Israel,
Palestine and the tiger of terrorism: islamic anti-semitism and
history
A brief history of blasphemy
Liberalism's holy war
Reconsidering the Rushdie affair
The dark mirror of Islam
The politics of the body
Anti-semitism: the longest hatred
Was Hitler a racist?
History and hatred
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The tiger of terrorism and the tyranny of print
Since my
New Statesman article, Israel, Palestine and the tiger of
terrorism, was put online
here some two weeks ago, it has received almost 9,000 hits, most of which
have come through a welcome listing in the columns of Arts and
Letters Daily. As is almost always the
case on the internet (or so I am told), only a small proportion of these
readers have responded by sending in their own comments or
criticisms. Nevertheless the responses which I have received have
been invaluable, and I am grateful to everyone who took the trouble to
write.
The experience of receiving readers' feedback, including some
fierce and well-aimed criticism, in response to an article which is not
fixed and finalised on a printed page has been an interesting one. I have
long thought that, sometimes at least, the written word is one of the most
unhelpful and dangerous methods of communication. I still haven't got over
the shock of discovering that some people actually communicate with their
neighbours by writing letters to them - and then wonder why their
relationship with them is not of the best.
The problem with
writing is that it is, or can too easily be, a hard and cold medium.
Premised upon the isolation of the person who seeks to communicate from
those he or she is trying to influence or persuade, it can too easily
become a form of non-communication. Speech, in comparison, particularly
when it takes the form of a face-to-face conversation is (or can
be) almost infinitely more sensitive and responsive. A puzzled look
from one's interlocutor is in itself sometimes sufficient to prompt
a reformulation of the words which have just been spoken. An
anguished expression may prompt the speaker who has provoked it to unsay
the very words that have just been uttered because the evidence of
their hurtfulness is immediately visible on another human
face.
The written word, generally speaking, has none of these
safeguards. It is therefore much more likely to generate misunderstanding,
confusion and hurt, (or simply alienation) than its living counterpart.
And one of the most difficult dimensions of the medium of print
is the fact that what has once been printed cannot easily - or
sometimes at all - be revised or changed. Not only that, but
because our own culture massively overvalues the written word, and
underestimates its many dangers, some people seem reluctant to revise and
change what they have written even when they have the opportunity to do
so, and even when it is clear that their original words were misjudged or
ill-chosen. It is all too easy for writers to be seduced into
investing their own words with the terrible rigidity and inerrancy of
scripture and to come to believe that what has once been written cannot,
or should not, subsequently be retracted or revised.
One of the
great attractions and potential advantages of the internet as a medium of
communication is that it does readily permit second thoughts and
revisions. In one the the most interesting online journals to have
appeared recently in the United States, De Spectaculis, the author
(who styles himself as 'Martial'), acknowledges
this:
'I've been finishing a paper for work. There is
something about the act of "finishing" that drives me a little bit crazy,
that makes the thought of writing toward any other purpose seem futile.
These thoughts here at De Spectaculis can be half-formed (a word I
far prefer to ill-formed, thank you). They can be worked over, responding
to reader feedback, or to time, or to changing circumstances. A paper (a
case study in this case) for a project is something else altogether,
something that, once finished, will exist in that form forever. Which is
the more terrifying?'
In my mind there is no doubt about how this
question should be answered. It is the finality and fixity of print which
is always most terrifying. The more controversial and difficult the
subject you addresss, the more terrifying is the prospect of committing to
print thoughts which will not admit of any revisions. It for this reason
that I am particularly glad that the article which I wrote recently about
Israel and Palestine is not doomed for ever to remain in the form in
which it appeared in the New Statesman at the end of last month.
On the contrary it is now, as perhaps everything on the internet should
be, an interactive article. Thanks to the comments and criticisms I have
received, it has already been revised on numerous
occasions.
The most recent edition of the article, which includes
new material both about the colonial dreams of Zionism and the events of
1947-8 surrounding the establishment of the state of Israel, was posted
early this morning.
The aim of almost all the revisions I have made
is to try to arrive at a better understanding of the problem as it is seen
from both an Israeli and a Palestinian
perspective while at
the same time declining to surrender to the dangerous doctrine of
'balance' as a result of which it can happen, as John Pilger put it
in a
recent piece in the New Statesman, that 'impartiality holds sway over the truth'.
If my own
article in its present (longer) form is, as I believe, a significant
improvement on the version which appeared in the New
Statesman, this is almost entirely a result of the feedback I have
received.
I cannot, of course, guaranteee that the article will not
change again. Indeed it is almost inevitable that at some point it
will.
15 December, 2002
Tiger, tiger!
One of the most unexpected
responses which has been sent in by a reader concerns the origin of the
Tiger illustration which appeared on the front cover of the Spectator,
and which I have borrowed for this page. Ann
Haker of Los Angeles points out that the inspiration for this
illustration has almost certainly been drawn from an artefact in the
Victoria & Albert Museum in London. She draws my attention to a web
page which makes clear that this must be one of the most
extraordinary artefacts in existence.
Since it also illuminates
one aspect of British colonial history in India which tends to be
forgotten, the Tippoo Tiger has a serious significance as well. If you're
unable to fit in a visit to the V & A this Christmas, don't miss
the fascinating virtual substitute which you can have, by courtesy of
the website of the First Foot Guards, simply by clicking here.
15 December,
2002
…………………………………………………………
© Richard Webster, 2002
www.richardwebster.net
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