State patronage of artists in Pakistan- the curious case of Roohi Bano and Munna Lahori

*An edited version of the following post appeared in The Express Tribune’s Editorial and Opinion on July 26, 2013

**Another edited version of the following post appeared in The Express Tribune Blogs on July 26, 2013

Reports circulated earlier this week about the dismal conditions Roohi Bano was currently living in. The former television actress was said to be residing without access to gas and power and there were widespread calls by television personalities and other members of the society, beseeching the government to interfere and provide adequate support. This was identical to the reaction witnessed in the aftermath of similar reports circulating a couple of months ago regarding Munna Lahori, popularly known as Zakoota Jin, also of television fame. The bigger question that needs to be addressed is that of state patronage- for who, when, why and should the government step in to support?

State patronage of artists in South Asia is synonymous with the Mughals. Some of the greatest contributors to literature from South Asia were taken care of by the court. Thus freed from the chains of concepts such as working to survive or being responsible for dependents, these writers, poets and historians produced a rich, literary collection that we proudly call our heritage. However, it should be noted if the court had not provided sustenance, these artists and poets and historians would not have been adequately compensated since the fifteenth to the eighteenth century South Asian society did not have sufficient disposable income. Therefore, it can be argued that in retrospect, state stepping in was more of a necessity than the luxury it so overtly seems.

Calls for such state patronage invoke much debate today- those in favor of state’s patronage of artists argue the importance of arts and culture to a society. In the cases of Roohi and Munna, their contributions to the television history of Pakistan are irreplaceable. Roohi became associated with the fledgling industry in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s while Munna immortalized Zakoota Jin for an entire generation of Pakistani’s growing up in the 1990’s. The legacy of these two stars is not in question- the issue seems to be whether these achievements warrant government support?

Critics of state patronage of artists disagree- artists today cannot be compared those of yesteryears because of the role money has come to play. They are extremely well compensated in today’s day and age- media rights, sponsorship’s, product endorsements and personal ventures have created more wealth than ever. Thus, the critics argue, the onus of managing one’s own finances lies with the artist. Careful planning and a modest lifestyle in the heyday would ensure provision of funds long after the acting/writing/composing days are over.

This is a sound, rational argument but contextualizing it to Roohi and Munna does not do justice to either the argument or the actors. Both Roohi and Munna shot to fame due to their affiliation with shows on the Pakistan Television Corporation, a state run entity. Up until the early 2000’s, a career in the television industry was nowhere as lucrative as its bigger screen counterpart. Indeed, by all accounts, it was a mere pittance for the artists’ services. Thus, the compensation argument does not hold in this case. Would the argument still hold for artists launching their careers today? This question needs to be addressed separately.

Another important question that arises is the issue of whom to patron? So far, the case on our hands has been simplistic because both Roohi and Munna are popular, television stars. Increasing privatization has resulted in a record number of productions starring Pakistanis, both home and abroad, in documentaries, television serials and movies. The news media has become an industry on its own while competitive sports has emerged the country’s most popular form of entertainment. Our poetic and written traditions are still strong and have kept pace with the world and regularly compete for prestigious international awards. Defining patronage could be hazardous- over a long period of time, it has the ability to drive people to and from an industry. Patronage is often accompanied by inefficiency and while the artists from the days of Mughals produced breathtaking works in different genres despite guaranteed sustenance, what they would have done under real competition remains speculative.

A viable alternative often presented is that state should recognize, and not necessarily patronize, artists. In theory, this presents the artists with a target to aspire for without draining the resources of the state. However, as a nation, we have a poor track record of identifying our artists. N M Rashid, considered the father of progressive Urdu poetry, was laid to rest in England because he opted to be cremated rather than buried. His contributions were more than just literary- he served as Pakistan’s ambassador to the United Nations. Similarly, some of our most famous poets spent their better days in jail for voicing their opinions against the incumbent governments. While most of them went on to be recognized later on under different governments, question can rightly be asked whether such criticism would have reared its head under a system of state patronage?

The arguments for and against state patronage are plenty. However, extreme care should be taken to not be dismissive of the unique problems faced by both Roohi and Munna. Roohi’s only son was shot dead in 2005 and her living conditions indicate that she needs support regardless of where it’s coming from; Munna suffered paralysis and any support would be a welcome gesture. The issue of state patronizing artists is multi-faceted. Before we embroil ourselves in the debate, we must first address issues that plague us today. In a country where we constantly bemoan the lack of national assets, let us start by supporting the ones we already have.

Murad vs Ghulam Rasul – thoughts on a civilian shot to death by a ranger

*An edited version of the following post appeared in The Express Tribune Blogs on July 18, 2013

**Another edited version of the following post appeared in The Express Tribune’s Editorial and Opinion on July 19th, 2013

Yesterday, Murad, a taxi driver, was shot dead in front of his 4 year old son by Ghulam Rasul, a Rangers soldier. Witness accounts suggest Murad was asked to stop his vehicle and as he reversed towards the rangers, he was greeted with four bullets to the chest. Ghulam Rasul has been apprehended and four other rangers have been suspended due to their involvement in the incident as of the publication of this post.

Before we delve into debates about the army, morality, or the legality of this incident, let us take a moment to acknowledge the many human lives that were devastated by this one incident alone. It’s not about losing Murad but also about the many others directly impacted by the incident. Murad’s four year old son who witnessed this trauma; Murad’s other dependents; Ghulam Rasul and his family who will be reminded of his actions for the rest of their lives. We cannot value a human life as an economic utility function-if the HRCP reported 1,726 official deaths in the first six months of this year, it does not make additional deaths any less significant.

This incident can be presented in many forms- did Ghulam Rasul have a right to shoot? Did Murad have the right to safe passage? Should Ghulam Rasul have opted for an alternative course of action? Should Murad have stopped as indicated by the rangers? Nested within those questions are arguments that are philosophical, ethical, and even religious in nature.

The ranger’s duty is to protect its citizens yet too often this has not been the case. Ghulam Haider’s unfortunate death roughly a month and a half ago was eerily similar. It is important to note that while these incidents cannot be classified as a trend on their own, they can be used to debunk the myth of shoot on sight. If shoot in case of refusal to stop was an order, we would have seen more of these incidents. Are we to believe only two drivers in the past forty five days refused to stop when asked to by authorities? Another argument that contradicts this popular theory would be the locations and the professions of those killed- can we imagine a similar incident happening in the more ‘prestigious’ parts of city to seemingly ‘white-collared’ persons?

It is retrospect which allows us to analyze the incidents and the facts and strongly form an opinion one way or the other. However, Ghulam Rasul did not have that luxury. He had moments after a vehicle he flagged to stop reversed back towards him- this is not a justification of his actions but a presentation of facts. In the uncountable times that Ghulam Rasul will go over this incident in his head, he will no doubt explore the many other alternative courses of actions he could have pursued. We can propose he should have opted for the tyres and we can discuss why we shot blindly with a child present in the vehicle. It is not unfair of us to expect a cooler head- Ghulam Rasul is a ranger’s personnel. He was not picked from the streets and handed a gun; he went through intense physical and mental training and that’s the disappointment.

Rangers are no strangers to being attacked themselves- perhaps Ghulam Rasul acted instinctively and in self-defence. Did he need a defence when he was armed and surrounded by other rangers? It’s subjective. We have seen solitary suicide members attack rangers before and if we argue that Ghulam Rasul should have waited, we are lending credence to lack of action we bemoan when suicide bombers are able to carry out their activities.

Such incidents can easily be caused by a rogue mind. Rather than simply inspecting the action, we need to analyze the aftermath of such actions rigorously- who was Ghulam Rasul taken in custody by? Was it his colleagues? Was it the police? Will he be shielded by his institution or hung out to dry? Will the state provide for Murad’s young son to go through ample recovery process? Will the rangers do the same? Will we vilify the incident as rangers being abusive or will we try it fairly? Are the rangers being abusive indeed? Are there internal checks to prevent potential abuses of power? Do we even train our rangers for special civilian protection tailored specifically for cities like Karachi and Quetta?

Just like we lament a few bad seeds for giving Pakistan a bad name globally, we cannot be hypocritical and blame the entire institution of rangers for the actions of a few elements. It is easy to forget the many violent outcomes averted because of the proactive actions of the rangers because they never make the popular media. Rangers do their job discreetly- had Murad indeed been a terrorist then this incident would have been glossed over and forgotten soon. We should not treat this as a case against the rangers- Ghulam Rasul should be tried on the basis of the incident alone. Most importantly, however, his role as a ranger cannot be undermined but extra care should be taken it does not protect him as well.

 

Thoughts on Malala’s speech- what is education anyways?

“Our books and our pens are the most powerful weapons” Malala Yousufzai.

When Malala Yousafzai addressed the United Nations yesterday, she echoed a wide majority of Pakistanis who believe education is our only hope going forward. It is the most readily bandied about answer to the problems faced by Pakistan today. Off the top of my head; terrorism, religious fundamentalism, fragile economy, corrupt politics, wayward sports stars, unoriginal Lollywood and eternal domination over India jump to mind. The list is long and exhaustive and we naively assume that education would resolve all that.

However, what kind of an education are we talking about? Is this the state sanctioned curriculum taught in most of Pakistan’s public and private schools or is it the privileged foreign systems (O/A Levels, IB) that look down upon its domestic counterpart? I believe that while education has rightly been earmarked as a root cause of our present issues, we struggle to accept that a right education leads to questions being asked. To avoid those uncomfortable questions, we, the people and the state, stick to false discourses we have fooled ourselves to believe to be true and no progress takes place.

A friend recently suggested if he had the power to do so, he would re-examine and replace the history books in Pakistan. He proposed starting at Muhammad bin Qasim’s arrival in Sindh and presenting both the beneficial and cruel sides of subsequent Muslim domination. An example he quoted was Mahmud of Ghazni and the sacking of the Temple of Somnath- an incident discussed with much pride in our history books. Conveniently, we forget that this was also a greedy onslaught on a religious place of worship. Another example is the Babri Masjid in India which was built after Babur, the first Mughal emperor, demolished an existing Hindu temple. We loudly condemn the extremist elements in India which advocated the 1992 attacks on the mosque but maintain a hypocritical silence on the original demolishing of the Hindu temple.

Similar examples exist all the way up to the modern day history- the war of 1965 which Pakistan ‘won’. How we ‘won’ with the Indian troops almost on the gates of Lahore was up until recently never acknowledged, let alone answered. The war of 1971 was nothing but a result of India’s vengeance borne out of the partition. The gross misrepresentation of East Pakistan in politics prior to 1971 and the brutal violence administered against the Bengali’s by the Pakistani Army during the war is glossed over and erased from our history books. We do not mention the ongoing Baluchistan secessions or their history or their demands. We do not mention the extreme instability that gripped Karachi in the 1980’s or the ethnic reasons that led to it. In our history books, Pakistan is a strong, Muslim country- we are the saviours of Islam and champions of everything else.

Do we really want to continue educating our children with the tailored history we have weaved for ourselves?

Another noticeable absence is the study of philosophy. We are proud of our literary heritage and often brand about Iqbal as an example- we talk about his khudi (self) and his love for Islam. We discuss his Shikwa and Jawab-e-Shikwa more than his doctoral thesis. This is an understatement to the man who spent his life in the service of philosophy and asking questions about the purpose of existence. We forget that an entire generation of revolutionary poets like Faiz and Jalib were raised and inspired on philosophies widely different from those around them. We have been confined to the boundaries of religion and all questions are considered heretic. In an increasingly questioning world, it is only a matter of time before the approach of thrusting down religion on our children, instead of explaining it rationally, backfires. Education is nothing without philosophy- philosophy teaches you to think beyond the literal. It encourages you to accept different opinions and explore new avenues. It forces you to rethink your morals and values and to decide for yourself. I firmly believe Iqbal would be happier with his progeny studying philosophy instead of simply reciting khudi ko kar buland itna meaninglessly.

I think we are correct in identifying education as a primary issue that needs to be addressed but are terribly off target in how to go about it. To everybody who accepts that education is the answer- I ask you this. Are we willing to let go of the historical stories we’ve been told and listen to the historical stories the rest of the world tells? Are we willing to let go of the prejudices we grew up with? Are we willing to recognize our duties to the state we live in? Are we willing to be questioned by the younger generation on topics like religion and culture without being offended? Are we willing to admit that we messed up but are ready to move on? And most importantly, are we willing to educate ourselves instead of educating everybody else?