THE USUAL SUSPECTS
Welcoming RushdieThis time the
government must not be moved.
By Swapan
Dasgupta
For India's "nattering nabobs of negativism" --
Spiro Agnew's evocative description of the liberal underclass -- the past week has been
truly bewildering. The Government they love to despise has moved in unexpected ways.
First, Atal Bihari Vajpayee effected a diplomatic coup by offering to hop on to the bus to
Lahore and talk directly to Nawaz Sharif. Secondly, and this is far more crucial, the
Government issued a visa to Salman Rushdie to visit the land of his birth.
If Vajpayee's proposed bus ride is calculated to please the
Lahore Club and the votaries of Track-II diplomacy, the Rushdie visa is certain to evoke a
mixed response. There are the likes of Khushwant Singh and Syed Shahabuddin who believe
that India cannot afford the author of Satanic Verses. Their tolerance being circumscribed
by the parameters set by Ayatollah Khomeini in 1989, they are certain to invoke the law
and order bogey. It's an argument that moved Rajiv Gandhi into taking the international
lead in banning Satanic Verses. But it's also the argument the Government doggedly
contested when it pressed for the Pakistan cricket tour despite the Shiv Sena's threats.
If Bal Thackeray's blackmail was resisted -- before the Sena chief climbed down -- there's
no reason why the same treatment should not be meted out to the supporters of a murderous
fatwa. Tolerance demands accommodation but accommodation cannot be one-sided. Expediency
is calculated to equate secularism with appeasement.
For India, a safe passage to Rushdie constitutes a test
case. There are many who believe that the writer went too far in Satanic Verses and
offended religious sensibilities. The argument that India is not cosmopolitan London is
not baseless. Yet, it is tragic that few are willing to stick out their necks and argue
that India should emulate the freedom and liberalism of the West. Before the fatwa,
Rushdie was one of the bitter critics of British society. He loathed Thatcherism, despised
the British establishment and loved to project himself as the conscience of Bangladeshis
in Camden. Given his "nattering negativism", Whitehall too could have left him
to the mercy of the Islamic assassins. Instead, it offered him protection. It was the only
decent thing to do.
In a sense, the argument is about decency and civilised
norms. We may despise the sensationalism of Deepa Mehta's Fire, but we would be horrified
if the Government caved in to the Shiv Sena and banned it. We may find the idea of gung-ho
evangelism aesthetically repugnant but we are left devastated when an Australian
missionary and his two children are roasted to death. That's really the Indian paradox. As
a nation we hold sharply conflicting perceptions of right and wrong. We are still coming
to terms with what it means to be an Indian. Each one of us nurtures delusions of monopoly
over correctness. At the same time, there is an innate decency that prevents dogmatism
from degenerating into intolerance. Perhaps it's a nagging realisation that truth itself
is negotiable and that sharply divergent truths can coexist harmoniously.
That's why the argument of safeguarding democracy from
itself is so utterly spurious. In ensuring Rushdie a safe visit, we will be informing
ourselves and the rest of the world that the soul of India is intact. The Rushdie visit is
not about politics. It's about values and principles. Succumb to blackmail and we may as
well let the lynch mob in. |