here has been yet another round of crackdowns on theatre performances under the pretext of vulgarity.

From time to time, the authorities awaken to the question of indecency in theatre. This is typically followed by a series of raids: some plays are banned, certain actors barred from performing, and a few producers fined.

The usual complaint is that audiences cannot bring their families – especially women – to these performances because they are deemed too lurid. The entire exercise is then packaged as a moral cleansing campaign, an attempt to ‘cleanse’ theatre and purge it of obscenity and bawdiness – qualities that, ironically, have long been part of live performance traditions in this region.

Theatre in Pakistan has experienced many ups and downs since independence. Some believe that the performing arts exist to reform society. Because performance is seen and heard, rather than read, it is considered an easier medium for improving the moral fibre of a largely illiterate population.

However, an opposing view is that theatre should centre joy and laughter, prioritising its entertainment value. Therein lies the problem: in many societies, laughter is frowned upon, and sex is considered not just taboo but unspeakable – relegated to the status of a four-letter word. Any mention of it invites sanctimonious head-scratching, soul-searching on the causes of moral decline and ultimately, condemnation. For many, sex should be neither seen nor spoken of; it must be erased from language, from the visual and from the performing arts.

Theatre has been navigating this terrain for decades, often forced to wear the cloak of ‘hygienic’ propriety while simultaneously donning a mask of didactic purpose. Yet the focus has consistently been on the content of the performance rather than its quality. The most sacred of themes can be rendered dull without artistic merit, while the most scandalous can be aesthetically pleasing and thought-provoking. Sadly, it is always the subject matter that is scrutinised, with quality left to wither on the vine.

As the film industry declined,song-and-dance numbers based on popular film music became star attractions – the more exaggerated, the more they were applauded.

In truth, vulgarity is often a matter of context. What may seem indecent in isolation could be justified within the coherence of a performance’s form and message. But for society to accept that, it must reach a level of maturity where it can look beyond surface morality and judge art on its merit – not merely on its proximity to the sexual.

Censorship has made theatre dull, reducing approved scripts to insipid outlines. The real energy, then, has had to come from improvisation and ad-libbing. Stand-up comedians have emerged as central figures in this framework, becoming the most vital element of the theatrical package.

Similarly, with no dedicated venues for dance, it has been folded into theatre performances. As the film industry declined, song-and-dance numbers based on popular film music became star attractions – the more exaggerated, the more they were applauded.

Live theatre has also come to fill the vacuum left by the near-total absence of nightlife in most cities. It offers, in its own hybrid form, a substitute for the missing nightclubs and other late-night cultural venues.

Simply clamping down on theatre is now a predictable ritual that momentarily occupies media headlines. What is urgently needed is an improvement in quality. This cannot happen without greater freedom of expression and a willingness to engage with taboos, whether moral or political.

The writer is a Lahore-based culture critic