| Yawning
Bread. February
2006
Danish cartoons and the doggiesite
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In the former, I discussed why the Sedition Act was used to charge Nicholas Lim and Benjamin Koh for promoting "feelings of ill-will and hostility between different races or classes of the population of Singapore," -- the words in the Act. While I explained how the Act was relevant to what they had done in the doggiesite forum on in their own blogs, I myself reserved judgment on whether they government should or should not have charged them. I said,
As for whether I agreed with the law as it stood, I can see now, on reading my article again, that I took a somewhat ambiguous position on it. I said,
Finally, last month, I had the opportunity [1] to see the words that Koh and Lim wrote that led to them being charged. They were essentially long rants, not particularly coherent, full of expletives and name-calling. Of course, as is common for our times, there were the usual associations made between Islam and terrorism. There was one funny thing though: as far as I could see, both rants were not against Malays, but against Muslims, though that's an academic point. In Singapore, almost all Malays are Muslims, and most Muslims are Malays, so the association is inescapable. * * * * * From Wikipedia, below is a description of the 12 cartoons published in the Danish newspaper Jyllands-Posten last September. Some of them (e.g. the first and the fifth cartoons) merely challenged the Islamic injunction against depicting any religious figure [2] lest it lead to idolatry. Others went further, making the association between Islam, as represented by the figure of Mohammad, and terrorism or the oppression of women. The sixth cartoon made a point about censorship. The last two caricatured the publicity bonus for the children's book author, Kare Bluitgen, rather than saying anything about Mohammad.
As I mentioned in my earlier article, the newspaper framed their decision to the publish the 12 cartoons with these introductory words:
Thus, it should be clear that however offensive some of the 12 cartoons were, the point of the whole exercise was about the "slippery slope" and "self-censorship". The cartoons thus serve a relevant public interest which was absent in Koh and Lim's rants. In that grey area that stretches from critical commentary that causes offence to incitement to harm, the Danish cartoons are closer to the critical commentary end while Koh and Lim's rants were closer to the incitement end. I don't remember reading anything from Koh and Lim's entries that directly called upon anyone to injure Muslims, so one should be careful not to characterise what they wrote as incitement to violence or physical harm. Having said that, an argument can be made that the foul language they used demonstrably made others think they could likewise post additional rantings, and together these had the potential of creating an extremely oppressive climate for those who were the target of their verbal assaults -- Muslims in Singapore. No doubt, one can say the same of the Danish cartoons: that some of them, by belittling Islam, or making the (disputed) connection between the religion on the one hand, and terrorism, censorship or the oppression of women on the other, likewise brought Islam into disrepute and encouraged others to think likewise. The end result may be to reinforce prejudice and discrimination against Muslims. Yet there is a difference. The difference is that the Danish cartoons also served an important public purpose -- that of raising important subjects for discussion. I think this makes them defensible where Koh and Lim's rants were not. I can anticipate the argument that these same discussion points didn't need caricatures of the Prophet Mohammad to be made; they could have been raised in words without depicting the man. In my opinion, this is a false distinction, and the very making of this distinction is to concede the argument completely. Each medium makes its point in its own way. The moment we say that such and such an opinion may be expressed in words, but not in drawings, song or film, we concede submission to censorship. * * * * * In hindsight, now that I have seen Koh and Lim's online rants, should they have been prosecuted? I'm a little divided, but a good part of me thinks not. However, let me make this clear: what they wrote were a form of hate speech. Their words had that repetitive, hectoring, and intimidating quality that characterises hate speech rather than dialogue. The vacuity of their speech should most certainly have been exposed and their sentiments strongly rebutted. The deleterious effects of such rantings, including some equally rabid responses, could have been made clear to a wider public, and if I had known about them while it was occurring, I would have spoken up against them. But Koh and Lim's words do not come within my personal definition of incitement -- which is a call to action to harm and injure others -- which now also seems to be the UK Parliament's definition of incitement (see below). I understand from previous reports that, in fact, opposition to their words was already forthcoming in the online forums where they made their original postings, so there is reason to believe that private citizens could have taken care of the problem without having to invoke the law. And do I think the Sedition Act is bad law? Yes, I do. The wording is far too broad. The UK government recently moved a bill through Parliament, called the Racial and Religious Hatred Bill. The original wording of the proposed law was quite broad, but Parliament narrowed it down on concerns (against the wishes of Tony Blair's government) that it covered belief as well. Countering criticism of the bill, Home Office Minister Paul Goggins tried to convince Members of Parliament that moves to combat religious hatred would not damage freedom of speech and only those who were intending to "stir up hatred" would be caught by the government's plans. Evidently, however, legislators thought that even "stir up" was too vague. [3] In the final version as approved by the MPs, only "threatening words" are to be banned by the law, not those which are only abusive or insulting. The new law also requires that the offence has to be intentional; at the same time, it specifies that proselytising, discussion, criticism, insult, abuse and ridicule of religion, belief or religious practice cannot be an offence [4]. The philosophy behind this was succinctly captured in an editorial in the Economist magazine, though not on the subject of the new UK law, but about the Danish cartoons (issue 11-17 Feb 2006):
Further on,
The magazine also said,
Which is to say that publishing the cartoons to make a point about freedom of speech is justifiable, there being a larger principle at stake. Between outlawing blasphemy (and the censorship such would demand) and the defence of freedom, choose freedom. On the other hand, it would be outrageously irresponsible for any media to reprint what Koh and Lim wrote, except in excerpts to make the point how egregiously mischievous and hurtful it is. Why shouldn't we reprint what they wrote to make the same point about freedom? Technically, we should be able to, but they would be very poor examples. Their words were simply full of hate and venom; they didn't represent any loftier principle. To celebrate their words celebrate nothing of importance. "Special sensitivity... to vulnerable minorities", in the Economist's words, should take precedence, whereas to publish or republish the Danish cartoons, while contentious, had a larger principle involved, for they were pointing towards how a minority was demanding special treatment. * * * * * Singapore's leaders (and the Straits Times) have been saying how freedom should be balanced with responsibility. In itself, that is not wrong, but as is typical for Singapore's shallow political discourse, these words are never examined more critically. There seems to be the assumption that if anyone subscribes to this principle then he must agree that tough censorship laws are justified, that is, that "responsibility" should be enforced by law. I think we need to be careful about this. Faced with hate speech in its most extreme form, e.g. issuing calls to assassinate someone because of what he represents, laws are indeed needed, but in other circumstances, "responsibility" should only be a social obligation, not a legislated one. We ought to try our best to be a society that encourages responsibility in individuals and through peer education, rather than one that thinks that since "responsibility" is the job of the government and the law, then ordinary people have no need to be responsible until big brother steps in to tell us otherwise. At the same time, I also accept that we need to be realistic. We should be able to make a distinction between principle and practicality. I am sympathetic to the argument that politically, Singapore society has not yet matured. People are still tribal in their outlook and irrational about identity, seeing how, for example, we don't even speak a common language. At this point in our progress, we cannot lift the lid too quickly, thus there may have to be less leeway in Singapore than in the West, perhaps for a generation more. But couching it in these terms is quite different from saying the principle of freedom has to be subordinated to anyone else who takes offence, as in this report from the Straits Times:
Further on, ' In effect, this is saying that our freedom shall forever be subject to bullying by irrational hotheads [5]. I would be much relieved if, instead, we say: We believe in the freedom of expression, and one that is unfettered by irrational fears and sectarian dogma as far as humanly possible. Given Singapore society today, it may not yet be realistic, but we should constantly remind ourselves of this goal and work towards getting there. We must acquire the art of civilised discourse through citizens speaking out against excesses rather than regulation, for if we only depend on the latter, we'll never get to our goal. The present situation -- too much crimping of freedom in the name of harmony -- is imperfect and ultimately incompatible with our goal of a vibrant, creative society [7]. Rather than praise ourselves for choosing harmony over freedom, we should see it for what it is: a tyranny of risk-averse pragmatism. It is an uninspiring choice. It's no wonder then that no Singaporean can really say what Singapore stands for that inspires him. Unlike America, and now Europe, which for their citizens embody certain lofty principles and dreams even if they are very hard to realise, but which are the wellsprings of patriotism, for too many Singaporeans, this place is just a comfortable transit point to a better life somewhere else. Why is that so? Why does the idea of Singapore not make hearts beat faster and eyes moisten? Because we always choose pragmatism over principle. Safety and comfort over enquiry and spirit. * * * * * Now that it's been nearly six months since the Koh and Lim issue, there is a one aspect of the case I feel should be discussed. The two young men went into their screaming mode as a result of a letter published by the Straits Times from a Muslim woman. As reported by the newspaper on 13 September 2005,
Let me be blunt: She was asking that others be inconvenienced so that she could remain pure in her religion. I don't know what the taxi companies' responses to this letter were, but she was making an unreasonable demand. If one wants to live in a mixed society, one cannot expect others to go out of their way to support one's religious observances. What if tomorrow, an extreme Brahmin says he cannot sit in the same seat of a taxi that had previously carried a Harijan -- the category below even the lowest of the Hindu castes that had previously been termed the 'untouchables'. Some old-fashioned Brahmins consider anything that Harijans had touched to be contaminated, defiled, and the object or place has to be ritually cleansed before the higher castes can come into contact with them. Should taxi companies then refuse to carry Harijans? Should they pay money to hire Hindu priests to cleanse the vehicle after every trip made by a Harijan? Should Harijans be caged before they can be carried anywhere, whether by taxi or ambulance? What if another group of religious fundamentalists considers menstruating women ritually unclean? Should taxi and ambulance drivers check the menstrual status of female passengers? What is the difference between me pointing out how unreasonable are such requests and the Danish newspaper pointing out how unreasonable are demands for self-censorship? As I've said previously, one can be as religious as one wishes, but no one has a right to impose observances and costs upon others, least of all on those who do not share one's beliefs. Taking it further, what is the difference between my hypothesising in words about fanatical Brahmins and outcast Harijans, and a cartoonist drawing something poignant to make the same point? © Yawning Bread
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Footnotes
Addenda None
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