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December 9, 1998

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E-Mail this column to a friend Pritish Nandy

The Fire Within

Last week, the media went for me because I was seen to defend in Parliament those who protested against the screening of Fire. The burning refrain was: How can you allow the Shiv Sena to get away with this? Are you defending the attack on the film? Are you against freedom of expression?

Let me, therefore, start at the beginning. Repeating what I said in Parliament. My argument was simple: There's nothing called selective freedom. You choose democracy or you don't. You choose freedom or you don't. There's nothing in between. It is like being pregnant. You cannot be partly pregnant or almost pregnant or pregnant to some extent. You are pregnant or not pregnant. Similarly, freedom of expression cannot be selective or partial. You have it or you don't.

That is exactly why I was so dismayed when, during the last session of Parliament, the Opposition MPs jumped up and without even having seen or read the work, clamoured for banning Pradeep Dalvi's play on Nathuram Godse. Their argument was: We cannot allow the assassin of the Mahatma to be heard. Whatever his reasons may have been to murder Gandhi, he cannot be given the right to voice them in public because that would be sacrilege. It will hurt the sentiments of millions of patriotic Indians. There will be violence on the streets, they insisted, if this play is allowed to be staged.

Actually the play had been staged in Gujarati for months and had gone largely unnoticed till this hoopla began when the censors cleared the Marathi version. For the Congress and others, this was the perfect opportunity to associate with the legacy of Gandhi and claim that the Sena was trying to glorify his assassin. Hence, all the shouting and screaming. But this worried the Union government so much that the prime minister had to issue an immediate statement of concern and the home minister instructed the Maharashtra government to ban the play. Which it did. Not because it wanted to but because this appeared to be the only way to defuse the crisis in Parliament.

I tried to argue against the ban but the plea was rejected. The House, I was told, would be agitated for days if the issue was raised again and no work would get done. So please forget your arguments against the ban, shut up, and let Parliament go on. Everyone was unanimous on this. No one was worried about freedom of expression. No one said: How can you ban a play just because it voices the point of view of an assassin? Don't you want to know why he did what he did? Don't you want to know why he risked his life to kill Gandhi? After all, he was not just a petty thug. He knew perfectly well what he was doing and he gave his life for his convictions, misguided as they may have been.

My other argument went also ignored. That when you prevent the voice of a political assassin from being heard, you drive it underground. This eventually makes him a hero. For history changes sides over time and what is politically correct today may look entirely wrong tomorrow. That is why, in any society, the voice of the rebel who expresses a radical and what sounds like a deviant point of view must be listened to. Who knows? It may turn out to be correct later! The mainstream view does not always remain in fashion and the offbeat view may be accepted as legit if it is seen to be persecuted enough.

That's why no one protested when the Gujarati version was staged for months. The moment the Marathi version was passed by the censors and was about to be staged, it became a huge issue. Suppression always evokes curiosity. Repression breeds resistance and protest. The voice of the radical minority always emerges as an alternative to mainstream beliefs when it is forcefully silenced.

That is why the biggest disservice we can do to the memory of the Mahatma is to silence his critics. His ideas are strong enough to stand on their own. They don't need government support and patronage. You don't need to ban a play or a book to keep them alive. In fact, it is just the opposite. By banning the play we are keeping Godse's point of view alive. We are likely to make him the unheard hero of the saga.

Interestingly, the very people who made such a scene over the Godse play and insisted it be banned are those who are now protesting against the stopping of Fire. How can you prevent freedom of expression, they say! How can you ban a play and then, in the same breath, insist that a film espousing an equally radical point of view be shown in the name of freedom of expression? How can you demand censorship in one case and criticise it in another? How can you ban a deviant point of view in politics and yet insist, at the same time, that a deviant point of view in sex must be upheld?

What is the difference between the play and the film? In one, an assassin explains the purpose behind his crime. In the other, a lesbian explains why she prefers another women to her husband. How can a government ban one and allow the other?

Both walk the wildside. Both articulate a radical, non-mainstream point of view that a small minority is perhaps ready to sympathise with. Why is one more acceptable than the other? Why is one more politically correct? How can a government support one deviant minority view and ostracise the other? Instead, wouldn't it be better to stay out of all such controversy and let the people decide what they want?

Bans are a silly idea. Let those who want to see something, see it. Let those who don't, not. Let those who want to stop it, stop it. Let those who want to burn the cinema halls burn them and face the consequences of their crime. Let the people decide. Let us all make our own choices, political or sexual. Keep Parliament out of it. When prices are going through the roof, when farmers are losing crop after crop, when corruption and crime are rampant, jobs are vanishing and the despairing spectre of recession haunts the nation, do we really have the time to worry about what we should ban and what we should not?

It is time we went back to basics. It is time we asked ourselves some real questions instead of fooling around with issues that do not concern 99 per cent of India. Who apart from a small minority among us gives a damn whether lesbianism exists or not? Who is concerned any longer about the legacy of Gandhi?

Most people are worried today about their jobs, their families, their security, their future. Their savings are under threat. Their livelihood is uncertain. They do not know how to face bruising inflation. Who cares amidst all this whether some women prefer women for sex or some men are happier buggering each other!

Let us not make mountains out of molehills. Let us not waste our time on fear. If we want freedom, we must remember that it comes for a price. You cannot get it on a selective basis. You cannot join one pressure group to silence your opponents and then join another to demand freedom for your friends.

You must learn to live with choice or stop whining and cope with slavery. It is your option. You must exercise it wisely. At 51, we are an adult nation. No playwright, no film-maker, no novelist, no politician, however deviant, can corrupt us. So why be afraid of free choice? Why wear shackles when you can run free?

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