Censorship is seldom now invoked by decree,
Fiji-style, in the West but rather more often by the use of power, money or
fear of the consequences of publishing challenging fact or opinion.
Nick Cohen immediately
states his case in his introduction: “This book covers the power of the wealthy
to silence critics, the conflict between religion and freedom of thought, and
the determination of dictators to persecute dissenters.”
He
says that privacy laws in Britain give unfair power to the rich and famous, that
the threat of expensive libel action has suppressed investigative journalism --
articles on the Russian oligarchs now living in Britain, as an example -- and that
some bankers baulked at attacking the structure of the finance industry before
the collapse of 2008 because they knew they would be fired and then black-listed
by the industry.
A
large part of the book is devoted, first, to the result of Ayatollah Khomeini’s fatwa on
Salman Rushdie when his The Satanic
Verses was published and, secondly, to the fight against the religious
oppression of women by Ayaan Hirsi Ali, who left Somalia for what she hoped
would be greater freedom in the Netherlands. Although many publishers and
commentators were brave in the face of threats by Muslim fundamentalists, too
many so-called liberals turned against Rushdie, and Cohen claims pusillanimous Dutch
liberals failed to help and shield Hirsi Ali from dire and direct threats.
For
those countries that have fought long and hard against blasphemy laws, the
emergence of threats and violence from religious fundamentalists at “insults”
to their god or any criticism of him are alarming. Submission to these threats would mean
regression to times when Christian leaders controlled their citizens and
intruded deeply into individual freedom of thought and expression.
Cohen
says that what George Orwell said last century still holds: “…the idea of
intellectual liberty is under attack from two directions. On the one side are
its theoretical enemies, the apologists of totalitarianism, and on the other
its immediate, practical enemies, monopoly and bureaucracy.” He demonstrates that
a democracy is not ipso facto free, and that protecting liberty still requires
courage and determination by citizens in confrontations with power.
This is a
comprehensive and wide-ranging survey of how freedom of thought and speech is
assailed everywhere, and he discusses the dangers of the new media, outlining
some of the victories and defeats so far.
Nothing new
about any of this but by marshalling facts and cases Cohen creates a frightening
commentary on how you don’t have to burn books any more or worry too much about
negative publicity if you are allowed to scare the hell out of authors,
publishers and whistleblowers.
It is a
powerful reminder that the instinct to shut down the challenging opinions of
others is never far below the surface even in the most ardent of liberals. I
can recall some years ago a woman began writing reasoned and well constructed
articles and letters against the use of public money to support literature. A
senior writer said to me, “How can we shut her up”.
“We
could try calling in the secret police,” I said, and, realising what she had
said, she had the grace to recant.
Like
all topflight British journalism, Cohen’s prose races along at easy-to-read
speed. Occasionally, though, he writes at the top of his voice and overstates
his case. Among advice for the wary at the back of the book, he writes: “Beware
of anyone who begins a sentence with. ‘There’s no such thing as absolute free
speech’…”
Well, you
would need to beware of me too because there are no absolute freedoms. Even
John Stuart Mill, whom Cohen lauds, could have begun a sentence with that, and
so could the great exponent of positive and negative liberty, Isaiah Berlin.
And, in a sense, Cohen concedes as much by saying that demands for a right to
privacy are justifiable.
Footnote:
Gordon McLauchlan (right) is an Auckland-based writer & commentator, and an occasional reviewer on this blog
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