There are writers who accept awards, attend festivals, and quietly return to their desks. And then there are writers who treat every public platform as a moral battleground. Over the last few years, Arundhati Roy has repeatedly shown that literary prestige is not merely a symbol of achievement it is also a responsibility.
Through speeches, withdrawals, and public interventions, Roy has used her influence to confront power, challenge silence, and insist that artists cannot remain in neutral during moments of global crisis. Three recent moments in particular illustrate how she has transformed literary recognition into political accountability.
Turning a Prize Acceptance Into a Global Indictment
When Roy received the PEN Pinter Prize in October 2024, the ceremony at the British Library could have been a routine celebration of literary achievement. Instead, Roy used the occasion to deliver one of the most striking anti-war speeches of the decade.
Titled “No Propaganda on Earth Can Hide the Wound That Is Palestine,” the speech transformed a literary award into a political manifesto. Roy argued that the violence in Gaza could not be understood in isolation from decades of occupation and systemic oppression.
A distinctive tradition of the prize allows the winner to choose a “Writer of Courage” to share the award with—someone persecuted for their beliefs. Roy chose Alaa Abd el-Fattah, the imprisoned blogger and activist who has spent much of the last decade behind bars in Egypt. She described his voice as “as beautiful as it is dangerous,” highlighting how governments often silence thinkers who challenge authority.
One of the most debated parts of Roy’s speech was her refusal to engage in what she called the “condemnation game.” While acknowledging that the killing of civilians on October 7 constituted war crimes, she argued that these events could not be used to create a moral equivalence with what she described as the ongoing devastation in Gaza. History, she insisted, did not begin on that single day.
Roy also used a powerful metaphor to frame the conflict.
“Not all the power and money, not all the weapons and propaganda on earth can any longer hide the wound that is Palestine. The wound through which the whole world, including Israel, bleeds.”
The metaphor suggested that the conflict had exposed deeper contradictions in international law and the so-called “rules-based order,” damaging the moral credibility of the global powers that claim to defend it.
Roy also addressed her own identity. As a secular, non-Muslim woman, she acknowledged she might not survive under regimes such as Hamas or the Iranian government. Yet she insisted that ideological disagreement does not justify annihilation. The core struggle, she argued, is about the right of a people to exist.
Her critique extended beyond the West. She criticized India for supplying weapons and workers to Israel, warning that the surveillance and control mechanisms used by Israel were increasingly influencing governance in India. In a final act of solidarity, Roy announced that her share of the prize money would be donated to the Palestinian Children’s Relief Fund.
A Festival Boycott That Challenged the Myth of “Apolitical Art”
In February 2026, Roy once again used her platform to challenge the cultural establishment—this time by refusing to participate in the 76th Berlin International Film Festival.
She had been invited to attend a special screening of the restored 1989 film In Which Annie Gives It Those Ones, which she wrote and starred in. However, the controversy began at the festival’s opening press conference when the jury president, renowned filmmaker Wim Wenders, suggested that filmmakers should stay out of politics.
“We have to stay out of politics,” he said, arguing that artists should act as a counterweight to political debate. Another jury member, producer Ewa Puszczyńska, added that it was unfair to expect the jury to take a political stance.
Roy responded with an immediate and blistering withdrawal.
In a public statement published in international outlets, she described the comments as “jaw-dropping” and “unconscionable.” Claiming that art is apolitical, she argued, is often a way of shutting down conversations about crimes unfolding in real time.
Her statement went further, labeling the situation in Gaza a genocide and accusing powerful nations such as the United States and Germany of complicity. She also warned that if prominent artists refused to speak out, history would judge their silence harshly.
The withdrawal had a ripple effect. What might have been a modest screening of a decades-old film suddenly became the festival’s most discussed political moment. Other filmmakers followed suit, including the withdrawal of restored works by Egyptian directors Atteyat Al Abnoudy and Hussein Shariffe.
Roy’s absence became a presence in itself—forcing the festival to confront the uncomfortable question of whether cultural institutions selectively speak out against some injustices while remaining silent about others.
Warning the World About War With Iran
In March 2026, Arundhati Roy delivered another fiery intervention during a book event in Delhi, days after U.S. and Israeli forces launched strikes on Tehran and Isfahan.
Roy described the attacks as illegal aggression and warned that a war with Iran could spiral into a global catastrophe far beyond the devastation already witnessed in Gaza.
Her warning was stark and immediate:
“But Iran is not Gaza. The theater of this new war could expand to consume the whole world. We are on the brink of nuclear calamity and economic collapse. The same country that bombed Hiroshima and Nagasaki could be readying itself to bomb one of the most ancient civilizations in the world.”
Roy argued that unlike the localized siege of Gaza, a conflict with Iran could ignite a chain reaction across the Middle East, pulling major global powers into direct confrontation.
She continued by making her own position unmistakably clear:
“There will be other occasions to speak of this in detail, so here, let me simply say that I stand with Iran. Unequivocally.”
Yet the sharpest edge of her speech was directed toward the Indian government’s silence. Roy framed the issue not only as a geopolitical crisis but also as a test of national dignity.
“What sort of people are we whose elected government cannot stand up and condemn the US when it kidnaps and assassinates heads of state of other countries? Would we like that done to us?”
She also pointed to the symbolism of diplomatic gestures made just before the escalation of violence.
“For our prime minister to have traveled to Israel and embraced Benjamin Netanyahu just days before he attacked Iran – what does it mean?”
For Roy, these events illustrated how global alliances and domestic politics often intersect in ways that undermine moral independence. The speech became not only a condemnation of war but also a wider critique of power, silence, and complicity.
But some of her sharpest criticism was reserved for the Indian government. Roy condemned what she described as its “spineless and gutless” silence, arguing that India had abandoned the moral independence that once defined its global identity.
She contrasted the country’s current stance with its past, noting that even when India was poorer, it possessed dignity and courage in international affairs. Today, she suggested, it has become a wealthier nation that hesitates to challenge powerful allies.
Roy also mocked the contrast between political reality and popular culture, noting that while the government remains silent on global atrocities, Indian cinema frequently depicts muscular heroes winning imaginary wars that feed nationalist fantasies.
The Writer’s Responsibility
Across these three moments—a prize speech, a festival boycott, and a wartime address—Roy has consistently rejected the notion that writers should remain neutral observers.
For her, literature is not an escape from politics but a tool for confronting it. Whether challenging cultural institutions, condemning military aggression, or exposing the contradictions of global power, she has repeatedly insisted that visibility carries responsibility.
In an era when many public figures prefer silence to controversy, Roy has chosen the opposite path: to speak loudly, even when the consequences are uncomfortable.
And in doing so, she has demonstrated that the true power of a writer lies not only in storytelling—but in the courage to stand against the prevailing tide.
