SAFFIYAH EDOO
When I was 17, I wanted to read Lady Chatterley’s Lover, which seemed an exciting read at the time. My Mum, however, would not hear about it (she herself having it read it, hidden from her father, and getting a proper dressing down when the latter found out). She imposed her veto, and as it turns out, I never read it. Around that time, during a stay at one of my Dad’s friend on a trip abroad, the subject came up. Our host, or rather the wife, told my mother in no uncertain terms that she found this veto silly. She said that forbidding only makes the forbidden more enticing and will only drive the one who is deprived to make even more efforts to go towards it. She was right. Being forbidden something, by humans, especially, no matter how big or small it is, tends to induce a contrarian attitude. Meekness is thrown out the window and outrage takes its place.
Prohibition, censorship or banning is problematic on different levels. Especially, if they are carried out without giving reasons or if the reasons are clearly…unreasonable. They remove the agency and in some cases the freedom, that are the very essence of many. Which explains the sometimes-outspoken reactions. The hype caused by the recent banning of The Kashmir Files recently is reflective of that. In all fairness, while the reasons for the ban have not been made public, one can only imagine them and therein lies part of the problem. Such an action without explanation gives rise to assumptions that are unnecessary. It does not give enough credit to people’s maturity and in fact may cause the very thing that it may have tried to prevent in the first place: discord and tension.
While the ban on the film was eventually lifted, some fundamental question remains: when we are standing up against a prohibition/ban or censorship, are we doing it based on a principle or only because we feel a kinship to the cause, or the people being affected? When we are remaining impassive in the face of a ban affecting others, what does it say about us? Do we find our voice only when we can relate to the cause? It’s true, we do not have to jump on each and every bandwagon, but doesn’t standing up for a cause when it touches us make us empathise when we see others going through the same thing, albeit for different reasons?
There are different levels of being affected by a prohibition. While in some cases, the consequences are somewhat benign, in others they are life changing. Are we mature enough to recognize this and stand up for these too even if we do not feel a kinship with those affected? Are we mature and courageous enough to go beyond ourselves and defend a principle?
