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Salman Rushdie attack stirs memories from 2017 Columbia visit, concerns about free speech

Roger McKinney Aarik Danielsen
Columbia Daily Tribune

Five years after he spoke in Columbia, the attack on Salman Rushdie one week ago places greater emphasis on the importance of free speech.

Rushdie, 75, a best-selling author, was stabbed last Friday as he was preparing to give a lecture in upstate New York, receiving severe injuries to his neck and abdomen.

He remains hospitalized but has been taken off a ventilator and is able to talk. He's "on the road to recovery," his agent says.

Rushdie's liver was damaged in the attack and he could lose an eye.

His attacker pleaded "not guilty" Saturday to initial charges of attempted second-degree murder and second-degree assault and was indicted Thursday by a grand jury.

In 1988, Rushdie published "The Satanic Verses," considered blasphemous by some Muslims. Iran's former leader Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini called for Rushdie's death, offering a $3 million reward for killing him.

"The Satanic Verses" was back on USA Today's best-sellers list after the attack.

Rushdie stayed out of the public sphere for more than a decade, but gradually resumed public appearances.

He was the keynote speaker of the 2017 Unbound Book Festival in Columbia.

Rushdie joked at his talk in Jesse Auditorium that between him and Khomeini, he was the only one still living.

Unbound founder Alex George was understandably shocked by the recent attack, he wrote in an email.

Having hosted Rushdie at a public event, "I found it difficult to process that an attack that I had considered as a somewhat abstract threat had actually happened," he wrote. 

Rushdie was a generous presence in Columbia

Renowned author Salman Rushdie speaks to a packed audience in 2017 at Jesse Auditorium during the Unbound Book Festival. In his keynote speech, Rushdie stressed the important role of literature in times of political tension.

George remembers Rushdie as "a gently spoken man, and really quite modest" during his appearance in Columbia.

"I do remember that he did a literal double-take when I showed him Jesse Hall, where he would be speaking. He had no idea that he’d be talking to 1,700 people," George wrote. "He may have been surprised that Missouri had buildings that big!"

Rushdie's generosity was clear during the appearance, George added. Contracted to speak for 90 minutes, he "ended up on stage for two and a half hours, answering every audience question at great length and with tremendous thoughtfulness," he said. 

Unbound spent more time considering security than with other speakers, George said, recalling a "couple of conversations with the police department to discuss potential risk factors." 

Ultimately, local police decided "what steps were appropriate to properly protect both Mr. Rushdie and the audience," George said. But he noted that "Rushdie is well-known for insisting that there not be any additional security arrangements made."

Any extra concern came from the festival, not the author, he added.

'Nobody wants to live our lives on guard'

The attack on Rushdie underscores how it has become increasingly dangerous to express controversial views, said Kathy Kiely, Lee Hills chair of free press studies at the University of Missouri. She also can be heard on KBIA's "Views on the News."

It shouldn't only concern authors and journalists, she said.

"It's really something that should be a concern of civil society more generally," she said.

Controversial views are important, Kiely said.

"If you can't think outside the box, you're not going to have that competitive edge," she said.

A person shouldn't be "wantonly insensitive," but one shouldn't have to be fearful of physical attack, she said.

"The biggest danger to free speech right now is toxic speech," Kiely said.

Writers frequently write books, articles and essays critical of the culture, religion or country in which they grew up, with no pushback, she said.

"Strong institutions and strong leaders can take criticism," Kiely said.

Because of "his courage and absolute refusal to be cowed," Rushdie can no longer merely be seen as a writer, George said.

"He’s now a symbol of a certain kind of belief in the power of the spoken and written word, and of the importance and sanctity of freedom of speech," George added. "When the man is attacked, so are those principles attacked as well."

Last week's attack could constrain book festivals and author signings, Kiely said.

"Now there are going to have to be magnetometers," she said. "That's a real damper on free speech and dialogue. Now people are going to think twice before going to author events. We cannot let terror change our behavior."

The instinct to intimidate others into silence is now all too common, George said. Those who do so "understand the power of words as well, and they’re scared," he said.

This makes Rushdie as a symbol, and the attack against him, all the more serious and troublesome, he said — "It feels symptomatic of a creeping malaise."

Many people are motivated by the violent speech of leaders other than Ayatollah Khomeini, Kiely said.

"There are people who feel greenlit into doing bad things because so many of our leaders use reckless rhetoric," she said.

Political leaders need to think about who their words are influencing and how, she said.

"Nobody wants to live our lives on guard," she said.

Even when violence doesn't occur, there are real consequences to silencing one another, George said. 

"The instinct always is to dismiss, shut down, and silence, rather than to engage," he wrote. "We retreat to our spaces of comfort, uninterested in the views of anyone who does not agree with us, and we are all the poorer as a consequence."

Roger McKinney is the education reporter for the Tribune. You can reach him at rmckinney@columbiatribune.com or 573-815-1719. He's on Twitter at @rmckinney9.

Aarik Danielsen is the features and culture editor for the Tribune. Contact him at adanielsen@columbiatribune.com or by calling 573-815-1731.