satanic Verses would be criticised for being a bad book rather than for being blasphemous.

Rushdie’s admirers would be doing a favour to their hero if they offer a critique of The Satanic Verses, comparing it to his other works. Rushdie’s exaggerated importance is in terms of the stimulus he is said to have given to writing in English in India. Indian writers in English feel they need to be eternally grateful to him for giving them confidence to compete for the Booker Prize. So they feel a little afraid, and worry that to criticise Rushdie would be an act of ingratitude.