The relationship between cultural practices and the policies of various governments in Pakistan has been frequently paradoxical, often devious and sometimes opaque. President Iskandar Mirza’s One Unit narrative pitched West Pakistan against the East, producing the appearance of two separate entities having two different cultures. Presidents Ayub Khan and Pervez Musharraf, on the other hand, were very supportive of the cultural practices not overly imbued with ideology that helped in institutionalising it. The Zial ul Haq regime was particularly disastrous as it actively encouraged cultural expression to become a handmaiden to religion. It crushed those who saw Pakistani culture as an organically evolving process that refused to be tagged exclusively to a religiously driven ideology.

As flag bearers and poster icons of the authoritarian rule, the soldier presidents emphasised standardisation: a sameness and centralisation that dictated the cultural profile of the nation. Generals Ayub, Yahya and Zia operated in an environment characterised by strict media control; Gen Musharaff, had to be particularly wily as he functioned in an era of ‘openness’ and ‘diversity’ in the media. The consequences of a fast-moving technological revolution and the changing international climate no longer allowed the rigid media control enjoyed by his predecessors. He was, thus, constrained to use other, more subtle, methods.

Yahya Khan’s two-year term was a whirlwind. Having committed himself to the country’s first one man-one vote general elections, forced him to allow a certain relaxation of the media during the very long election campaign. Though the media, which then consisted of state radio and television and strictly regulated newspapers was far from free, the environment of an extended election campaign created more space for expression and exchange than was probably envisaged by the establishment.

Having been carved out of the Indian landmass, Pakistan was imbued with forms and practices that those who took control of the steering wheels after Independence found too Indian for their tastes. The problem was more intractable in East Pakistan than in the western wing. The minders of the new state decided that it needed a new cultural identity and pushed for it rather insensitively. Authentic voices of the people were ignored, denied and manipulated to serve the ideological concerns of the new country on an ancient land.

Ayub Khan’s government was relatively more firm-footed about the cultural profile of the country. It did not hesitate to take on the religiously inclined brigade that wanted to prescribe narrower tolerances for cultural policy. The cinema flourished; there was a measure of openness about music, dance, theatre and the visual arts, barring what was categorised as Left wing. The Left was snuffed out or went underground. Many invented or learnt diverse ways around the system to survive the decade.

Zia ul Haq was the most bigoted of the lot. His was a very narrow reading of what it meant to carry a national cultural profile. He probably combined the worst of a narrow-scripted view of life as perceived in the military and the religious dogma. The visual arts were discouraged, films left to wither on the vine and theatre shows banned for being either too politically challenging or vulgar. The latter stick has always been used to beat everything not approved by the state sanctimonious brigade. The theatre shows moved to hotels and makeshift venues to escape censorship and adlibbing became a theatrical device to escape the noose of an ever-tightening censorship. Much then in public view, dance, teleplay and music, were given a definite slant if not discouraged outright. This did not augur well for the arts because the hand-me-down recipes curbed basic freedoms. The space for artistic expression narrowed down so much that it came to give the appearance of a command performance.

Even so, there were discrepancies. In Sindh, culture was promoted in an apolitical manner to appease the Sindhis riled up against the elimination of ZA Bhutto. In the Punjab, Lt Gen Ghulam Jilani Khan forced Zia ul Haq’s hands to allow more cultural freedom through the expansion of cultural infrastructure like the arts councils.

Film, too, came under the scalp of censorship. What was allowed to be screened lacked enough meat to be interesting to the audience. The classical forms of music were all but forgotten. Even the popular ghazal gave way to qawwali. The Institute of Folk Heritage was rechristened as Lok Virsa and the Pakistan National Council of the Arts was manipulated in a cavalier style. Favoured playwrights, poets, painters and cultural ideologues received generous grants and doles, while others were banned from the media and made to rot unless they escaped to friendlier climes.

During Musharraf’s term, the establishment of the National Academy of Performing Arts and the Departments of Musicology, and the greater openness evoked a backlash from the conservative sections of the society. Prime Minister Shaukat Aziz’s definition of culture was limited to fashion shows so that the Prime Minister’s House and the embassies abroad showcased Pakistan ‘culture’ through catwalk spectacles.

As the acme of enlightened moderation, cultural practices were pitched as opposite of extremism. Poetry, dance, music, theatre and films were described as antidotes to violence. It was a simple black-and-white binary that could not register the complexity of cultural relationships that often interplayed with a host of other variables.

Even in the worst of dictatorial eras in other countries authoritarian governments have never been as repressive. The cultural practices of their peoples have, therefore, survived. Some have mutated to flower in new forms. This can probably be best described as unintended consequences.

The writer is a culture critic based in Lahore