“Remember the firemen are rarely necessary. The public stopped reading of its own accord.”
Ray Bradbury’s dystopian novel, Fahrenheit 451, eerily resembles the most recent instance of censorship in Pakistan. The All Pakistan Private Schools Federation has banned Malala Yousafzai’s bestselling memoir, I Am Malala, from private schools across Pakistan. The Federation’s president, Mirza Kashif, explained, “Through this book, [Malala] became a tool in the hands of the Western powers.”
The APPSF complains that Malala’s book does not include the customary phrase “peace be upon him” following the name of the prophet Muhammad. They criticize the book for speaking favorably of Salman Rushdie, an author accused of blasphemy by Iran’s Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini. Furthermore, the APPSF disagrees with the portrayal of the Ahmadiyya, a religious minority that is not recognized as Muslim by the government of Pakistan.
Malala is an outspoken advocate of gender parity in Pakistan’s education system. Her voice has inspired Pakistani women, to the dismay of the conservative Pakistani right. In response to Malala’s activism, the Taliban staged a violent assassination attempt on the then fifteen-year-old schoolgirl. Ever since, Malala has been publicly celebrated by figures including U.N. Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon, Queen Elizabeth II, and President Obama. But reception in Pakistan has been mixed.
“A book is a loaded gun in the house next door.”
Bradbury echoes the fear of Kashif, who insists, “Pakistan is an ideological country. That ideology is based on Islam. … In this book are many comments that are contrary to our ideology.”
Kashif’s statements paint an unfair picture of Pakistan—the same unfair picture frequently presented in Western media. Pakistan is far from uniform, both religiously and politically. Pakistan is home to Christians, Hindus, and Sikhs. Several Pakistani political parties are campaigning for education reform, with a focus on women’s education.
Malala’s book is a “loaded gun.” Knowledge is power—by putting knowledge in the hands of women, Malala has empowered women globally. Her memoir is a symbol of progress in the Muslim world. It represents a growing voice of equality which, as Malala has demonstrated, will not be silenced.
How will education reform in Pakistan play out? What role will women have in Pakistan’s future? What does this ban—a censorship by the private sector—say about Pakistan’s trajectory?
Perhaps Pakistan will follow the progress of the United States, where Fahrenheit 451 was once ironically censored. In fact, it may be prudent to look once again to the words of that censored book.
“You can’t make people listen. They have to come round in their own time, wondering what happened and why the world blew up around them. It can’t last.”