Why can 'Salman' Rushdie be considered a Socrates of the global village?

Introduction

I have in brain a contrive for a satirical tale on the subject of scholarly courage. It proceeds like this:

A juvenile and famous Asian-born English author with fashionably left-wing outlooks, the child of a Muslim family and a reliable protector of third-world determinants, publishes a innovative encompassing routes that spoof the sources of Islam. There is not anything especially scurrilous about them, just the proposal that Muhammad was human like remainder of us and likewise captivated to cash, power, and sex. The Muslim world, although, answers to such blasphemy with an unanticipated fury that begins with publication burnings and finishes with a death judgment passed on our scribe by the head of an oil-rich, fundamentalist Islamic state. So large is regarded to be the hazard to his life that he is compelled to proceed below ground and reside in hiding.

Analysis

Meanwhile, the worldwide scholarly community rallies round him. It drives him fervent notes of support, matters declarations keeping protected his right to free talk, and appeals popular authorities to proceed contrary to the Muslim foremost who has put a cost on his head. The world's statesmen disregard these requests, and rendezvous with withering scorn for their cowardly submit to financial and political interests. The activity makes headlines; our scribe is in evaluation to Socrates, to Galileo; like them, he is examined as a audacious martyr in the age-old labor contrary to tyranny.

In his diverse concealing locations, isolated from humanity and associates, our scribe has abounding of time to compose, and the outcomes are eagerly looked ahead to. What scholarly riposte will he consign to his persecutors, what irrefragable verification of the reality that the ballpoint is mightier than the sword? Several years proceed by and he publishes a children's publication, a slight parable about a good kingdom that makes tales and an bad kingdom that conflicts contrary to them. And still the world waits.

And then it comes: the long-awaited novel. It is set in our author's native land, and it notifies the article of the loves and despises of a lone fierce-willed family, and of the modernization of a huge, rambling, harmoniously varied humanity whose customary, easygoing acceptance of distinction is subverted by the twin forces of devout nationalism and capitalist greed. Panoramic and determined, the publication might appear motivated by our author's experience—were it not for a inquisitive fact. Or ...