I was told this week of a traveling art show that will be coming to Islamabad’s National Art Gallery in early May. Quite grand and originally conceived to be a sort of local MoMA, the only thing the NAG usually exhibits is stale air. The exhibition is a traveling show called “The Massacre of the Innocents” and is billed as Pakistani artists’ response to the Peshawar massacre of schoolchildren that happened in December 2014, though I’m sure I needn’t remind you of that. Or maybe I do.
I was jolted when I learned about the subject matter, not only because of the awful things that happened in Peshawar but because I was reminded of the awful things that happened. It disturbed me to have to be reminded. Did that mean I had forgotten, even briefly? The pain, the visceral helplessness I felt after that awful tragedy stayed fresh in my mind like a wound that bled every day I woke up, for months, as it did in the national consciousness. To be reminded meant I was thinking of other things now, that the wound had scabbed and only hurt occasionally rather than daily. I have the luxury of this scab because I was not directly affected by the massacre. I did not lose my child, sister or nephew. That made me feel both guilty and complicit somehow.
Then I began thinking of all the other things that affected me deeply – the tragedies, murders, massacres, assassination attempts, the kidnappings, the lynchings, the rapes, the burning of Christians and the torture of Shias – to see how much I had forgotten and just how deep I had buried the corpses. The more I thought about them, the more I wanted to forget. I imagine it’s a symptom of the PTSD that everyone living in this highly violent, extremely intolerant place must contend with in order to survive. How can you or I or anyone keep a tally of all these wrongs and still get out of bed everyday? If you did you wouldn’t be able to read the newspapers without remembering every journalist that has been shot, or killed or discovered lifeless in a ditch because of the things they thought or said. More importantly, how can you memorialize something that isn’t over yet and can have no justice? Unknown assailant, that blanket terms covering everything from religious extremism to state sponsored terrorism, is like an invisibility cloak. No one is ever brought to justice for these crimes. We know no one will.
Last week’s assassination of Sabeen Mahmud was the latest in a very long line of tragedies that affected us. I had been aware of her T2F gallery for many years and had heard abouts its various events regularly from folks in Karachi. It was the first place of its kind in Pakistan and eventually inspired similar places in Lahore and Islamabad (I want to mention them but I’m paranoid nowadays). She was shot while sitting in a car coming back from a program she had hosted on Balochistan. She was shot at in a car, much like Raza Rumi. Much like Hamid Mir. But she didn’t surivie the attack and is now dead, as is another small piece of the soul of this country. How many more it has left to give is not something I think I want to know.
I say the tragedy affected ‘us’ but I should clarify what that means. ‘Us’ means liberal left-leaning individuals who think secularism is a good idea and that everyone is entitled to their opinion. ‘Us’ is a very small beleaguered group that will not survive long at all. I make the distinction because even a general statement of support for Sabeen online inspired a host of responses that were startling, if only because they were so boldfaced in presenting a corrupted and misguided agenda.
Sabeen Mahmud was murdered because she dared to bring attention to the state’s ongoing pogrom in Balochistan. It was the same reason Hamid Mir was targeted. This was the same talk that LUMS cancelled because the ISI told it to. It was the same program that now has Islamabad’s Kuch Khaas under threat of closure because they hosted it after LUMS didn’t. There is a pattern spelling out a clear message here: Talk about what’s happening in Balochistan and we will kill you. And get away with it.
The way it’s been framed now by rightwing forces on TV (and in government and online) is that if you talk about Balochistan, you are doing so to defame Pakistan in the eyes of China, all so that India can triumph. To engage with a mind that can think this is what public discourse now is. “Salmaan Taseer was a blasphemer, Raza Rumi an agent, Malala a stooge and Sabeen a defamer.”
One guy wrote to me asking me who I thought I was by defaming the armed forces of the country, though I had made no mention of them. I was confused so I went to his profile and saw he lived in the UK and has been for 20 years. I was tempted to write back “Dear Douchebag, they are not your armed forces. They are my armed forces. I live in this country. You don’t. Sincerely, Up Yours.” But there isn’t really any point, is there? This murder is, sadly, the latest reminder that this country will have no critical discourse or dissent. The only reason it’s not a lawless Afghanistan already is because it has a nuclear weapon and too many powers are invested in maintaining control over that.
Things like art shows, op-eds and memorials may occasionally convince ‘us’ that free thinking is still possible here. But remember that the NAG stands empty and blank most of the year. Remember, and then forget.
Write to thekantawala@gmail.com and follow @fkantawala on twitter
I was jolted when I learned about the subject matter, not only because of the awful things that happened in Peshawar but because I was reminded of the awful things that happened. It disturbed me to have to be reminded. Did that mean I had forgotten, even briefly? The pain, the visceral helplessness I felt after that awful tragedy stayed fresh in my mind like a wound that bled every day I woke up, for months, as it did in the national consciousness. To be reminded meant I was thinking of other things now, that the wound had scabbed and only hurt occasionally rather than daily. I have the luxury of this scab because I was not directly affected by the massacre. I did not lose my child, sister or nephew. That made me feel both guilty and complicit somehow.
Then I began thinking of all the other things that affected me deeply – the tragedies, murders, massacres, assassination attempts, the kidnappings, the lynchings, the rapes, the burning of Christians and the torture of Shias – to see how much I had forgotten and just how deep I had buried the corpses. The more I thought about them, the more I wanted to forget. I imagine it’s a symptom of the PTSD that everyone living in this highly violent, extremely intolerant place must contend with in order to survive. How can you or I or anyone keep a tally of all these wrongs and still get out of bed everyday? If you did you wouldn’t be able to read the newspapers without remembering every journalist that has been shot, or killed or discovered lifeless in a ditch because of the things they thought or said. More importantly, how can you memorialize something that isn’t over yet and can have no justice? Unknown assailant, that blanket terms covering everything from religious extremism to state sponsored terrorism, is like an invisibility cloak. No one is ever brought to justice for these crimes. We know no one will.
"Dear Douchebag, I live in this country. You don't. Sincerely, Up Yours"
Last week’s assassination of Sabeen Mahmud was the latest in a very long line of tragedies that affected us. I had been aware of her T2F gallery for many years and had heard abouts its various events regularly from folks in Karachi. It was the first place of its kind in Pakistan and eventually inspired similar places in Lahore and Islamabad (I want to mention them but I’m paranoid nowadays). She was shot while sitting in a car coming back from a program she had hosted on Balochistan. She was shot at in a car, much like Raza Rumi. Much like Hamid Mir. But she didn’t surivie the attack and is now dead, as is another small piece of the soul of this country. How many more it has left to give is not something I think I want to know.
I say the tragedy affected ‘us’ but I should clarify what that means. ‘Us’ means liberal left-leaning individuals who think secularism is a good idea and that everyone is entitled to their opinion. ‘Us’ is a very small beleaguered group that will not survive long at all. I make the distinction because even a general statement of support for Sabeen online inspired a host of responses that were startling, if only because they were so boldfaced in presenting a corrupted and misguided agenda.
Sabeen Mahmud was murdered because she dared to bring attention to the state’s ongoing pogrom in Balochistan. It was the same reason Hamid Mir was targeted. This was the same talk that LUMS cancelled because the ISI told it to. It was the same program that now has Islamabad’s Kuch Khaas under threat of closure because they hosted it after LUMS didn’t. There is a pattern spelling out a clear message here: Talk about what’s happening in Balochistan and we will kill you. And get away with it.
The way it’s been framed now by rightwing forces on TV (and in government and online) is that if you talk about Balochistan, you are doing so to defame Pakistan in the eyes of China, all so that India can triumph. To engage with a mind that can think this is what public discourse now is. “Salmaan Taseer was a blasphemer, Raza Rumi an agent, Malala a stooge and Sabeen a defamer.”
One guy wrote to me asking me who I thought I was by defaming the armed forces of the country, though I had made no mention of them. I was confused so I went to his profile and saw he lived in the UK and has been for 20 years. I was tempted to write back “Dear Douchebag, they are not your armed forces. They are my armed forces. I live in this country. You don’t. Sincerely, Up Yours.” But there isn’t really any point, is there? This murder is, sadly, the latest reminder that this country will have no critical discourse or dissent. The only reason it’s not a lawless Afghanistan already is because it has a nuclear weapon and too many powers are invested in maintaining control over that.
Things like art shows, op-eds and memorials may occasionally convince ‘us’ that free thinking is still possible here. But remember that the NAG stands empty and blank most of the year. Remember, and then forget.
Write to thekantawala@gmail.com and follow @fkantawala on twitter