The recent vilification of Arundhati Roy in the mainstream Indian media has once again highlighted the question of limits to freedom of expression. She successfully deflected possible charges of sedition by pointing out that civilised countries do not imprison their writers for words spoken in passion or compassion. Sebastian Seeman, a Tamil filmmaker, was not so fortunate – he has twice been arrested under the National Security Act for saying much less in support of Tamil Eelam. But Home Minister P Chidambaram is a Harvard graduate and a corporate lawyer, and knows the difference between an English-language and a Tamil-language writer too well to treat them in a similar manner. So, Roy was let off the hook – but with enough of a hint to the friendly press to create an unfriendly environment so that her freedom became much more oppressive than the honour of being a prisoner of conscience in a supposedly democratic state.
There is little to complain about in the observation that Roy made. With the people wanting azaadi, and living in an almost permanent state of siege by the Indian security forces, Kashmir has indeed never been an integral part of India. This statement is applicable to some states of the Northeast too, where Indian has connotations different from what the word is taken to signify elsewhere. Had the government gone for Arundhati Roy's head for telling the truth, its actions would only have added further lustre to her celebrity status. What the Indian establishment has done instead is to let loose upon her the hounds of the media and the foxes of the chattering classes.
Indeed, the talking heads are still not done with the Booker winner. The opinion pages continue to bristle with the rage of armchair analysts, who see her as a challenge to the putative superpower from Southasia. The saffron brigade is bent upon keeping her in the news by branding her 'anti-national' at the slightest pretext. It is unlikely that Roy's critics are determined to turn her into a martyr of controversial causes. However, every effort to demonise a writer of her status succeeds in dissuading scribes of lesser visibility, glamour and presence from supporting issues of common concern.
There is some truth to the allegation that Roy has turned every cause that she has supported into a topic of dinner-table conversation without having any positive impact on the affected people. The Narmada Bachao Andolan, for instance, received a good deal of attention but then became a non-issue for most. Roy's success in drawing world attention to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan or the process of globalisation has also been limited. Whether the Adivasis of Dantewada benefited from her portrayal of them as 'Gandhians with guns' remains doubtful. And yet, India – and Southasia at large – needs public figures like her to critique the powers that be.