2008 Woodie Awards
FROM THE EDITOR'S DESK: Step Back Across that Line, Mr. Rushdie
Zev Nagel
Issue date: 12/6/04 Section: Editorials/Op-Ed
- Page 1 of 1
|
"Jerry, are you blind?" Kramer asks Seinfeld later that day. "He's a writer. He said his name was Sal Bass. Bass, Jerry! Instead of salmon, he went with bass! He just substituted one fish for another!"
Unfortunately the fictional world of Seinfeld was not the only place Rushdie switched fish. Hosted by Yeshiva on November 11, Salman Rushdie delivered an invigorating lecture on the ills of censorship and the immoral repute of a society that restricts the mind by limiting speech and expression. A victim himself of censorship - arguably the fatwa leveled on Rushdie's head in the late 80s was history's most surefire sign of suppression - who better than the great Sal Bass to speak about intellectual freedom?
Rushdie made arguments which, I believe, were obvious to any thinking human being, but it certainly was humbling to hear them from a man who not only talked the talk, but had walked it too. Speaking about his time in captivity, Rushdie recalled his encounter with a woman who praised his determination for "opening the door" to freedom. Indeed, as supporters of free inquiry, there is a great deal in Salman Rushdie, the person, we have to admire. His courageous refusal to back down from the Ayatollah is surely a prime example of living through one's convictions (Rushdie conveniently pointed out that of the two of them, the Ayatollah was the one dead). Rushdie was charming; he captivated the audience in a blanket of delicious anecdotes and broad theories of literature. He spoke of the grand narratives we create, and our immutable right, as free thinking humans, to share and explore those creations and their implications through literature. In a sense, Rushdie explained, we use literature to implement our intellectual consciousness.
And yet Rushdie's entire address was sprinkled with slighting remarks regarding the outcome of the past November presidential election, and in particular, condescending insults directed at more than half of America, who just happened to vote Republican. Lamport Auditorium, in spite of the projected voting patterns of Yeshiva students, repeatedly went up in a blaze of clapping after each Rushdie mentioning of "Bushies" or their perverted sense of justice and ideals. Rather than speak of the two voices in America that could equally represent sound intellectual and political opinions, Rushdie completely discounted the right of Americans to support George W. Bush.
It was not the attacks on Bush per se that were unwelcoming. Rushdie, to his credit, is no different than any academic/artist, faculty at Yeshiva included, who always find ways to sneak crude politics into lectures not in a course catalog under "Political Science." In fact, how could anyone not ignore the election, which happened a mere week before Rushdie visited our campus? Anyone with a forum would have done so.
The irony of Rushdie's talk, however, was that by switching the fish - moving from literature to politics - he departed from the realms of intellectual conversation and moved to the arena of dogmatic preaching. Rushdie told the "Bushies" in the crowd that their voice was not legitimate. Standing before the captive audience, Rushdie was given a platform, an uncontested forum to elucidate the vice of censorship and the deplorable reality created by governments that shun intellectual freedom. That was the reason why we brought him; to discuss literature as a means of furthering expression and conversation. But Rushdie stood before us and closed those doors.
There was another aspect to Rushdie's talk though, that brought other murmurings from the crowd. During the lecture, Rushdie made pointed use of language that many would deem objectionable. Before I proceed, one point must be made clear: I personally did not find Rushdie's use of expletives problematic, perhaps because I have often found myself using the same vocabulary. And I don't buy for a moment the argument that one who uses curse words has a poorer vocabulary than someone who does not. "Swear words," as some call them, have an expressive purpose; they recreate the sensations of the event and transport the listener, through sound, to the point of original experience. They present an unambiguous portrait of what the subject inherently felt. Expletives are words of sensation; they resonate because of their word music. It's no surprise that the more percussive words are usually the "dirtier ones. Expletives are sensual and sensational enough that using them creates no pretense as to what occurred.
Yet that is only half of what language accomplishes. Beyond the word music, language tells us something concrete. It is the descriptive building blocks of the human mind, and choosing words carefully, therefore, is a value to consider when a specific message is desired. Do we dull the experience by substituting language? I am not entirely sure. Surely we miss the shock-value that transports us to the internal emotions of the subject in question. Try this out for fun. Tell your friend a joke; now put an expletive in the punch line. I guarantee the joke just got a lot funnier. Why that is so, I cannot explain. Perhaps it is indicative our eternal immaturity, or maybe the sensations of sound really moved us to epiphany.
Language carries with it an overbearing bill of responsibility. Judaism has placed an enormous emphasis on language, and I am not referring to twentieth century conceptions of lashon hara. The Talmud, on many occasions, uses language as a vehicle to gauge intent of a buyer or a seller, to evaluate the objectives of a groom, and to levy personal obligations on a declarer. For us, language is not just a poetic means of expression; it is an objective measure of consciousness which carries with it repercussions and responsibilities.
Rushdie forgot about this aspect of language. He chose words which knowingly would resonate in our ears, but lacked the profoundness of content. At the end of the lecture, what stood out were those sections that contained the sensational speech, over the more subtle aspects that held the greatest meaning. In no way I am arguing that Rushdie should not have used the language. That would be, as you may have already guessed, censorship. But how reasonable, and pedagogically sound, is it to make use of language for sensation?
I would guess that Salman Rushdie used expletives because general culture does not condemn these words. In reality, at any other university in the world, no one would have blinked an eye. We have placed upon ourselves sensitivity to this category of language, and it is our own emphasis on these linguistic subtleties that makes this a discussion at all.
But the discussion is not entirely moot. We can argue that we choose to endorse aspects of language and deny others because they have no value to us. Any student who has studied literature has had to face the question of "what is good literature?" For many there is a line, and for others, there is none. But perhaps having no discretion, willingly exploring all ideas on an equal footing, presents difficulties to reaping the values and ideals that literature (or language) provides for us. Though modern critics look at his theory as outdated, Matthew Arnold did attempt construction of a systematic culture that could differentiate between "good" and "bad" culture. Admittedly, the postmodern civilization has deemed him irrelevant; but I believe his point still remains to be internalized. Not all language and not all literature are of value to us. There is what is out there in our culture that destroys the values we seek. The value of Ayn Rand will never be the same as of Shakespeare, but many are not even willing to explore Ayn Rand at all. We, of course, cannot stop others from studying her, but we can chose for ourselves not to. We can make a choice, and making choices for ourselves does not encroach of the freedom of others to think and choose.
Zev Nagel can be reached at zev@yucommentator.com
See Michael Bernstein's analysis of Rushdie's visit.