On satire

One of the problems in Pakistan — and there are many — is that we take rich and powerful people too seriously. This almost national constant is why we often see people standing, their hands tied in front of their bodies, almost as if in prayer, with stupid grins on their faces whenever they happen to be in the presence of either of the two. This is why one can spot social hierarchies merely by noting how people sit on chairs. The less important person will sit back upright, often adopting the classic servile position: one buttock on and one buttock off the chair they’re sitting on.

But beyond looking silly in public, taking rich and powerful people too seriously makes us accept what they say without critical analysis. Too much “yes, sir. Excellent, sir” and too much respect-your-elders-because-they’re-your-elders means too little “what do you mean?” and “you can’t be serious with that ridiculous idea”.

This has got to stop. (Not the classic servile seating position — that’s hilarious.) Of course, the best weapon to bring about this change is satire.

Satire doesn’t necessarily mean you take things less seriously. Satire is being able to make people look silly while still playing by their rules. It allows us to keep our humour – and our heads – when everything around us is going to hell in a hand basket.

Satire in Pakistan is rare. This is strange because, like nowhere else, Pakistan does give one plenty to be satirical about. It existed at one point, on television, with shows like 50/50. But when the take-rich-and-power-people-seriously bug caught on, shows like PTV’s wildly successful broadcasts in the 1980s of the BBC classic “Yes Minister” quietly went off air. Some people blame General Zia for the death of satire, but I think that’s going too far. There are many things that can be pinned on that ghost, but the legacy of taking rich and powerful people seriously is, I think, not one of them. Some years ago on electronic media Fasi Zaka, with a push and shove from George Fulton et al, led a charge of a new satire brigade with the brilliant “News, Views & Confused”.

There are plenty of notable mentions I just don’t have the space to acknowledge (but, at the top of the list, some Geo TV programming, Sami Shah and Saad Haroon). Most recently, however, Naked Tyrant Productions has taken the mirror and shoved it at our collective faces. Last year, three Lahoris  – Akber Ali Khan, Abdul Nusrat and Haroon Monnoo – were noticed for “Sunday Magazeeen,” a hilarious take on the social pages and social attitudes. This year, they’ve proved they’re not one-hit wonders and have come up with a three skit spoof called “CSI: Lahore” and a brilliant take on an annoying Lipton ad.

Naked Tyrant doesn’t pull its punches in that classical, Urdu ‘adab’ Anwar Maqsood way. It’s not polite. Why should it be? Jon Stewart once said that all satire was a form of catharsis. By that standard, satire in Pakistan should bite. It should offend. It should be rude to its elders.

The decision by the film censor board not to give Tere Bin Laden permission to be screened in Pakistan because of fear of retaliation also needs to be commented on. The board made its decision because it thought that the satirical portrayal of Osama Bin Laden might offend extremist groups and provoke some manner of retaliation. Their fear may be understandable but the board has also, unwittingly, assumed that Pakistani’s can’t laugh at themselves. And that’s simply not true.

Published in The Express Tribune, July 31^st, 2010.