There is much to learn from last week’s events concerning the viral image of a sculpture of Allama Iqbal in Gulshan-i-Iqbal Park, Lahore. It brewed up quite a storm on social media. The images were accompanied by varying types of commentary as they did the rounds on Facebook, Whatsapp and Twitter. Much of the criticism seemed to have been aimed at the government or whichever administration was responsible. But if one endeavours to venture beyond the surface-level reading of the comments, multi-layered, often witty and deeper commentary on society itself can be seen.

As an indicator of how the world has changed, even if people might not want to admit to it, the outrage on social media poured out into the real world. Within a matter of hours, it had reached the political leadership, which in turn, informed the public, through social media, about their intention of removing the sculpture. A day later, the sculpture had been dismantled.

Around the same time, a backstory emerged about the gardeners of the park having been the creators of the sculpture. This story also spread around on social media, quickly changing the public’s mood and perception of it. Some quarters did view it with scepticism, though this is not important.

This chain of events tells us a great deal about ourselves. Not only did the public react late, as by some accounts the sculpture had been up since November of last year, but it reacted with full force, ridiculing the sculpture with only partial information to go on. As with all public art, the artist or the artist’s intent is not always obvious on first glance.

We are an impatient society with even lower levels of tolerance as time goes by. Even when we have only partial information available to us, we are quick to judge, and equally quick to go back on our words.

Some snobby upper-class assumptions about the lack of the general public’s ability to understand art have proven false. What we have learnt from this chain of events is that the public definitely understands what art is, even if they are not aware of it. They just don’t respond to objects such as gigantic fiberglass flowers in the green belts on The Mall, as they have no value in their eyes. But the moment a sculpture pops up that depicts a national personality, it hits a nerve. When the subject matter holds importance for people, they respond. Suddenly, everyone has an opinion. In this case, the outrage was caused by nationalist sentiments. And why not? It is a perfectly legitimate reason, as are many others.

We have also learnt that the public has a collective sense of aesthetics. Almost everyone sensed that there was something wrong with the sculpture. Once the story about the gardeners became public, their lack of skill and aesthetic deficiency became a secondary issue. This is the reason also why we don’t look at children’s drawings and ridicule them for their skill. In the loosest terms, this is the issue of the artist’s intent. Almost everyone’s gaze changed when the intent of the artist became evident. Thus, the childlike representation of the national poet became endearing.

Unfortunately, the sculpture was taken down with such speed that the discourse on what should be the future course of action regarding art in the public realm has suddenly ceased. Many have also spoken up about the demoralisation of the gardeners, and though much too late, others have shown their support for keeping the sculpture in place.

There are many arguments to be made in support of this. Community art is an important activity, used in many parts of the world for social cohesion and increasing the stakeholder’s ownership of their space. Public art is necessary, especially in art-starved cities, such as the ones here in Pakistan. Public art and monuments are as much part of the identity of a city as are its buildings. So how should we decide what public art goes up and what doesn’t? And is there a space for community art? Our reaction to this piece of public art has been as problematic as has been the reaction by the government to instantaneously remove it.

There was some criticism of the Punjab chief minister as well, for taking out time himself to order an inquiry into the installation of the sculpture at Gulshan-i-Iqbal Park. Maybe this was not such a bad thing. Public art is an issue of how we identify ourselves as a people. Maybe it should also be taken as an issue of national and provincial importance.

Many courses of action are still open. There are many models to choose from and examples to emulate from around the world. The first question we need to answer is; how do we decide how public art is commissioned? Should this decision be left to the administrative heads of organisations to commission pieces of public art within their own jurisdictions? Generally, the criticism around this approach is usually of financial mismanagement.

A more pertinent question would be: which artist is to be commissioned to carry out the work? In places where the importance and impact of art is understood, those in charge place the responsibility of the creation of public art in the hands of the most important and critically acclaimed artists. In the last few decades, some public art installations have garnered international acclaim from artists and architects such as Thomas Heatherwick, Sir Anish Kapoor and Jeff Koons, to name a few. This is not a foreign concept to Pakistan, for there was a time when public art projects were awarded to great artists such as Sadequain and Zahoor ul Akhlaq.

The sensible way forward would be to formulate a council for the commissioning of, conducting competitions for, and awarding projects dealing with the design of monuments and creation and installation of public art. The commission should consist of academics and practitioners of art, design, architecture, and urban design (depending on the nature of the project).

Though it is understood and deemed necessary that government officials be on the committee, a majority of the members should be professionals so that the projects can be formulated and judged based on their artistic and technical merits.

As harmless as this event has been, it has shown how powerful art can be, even in our art-deprived public spaces. Although, this case was special, the sculpture was so bad technically that everyone initially agreed that it had no place being in the public realm.

Though public sentiments have shifted, the sculpture’s aesthetics are not in question. Maybe, a national competition should be called for a monument to Iqbal in the park that bears his name.

The current site could also be used as a place for community art projects. The displays could be on rotation with different exhibits being put up quarterly or annually. The involvement of the community would increase their ownership of the space. And maybe there should also be some space for the gardeners to express themselves.

Public art is political and contentious. It is how we celebrate our heroes and commemorate events. It is how we mark a point in time and represent our ideals. It is how we proclaim our victories and mourn our losses. Public art is important because it is an image of how we see ourselves.

The writer is an architect and conservationist and an assistant professor at COMSATS University Islamabad, Lahore Campus. He holds an MSc in Conservation of Cultural Heritage from the Middle East Technical University in Turkey. He has previously taught at the National College of Arts, Lahore and served as in-charge of the NCA Archives