Voices in captivity
Do not read. What's the point of writing this if you don't listen to me? You have read it already, haven't you? You are free to do so in your own space—inside your brain. What happens when you voice out such acts of violation? Worse yet, what if you can't take action? What is the point of reading, writing, or thinking?
The choice is simple: stay imprisoned in our thoughts or act on them at the risk of crossing some lines. We humans are a bundle of paradoxes. We crave freedom, yet we desire control. To make sense of this riddle, we only need tips from the father of psychoanalysis. Freud identified two impulses that run parallel in us: Eros, the life drive for love and creativity, and Thanatos, the death drive for aggression and destruction. The life force's desire for group happiness has led to the rise of civilisation. However, embedded in civilisation is its discontent—its mechanism to suppress the individual's happiness. As a defence mechanism, society looks for scapegoats and often targets dissenters, marginalised voices or minorities. The authorities devise various control mechanisms to punish them in order to maintain the illusion that everything is under control so that the rest can remain happy.
The inherent conflict between freedom and restraint is depicted by Romantic poet William Blake, who writes, "A Robin Redbreast in a cage // Put all Heaven in a Rage."
Can you cage a poet or artist who sings freely? Even the gods will be unhappy if you throttle a free bird's voice. Then again, why should the red robin complain when it is placed in safety with no worry over food or predatory attacks? Canadian novelist Margaret Atwood, a long-time exponent of freedom of speech, tells us that while Blake's caged red robin has "freedom from" hunger and insecurity, it doesn't have the "freedom to" fly or sing. Such restrictions go against the norm of heaven—the source of all norms.
To justify the restrictions, governments run a fear factory. In the olden days, fear of a maneater kept us from going out at night. Then there were the thugs and dacoits. Then there were the political extremists and terrorists. During the Covid-induced lockdown, the fear of the disease was prevalent. Control is the prescribed remedy, but does it outweigh the disease? Atwood asks, "How much of our own freedom must we sacrifice in order to defend ourselves against the desire of others to limit that freedom by subjugating or killing us, one by one?"
In an interview that Atwood gave to Index on Censorship magazine, the Booker Prize-winning author of The Handmaid's Tale expressed one wish. She wants to commemorate the martyrs who have been killed for free speech, going all the way back to Socrates, by raising a statue or a wall with all their names on it. This can be located in London's Hyde Park, which boasts a free speech corner, she envisions.
Lucky for us, we in Bangladesh already have a monument of that sort: the Central Shaheed Minar. The barefooted morning rally to offer floral wreaths at the altar in the early hours of February 21 is a celebration of those red-breasted robins who broke the police lines to chant against those who stifled our mother tongue. The day now belongs to the world, encouraging everyone to protect the language of their mothers. The day symbolises, as our prime minister has rightfully said, not bowing down.
News reports from the same day tells us about the catch and release of a graphic designer in Mymensingh, who made some posters that criticised the development work of the former mayor, who is re-running for the post. The graphic designer, Shamim Ashraf, was arrested under Section 54 for his alleged propaganda that would have smeared the mayoral campaign. The judge later granted him bail. The posters that were made offer us no recourse. It is therefore difficult to decide how many lines Ashraf crossed to irk the politician by criticising development work that infringed upon nature. What does it tell us about our democracy, which does not have any room for dissent?
The writing is on the wall. Two students of Jahangirnagar University have been expelled for creating anti-rape graffiti. They are accused of repainting an old image of Bangabandhu on a wall of the new arts building of the university. The anti-rape graffiti depicts a defeated woman's figure drowned in a dash of blue, with six skulls lying under our national flag. "Freedom from rape and tyranny" cries out the accompanying text in bold red.
The protest art voices against the rape of a female visitor by a former student of the university who was running a drug racket on campus, using his party affiliation as a shield. The Rapid Action Battalion (Rab) has already nabbed the culprits in this sensational case in which a Bangladesh Chhatra League (BCL) leader was accused. Just when you thought all was well and justice was in the process of being served, we have this distraction.
Another BCL leader started a hunger strike, seeking punishment for the artists who allegedly violated the sanctity of the father of the nation. The university's syndicate consented. They handed a suspension order to two leaders of the Chhatra Union who posted the protest. A defamation case against these students is underway.
One of the accused, Amartya Roy, said, "Before the painting of Bangabandhu, there was anti-corruption graffiti during the time of former Vice-Chancellor Farzana Islam. That graffiti was a protest against corruption in the university." Roy is implicated in the shelf life of graffiti. The previous painting was apparently in a ruinous state. Do you see the symbolic significance? There was graffiti against the university administration, which was conveniently replaced by the image of Bangabandhu, who gave his entire life protesting against social wrongs. The new image was then painted over, as nobody was curating the real image of Bangabandhu. An unnerving image has found its place on the wall.
The bird that can see the pattern cannot sing from its cage. The caged bird has the option of singing hymns in exchange for protection and food. Or it can attract predators if it starts shrieking in pain and agony.
And the audience has the option of not listening or thinking. And you, my reader, have the option of not reading.
Dr Shamsad Mortuza is professor of English at Dhaka University.
Views expressed in this article are the author's own.
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