Drishtipat Blog

A butterfly flaps its wing somewhere in Borneo, setting off a perturbation in the weather system that eventually leads to a depression in the Bay of Bengal, and millions in the coastal Bangladesh fear the worst. This is a popular characterisation of chaos theory - a branch of mathematics that says that small changes in the initial condition has big impacts in the final outcome. I don’t know whether Arifur Rahman read about chaos theory or not, but when one of his cartoons was published by the Daily Prothom Alo last Sep, what happened was pretty close to chaos. This is how we covered the issue when it started.

This was a time of fraying nerves. Tazreena Sajjad describes the zeitgeist of the time here. It was within weeks of the Dhaka University riots. For a while, there were rumours of Prothom Alo being shut down. In the event, things calmed down after Prothom Alo editor, a one-time communist, apologised to the Imam of the national mosque in the presence of the information minister of the military-backed regime.

After a year, we can think about the controversy with a calmer mind. That’s what this post attempts. First it notes the role played by a new generation of activists - online and in the ‘real’ world - during the crisis. Then it notes that this wasn’t the first incidence of its kind. Finally, it discusses where and how we might draw the line between freedoms of speech and faith.

A new generation of activists

Arif’s was a voice unheard, or more accurately, a voice silenced. No major newspaper, including his own, carried his cause publicly. The mainstream media effectively abandoned him. It was only fitting that this forum, and others in the Deshi blogosphere, highlighted his plight.

This wasn’t the only time we saw online activism making an impact in recent time. When politicians were being arrested under the so-called anti-corruption drive, bloggers were among the first to protest what seemed to be a creeping martial law. When questions about Gen Moeen’s bank account details arose, again bloggers were the first to highlight them. The Deshi blogosphere is definitely a force, and it will be interesting to see how it is used in the post-election period.

Meanwhile, there was a new generation of activists on the other side of this conflict too. Calls to ban Prothom Alo came not from Jamaat-e-Islami. Nor did come from other, established Islamist politicians. Rather, the anti-Prothom Alo campaign was carried out by Hizb-ut-Tahrir, a new face in our Islamist politics (see here). This organisation has been in news again recently, and I’m sure this is not the last we’re going to here about them.

Returning to Arif, bloggers like Shada Kalo and Dhaka Shohor kept reminding us this young man’s tribulations. And Sara Hossain, also of the younger generation and a Drishtipat ally, worked hard to secure his eventual freedom. I use the word freedom with reservation. As Arif told Omi Rahman Pial in May:

I usually keep a low profile; never in anywhere have I introduced myself as Arif. But still I don’t feel safe; they can be anywhere and even kill me if they want. I don’t even work in the shop where I used to.

(The full interview is here).

A history of blasphemy

Arif’s wasn’t the first case of alleged blasphemy in Bangladesh. Here are some other cases of note (thanks to Naeem Mohaiemen for the research - a longer list is available here).

1973

Daud Haider publishes poem in ‘Sangbad’ literary section where he allegedly insults Prophet Mohammed, Jesus Christ and Gautama Buddha. A college teacher files a case in Dhaka court. Protests ignite, and Dhaka sees first Islamist procession since 1971 Liberation War. Haider is taken into protective custody and moves to India in 1975. He later migrates to Germany.

1992

Dr Ahmad Sharif faces two private complaints over a report published in the daily Inquilab of alleged remarks criticizing Islam made during a private seminar. The apex court reports a statement by his counsel that the statements ascribed to Dr Sharif had been distorted by Inquilab.

1993

Taslima Nasreen releases ‘Lajja’ (Shame), a novel set in the backdrop of post-Ayodhya communal riots in Bangladesh. The government immediately bans the book. Militant Islamist groups announce a bounty on her head. Nasreen’s passport is seized, but she later receives a new passport and flies to Paris.

Motiur Rahman Nizami, then Secretary General of Jamaat, tables in Parliament a ‘blasphemy bill’. Modelled on existing Pakistani laws, this proposes addition of two new sections, 295B and 295C, to the Penal Code, creating new offences of ‘insult to the Quran’ and ‘insult to the Prophet’, respectively carrying maximum sentences of life imprisonment and death.

1995

Humayan Azad’s book ‘Nari’ (Woman), is banned by the government because of chapters analyzing religious doctrine that imposes chauvinism on women. The ban is lifted in 2000, following a legal battle Azad won in the High Court .

2004

Abdul Mannan MP prepares a private member’s bill on dhormo obomanona (insult to religion) but is reportedly persuaded by a fellow MP of the ruling BNP party not to table this in Parliament. The Bill provided that any speech, or gesture, by words or otherwise, or any picture, film or artwork, or behaviour, which insults any religion, or which insults the Qur’an, Sunnah or Islamic Shariat, would be punishable by two years’ imprisonment.

Humayun Azad is savagely attacked by machete wielding attackers outside the annual Ekushe Book Fair. After drifting near-death in hospital, the writer recovers. Following repeated death threats, Azad leaves for Germany where he is found dead in his room.

2007

Government bans Eid issue of weekly Shaptahik 2000, because of an autobiographical article written by Daud Haider with a blasphemous reference.

Limits to freedom of speech?

We can perhaps generalise the above history of blasphemy cases thus: someone writes/draws/says something that touches religion (in our case, Islam); this causes offence to some of the faithful; there is a hue and cry; the offending piece is often banned; and far too often the writer is either jailed, exiled, or brutally attacked. Clearly there is no excuse whatsoever for the last. It seems pointless to have any dialogue with those who are in the business of declaring others apostate, marking them for death.

Leaving those bigots aside, can we think, from first principles, of a case for limiting freedom of speech such that feelings aren’t hurt? Here allow me a digression. Let me post this question to anyone who claims to uphold the ’spirit of 1971′ - how did you feel when a Jamaat-linked intellectual claimed that freedom fighters were motivated by the lure of pretty women and Hindu property? Coming from a family of armed freedom fighters, I was disgusted. Now, dear reader, ask yourself this - how might a religious person feel if the Kaaba is compared with a brothel?

So, can we think of a limit to free speech from first principles? And if there are limits, then how do we go about governing them?

Here we enter the murky world of conflicting rights. Let me illustrate with a simple example - suppose I am a lousy singer, and you are a tired person badly in need of sleep. I have the right to sing, you have the right to sleep. Whose right prevails? Well, one way of deciding is to look at the property right - simply put: my house, my rule. But what if we are neighbours? Property rights based decision rules don’t help - I can sing in my house, and you can sleep in your house. What happens if my cacophony can be heard from your house?

This is why we have governments. But how does the government manage the conflict? One way is to ban all loud singing. But now suppose we live in a neighbourhoodof partygoers? Before you moved into this neighbourhood, you knew that folks here stay out till the sun comes up. Should you now force everyone to abandon their joy because you need to sleep? If no one complains, then should the government ban loud singing? But maybe the government should still control parties because of ‘public peace’?

As you can see, there is no generalised right answer here. Reasonable people can differ. Personally, I would prefer context-specific complaints and resolutions. That is, returning to general issue of blasphemy cases, I’d argue against a blasphemy law, relying on civil law suits to express grievances and seek redress when a speech or expression hurts feelings, religious or otherwise.

The case against a blasphemy law

Let’s return to the blasphemy cases. The government could say that it bans this or that piece to keep public peace. But this sets up a credibility problem. If the government caves into those disturbing the peace because of hurt feelings on one item, it gives a signal to some other aggrieved party to demand a similar action. The proponents of a blasphemy act argue that if there are clearly defined limits - no jokes about the Prophet - it would make the government’s job much easier, while making sure that no one inadvertently causes offence.

In principle, this might sound good. After all, we have similar censorship in other cases - for example, there are clear laws again child pornography. Why not then a blasphemy act?

It seems to me that there would be two problems with a blasphemy act in the Bangladeshi context. First, it’s not at all clear that enacting a blasphemy act will solve the government’s credibility problem vis-a-vis demands for more censorship. If a government caves in on the blasphemy act, what is to stop others from demanding a ’spirit of liberation act’, or ‘respecting national heroes act’? And before we know it, nothing from the teaching of evolution to critical assessments of our history will be possible. This seems to be a very slippery slope, and no amount of hurt feelings seem to justify going down that path. And this is without considering the very real danger that our governments will use acts like these to stifle political opposition.

Here I should note that even the mature democracies of the west has their sacred cows that they feel the need to protect by curbing free speech - thus Europe doesn’t permit Holocaust denial, and Americans want to ban desecrating their flag. Not every European or American agree with these limits, but there seems to be a general agreement that these specific limits are not likely to become general thought controls. I’m not sure we can be that optimistic with our governments.

Law suits as the solution?

Why not take it to the court? Could there be class actions against Arif/Azad/Nasreen/Sharif on behalf of all the aggrieved people? Of course any such cases would have a pretty hard time making the case that the offending piece deserves to be censored. The defendant could always claim that if you find the piece offensive, simply don’t read it. And in most cases, that is precisely right. No one has to read Nasreen’s novel if they don’t want to. And similarly, disgusted as I was with that quip about my father’s motivation, I don’t really have the right to shut him up when I could simply switch the channel. But if the plaintiffs can mount a strong enough argument to convince the courts into banning an offensive piece, then that really seems to be a better way to resolve conflicts like this.