y work as an archivist at the University of Cambridge’s Centre of South Asian Studies first brought me to Lahore nearly 10 years ago. On that occasion, I gave a workshop at the Lahore University of Management Studies. It was attended by staff from Archives Departments around the country. I was ‘unpleasantly’ surprised to hear the stories they told of institutional neglect and bureaucratic ignorance which made their work almost impossible and grossly undervalued.

I was told that their staff had been working in unsuitable conditions, trying their best to look after collections in buildings which were not fit for the purpose. Their work was under-funded, and many of the archives they were in charge of could at best be described as ‘under threat’.

And yet, archives are an essential cog in the workings of a responsible and accountable government. These are vital repositories of the history and governance culture of a society. These are not just dusty places in which old documents are kept; they are a critical resource. Without an archive, the history of a society remains unwritten and un-writable, and national stories remain mysteries. Governments can tell their subjects any tale that they want to, and there will be no evidence to contradict them.

There is a reason why authoritarian regimes attack the written records of their country’s history. It is so that they can recast it to suit their own narratives. This process is happening even today: documents are being destroyed, or ‘lost’ somewhere, as you read this article, and they will never surface again.

Yes, archives matter a great deal to scholars and historians, as these are the principal tools of their trade. But these are also of vital import to all of us if we hope to have the chance to assess, criticise, and contribute to the rules by which we live as a society.

A decade (almost) of visits to Lahore later, I sense a sea-change has taken place. I noticed this first at the Masjid Wazir Khan. It is, without doubt, my favourite building. When I first visited it with my dear friend and colleague, Prof Tahir Kamran, it was approached through a side alley, dodging through stalls and puddles. And then this magnificent space opened up in front of me. It felt like a private, secret space. We were the only people there to see the enormous beauty of this stunning, elaborate act of praise and reverence rendered in the form of a building.

It was in a bad way, though. The magnificent fresco work had been crumbling, the bricks and mosaics around the court dulled and damaged by age and neglect. I now make a point of visiting this place every time I am in Lahore.

I have photographed a ‘renaissance’ inside the building in recent years. The entrance has been cleared and made into a focal point. The brickwork and mosaics have been (and continue to be) restored — mostly extremely sensitively — and people have returned to it. I am now never alone when I am visiting the place. This is fabulous, and also an important sign of the change I have noticed on my every visit. Heritage and history are being reassessed and their value recognised.

This change has also been apparent in the way in which archives are being treated in the city and, I think, throughout Pakistan.

There is a reason why authoritarian regimes attack the written records of their country’s history. It is so that they can recast it to suit their own narratives. This process is happening even today.

On my recent trip, at the start of December, I visited a number of archives and met with colleagues who are positively engaged in ambitious projects, or starting new collections, or else working to make sure that their archives are available to as wide an audience as possible. This was perhaps nowhere more evident than at the Punjab State Archives. This collection has been housed in Anarkali’s Tomb in the Secretariat complex for a century.

I know that much has been written about this department in the press, bemoaning the state in which many important papers were stored (or, perhaps, ‘dumped’), but the collection is in the process of being moved. No one told me where it was being moved to, which is a worry, but what I did see was a committed and talented group of staff working on an excellent digitisation programme. Best of all was the condition of the documents that I saw being digitised: they had undergone repair and conservation work which was world-class, beautifully and carefully done. The staff on this digitisation and conservation team need recognition and praise for the diligent and important work that they are doing. I hope they receive it.

(A brief note here on the worry I mentioned about where the documents were being moved to: there was, in the past, an opinion expressed by people in the State Archives that digitisation meant that the collection had been preserved. This is not the case; digitisation only means that papers can be accessed by large numbers of people without any damage being done to the originals. Those documents still need to be stored, however, and looked after. A digitised copy will not last forever, and new versions will need to be created in the future as screen resolutions and file formats change. Digitising just means that the original documents will be in as good a condition as possible when the next digital copy is made.)

I was also lucky to visit the archives at the National College of Arts (NCA), where Dua Sarmad Khan and her colleagues were grappling with their collections and establishing new methods of access and preservation. Their enthusiasm for their subject was infectious and inspiring. Their need for more resources was apparent, but that will come, I am sure, as they convey their excitement about the college’s holdings to all who come into contact with their collection.

I also gave a few talks at the Government College University, which has a new Department of Archive Studies, offering courses to both undergraduate and postgraduate students. This new initiative will be of great importance to collections across the country in the future.

Beaconhouse National University, who hosted me for this visit, was a highlight for me. The students here are clearly talented and enthusiastic, and I spent a very challenging and thought-provoking couple of days with them, talking about archives and their use and importance. We also had discussions on humanities in general. I left impressed and somewhat humbled.

The other principal purpose of my Lahore sojourn was to cast an eye over, and give my thoughts on, the ‘new’ archive recently discovered at the Lahore Fort. The potential to create a new library and archive in a research space which will be a real draw to scholars from around the country and the world, is a rare opportunity. It also signifies just how far we have come in the importance we give to archive collections and research in a relatively short span of time.

The first thought that emerged when this archive was found was that it could become a focal point for a scholarship. The decision about this new collection was not about where it could be housed, but rather about how the space in which it was found could be rebuilt around it, putting the archives at the very centre of the decision-making process.

That was an exciting and significant moment, showing clearly that the care of collections was now centre-stage in heritage projects, and that the importance of the archive was finally recognised and acted upon. Of all the things I saw in the 10 days of my visit, this will be my lasting and most welcome impression. I can’t wait to visit the new library and archive; I hope to see many of you there.

The writer is an archivist at the Centre of South Asian Studies, and vice president of Wolfson College, University of Cambridge, UK