Last year, a group of independent lawyers tried to ban the publication of 1001 Arabian Nights, claiming that it was a “blasphemous” and “smut-driven” text, directly responsible for any number of social ailments, including fornication, drug-addiction, and even devil-worshipping. After a few months of controversy, the case was dismissed, much to the delight of literary enthusiasts, children, and presumably Satanists, across the country. This was not the first time the celebrated stories have been taken to court on similar grounds - previous attempts at banning them in 1985 and 1998 were likewise unsuccessful - and it most likely won't be the last. While not as strict as Iran or Saudi Arabia, censorship has, over the past few decades, played a regrettably prominent role in shaping Egypt's cultural landscape. Consequently, Egyptian artists have become proficient at self-censorship and when they don't, they often have to face the scrutiny of government regulators, or worse yet, self-appointed moral watchdogs similar to the aforementioned gang of lawyers who tried to ban a literary and cultural landmark. However, with Mubarak stepping down, new possibilities are opening up as state censors propose revisiting their policies, and artists of various mediums quickly voice their hope and insistence that the forthcoming political era will be one of creative freedom and tolerance. Sayed Khattab - head of the country's official Board of Censors - has been quick to condemn existing censorship laws that have been in place since 1955. Khattab, however, is proposing updates that don't change the core laws themselves and insists that censors have an important role that includes, in his words, “giving advice and knowledge to the public, and facilitating and encouraging ongoing dialogue between the public and the artists within a framework that does not offend any sensibilities.” Despite believing that “we are living in the age of freedom,” Khattab is quick to state “nobody can reasonably say we should just cancel the whole institution” of censorship. On 18 May, Khattab announced that the board is willing to re-consider films it had rejected for “security reasons,” if filmmakers would re-submit them with minor changes. “Egypt has changed,” he stated, “yet censorship laws haven't - at least not until we have a new parliament.” Working around censorship It will be a while until the shifting censorship regime convinces cultural producers that it is not their enemy. Salwa Bakr, an acclaimed author of works as prominent as The Golden Chariot and The Wiles of Men, has a long history of battling censors, both state- and self-appointed. “Years before the revolution, the government lifted censorship laws on literature,” Bakr recalls. “But that didn't mean they stopped censoring, they just did it in different ways.” Since distribution is monopolized by two government-owned agencies, they would distribute only a tiny fraction of the total printed copies of books deemed to be potentially troublesome, making them available in obscure selling points, while storing the other copies and claiming that “they just didn't sell,” Bakr says. Filmmaker Amr Salama has also had frustrating experiences with censors, yet he is confident that the stifling laws can be occasionally circumvented, and that with the spread of new technologies, the censors' authority is increasingly challenged. “If they want to censor movies, they're going to have to come up with ways to censor satellite channels and the internet as well.” Salama recounts how he adapted one of his screenplays, which censors had originally objected to, into a computer animation, so that it didn't need a film permit. “I could just make the movie at home, on my computer,” he explains, although distribution still presented a challenge. Typically, filmmakers have to receive two separate approvals from the Board of Censors before their work can be publicly screened. First, a screenplay must be submitted, reviewed and approved, before a permit to film can be issued. Once filming is complete, the final product is again submitted to the Board of Censors, where a panel of three officials reviews it as an independent work, before another panel reviews it again to make sure it corresponds with the original, officially approved screenplay. According to Khattab, submitting screenplays and finished films is the responsibility of the production studios which are also forced to pay for these obligatory services. “The fee for submitting a screenplay is about LE100, so it's nothing much,” says Khattab. “But we're in the process of updating and changing our policies, and the fees will probably change as well.” Although the Board of Censors had initially refused to consider independent filmmakers, realities of the modern filmmaking world have forced them to alter their restrictive methods. “We have recently been accepting submissions from independent directors, like Ibrahim Batout who handed in a script before it was even complete,” Khattab offers. “We even approved his script and gave him a permit to film.” Batout, a former photojournalist-turned-filmmaker, rose to prominence when the Board of Censors refused to allow the screening of his 2007 feature Ain Shams on the grounds that it had been filmed without an official permit. Although it contained no objectionable material of any sort, the film was banned for over a year before the Board of Censors finally recanted its decision in the face of growing media attention, including international awards presented for the movie. The same restrictions apply to theatre and music, Khattab confirms. Scripts must be handed in for approval, as do music albums. Failure to do so, especially in the case of the latter, can lead to the arrest of the artists, and the shutting down of the locations where the albums are sold. “These laws all exist to protect the rights of the artists, and ensure that their work reaches the widest possible audience,” Khattab says, without a hint of irony. When it comes to literature, Khattab insists that there is “complete freedom.” “Books and other literary materials are not censored or reviewed in any way,” he claims. They are, however, tagged and archived, so that if any piece of literature were to raise controversy, its withdrawal would be a relatively quick and efficient procedure. In its process of reshuffling, Khattab admits that the board is also studying how to best adapt its rules to “all this new terrifying technology.” “Some movie theaters now download films directly from satellites,” he huffs in amazement. Popular censorship? The majority of the nation's artists, however, maintain that audiences should be given the responsibility of deciding for themselves what they wish to engage with. “Censorship is a concept that goes hand in hand with political oppression, an obsession by the ruling regime to directly dictate what is allowed to reach the masses,” says Bakr, adding that most censors are extremely limited in both knowledge and imagination. “They're just employees following guidelines. Most would rather censor the material broadly and indiscriminately, just to avoid getting into any trouble with their supervisors.” “The dismantling of any censoring authority standing in the way of freedom of expression and opinion should be stipulated by the constitution,” she argues. Salama would gladly do away with censors as well, limiting their role to the classification of films according to a rating system. Any further censoring should be carried out by the audiences and the filmmakers, and not by a third party, Salama states. “As a director, I will probably never film a sex scene, but other directors are free to do so, and audience members are free to watch it, as long as they are of an appropriate age.” “To limit either,” he says, “would be a direct imposition on personal freedom.” In response, Khattab would personally like to replace the board's policy of preemptive censoring of screenplays with a valid and enforceable ratings system, hence providing greater freedom. He, however, defends the board's existence by insisting that, in addition to being “an extension of a capitalist state, battling piracy and preserving intellectual property rights, it exists primarily to prevent society from losing faith in its artists.” However, copyright protection is traditionally carried out by unrelated government bodies. Moreover, Khattab is apparently unaware of the alarming lack of faith in the artists revealed by his statement - the same lack of faith that led censors in Mubarak's era to the wildly erroneous belief that they were operating in the public's best interest. Dismantling the censors' board would definitely result in more conservative audiences, Salama believes -- something he doesn't seem to have a problem with. “No producer, actor, or director in the world wants to make a film that audiences would find offensive and avoid watching,” he says. “If filmmakers make offensive films, then they will be targeted by audiences.” Bakr disagrees, arguing that dismantling the regulatory authority would provide “a shock that would benefit society, forcing people to reevaluate the role of censorship as well as topics that are supposedly taboo,” and hopefully resulting in more social tolerance. For this to happen, the end of censorship would have to be matched with widespread educational reform. “We face censorship that stems from religious extremism and conservatism, and that is only a symptom of the disease, which is the country's education system.” “This streak of religious fundamentalism is growing in our society, with extremists taking the role of unofficial censors. It is worrying,” she says, especially since “there have been documented instances of them vandalizing publishing companies and printing houses in the past.” “We've lost so much because of censorship,” Bakr laments. “Culturally, we've taken huge steps back.” The Board of Censors' director, however, believes that “censorship isn't caused by religious extremism. It's caused by fear of the unknown, and in times like this, that fear is extremely prevalent.”
