The Satanic Verses: 30 Years On (2019) - full transcript

MAN SHOUTING

30 years ago, a book was published

that lit a fire across the country.

The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie
sparked a culture war...

MAN SHOUTS IN OWN LANGUAGE

..between Muslims who believed

they were defending the honour
of their prophet,

and the fundamental right
to free speech.

This programme contains strong language.

Took it out of the bag,

and somebody with a match
came and put it on fire.



30 years on, how do those
who made a stand feel now?

If you are to say to me,
do I regret it, do I apologise it?

Could we have done anything
different?

I would say no.

The conflict set off
a chain reaction

that we're still dealing with today.

It was the best gift ever
for the National Front.

The best gift ever.

The Salman Rushdie affair was kind
of a turning point in my life -

from that moment onwards,
I did start to take on

some of these kind of
more extreme ideas.

PROTESTORS CHANTING

If you think the Satanic Verses
story is over, think again.

It's a critique of religion.



It's useful.

Oh, come on, then. Come on, then!

Come on, then!

You BLEEP!

Come on, then!

Need the book?

Can I have my book? BLEEP you!
I'm going to burn this book.

My name is Mobeen Azhar.

I'm a second-generation
British Muslim.

So I think you know what
you're going to say.

But, you know,
I'm keeping an open mind.

I'm a journalist and a radio
presenter on the BBC Asian Network.

BBC Asian Network. Mobeen Azhar.

I was born and raised in
Huddersfield, West Yorkshire,

but now live in London.

Despite the powerful impact The
Satanic Verses had on my community,

until now, I'd never read the book.

I've got a copy of
The Satanic Verses in my house.

I, for a long time,
thought it was...

..maybe to do with witchcraft
or something.

Or, you know, is it a bit demonic?

But the concept
is actually something

that is in Islamic history.

There were verses
that could have, at one point,

made their way to the Koran.

There is an account
where the prophet is visited

not by the angel Jibreel...

..but by Satan.

And Satan comes in disguise,

and whispers to him.

So Salman has written here,

"The devil came to him
in the guise of the archangel

"so that the verses he memorised,

"the ones he recited in the poetry
tent, were not the real thing,

"but its diabolic opposite -
not godly, but satanic."

It's a work of fiction

which features a character called
Mahound and his 12 wives,

and it's loosely based on
the life of the Prophet Muhammad,

which to Muslims is sacred.

It doesn't say
the name "Muhammad" here,

but instead, what you have
is "Prophet Mahound".

Now...

..Mahound, if you trace back
the word,

it's a word that was used
in the Middle Ages by Christians

to describe the Prophet Muhammad.

It's not a nice word, it means...

.."corrupt" or "of the devil".

Rushdie's chosen it, and it refers
to Muhammad in a derogatory way.

How many wives?

Twelve.

How many whores?

Twelve again.

The Prophet in his lifetime
had 12 wives,

and in Rushdie's account,

they have the same names
as the Prophet's wives.

Of course it's a work of fiction.
But it's very much based...

..on what is in Muslim history.

These are real things
that we're sensitive about.

Is it a surprise that you've had
the depth of reaction from...

Well, I think... ..the community?

Certainly the scale of it
is a surprise to me

and also is a great distress to me.

I think what's true about the book
is that it does break

a number of taboos, which in my
view are very important to break.

The first is the idea that
Muhammad's life cannot be discussed

as if he was a human being.

Muhammad himself always insisted
not to have divine status.

And yet nowadays, we talk about him
as if he was a perfect being.

So yes, I think it's very important
if the culture of a religion

is to have an intellectual life,

that such things
should be discussed.

And of course the people
who wish to control thought,

the thought police - that's who's
responsible for this action -

don't wish one to do that.

British Indian Salman Rushdie
was born in Mumbai in 1947

and brought up a Muslim.

His family came to the UK
in the '60s, where he studied

at Cambridge University.

Known for combining magical realism
with historical fiction,

the award-winning Satanic Verses
was his fourth novel.

I believe Salman Rushdie
was completely entitled

to write the book.

Now I want to explore
the consequences

The Satanic Verses
had on my community.

CHANTING

When people hear the word
Satanic Verses, they think about

how that community responded.

I want to know
what happened to those people.

I want to know why they responded
the way they did.

I want to know
if they regret any of it.

SHOUTING

I'm heading home to Yorkshire,

to where the infamous
book-burning took place.

I want to hear from
the people behind the protests,

who rarely make it on to
the mainstream media.

My parents came to Britain
from Pakistan

as economic migrants in 1963,

then headed north to settle
and raise a family.

The North of England could be
a tough place to bring up children

for working-class people,
let alone for those getting to grips

with a new culture and climate.

How many of your family are there
living in this house now?

Ten.

Do you find it overcrowded at all,
with ten people in three rooms?

No, I don't think so.

The Pakistani immigrants
who moved here mostly found work

as mill workers and taxi drivers.

NEWSREADER: Asian workers were not
paid overtime, received less holiday

and had non-existent chances
of promotion.

They must understand our laws,

our ways of life,
our food and our clothes.

For my parents' generation, fitting
into British life came at a cost.

Our children are losing
their Islamic identity.

Each day that goes by,
a Muslim child is lost.

And everyday racism was commonplace.

At school, you get on perfectly well
with the white boys?

The white boys don't play with me.

Do they not play with just you,

or with any of the coloured...
With any coloured boys.

NEWSREADER: Workers Against Racism
say racist attacks in Bradford

are becoming common.

In 1988, when the Satanic Verses
was published,

some Muslims decided
enough was enough

and it was time to make a stand.

I'm on my way to meet a key player
in what happened next -

local Muslim community leader
Mohammad Siddique.

There is enormous amount of filth
and abusive language,

with a view of denigrating Islam,

and thinking of millions of Muslims

all over the world as barbarians.

THEY EXCHANGE GREETINGS

Mohammad? Can I call you
Mohammad or Siddique? Yes, you can.

How are you doing?
Fine, thank you.

Really nice to meet you.
Thank you. Come in.

I got you something.

You look a bit nervous.

Are you nervous with this?
Not any more, no.

It's a book that we've been
familiar with for quite a long time.

The Muslim community
felt so disgusted about it

that this book needed
the attention of the government,

in terms of repealing
the law of blasphemy

to include Muslims as well.

In Britain, blasphemy laws
at the time protected Christianity,

but no other faiths.

So Mohammad and members of
the fledgling campaign group

Bradford Council of Mosques
felt they had little choice

but to tackle the issue themselves.

We've been through a campaign.

We wrote a lot of letters to MPs,
local councillors, government,

asking them to ban the book.

And unfortunately, they didn't.

And nobody seemed to be sympathetic

with what we were saying
was in the book.

Before Bradford Council of Mosques
decided what action to take,

Mohammad was chosen
to read the book on their behalf.

I was criticised a lot, because
people were saying to me,

"You read the book and you decided
not to do anything about it.

"What's going on? Why are we
in this sort of situation?"

And all this situation
was new to us at that time.

So as a last resort, we decided
to put the book on the fire.

And what happened here,
with the book?

Once it was decided that the book
was going to be put on fire,

if we had a book this thick
and set it on fire with a match,

it wouldn't work.

You need something inflammable
which catches fire quickly.

You put in the preparation. Yes.

You open the book here.
Put some paraffin all over.

We had a stalk, here. Yeah.

And then we put some nails
through them there.

You crucified the book?

No, I haven't crucified the book.

But, I mean, you did nail it
to a stick. Yes, that's right.

And then put that whole thing
in a black bag.

Have you got a black bag?
Yes, I have.

Can you grab it? And you'll be
asking me to pin it down, and...

No, no, we're not actually
going to set it on fire.

We're not going to do that?
I don't think so.

Those times are gone. Because
I wouldn't be doing that now.

Mohammad Siddique was joined
by over 1,000 Muslim demonstrators

in Bradford on that fateful day.

In full view of the police
headquarters, Mohammad brought out

his fuel-soaked copy
of the Satanic Verses.

I took it out of the bag.

And somebody with a match
came and put it on fire.

People are shouting, saying,
"Kill the man."

There were people
actually going that far.

People on the stage saying,
"We are prepared to die

"for the honour of our prophet."

So people's feelings
were inflamed again.

Setting fire to a book, this being
in flames, holding it up -

were you stoking that fire a bit?
No.

I think the people are only
expressing their feeling,

how they felt at the time.

And, unfortunately, the media
took it in a different way

and Muslims were suddenly seen
as being killers, and Nazis,

and calling for this Jihad,
and things like that.

NEWS REPORT: The book burning
in Bradford,

with its echoes of the Nazis,
was, the Muslims believe,

what was needed to force Britain
to take note of their protests.

They say they won't rest till every
copy of the book is destroyed.

When it sunk in, the kind of gravity
of what you've done,

when you saw it
on the front of newspapers,

on the news, all that kind of stuff,

did you think, "Some people
are scared of us"?

They shouldn't be, because Muslims
are peaceful people.

I know, but they were, weren't they?

What we did, at that time,
it was how we felt,

because there was a lot of racism
at that time, and there were a lot

of far right-wing activities
against Muslims.

The demonstration
might have been small,

but it struck a powerful chord.

Many Muslims saw the book
as an assault on their identities

and faith, and they saw the lack
of government action as confirmation

of their status
as third-class citizens.

The underlying anger boiled over,
as seen in this rare footage

from a Bradford Council of Mosques
meeting at the time.

Muslim men - and in those days

it was mostly old men -
led the fightback.

On the front line was general
secretary Liaqat Hussain,

and media liaison and committee
member Ishtiaq Ahmed.

30 years on, I wonder if they regret
any of their actions.

KNOCKING

Assalaamu Alaikum.

Nice to meet you. How you doing?
Are you OK? Fine, yes.

Their carefully stored press
cuttings reveal that

the Muslim community,
previously ignored by the media,

was now being depicted
as extremists.

That's... That's me! Is that you?
That's...

HE LAUGHS

It says...

HE LAUGHS

You're laughing that it says
"20 ways to spot a mad mullah",

and then there's a picture of you.

There's a good reason.

Why are you laughing?

It's funny, isn't it? It's funny.

Looking at that now,
and going back to that day. Yeah.

Did you have any kind of idea
of the impact?

No. I don't think we expect
this kind of impact, response.

We thought that it's going
to attract attention.

But whether we anticipated
the scale of the action....

..to be honest, no.
They've done this how-to guide.

So, you're laughing,
but they're quite serious,

"20 ways to spot a mad mullah.

"Number one - there are 1.7 million
Muslims in Britain, but only a few

"are fanatics ready to die
at the Ayatollah's command.

"Number two - they even expect
their children to die

"for the holy cause."

If you looked at this now,

if this was published,
everyone would go crazy.

The Rushdie affair, in a very clear
kind of way, highlighted to us

that we were not being listened to.

We were not being taken seriously.

We were being pushed against
the wall,

and we had to do something to
make this society

know our sensibilities,
our feelings, our emotions,

were seriously hurt.

We did what we did
in that kind of context. OK?

If you are to saying to me
do I regret it? Do I apologise it?

Could we have done
anything different?

I would say no - not in '88,
not in '89.

30 years on, why is there
no acknowledgement that

maybe that wasn't
the best thing to do?

Maybe it wasn't right to
set fire to a book.

Would we do we do it again?
I don't know.

It's about justice,
it's about equalities,

and it's about taking our identity
very seriously.

Muslims are a community. They are
a people, they are a nation.

The idea that we will assimilate,
and we will just become as they are,

is a fantasy.

Muslim groups organised
a massive rally in London,

followed by a week-long vigil
outside Penguin's offices.

Later rallies went beyond
the mere burning of a book,

instead using a life-size effigy
of the author.

The outpouring of rage was driving
a wedge between Britain

and its Muslim community.

And the tabloids ate it up.

There was an eight-foot effigy
of Salman Rushdie in gallows,

set on fire. Is there a part of you
that thinks,

"What these right-wing tabloids
want, we served on a platter.

"We gave them the images."

Do you feel responsible?

The Iranian Revolution...

Actually, you're saying,
"You are to be blamed."

I'm not saying that, I'm saying
we gave them something.

No, we didn't give them...
No, we did not give them that.

Well, I don't take responsibility
for that kind of headlines.

Muslim community
now has a negative projection,

Islam has a very negative
projection.

The responsibility has to be taken
by the British media,

and how our legitimate concerns
were projected.

We were actually put into
a situation that we felt,

as a community, we had no option.

We were still being treated
as a minority,

as an immigrant minority,
who had come to this country

and hopefully one day we will leave.

Back then that may have unleashed
all kinds of other things.

But those other kind of things...

We had no control, and I don't take
any responsibility for that.

Ishtiaq and Liaqat served up this
caricature of what Muslims are like,

and what Muslim men are like.

So angry, shouting, bearded men
on the streets making demands.

They served up that caricature.

And what happened then is the media
chewed that caricature up

and it spat it out, and the results
of that they've been living with,

and we've been living with,
ever since.

I said it is uncivilised
in the first place

to write a book like this.

How would you feel if somebody
comes to you, and call you

or your father a bastard, call
your mother a whore, prostitute.

What would you feel?

While Britain was at the centre
of the Satanic Verses storm,

the book was never banned
on these shores.

But in Pakistan and the Arab world,

the book was met with
an even more violent response.

The Satanic Verses are banned
throughout the Islamic world.

The protests directed
at the United States embassy

in Islamabad followed the
publication of the book in America.

The police turned to using
real bullets.

And the result was all too lethal.

Five people have died...
..and at least 60 injured...

..and a day after,
one man was killed

in neighbouring Kashmir...

..the controversy over Salman
Rushdie's book boosting the position

of the more extreme fundamentalists.

Then, from the Islamic Republic
of Iran, came a call

that would change everything.

On Valentine's Day, Ayatollah
Khomeini issued a fatwa

calling on Muslims around the world
to kill Salman Rushdie.

THEY SHOUT IN OWN LANGUAGE

We will kill you.

The streets of Tehran this morning
were filled with crowds

taking up the cry for
Salman Rushdie's life,

their posters gruesomely disfigured,
their demands all too obvious.

Despite their anger, the fatwa

wasn't supported by many Muslims
in the UK...

Emphasis on the way the Muslims
have been carrying out

the activities, the way
they've been protesting,

seems to be a bit overplayed.

Rather than the victims,
we looked as the aggressors.

So do you condemn the death threats?
Certainly, most certainly.

Rushdie was actually
unjustly condemned.

He's not the enemy
that the Muslims thought he was.

Another Muslim writer, Yasmin
Alibhai-Brown, who was working

for the New Statesman at the time,
wrestled with the complex questions

of free speech
and her own religious beliefs.

I adored Salman Rushdie.

You know, the first books, he spoke
to us and in a sense spoke for us

about the kind of continually...

..vexatious migrant condition.

Who you are, who you belong to,

all of this,
and in the most glorious way.

So he was my hero, and I had never
described myself as a Muslim,

because I thought it was
my private business.

But then this happened, and I felt
I had a kind of duty to come out.

Come out, you used that phrase,
yeah? I came out, because everybody

was discussing Muslims in such...
including my friends,

and my writers I admired,
as if they were barbarians,

as if they were
the most uncivilised people,

in language that I had never heard
from left-wing liberals.

So I thought, "Right, you have
a duty now to say,

"'Stop it. I'm a Muslim.
Now say it to me.'"

Tell me about the first time you
ever hear about the Satanic Verses.

I knew things were happening
over this book.

I'd read it, and
I was uncomfortable with it.

Something inside my head
said, you know,

all of us have to be really careful
not to try and win

position and praise...

..by becoming what we think
the white world wants us to be.

He was becoming what the white world
wanted him to be?

I don't know if he was,
but that's what I told myself.

"Oh, my God. This heroic writer.

"Something's happening here
that I'm uncomfortable with."

In these early days I did feel
very torn between the writer,

the writer whom I loved,

and the rights of the people
from whom I come.

The Satanic Verses made me
understand the relationship

between freedom of speech and power.

I've always thought more freedom
is better than less freedom,

and censorship by a state is wrong.

So when the fatwa happened,
lots of us got together

and issued a statement saying,
you know, we defend the right

of the writer in this case,
because it struck me as wrong.

Absolutely nobody should be killed
for words, for nothing.

At the time Yasmin learned of two
British scholars who'd just returned

from Iran and whose actions there

may have altered
the course of history.

Having called for the execution
of Mr Rushdie...

Kalim Siddiqui was director
of the Muslim Institute

here in the UK, and he argued
for the death sentence

for Salman Rushdie.

Kalim Siddiqui and Ghayasuddin
Siddiqui went to Iran,

and asked the Ayatollah
to pass the fatwa.

I knew because I interviewed
both of them.

Kalim was adamant until he died
that he did go,

and he did what he did,
and was the right thing to do.

And yet Kalim Siddiqui's son today
completely denies that his father

went and asked for a fatwa.

I interviewed his father,
so he can't deny that.

The fatwa was and remains
an order that must be carried out

as and when it becomes possible
to do so.

Do you think the fatwa
would have been issued

if they hadn't made that trip? No.

So the origins of the fatwa
are in this country? Here, yeah.

Yes.

Today's violence means that
16 people have now died

in protest at Salman Rushdie's
novel.

In the Iranian holy city of Homs
today, demonstrators made clear

their support for the Ayatollah
by declaring their readiness

to carry out the death sentence
on Mr Rushdie.

The call to kill Rushdie, led by
Iran, soon turned

an argument about a book
into a global diplomatic crisis.

It is a fundamental matter
of freedom of speech,

and we cannot have our people
inciting their citizens

to murder one of our citizens.

Then, in an act of terror on
UK soil,

a London bookshop
was targeted by Muslim militants.

The bomb went off
at three o'clock this morning.

Anti-terrorist squad officers
were called to the scene

and they're investigating a possible
link with three other attacks

on bookshops in London
in recent months.

Despite the violence,
here in the UK,

the book was not withdrawn
from publication.

If nothing else, the controversy
over Satanic Verses

has helped sales.

It's currently the bestselling
novel in Britain, and now looks like

being a runaway success
in the United States as well.

And in response to the fatwa,
the author was unrepentant.

I wish I'd written
a more critical book.

I mean, a religion, a religion
that is able to behave like this...

Religious leaders, let's say,
who are able to behave like this,

and then say that this is a religion

which must be above any kind
of whisper of criticism,

that doesn't add up.

It seems to me that that
Islamic fundamentalists

could do with a little criticism
right now.

The Satanic Verses controversy
claimed the lives of 59 people

across the world.

And the author himself went
into hiding for the next nine years.

At school in Huddersfield, I was too
young to understand the magnitude

of what was going on,
but we all knew about Rushdie.

This is my old school.

I swear it looks so much smaller.

This is the yard where
I became aware of Salman Rushdie,

and The Satanic Verses.

And that's because there...

HE LAUGHS

There used to be a game.

I'm laughing because I feel
really odd saying this.

The game was called
How Would You Kill Salman Rushdie?

He was like a bogeyman.

So it's not as if as eight-year-old
kids we were aware of the politics.

But he was the bad guy.

As I was growing up,
a more conservative form of Islam

was being ushered in.

It caused an awakening
for many Muslims in the UK,

driving some to
the political extremes.

Assalaamu Alaikum. How are you
doing? I'm OK, how are you?

You all right?
I'm really good, thank you.

Like many young Muslims at the time
who went on to become extremists,

Shahid Butt points to the
Satanic Verses as the key reason

for becoming politically active.

The Salman Rushdie affair was a kind
of a turning point in my life.

There was a call out for
a big demonstration in London.

The protests in the UK
culminated in a march

on the Houses of Parliament
attended by an estimated

70,000 Muslim protesters.

24-year-old Shahid was one of them.

So what happened was
that coaches up and down the country

were gathering outside
all the local mosques.

Local businessmen had paid
for the coaches and the people

could literally jump on the coach,
and that's how I got there.

I wasn't a practising Muslim.
I didn't pray five times a day.

I didn't know anything
about my religion at the time.

I just knew that this guy
had written a book where

he had insulted the Prophet,
our prophet, he insulted his wife,

said a lot of bad things
about Islam.

Initially, I kind of thought, yeah,
OK. You know, it's a free holiday.

"Free trip to London. Yeah, they're
paying for it, so why not?

"Let's go down and, you know..." The
impression I get is you weren't...

It wasn't really about blasphemy.

I wasn't 100% sort of, you know,
ideologically driven that, you know,

I was a seasoned veteran
demonstrating, or whatever.

It was an experience for me.

The demonstration began peacefully.

Everybody wanted to sit down,
and do a sit-down protest.

And we kind of did it for about
ten seconds, I mean, we're like,

"We're not a bunch of pussies,"
so we kind of got up.

And then one thing led to another.

101 demonstrators were arrested.

Police later blamed the trouble
on young militants.

It was mostly done
by guys like myself.

We weren't the religious type.

Police confronted us.
So I got grabbed.

They pulled me out, gave me some
digs, and they got some more guys.

And then they took us back
to the police station.

The two cops that were holding me,
they were talking to each other,

one of them turned around
and said, you know,

"This effing part-time Muslim.
Let's get a pork sandwich,

"and shove it down his throat.
That'll teach him a lesson."

What effect did that have on you?
It got things going in my head.

What does he mean by
a part-time Muslim?

The bit that sticks in your throat,

is it about you being
a part-time Muslim? Why was that?

I felt insulted. Even though
I wasn't a practising Muslim

at the time, you know,

even for those of us who were not
practising, we still hold Islam

in a very high regard because that's
just the way we are as people.

As kids that's how
we've always been brought up.

You don't disrespect your religion.

From that moment onwards, I did
start to become more practising.

I started to learn more about Islam.

There was a period in my life
when I did start to take on

some of these kind of
more extreme ideas,

and have this kind of mentality
where...

The "us and them" mentality, and
that is a clash of civilisations.

I joined the Bosnian army,
the Mujahideen division,

and I became a foreign fighter.

And then I went on the front line
and I fought against the Serbs.

So now you're talking about jihad,
basically? Yeah.

So you're fighting jihad,
did you feel, OK,

this is the right thing to do now?

Well, it's a war zone, you know,
and jihad is part of our religion.

Jihad means to strive
and to struggle. Yeah?

So I was striving and struggling
to help my brothers and sisters.

Shahid has since turned his life
around, and has been helping

de-radicalise Muslim extremists
for the UK government, and others,

for 15 years.

However, during the '90s
he fought armed jihad in Bosnia,

Afghanistan and Kashmir,
to help defend, as he saw it,

fellow Muslims around the world
who were under attack.

He then returned to Britain

to join Islamic fundamentalist
hate preacher Abu Hamza,

and campaigned for the introduction
of an Islamic state here in the UK.

I was involved in a lot of
different groups like, you know,

with Abu Hamza al-Masri
from Finsbury Park Mosque.

Do you regret it?

I don't regret
fighting for the sake of Allah,

to defend my Muslim brothers
or sisters

who were being oppressed and killed.

Yes, if we're talking about some
of the more extreme views

I had while I was with
some of these groups,

then, yeah, I mean,
now I know better that, you know,

that wasn't the right thing to do

and that wasn't the right kind
of views to have, and it was wrong.

I shouldn't have done that, and
I shouldn't have had those feelings

towards other people, or whatever.

But a lot of it I would put down
to anger and frustration.

30 years later, don't you look
back on that, and think,

"Shit, I should not have been
backing those people"?

I didn't know any better.
I just got caught up in the crowd.

You know, I believed
what I was being told

because I thought that these guys
were more intelligent,

they were more knowledgeable
about Islam than I was.

And I fell into that into that trap,
like a lot of other people did.

Shit happens in life.
You know, I did it. We move on.

We grow up, you know. We move on,
and we get wiser,

we get better, we get mature and we
move on. We learn from our mistakes,

and we learn from our experiences.

If you were going to chat
to Salman Rushdie today,

what would you say to him?

You... You're just you just trying
to get a response

out of me, aren't you?
Of course I am!

Don't hit me, right, but if the face
of Salman Rushdie was here,

then what would you say?

Put your hand up again. No, no...
Go on, what would you say?

Today my response would be different
than if you'd asked me 30 years ago.

If you'd asked me 30 years ago,

I probably would have punched
his nose and punched his lights out.

I'll tell you straight,
that's what I would have done.

Today, with all what's going on,
and the way things are,

I think my response would be
a lot more measured.

I don't think I'd get physical
with him.

I'd tell him
he's a fucking dickhead, you know.

I mean, what kind of a literary
writer, academic are you,

that the only way that you can get
any kind of fame

is by insulting people,
and by being derogatory,

and by, you know,
insulting billions of people?

Is that the best that you can do?

I am astounded at the effect
The Satanic Verses

had on Shahid's life.

He has been in some
pretty dark places.

When he talks about fighting
jihad around the world

then I get a distinct sense
that he regrets it.

But there's a question there -

can being offended about a book

actually make you do
any of those things?

And I think it can't,
but that's almost irrelevant,

because for him, and a generation
of people, the book was a catalyst.

So it brought to the surface
all the stuff, like racism,

like feeling like the underdog,
not feeling at home here.

It brought all that to the surface
and it became a symbol

of everything that was wrong.

The hardening of the Muslim protests
against The Satanic Verses

inevitably had
a disturbing counter-effect.

Come down here, give me a try.

In 1989, Matthew Collins
was the 16-year-old chairman

of the National Front's
London branch.

He helped lead a counter-protest
in Parliament Square

against the Muslim protesters.

It was a very, very hot day in 1989.

There was a massive demonstration
called for London

against The Satanic Verses.

And about 20 of us came here

to demonstrate against
that demonstration.

So is this is where you kind of
gathered? This was it.

Yes. We were standing here with
these banners saying,

"No Muslim wars on British shores."

And there were thousands of Muslims
running onto Parliament Square,

in front of Big Ben
and the Houses of Parliament.

We were, like,
"Shit, war's really, really here."

We ran, we scattered, and they
sort of took over Parliament Square,

doing, like, a bit of a rally.

I think at the time we thought...
Can I use some crude language?

Of course you can.
We just thought they were Pakis,

and didn't like Pakis. We had
no idea what fundamentalism was,

we had no idea about anything.
Did you know about the book?

No. Had you read the book? No.

Had anyone in your group
read the book?

I was in the National Front.
We didn't read books.

Matthew Collins
left the National Front in 1994,

and is now
an anti-racism campaigner.

When he joined back in the mid '80s
the NF had abandoned

any electoral interest, and focused
instead on swelling its ranks

with skinhead activists
in their East London

and northern strongholds.

I joined the National Front in 1986

because of my concerns
about immigration.

The National Front, of course,
was always an anti-immigration,

anti-immigrant party who wanted
all these people deported,

whether they were born in Bradford,
Burnley or London.

They had to go back to wherever
they, or their parents,

or their grandparents came from.

We'd never heard of Muslims.
We didn't know what Islam was,

we didn't. Then suddenly this whole
row erupted about this book,

and suddenly people are talking
about Muslims and Islam.

Then we sort of came to the
conclusion that Muslims

are a bit precious
about their religion.

These people seemed to be quite
intolerant of a silly book.

And so we did pick up
quite a few members.

People watching these anti-Rushdie
protests thinking,

"Oh, well, this is very, very,
very, very intolerant.

"We don't want them here."

We weren't there
to defend Salman Rushdie,

because he wasn't white anyway,
we didn't like him.

We didn't want to defend his freedom
of speech, or his rights to write

a book that offended people.

We wanted him, and them, all gone.

And then we'd have this peaceful
society without them all,

a peaceful society run by
the National Front.

Can you imagine it?

Salman Rushdie opened up the eyes
for, potentially,

hundreds of thousands of
Islamophobes in this country.

It riled people, it worried them
when they saw riots,

and they saw people
burning effigies.

Then we had the dreaded Ayatollah
Khomeini issuing a fatwa

against a British writer.

Matthew claims The Satanic Verses
served as a very effective

recruiting sergeant
for the National Front.

Satanic Verses wasn't going to
put us into Parliament,

but we could feel that
it was going to swell our numbers.

Probably about 40% increase.

We knew, once this went around, that
more people would join up with us.

More and more people would say, yes,
we need to fight these Muslims.

And that's what it's been about
ever since.

The idea is to dehumanise Muslims,
and all other people,

you know, that the National Front
doesn't like.

So when the time comes, and you're
dragging them out of their house

to chuck them on the back
of a lorry,

people are so dehumanised towards
them they don't stand up to protest.

It's a process. It's a process.

Dehumanising people is a process,
I think.

And I think Salman Rushdie
probably started it with his book.

It was the best gift ever
for the National Front.

The best gift ever.

As the National Front
fell into decline in the 1990s,

other hard-right groups emerged
in their wake.

They used the War on Terror and
its effect on worsening relations

with British Muslims
to reinvigorate their attack.

Later acts of terror
allowed hard-right activists

like Tommy Robinson,

formerly of the English
Defence League, to thrive.

Shortly after
the Manchester Arena bombing,

he used a right-wing digital channel
to bypass the mainstream media

and broadcast this Islamophobic
attack - his version of free speech.

When you see these communities,
and you see these houses, you think

this is a British community,
or you might have British Muslims.

They are... They are enemy
combatants in these houses.

In these houses
are enemy combatants

who want to kill you, maim you,
and destroy you.

NEWSREADER: Stephen Yaxley-Lennon -
that's his real name -

appeared at the Old Bailey
at the end of September.

The full weight of the establishment
is coming down on my shoulders

because I speak openly and honestly
and tell the facts about Islam.

Freedom of speech!

They're calling Tommy Robinson
a Nazi,

because he's putting the light on
a load of Muslim fucking nonces.

What Tommy Robinson has tried to do
is intellectualise racism.

He presents an argument
that this is not about skin colour.

It's not about race.

It's about what people believe.

And as a result of that,
we see that this discourse

has become mainstream.

Tommy Robinson's ideas are shared
online, and they're discussed

in our papers, on a weekly basis.

And the idea that Muslim values and
British values are not compatible

was not even on our radar
pre-Satanic Verses.

That stuff is scary
and it needs to be challenged.

I don't buy Tommy Robinson's
argument.

I think it is racist,
so it needs to be called out.

But what we can't allow it to do

is stop us from asking difficult
questions and having those debates.

Mobeen Azhar...
on BBC Asian Network.

Yes, it is.

This is Mobeen Azhar, I'm going
to be with you all the way

till midnight and we are going
to be talking about blasphemy.

Yes, we are.

30 years on from the release
of The Satanic Verses.

Now, the Salman Rushdie book
ended in him getting a fatwa,

lots of people
saying it was blasphemous...

To get to the very core
of the issue,

I decided to use my radio show
to find out what people think today

about the issue of blasphemy
in a free society.

Where in a progressive,
liberal society

should you be able to pass comment
on other people's religion?

Should there be a law
against blasphemy?

What does this geezer think?

Please. Whatever you do,

please don't defame our religion.

Blasphemy law in England and Wales,
which protected Christianity only,

was abolished in 2008.

Now racist and religious hate crime
laws are in place to protect

everyone from hostility or prejudice
based on their race or religion.

But that doesn't stop some
from wanting their religion

to have further protection.

Welcome to the Asian Network.

Me, my faith is far more important
to me than my race.

So if there are laws to protect
my race, it's only common sense

that there should be laws
to protect my faith, especially

with the rise of the far right.

I've got with me Sadia Hameed -

she's an activist, I can describe
you as an activist?

Yeah, you can describe me
however you want.

And you're an ex-Muslim. Yes.

In our society,
should we be able to diss God?

Yeah!

That's really pithy.
That's it.

Yes. OK.

But why?

Islam really needs to be dragged
into 2018.

So, I don't understand...

..what you actually want.

What kind of blasphemy law
do you want, then?

Because what you're asking for

is a protection of Islam,
or your faith,

rather than protecting you
as an individual.

There is already a law in place,

the Racial And Religious Hatred Act
2006 is already in place.

That's for individuals
and not for ideas.

You're asking for a law
to protect your ideas.

I don't think he's saying there
should be punishment, are you?

Or are you?
I just want to clarify.

Punishment?

Look, I'll tell you what
the Koran says - "Revile not you

"those whom they call upon
besides Allah

"lest they out of spite
revile Allah in their ignorance."

The discussion around blasphemy
is still raging.

Most of the people I was speaking
to weren't even born

when The Satanic Verses
was published.

But it hangs as this shadow...

..over all of us.

It's become part of our DNA in terms
of how we view an entire community.

It's very difficult, and I don't
think we have fully exorcised

the spectre of The Satanic Verses
affair.

I was intrigued by what former
Muslim Sadia Hameed had to say

on the radio show.

So I went to find out more
about her at her campaign office.

Sadia's organisation, the Council
of Ex-Muslims of Britain,

uses the idea of blasphemy as a tool
to challenge aspects of Islam

that she finds conservative
and archaic.

But as a pretty
liberal-minded Muslim,

even I was shocked when I saw
some of her banners.

This is our most popular banner.

And weirdly, we didn't get
killed for it.

I don't like it, Sadia, I don't
like it. Why don't you like it?

Tell me.

This has the name of the Prophet
on it.

So my default is to pick it up.
But it's a play on what actually,

what Muslims consider to
have happened, right? Completely.

So, yes.

So, you know, like, we learned
from, like, kids,

that Muhammad split the moon...
Yeah.

So this, it just feels...

..kind of exploitative.

And it feels exploitative
in terms of...

This isn't about taking people
to an argument

or talking about criminalising
homosexuality. This is a comedy.

This is about, this is about...

..I guess it is, it's comedy.
It's comedy.

Sure. And I can see
the funny side of it.

The bit that I'm not
with you is when I see this,

I just see it as divisive
and, like, a bit of a piss-take.

I've just been reading The Satanic
Verses for the first time.

My issue with it is
when he is taking the piss,

and it's kind of similar to this.

Now, there's a point -
it's that, you know,

you can go up to this line here

and if you just put a finger
over that line,

you know you're going to get
a response.

And when he's writing that
and when you are writing this,

it's like, "I'm going to get that
response."

But then, what is the alternative?
How do we raise these issues

without, without some provocation?

Sadia used to be a practising
Muslim, but as a teenager

she began to question her faith.

Then at 19, she formally
told her family she had left Islam.

When I first left,
my hatred and my feelings

were really, like, corrosive.

I felt really angry -
"I have no place here.

"They don't care for me.
I'm not... I don't belong here."

And actually,
people need that reaction.

You know, they have to be able,
have to be able to express that.

We're not even allowed to say that.

When Sadia took to the streets
with her placards

at London's biggest gay march,

they provoked an outcry from
some Muslim leaders,

who claimed they were Islamophobic.

Every time we do something
like this and everybody kicks off,

it's keeping us in the Dark Ages.

It means that we can never,
ever laugh at Islam.

That's not a mature sort of
way of behaving. I get that.

We need to be able to talk
about things,

we need to be able to take the piss
out of things.

There's this kind of sentiment now -

I think it's been around for a few
years, but people are going a little

bit crazy, where if they're
offended, it has to stop.

That can't keep happening.

You can't blindly follow something
and not question it.

I believe in free speech
and I would defend Sadia's right

to say what she wants to say,
but as a believer, when I see

those placards and I see the word
Allah, and the name Muhammad

on the floor,
there's a visceral response.

You know, I still have a Koran
high up on a shelf in my flat.

There is a respect
and a reverence there.

So when Sadia argues that
she has to have insult,

you have to have comedy,
in order to engage people...

I don't think that's right.

If you want to take people with you,

insulting them
isn't the way to do that.

Once again, I'm heading back
to Bradford,

where the notorious book burning
took place.

Something we're still feeling
the impact of today.

Of course I would have written the
book. If I want to write a book

in a certain way, that's my right.

I mean, I walk into a bookshop.

There are some books
that I don't like.

There's lots of books in it
that you could say offended me.

I don't burn the book shop down.

You know, I just go and choose
a book I like.

There we are.
That's the whole story.

I'm just really tired of
religious people saying

they need special treatment.
Nobody deserves special treatment.

Deal with it.

The mistake of our time,
to have allowed religious extremism

to try and set the terms,
and say you can't do anything

that we don't like, because
otherwise we'll come and kill you.

Well, that's the crime.

Books are not crimes.
Books are books.

I want to find out
how much the world has moved on

and assess the strength of feeling
30 years on.

I just want your opinion
on something.

No, no, it's rubbish, that.
Why is it rubbish?

Would people be willing today
to have a discussion with me

about the content of the book?

This book?
No, I have never read it.

Tell me what you think about
this sentence. I don't want to.

No problem. Don't worry.

This is a book by Salman Rushdie,
published 30 years ago,

and it's a novel, so it's meant
to be a work of fiction.

Yeah. Yeah.

"The 15-year-old whore, Ayesha,

"was the most popular with
the paying public,

"just as her namesake was with..."

So the prostitutes are named
after...

..the wives of the Prophet.
Basically.

Trying to say it, but at the same
time just trying to not say it.

He's saying... Fictional...

You don't seem that offended.
Do you think it's up for grabs?

It's all right for people
to write stuff?

ALL: No, it's not all right.
You don't, why not?

I feel like there should be limits
upon what you write and boundaries,

in order to keep respect.

And if that's not met, then
I don't really agree with it.

I do find it offensive.
Cos at the end of the day,

if it is about Islam,
then that's about my religion,

and about so many
other people's religion,

that it's normal for people
to find it offensive.

Boundaries? Boundaries
should be respected.

Everything in between, everything
that's said and put out there.

Is that Salman Rushdie? It is.
Is that The Satanic Verses? It is.

Do you know it? Yeah,
I've got a long history with that.

I got arrested on them riots.

No way! So were you at the demo
here? Yeah. Yeah.

What about the book burning?
Did you see that?

I was here. Who are you?
Have you read it?

I've read it.
Where are you from?

Where am I from?
So, I'm from Huddersfield.

Right. I live in London.

How come you're holding
The Satanic Verses?

You think I shouldn't be holding it?
No comment.

So, what you meant when you said
where are you from, you meant,

"Are you Muslim?" Didn't you?
That's what you meant. Yeah.

So would it make a difference
if I was Muslim?

I mean, I am Muslim.

But you think as a Muslim
I shouldn't be holding the book?

No, no, no. Let me see...

Will you read this? Will you tell me
what you think? Yeah.

You're not going to get angry? No.
Are you sure? Yeah.

"How many wives? 12. And one old
lady, long dead... How many...

"How many whores behind the curtain?
12, again."

Does that mean anything to you?

Yeah, he's a devil worshipper.
The curtain...

..is the curtain on
the Day of Judgment,

that is lifted when you go to...
And the whores at, at the...

The wives, the Muslim...
Up in heaven.

Is that what he's talking about?
Yeah.

Come and talk to me,
why are you running off?

You need educating, brother.
I need educating?

Come and talk,
to educate me, then.

I encountered a wide range of
reactions in the square that day.

But what about the man who brought
the book soaked in petrol

to the square 30 years ago?

How does he feel, looking back?

What do you think that
the legacy is

of what you did here with the book?

The government didn't listen.

The book is still there.

What it did do is to raise
awareness about the feelings

of the Muslims in the community, so
that the community of other authors

don't write a similar book
about Muslims.

We end up in a similar
situation again.

So by burning one book,
what we did was to promote peace,

at that time. Do you see
the kind of contradiction there?

Saying, "We were promoting peace
by burning a book."? Yeah.

It doesn't trip off the tongue
nicely.

Do you see that?

No, I disagree because our aim
was not creating a problem

but to bring peace in the city.

And yes, we burned the book.
The feelings of the people

were inflamed, non-Muslim,
Muslim as well,

you can say, but then
we set the agenda.

We said, "Look, this is our issue."

It is sad, unfortunately,
because I feel that the media

could have played a better role
in handling the situation.

I know. But what I'm really asking
is... Like, using a word

like "unfortunately"
suggests it just happened.

It didn't just happen.
You soaked a book in paraffin

and set fire to it.

So what I'm saying... Is there
a bit of you that thinks,

"We went too far"?

Perhaps it inflamed the feeling
of people in the community,

and if it did do that,
we feel sorry for that.

We didn't intend to... I understand.

..cause that feeling, that hurt.
Perhaps we have...

..we did go a bit far.

Perhaps not.

I don't know.

There's a sense of
reluctant regret here.

But for some, there's also
a simmering anger

that's as strong now
as it was 30 years ago.

Excuse me... Have you got a second?
Sorry.

The author said it's a critique
of religion... Is that useful?

Come on, then! Come on, then!

You fucking bastard! Come on, then.

Here's the book. Can I have my book
back? Fuck you! The book...

Want to see the book, no?

Come on, then.

Fuck you!

I'm going to burn this book!
Film it! Go on, film it!

Fuck off! It's about our Prophet.

Go fuck yourself! Fuck you!

Walk on! Salman Rushdie!

Shut your mouth right now.
Shut your mouth.

I knew what the book was about.

That's why I didn't want to
do bullshit with you.

If you're recording for the BBC,
I don't give a shit.

You know you're coming to Bradford,
a Muslim ghetto,

trying to say that shit.

How is it a Muslim ghetto? I'm from
down the road, from Huddersfield.

Is that not a Muslim ghetto?
I'm a Muslim.

You're going to a Muslim-populated
area, trying to say shit...

I'm a Muslim. Well, you are
going to get a response like that -

be prepared. That's all I'm saying.

You think it's reasonable
for someone to grab a book

and start ripping it up?
Yeah, they can. Freedom of...

If you feel offended,
you can burn the book.

The question is, what are you going
to do about it, then?

Have you heard of The Satanic
Verses? No, I've not.

OK, so it's by an author called
Salman Rushdie.

I don't want to read the book.

I don't want to read the book.
So you don't want to read it

because of what you heard? Cos of
what I know. I know who that guy is.

I know what he's talking about.
It's all bullshit.

Put that on BBC media.
My name as well. There you go.

There you go. Get out my face.

Thank you for your time.
Thank you.

Has he burnt it? Where is he?

He's actually burnt it? Yeah.

Where has he burnt it? Over there.

Was he up there?

Did you actually see him
start a fire?

It's got burn marks on it.

Actually, he's actually
set fire to it.

I can't see him.

I felt really a bit odd
walking through the square

with The Satanic Verses,
but I did not, for a second,

think someone was going to
get so offended

that they grabbed it out my hand
and set fire to it.

We're talking about something
that happened 30 years ago.

To understand that level,

that kind of visceral response...

..I don't get it.

I do not get it.

I keep looking over my back,

cos I think he's going to
come back in a second.

I felt offended by parts
of this book. That does not mean

I want to shut down discussion,
that does not mean I want to argue

and fight with people.

It does not mean...

..that I want to curb
someone else's rights...

..to discuss things or write things.

People chipping in and saying,
"Oh, yeah, you come to Bradford,

"there's Muslims here, you should
expect this kind of trouble" -

are you mad? Do you know what?

As a community,
we do not have the maturity

to even have these discussions.

We are so ready to react.

That's all that was about.

That was a reaction,
an unthinking reaction.

An unthinking "shut down
the discussion,

"can't have a conversation..."

..reaction. That's all it was.

I'm just properly pissed off.

I'm really pissed off that...

..I can't have a discussion here.

As a child, when I heard
about The Satanic Verses,

I thought all the fuss
was about a book.

But it was so much more than that.

It became a symbol of
everything we'd been through.

It was about racism,
it was about ridicule,

it was about the immigrant
experience.

So religion became
this rallying point,

something we could cling to
and fight for.

And sure, you could say we found
our voice through those protests,

but so much of that reaction, it
was ugly and it was ill-thought-out.

And we created this caricature

and the Muslim bogeyman was born.

It ushered in this age of division,

with Muslims being seen as
the other.

But we're not outsiders.

We're a really important part
of British society.

But we have to be able to stomach
debates about our culture,

and, actually, our religion as well.

Even if we find them offensive,
we have to be able to do that.

And it's only when we can do that,
that the ghost of

The Satanic Verses
will truly be put to bed.