Defining censorship

The ‘banned book’ spectacle that overshadowed the recent Emirates Airline International Festival of Literature in Dubai was a prescient reminder of the culture clash of East/West attitudes. The first ever festival of its kind to take place in the Middle East, the organisers described it as an event that would help ‘bridge the gap between East and West’. There can be no doubt that a festival of such a nature is a step toward achieving this aim. However, in the short term, the Atwood/Bedell incident has perhaps only served to highlight the inherent differences between the East and West. When it was revealed that Margaret Atwood had pulled out of the festival after discovering that a book had been banned due to its homosexual content, the public reaction was automatic outrage at this case of ‘book banning’. At the same time though, there was a sense that people were not that surprised that it had happened; almost that it was to be expected from such a culture. Advocators of free speech everywhere applauded Atwood for her stand against censorship and the festival suffered a heavy blow with more authors poised to boycott the event in order to make a united stand against this ‘censorship’. It was only when Atwood came forward to say that she may have misjudged the case that it became clear how quick so many people had been to use the term censorship. For a word that is capable of producing such a strong, knee-jerk reaction it is also one that is highly ambiguous in its definition.

It all started last September when Penguin submitted a book to be launched at the festival. The book in question was The Gulf Between Us by Geraldine Bell – a romance set in a fictional Gulf emirate. What Atwood initially believed had happened was that the book had been scheduled to appear at the event and that the organisers had then cancelled the launch in a fit of panic due to the predicted public reaction to one of the minor characters in the book being a gay sheikh. What further prompted Atwood to make the decision to pull out of the festival was her belief that, not only had the book been banned throughout the Gulf States, but that the author herself had been banned from Dubai. Had this been an accurate depiction of events then Atwood’s course of action seemed the obvious one to take, particularly as she is vice president of PEN – the anti-censorship organisation.

Atwood’s public boycott of the festival was a clear, strong statement. One that was so definitive that other authors, along with most of the literary establishment, quickly rallied round her but without investigating the actual events that led to the boycott. After speaking to the organiser of the festival, Isobel Abulhoul, it became clear to Atwood that no launch had ever been scheduled and, therefore, no launch had been cancelled. Moreover, neither the book nor the author were banned from the festival, or from Dubai for that matter. Following this information coming to light a rather brave backtrack took place as Atwood publicly attempted to clarify whether her actions were justified. It transpired that the book was just one of many that was not picked to appear at the festival. As Atwood put it, ‘This happens every day at every festival in the world. Publishers always want to launch or feature their authors and all festivals pick and choose’. What opened up this decision to accusations of censorship was something that can be put down to naivety and inexperience on Abulhoul’s part. In a well-intentioned letter she took the time to list all the reasons that the book had not been picked to appear. Amongst these reasons she pointed out that because the book was ‘set in the Gulf’, ‘talked about Islam’, then it ‘could be a minefield for us’. The author publicly concluded that this was censorship – ‘self censorship to avoid a political fallout’. While this is true to an extent it could also be said that it was a very sensible decision to make in the organising of the first-ever literary festival in the Middle East. As Sir Ranulph Fiennes put it: ‘I think that if anybody out there wants to establish a festival of some sort, they would be rather stupid to offend the locals in any way.’ What was most likely an even bigger factor than any of the above was the fact that Bedell was simply just not well known enough to be given a launch at such an event. While Abulhoul no doubt mentioned this in her lengthy list of reasons to Bedell, it is probably not too cynical to say that it was not exactly going to attract the same degree of media attention, and publicity for the book, as a cry of censorship from the author would.

In a frank and open column in the Guardian, Atwood came forward to admit that she might have been too hasty in her decision not to go to Dubai. She emphasised how this turn of events had highlighted the importance of not flinging around terms such as ‘ban’ and ‘censorship’. Atwood wrote, ‘Books are seriously “banned” and “censored” around the world, and people have been imprisoned, murdered and executed for what they’ve written. A loose use of these terms is not helpful.’

There are varying degrees of censorship. The word is most commonly associated with what is, in actual fact, one end of an extreme. That is the definition that refers to the governmental suppression of speech or text. At the opposite end of the spectrum there is the definition that refers to any action that restricts an idea (through the medium of text for the purposes of this discussion) from reaching its proposed audience. This can happen in a number of ways. For example, once a book has been published and presented in shops and libraries a complaint can cause the book to be withdrawn from its marketplace. It can also occur before it has a chance to even be judged by would-be censors – even prior to publication. This censorship is invisible and consists of people either editing a text prior to publication or abstaining from using certain books.

We must remember, however, that there is a difference between editing and censorship. The same goes for selection and censorship. Most editorial and selection decisions are based on creative judgements about a piece of work and an assessment of its quality. As Atwood puts it, ‘An independent festival has to exercise its own right and judgement – it’s not the same as banning.’ Market forces must come in to play and this is something that has perhaps always sat uncomfortably with literature.

So does the decision to not launch Bedell’s book at the festival amount to censorship? It depends on your definition of censorship. Yes, it did amount to censorship in the sense that the organisers were worried about the reaction a book with such content would get at this type of festival. If this had been the sole reason the book was not featured then the case for censorship might be stronger. However, the decision was probably more based on a judgement of the submitted manuscript and whether it had a place in first festival of this type in Dubai.

The end result is perhaps one of the most positive outcomes that could have emerged, given the circumstances. Atwood decided to appear at the festival via video link. In addition to this the issue of censorship was discussed directly at the festival during a hastily arranged debate on the topic organised by PEN. Strangely, Bedell’s book was not even mentioned during this debate but, more importantly, it did highlight the very real problems that are faced by some writers in the Middle East. As publishers it is important not to undermine the dangers of accepting restrictions imposed on the written word. With such a serious issue it is equally important to draw a distinction between what amounts to censorship and those actions that are better defined as editorial judgement.

Claire Robertson