I've seen it all now

Will Gompertz

14 January 1989 was one of the darkest days of recent British history. It saw book-burning on the streets of Yorkshire as a result of a murderous religious edict from Iran's Ayatollah Khomeini against a British-Indian author. That edict (fatwa) resulted in the author being targeted for assassination, going into hiding and receiving round-the-clock police protection. People associated with publishing the book were attacked and even killed. People died in riots around the world. And latent extremism within the UK's Muslim population became overt, with consequences that have echoed down the subsequent decades.

Astonishingly, last night's BBC One News at Ten reported the anniversary without mentioning the fatwa or the deaths that followed it.

And, even more astonishingly, Will Gompertz's piece proved to be nothing less than a celebration of the event, marking the wonderful moment when British Muslims got their voice.

Here's a transcript of this truly jaw-dropping, appalling BBC report:

Newsreader: It's 30 years since the publication of the book The Satanic Verses sparked protests right around the world. Some Muslims believed its author, Salman Rushdie, blasphemed the Prophet Muhammad. The controversy prompted a vigorous debate about freedom of speech and respect for religious sensitivities that resonates today. They are themes that will be explored at the Bradford Literature Festival, which opened tonight - in a city where a copy of The Satanic Verses was burned in public in 1989. Our arts editor, Will Gompertz, has more:

Syima Aslam, Director, Bradford Literary Festival: This is the centre of Bradford, the heart of Bradford. 30 years ago, this was also where some rather momentous events took place. This is where The Satanic Verses was burnt. It's the image that became seared in the national consciousness and became associated with this city. For Muslims collectively, it was a moment of crystallisation of identity. Prior to that, you know, everybody was Asian, there wasn't really the religious nuance. What you see at that moment is people saying, actually I live here, this is my country, I belong here, I'm going to spend the rest of my life here and my children are going to grow up here, so if I don't like something I'm going to raise my voice.

Will Gompertz: The festival is hosting a series of events, with contemporary authors reflecting on the politics of writing three decades on from Salman Rushdie's controversial novel.

Will Gompertz (to Ayisha Malik): Would your books - which are about Muslims dating and putting a mosque in a British village - would those have been published, 30 years ago, and would they have created a reaction if they were? Ayisha Malik, author: No, I don't think they would have been published and certainly not a book about a mosque in a village, because that conversation wasn't even happening and I don't think we were part of things in that way. I think a writer should be allowed to write whatever they want to write about, that is just categorical. What I do think, though, is that you have a responsibility. I don't believe in censorship when it comes to writing, but I do think that you have to bear the consequences of what you write. 

A new play, Imam Imran, which is part of the festival programme. It explores issues of identity, perception, protest and faith.

Will Gompertz (to Iqbal Khan): So if you go back 30 years to the burning of The Satanic Verses and that moment and everything that happened since, where does this play bring us to? Iqbal Khan, director: OK, so I think it brings us to a place where I think the confidence to protest is more present now I think than it was then. I think the protest now is more articulate, more subtle and more nuanced. I think also particularly in the way the play deals with these issues, there's the confidence to use satire, to use humour, to use other ways of addressing the issues other than naked anger and frustration.     

The subject of protest is extended to the festival itself. Some authors have pulled out of events after discovering a government counter-extremism scheme had provided funding, proving once again that art and politics are not strange bedfellows, but are intimately connected. Will Gompertz, BBC News, Bradford. 

Incendiary affair

I watched  “The Satanic Verses: 30 years on”   t’other night. 

Before sitting down to comment on the actual programme, I was curious to see what other reviewers had made of it. The Independent’s review by Sean O’Grady was a shocker, even for that publication, and it was a pleasant surprise to see several below the line comments that reflected that view. 

The Telegraph’s review was better, but not a lot. Collective tiptoeing around Islam is safer than committing a hateful thought-crime these days. 

Over on Harry’s Place, as we used to say quite a lot, Sarah AB has also tackled the tightrope of reviewing a programme-that-shows-Muslims-in-a-bad-light, and as she took an interest in Maryam Namazie at one time Sarah AB might have the measure of Mobeen Azhar. 

Do look through some of our brilliant pieces on Mobeen Azhar to set the scene. I’m going to steal a chunk from Sarah's article.

“In last night’s programme The Satanic Verses: Thirty Years On, Mobeen Azhar reported on the novel’s legacy, and its role as a catalyst in the conflict between radical Islam and the West. Azhar had never read The Satanic Verses before and it was interesting to hear him articulate the discomfort it made him feel.  He went on to make it clear that he does not question Rushdie’s right to write or publish the novel. 

He began by reminding us of the context to this controversy – the racism and discrimination facing immigrants and the reasonable perception of unfairness in a blasphemy law (now of course thankfully abolished) which only protected one religion – Christianity. 

Azhar went on to interview several of those caught in the events of 30 years ago. Some of these seemed disturbingly adamant that they still see nothing wrong in their actions. Chillingly, Mohammad Siddique said he thought the response to the novel had been useful in stopping others write similar books. (By contrast Shahid Butt said he’d no longer resort to violence – but he would call Rushdie a ‘fucking dickhead’.)”

That gives you an idea of what we watched. The next section of her review featured a contributor from Hope not Hate - a portly chap called

“Matthew Collins, formerly a NF activist, now with Hope Not Hate, gave an interesting account of his (largely ignorant) views at the time. However it was a little unsettling – though he may simply have phrased the point unfortunately – that he almost seemed to blame Salman Rushdie for writing the novel rather than simply noting that it could be exploited by the far right.”

There was the obligatory shot of “far-right” ex-EDL persona non grata formerly known as Stephen Yaxley-Lennon, a completely gratuitous and unhelpful inclusion, very BBC, in my objective opinion.  

Having outlined the plot so to speak, Sarah AB drifted off to express her characteristically benign opinion of our presenter so I'll take up the narrative. Mobeen was dressed in a fetching, three-quarter length trench-coat, belted and cinched in at the waist, which made its full peplum-style skirt flap as he pursued the angry Muslim man who had snatched his precious copy of The Satanic Verses out of his hand.  

Our presenter looked decidedly urbane and camp with his trademark quiff, which always makes him look like like a displaying cockatoo. Was it the gay look that triggered the incendiary Muslim Uncle and the man in the (Arab) dress and the baseball cap? Or was it simply the effrontery of anyone holding offensive literature in a “Muslim Public Area”? 

Either way, it provided plenty of fuel for the likes of the far right - who are obviously not far wrong when they talk about ‘no-go areas”. 

The urbane Mobeen was suitably taken aback by this unexpectedly dramatic and absurdly comical encounter, but he also confessed that he himself religiously made sure his own copy of the Koran remained in an elevated position (on a high shelf) in compliance with superstitious Islamic rules and regs.

The most significant moments for me, however, were conversations with some elderly British Muslims who had no intention of conforming in any way shape or form to British values and customs, and frankly didn’t see why anyone might expect them to. 

 Here’s a funny distillation by   “Veedu Viz” (whatever that is.)