Talaq and religious freedom

Freedom of religion is meaningless without the right to criticise religion. The saga of the play, Talaq, compels the conclusion that we do not have this right, and thus our religious freedom (like so many other freedoms in Singapore) is mostly empty rhetoric.

The story of Talaq should be familiar to those who have been following the daily papers. However, for the benefit of the rest, the gist of it is this: 

The play Talaq

A small theatre group, Agni Kootthu, wanted to perform Talaq, a monologue-play exploring the plight of abused Indian Muslim women. Talaq, which means "divorce", was based on the experiences of Nargis Banu and 12 others, all Indian Muslim women.

In the play, the protagonist is a woman called Nisha.

Here is what the Straits Times wrote of the play’s first run in December 1998:

As a 15-year-old, (Nisha) was mesmerised by and frightened of her 31-year-old husband. But the dutiful daughter-in-law and wife became an outraged woman when she found out about her husband’s affair and subsequent marriage to Devi, a Hindu.

This turned into hysteria when she aborted her baby, believing her husband would then come back as he had promised, and changed finally into self-awareness as she questioned the double standards the community and family used to judge her and her husband’s actions.

Banu (who played the part of Nisha) also took on the role of the arrogant husband, the wise and elderly man representing the views of the community, the mistress, the impatient mother-in-law, the upset sister-in-law and the voice of authority quoting from the Quran and the sayings of the Prophet Muhammed, the Hadith.

On display were what a dutiful Muslim wife ought to be – "Paradise is reward of a wife who pleases her husband until death" and "Of all things Allah has made lawful, what he hates most is divorce".

In juxtaposing these teachings with the family and community’s advice that Nisha should let her husband have his fun with his mistress as he is a man and she is a Muslim wife, Talaq brings to the forefront the hypocrisy when Muslim principles are interpreted to favour one gender over the other.

The story in the play follows Banu’s real life. She had been born in Madras, India, and at 15, was sent into an arranged marriage with a 30-year-old Singaporean. She moved here and lived with her husband’s parents, two brothers and three sisters. She did most of the washing, cooking and cleaning for the next 10 years till they had their own flat.

When she started working at Tamil Murasu (a Tamil-language newspaper), she gave all her pay to her husband.

Then around 1993, she found he was having an affair. Banu said, "I gave him many chances, but he pronounced the talaq."

Seared by this experience, and hearing of similar treatment suffered by other Indian Muslim women, Banu wrote Talaq. As reported by the Straits Times (28 December 1998), the play explored oppression, marital rape, arranged marriages, the duties of wives and husbands, and the culture of silence forced upon these women. 

The first two runs

The play Talaq was first performed on 24 December 1998, in Tamil, to considerable acclaim and packed houses. It had a run of three performances.

It was staged again in February 1999, but soon after, the Tamil Muslim Jama’ath (a religious society) complained that the play "brings disgrace to Islamic principles and values". A few days later, Muis, the umbrella Islamic Religious Council of Singapore, issued a statement that it "shares the concern of some Muslim groups in the community" with regard to Talaq.

There the matter rested until recently when the theatre group Agni Kootthu publicised its upcoming performance of the English and Malay versions of the play. The South Indian Jamaiathul Ulama, (a religious group, of course) protested to the authorities. 

The authorities take centre-stage

At about this point, the authorities began to show their incompetence -- an incompetence borne from the fact that they weren’t guided by any fundamental constitutional principles. In the face of competing pressures, their instincts were illiberal and to play safe, but by being so, they inserted themselves into a cultural and artistic issue as defenders of orthodox religionists, forgetting that we’re supposed to be a secular state.

To begin with, like in the gay forum, the play had to obtain a licence from the Public Entertainment Licence Unit (PELU), an arm of the Police. PELU dithered.

The National Arts Council (NAC) – who cannot decide whether they are to promote the arts or to control them, equally hemmed and hawed. They then suggested that Agni Kootthu arrange a preview of the play for selected persons, and the recommendations of these persons would help PELU to decide on the licence application…. except that 2 members from the South Indian Jalaiathul Ulama, the complainants, would be in the panel.

Agnoi Kootthu refused to stage a preview under such conditions.

Finally a compromise was reached wherein Agni Kootthu could nominate some additional members to the panel. So, a preview was held on 24 October 2000.

Licence denied

Was anyone holding his breath? Did anyone think that PELU would ever issue a licence?

Of course they didn’t.

When queried, PELU said that MUIS (the umbrella Islamic body) had objected on religious grounds, and that although the review committee that watched the preview felt that removal of certain religious references would address objections, MUIS’ views took precedence over those of the committee’s.

Don’t accept such explanations without thought. What it is tantamount to saying is that religious bodies exercise a veto over free speech in Singapore. Preview panels amount to nought. Compromises are not needed. If a government-recognised religious body (e.g. MUIS) objects on "religious grounds", that’s it. Finito.

This is further supported by the nonsensical reply when reporters asked PELU why a licence had been granted so easily in 1998 and 1999. Philip Mah, the Home Affairs Press Secretary, said, "That was then this is now" (report in Project Eyeball, 20 October 2000).

What sort of reply is that? It’s an admission that PELU has no guts and no consistent principles. Its decision this time is different from the previous occasions simply because the religionists are objecting more loudly. It’s all situational. No fundamental principles need be involved. Constitutional freedoms? Never heard of them! 

The National Hypocrisy Council

The NAC’s position after PELU refused a licence for staging the play was that it respected the decision of the licensing authorities. However, it supported the staging of the play subject to some changes being made. It had even submitted its approval for the staging of the play to PELU for their consideration. (Project Eyeball, 28 October 2000).

But when Agni Kootthu decided to raise the ante, the NAC showed its true colours.

Agni Koothu had booked the Drama Centre long ago, for the planned performances of Talaq, starting 28 October. With the licence denied, it was stuck with the booking and the venue. The group decided to hold a rehearsal to "document" the play.

The NAC, as landlords of the Drama Centre, promptly closed the centre, and when Ms. S. Thenmoli, president of Agni Kootthu, demanded an explanation and refused to leave, she was arrested for criminal trespass.

A spokesman for the NAC told the press that "the group is saying that it is a rehearsal. But on looking more closely at the matter, it became obvious that it was not just a dress rehearsal. In fact, they have called it an open rehearsal. After careful consideration, we decided to close the Centre because an open rehearsal was still open to the public and as a result, we could not let the premises to be used to circumvent a decision by PELU."

So it’s clear now. The NAC, who claimed to support the staging of the play, actually took the initiative to close the Drama Centre at short notice, creating a trespass situation, and then called in the police. 

Promoting the arts

Two big issues are raised by this saga. The first – how much leeway for the arts scene, and how to promote the arts in such a context – is being discussed in the press. The second issue – what "freedom of religion" really means in Singapore – no one really wants to raise.

The government’s policy on the arts is schizophrenic. On one hand, they know that a thriving arts scene brings a host of benefits. It helps to make our city vibrant and more attractive to fleet-footed professionals who may otherwise be lured to more interesting places to live. It helps to build a sense of Singaporean community, a kind of social glue.

Yet the government does not want the arts to interrogate the status quo. It takes the position that the arts have a social responsibility and then narrows this "social responsibility" to "serving society".

David Lim, Minister of State for Information and the Arts, said at a forum held 21 October 2000, "If we accept that an artist’s responsibility is also to serve society, then how well he does this becomes a measure of his integrity."

That’s another way of saying that you’re no good artistically unless you "serve society". And since the government, as always, takes it upon itself to define what society’s interests are, "serving society" is not a lot different from serving their agenda.

Once again, don’t accept such rubbish. Don’t even accept this idea of "responsibility" for it implies certain norms or goals that one’s work should be consistent with. If norms or goals are the limiting parameters, how can you question? As T Sasitharan, the former head of the Substation, a privately funded arts venue, said, "I demand the right to be irresponsible."

The arts are a society’s conscience. They give voice to the candid thoughts we have, or should have, of ourselves. Of how we ill-treat some people in our midst, of how we behave unfairly, of how we suck up to authority, or how, out of ignorance, prejudice or consumerism, we act idiotically.

It must also reflect the diversity inherent in any society, for no society is ever of one mind. There are different voices and subvoices, each with their own perspective on life and on their place in this world. It’s good for our own individual self-awareness that we hear them. It is precisely when we hear them -- the many strands of being Singaporean – that we begin to forge an inclusiveness that fosters a genuine idea of community: the social glue that the government goes on about.

It the arts have to be "responsible", only reinforcing existing norms (read: status quo) and reflecting dominant viewpoints, that’s when they’re useless, for they don’t promote thought. We have a word for that kind of stuff: Entertainment.

Talaq would have been good for Singapore. Even in defeat, it has shown what hypocrisy and shambles our arts policy is made of.

But the issue goes beyond the arts. It goes to the question of free speech and freedom of religion. The play, after all, was banned because one religious council didn’t like it performed. 

The freedom to criticise religion

Too often, we accept "freedom of religion" to mean the freedom to subscribe to any existing religion in its orthodox interpretation. Did you notice the many qualifiers in the preceding statement? That alone tells you what a mockery it is.

Are we free to be non-believers, atheists? Yes, to a certain extent. But watch the following tests:

Are believers free to condemn non-believers?

Yes, in sermons and even on the streets, as many of us who have encountered ardent proselytisers, to our annoyance, can attest.

Are non-believers free to condemn believers?

No, for it would "offend religious sensitivities" – the famous gag phrase. Even a play like Talaq[1], that came too close to questioning the way religion was used to maintain male dominance, was ruled out. What more if someone stood up and said such and such a religion was crap.

It’s OK for Christians to say that Taoism is all superstition, and for Muslims to call others infidels. But it’s not OK for me to say that religion is more than just an opiate for the masses, it’s an excuse for the dominant’s hold on power. It is a vehicle for the moralists’ claim on morals, for the heterosexist’s monopoly of "family values" and the males’ stranglehold on virtue. I can’t say that. Talaq can’t say that. That would be abusing our freedom of religion!

It reminds me of totalitarian states where you might debate the merits of slightly different flavours of communism, but don’t anyone ever say aloud that communism in any form is bullshit. That would be outside the bounds of the proletariat’s "freedom of speech".

Just as freedom of speech is meaningless unless one can speak up against the prevailing wisdom, so freedom of religion is meaningless unless one can speak up against the prevailing usages of religion.

© Yawning Bread 

Footnotes

1. I should note here that in the case of Talaq, the writer and theatre group have made it clear that it didn’t question Islam per se, but only how it was woven into the socio-cultural mix oppressive of Indian Muslim women.
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