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This is an archive article published on May 20, 2007

Liberal146;s litmus test

Can you defend freedom of expression against all 8216;sensitivities8217;? Can you defend the right to offend?

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The debate over artistic freedom in India has exposed the extent to which an authentic liberal tradition has almost no traction in contemporary politics. The quality of arguments being advanced, even by defenders of artistic freedom, misconstrue the issue and have lent themselves to all kinds of partisan agendas. It is important to clear away the red herrings in order to understand what is truly at stake.

Arguments over free speech tend to get quickly communalised. An obtuse complacency prevents us from acknowledging this. The communalisation turns around two axes. The first is that none of the political parties defend freedom on principle. They see the right to expression as a discretionary dole to create competition between communities. With what straight face can parties that ban Taslima Nasreen or Salman Rushdie now defend artistic freedom? The second axis of communalisation is that there is a perception, right or wrong, that when Hindu gods or goddesses are lampooned, free speech is mobilised as an argument; but a lampooning of Islamic symbols is seen as an anti-minority move. For those of us who believe that individuals ought to have the right to lampoon any religion they wish, this is a problem. For it is still very difficult to detach freedom of expression arguments from arguments about community sensitivities. To put it bluntly, if the sensitivities of any community are used as trump cards to abridge freedom of expression, a free society will be put in peril. How many liberals are willing to have the courage to overcome the sensitivities of these identities?

The second red herring has to do with the invocation of 8220;art8221; to ground an argument for free expression. This invocation shares with its opponents a belief that somehow the world of expression will always be devoid of offence. So paintings need to be protected because they are 8220;art8221; and therefore not offensive. The dispute with those demanding the bans centres on the definition of 8216;offensive8217;. But this is a complete non sequitur. The value of free speech is precisely that once in a while it will let through things that someone finds offensive. Some of these things may have redeeming value, some will be an expression of genuine dissent, but some will be worthless. Why is there is no space for the following kind of argument? Many people do find these representations offensive. Whether these productions have redeeming value or are just gratuitous is a judgment that should be left to individuals. But the fact that people find them offensive is neither here nor there. We do art criticism a great disservice by sanitising everything under the label of art, by quickly assimilating everything to sublime pinnacles of achievement like Khajurao. This makes freedom of expression more precarious because the argument then turns on the value of these things. But you need freedom precisely because people disagree over their value. People ought to have the right to call this stuff offensive if they wish, so long as they are not trampling on others8217; rights. The demands for banning have escalated in part because the defence of freedom of expression is automatically conflated with a defence of the value of these productions. The latter is more debatable, the former is not.

There is a range of arguments underlying free speech. You cannot know whether something is of value before it has been expressed. Given the diversity of tastes it is impossible to trust anyone with the authority of judging what to ban correctly. There is a value to dissent and so forth. But the most compelling argument is this: I feel safe in a society where some of this offensive stuff gets through. I feel safe because I can say to myself: I know my beliefs and freedom of expression will always be protected, because we know even expression we don8217;t like is protected. That is the surest guarantee of my safety. So we need to say this to religious orthodoxy of any community: the reason we allow expression of things you find distasteful is because this is the surest guarantee of your freedom. A lot of people find what you propagate offensive; some aspect of someone8217;s religion is offensive to someone else. It is beside the point to argue that these things, properly understood, aren8217;t offensive. Who will be the judge of that claim? We are secure if we do not give anyone, the state, society, or majorities, the authority to impose their judgments on us.

We also need to get over this claptrap about respecting people8217;s beliefs. This is an impossible demand, for belief is not a matter of will. The only proper respect you can show people is by respecting their rights, not by engaging in the chicanery that you really respect their beliefs. The illusion we nurtured that somehow all religions need to be respected, that no one should find religion silly enough to want to recast it or lampoon it is all coming home to roost. Who all will we protect from being offended? It is fatuous to think that we can create laws that will protect all from offence. The only thing that does is create competitive offence mongering.

The Baroda case encapsulates many of the threats to our liberty. There is a direct line that runs from the assault on the autonomy of universities, and the self-abdication by the academic community, to the attack on Chandramohan8217;s freedoms. The Supreme Court has failed to clarify the principles behind this cherished right. As a society we are too ready to give in to those who invoke community sentiment. As politicians we are too partisan to be credible defenders of free speech. As citizens we are too narcissistic to think only of offences to our community, not about what happens when we succumb to everyone8217;s sensitivities. From a religious point of view, I find it to be the height of impiety and hubris to suppose that we humans are in the business of protecting our gods rather than the other way round. It betrays a fragility of belief and a crisis of confidence that genuinely religious people ought to find offensive. Our social contract is that we honour the dignity of each individual by giving them freedom of expression, that we value dissent and new forms of articulation even if some of it runs the risk of being silly. But make no mistake about it. The Talibanisation of India is under way. What else do you call a republic where artist after artist is feeling insecure?

The writer is president, Centre for Policy Research, New Delhi

 

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