On PEN International’s ‘Day of the Imprisoned Writer’, Roy says his arrest ‘is an attack not on intellectuals but on intelligence’.
Dhaka Central Jail
It has been more than a hundred days now since they took you away. Times aren’t easy in your country or in mine, so when we first heard that unknown men had abducted you from your home, of course we feared the worst. Were you going to be “encountered” [our word in India for extra-judicial murder by security forces] or killed by “non-state actors”? Would your body be found in an alley, or floating in some shallow pond on the outskirts of Dhaka? When your arrest was announced and you surfaced alive in a police station, our first reaction was one of sheer joy.
Am I really writing to you? Perhaps not. If I were, I would not need to say very much beyond, “Dearest Shahidul, no matter how lonely your prison cell, know that we have our eyes on you. We are looking out for you.”
If I were really writing to you, I would not need to tell you how your work, your photographs and your words have, over the decades, inscribed a vivid map of humankind in our part of the world – its pain, its joy, its violence, its sorrow and desolation, its stupidity, its cruelty, its sheer, crazy complicatedness – onto our consciousness. Your work is lit up, made luminous, as much by love as it is by a probing, questioning anger born of witnessing at first hand the things that you have witnessed. Those who have imprisoned you have not remotely understood what it is that you do. We can only hope, for their sake, that someday they will.
Your arrest is meant to be a warning to your fellow citizens: “If we can do this to Shahidul Alam, think of what we can do to the rest of you – all you nameless, faceless, ordinary people. Watch. And be afraid.”
Attack on intelligence
The formal charge against you is that you have criticised your country in your [alleged] Facebook posts. You have been arrested under Section 57 of Bangladesh’s infamous Information and Communications Technology Act, which authorises “the prosecution of any person who publishes, in electronic form, material that is fake and obscene; defamatory; tends to deprave and corrupt its audience; causes or may cause deterioration in law and order; prejudices the image of the state or a person; or causes or may cause hurt to religious belief”.
What sort of law is this, this absurd, indiscriminate, catch-all, fishing trawler type of law? What place does it have in a country that calls itself a democracy? Who has the right to decide what the correct “image of the state” is, and should be? Is there only one legally approved and acceptable image of Bangladesh? Section 57 potentially criminalises all forms of speech except blatant sycophancy. It is an attack not on intellectuals but on intelligence itself. We hear that over the last five years, more than 1,200 journalists in Bangladesh have been charged under it, and that 400 trials are already underway.
In India, too, this sort of attack on our intelligence is becoming normalised. Our equivalent of Bangladesh’s Information and Communications Technology Act is the Unlawful Activities Prevention Act under which hundreds of people, including students, activists, lawyers and academics, are being arrested in wave after wave. The cases against them, like the one against you, are flimsy and ludicrous. Even the police know that they are likely to be acquitted by higher courts. But the hope is that by then, their spirits will have been broken by years in prison. The process is the punishment.
So, as I write this letter to you, dear Shahidul, I am tempted to add, dear Sudha, dear Saibaba, dear Surendra, dear Shoma, dear Mahesh, dear Sudhir, dear Rona, dear Arun, dear Vernon, and also, dear Tariq, dear Aijaz, dear Aamir, dear Kopa, dear Kamla, dear Madavi, dear Maase, dear Raju, dear hundreds and hundreds of others.
How is it possible for people to defend themselves against laws like these? It is like having to prove one’s innocence before a panel of certified paranoiacs. Every argument only serves to magnify their paranoia and heighten their delusions.
As both our countries hurtle towards general elections, we know that we can expect more arrests, more lynching, more killing, more bloggers hacked to death, more orchestrated ethnic, religious and caste conflagrations – more false-flag “terrorist” strikes, more assassinations of journalists and writers. Election, we know, means fire in the ducts.
Your prime minister, who claims to be a secular democrat, has announced that she will build 500 mosques with the billion dollars the government of Saudi Arabia has donated to Bangladesh. These mosques are supposedly meant to disseminate the “correct” kind of Islam.
Here in India, our rulers have dropped all pretence of the secularism and socialism that are enshrined in our Constitution. In order to distract attention from the catastrophic failures of governance and deepening popular resentment, as institution after institution – our courts, universities, banks, intelligence agencies – is pushed into crisis, the ruling power [not the government, but its holding company, the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh], is alternately cajoling and threatening the Supreme Court to pass an order clearing the decks for the construction of a giant Hindu temple on the site where the Babri Masjid once stood before it was demolished by a rampaging mob. It is amazing how politicians’ piety peaks and troughs with election cycles.