As the “Satanic Verses Affair” was ramping up, an influential Muslim spokesperson approached Salman Rushdie with a request that the author put a notification on the cover of The Satanic Verses that this was a novel, and that the story was fiction and not fact. The disappointed spokesperson later complained that despite his having approached Rushdie politely, the author had angrily rejected his most reasonable request.
One can well imagine how offensive this request would have been to Rushdie, and I, for one, was surprised by his restraint. Anyone who needs to have it explained that a novel is a work of fiction obviously doesn’t read novels. Rushdie wrote his novel for people who read novels, not for people who do not read novels. Also keep in mind that the people whose sensibilities the spokesperson was so anxious to protect tend not to read anything and are generally unable to differentiate between fiction and lies, especially in the written word. More tellingly, the people who rioted in the streets and burnt The Satanic Verses on the public square, whether in England, Pakistan, South Africa or elsewhere, not only had not read the book, but were practically illiterate. Why were they rioting about something that they could not possibly have read?
Whatever was in the book that could have incited them to mob violence was brought to them by someone who could read, having extracted exactly those words and sentences that would do the job. The story was irrelevant. No warning label would have cut any ice. The point was the malicious reporting of words; the malicious harnessing of words for a purpose other than that intended by their author.
Of course, Salman Rushdie could have put a warning label on the cover of his book, as the “reasonable Muslim” had requested. He could have anticipated the request and done so before he was asked. He could have placed himself in the minds of the Muslim illiterates (he is, after all, a novelist) and omitted those parts that they would find offensive. He could even have refrained from writing the novel in the first place, and all this trouble would have been spared. He had a variety of self-censorship options to choose from. Except…
The people who took offence had never read the book, and if offered it to read so they could judge for themselves (in the rare cases where they actually could read), would back away in fear. It was a book that contained something that could infect you. How did they know? Someone who had wanted them to riot told them so.
Censorship is about controlling access to ideas, but it is also about manipulation through controlled access to words. The Satanic Verses became an “Affair” when the Ayatollah Khomeini issued his notorious fatwa making it incumbent on every Muslim to murder Salman Rushdie. It was Valentine’s Day, 1989.
A few days ago, the well-respected Jihad Watch writer Hugh Fitzgerald wrote a fictional “Palestinian” account, Israel Helps Palestinians Contain the Coronavirus — Or Is It Another Zionist Trick? (Part 1) and (Part 2) of a Greek tour group vacating a Bethlehem hotel after staff at the hotel tested positive for the coronavirus. It was a good spoof, although it was far too coherent to have been the work of a Jew-hating Palestinian (a dead giveaway).
At the end of the spoof, Fitzgerald says, “This story is, of course, preposterous. But I fully expect some Muslims somewhere to come up with such a fantasy, so I thought I’d beat them to the punch.” Of course this is true, but it is also unfortunate that it should be pointed out, for it in fact amounts to an apology and suggests that the author might have been a little conflicted about his spoof, anticipating his readers taking it the wrong way. It is a great story creatively and humorously handled. We read in order to expand and enrich ourselves, not to remain where we are and insist on impoverishing the writer. If you read only what you already know, then what is the point?
It would seem that several readers, even if they did not take it the wrong way, nonetheless felt compelled, no doubt with the best of intentions, to advise the author that it might have been better to put a warning up front, so the reader knew it wasn’t “real,” as there would no doubt be those who would, intentionally or in error, take the text to be an actual report, and put it about as truth. This would be precisely the wrong thing to have done (in truth, Fitzgerald did put a warning up front, thankfully easily missed: “There is, however, one conspiracy theory that is true. I know this, because it’s my very own”).
I find myself at odds with those readers who have put such a suggestion to the author. Had Fitzgerald placed a (more obvious) warning note on his writing, he would have censored himself, neutering his chosen literary form, the spoof, by drawing its sting, just as Rushdie would have neutered his novel by drawing its sting with a warning label.
The only people who would have needed such a warning would be those who had no idea what a spoof was, who, presumably, were not the readers Fitzgerald had in mind. Should such people come across the text, amongst them might well be those who would quote the text elsewhere either innocently or with malicious intent. An author cannot be held responsible for how his or her words might be misused or abused. The fault lies with the abuser. Those who do so innocently have simply misunderstood the text. It happens everyday.
But those readers who appreciate the spoof would also have been denied the slow reveal and anticipation of layered references characteristic of this art form, thereby censoring also Fitzgerald’s own readers in what they may read.
The Persian philosopher Abu Yusuf Yaqub al-Kindi counselled:
“We ought not to be embarrassed of appreciating the truth and of obtaining it wherever it comes from, even if it comes from races distant and nations different from us. Nothing should be dearer to the seeker of truth than the truth itself, and there is no deterioration of the truth, nor belittling either of one who speaks it or conveys it.”
I would presume to adapt part of Al-Kindi’s wisdom for our purposes here:
“We ought not to be embarrassed of appreciating the truth and of disseminating it to wherever it goes, even if it is taken differently to how we intended.”
I sincerely hope that Fitzgerald is not discouraged in future from flexing his pen as his fancy takes him, and that readers will continue to follow him there.
Long live satire!