The daughters also rise, sort of
If Fiza, Maryam & Aseefa want to be seen as leaders, they need to move out of shadows of inheritances, media managers.
You know it’s election season when the scions of Pakistan’s political dynasties are trotted out to reassure their subjects that the line of succession is healthy and will continue into the coming decades. It’s much like, in times of yore, when a King or Emperor would assign his favoured sons to a prime governorship or military command as proof of the bloodline’s health and vigour. You’d know who was in favour when court poets would extol their virtues and artists would present their best side, quite literally in the case of Mughal miniaturists, to the adoring (or subjugated) masses.
We’re witnessing quite the same phenomenon in Pakistan, possibly as a corollary of our apparent status as the successor state to the Mughal Empire. Of course, in keeping with these enlightened times, it’s not just the sons who are getting the limelight, but the daughters as well. For Maryam Nawaz Sharif, the chosen cause seems to be youth outreach, what with the distribution of laptops and all. For Fiza Gilani, it’s women’s empowerment and championing the BISP, the NRSP and at least one other abbreviated programme. For Aseefa Bhutto-Zardari, it’s polio vaccinations.
One could ask why Ms Sharif, who is clearly not a member of the Punjab government, is distributing laptops to students, or why Ms Gilani is the goodwill ambassador for women’s empowerment when her own empowerment is solely due to her father’s political standing. With Ms Bhutto, the choice of championing polio vaccinations is a smarter call, given her late mothers’ own involvement with this cause. Of course, how much of this is a political stunt and how much is true conviction, remains to be seen. One could ask these questions, but the answer won’t change: they’re chosen because of who their parents are.
But here’s the rub: these ladies may well be passionate about their causes and may well believe in what they’re doing but given the ham-handed way in which their media interactions are handled, we’ll never know.
That’s because in place of the court poets of the past, we now have media managers, whose job it is to line up interviews and make sure the ‘correct’ image is presented to the public. This results in a completely sanitised and squeaky-clean image that, quite frankly, no one in their right mind would buy.
Granted, journalists and politicians have a symbiotic relationship: journos need politicians for news, information and leaks, as well as for the explosive soundbite that would enliven an otherwise slow news day. In return, politicians need coverage and projection. It’s a give and take relationship in which a careful balance has to be maintained on the part of the journalist in particular. Lean too far towards a certain politician or party and you risk being labelled as their ‘agent’. While the resulting favours may be tempting, one’s credibility suffers an often mortal blow.
But the airbrushed images we get of the ladies in question don’t serve their purposes either. Pakistanis are a savvy lot and sceptical to the point of paranoia. We know a fluff job when we see one and thus far, fluff jobs are all we’ve seen. Those entrusted with guarding their political images would do well to take a look at the stream of negative comments that inevitably follow any such piece. Granted, some can be credited to the general disdain for political dynasties and others can be attributed to the trolls that will flock to just about any story, but the stream of invective is mostly because most of us can differentiate content from crap.
Ms Gilani, Ms Sharif and Ms Bhutto may all have been born with a political silver spoon in their mouths, but if they want to be seen as leaders, or even people in their own right, then they need to move out of the shadows of their inheritances and media managers to let us see them as they are, warts and all. We deserve it, and they need it.
Published in The Express Tribune, August 30th, 2012.
We’re witnessing quite the same phenomenon in Pakistan, possibly as a corollary of our apparent status as the successor state to the Mughal Empire. Of course, in keeping with these enlightened times, it’s not just the sons who are getting the limelight, but the daughters as well. For Maryam Nawaz Sharif, the chosen cause seems to be youth outreach, what with the distribution of laptops and all. For Fiza Gilani, it’s women’s empowerment and championing the BISP, the NRSP and at least one other abbreviated programme. For Aseefa Bhutto-Zardari, it’s polio vaccinations.
One could ask why Ms Sharif, who is clearly not a member of the Punjab government, is distributing laptops to students, or why Ms Gilani is the goodwill ambassador for women’s empowerment when her own empowerment is solely due to her father’s political standing. With Ms Bhutto, the choice of championing polio vaccinations is a smarter call, given her late mothers’ own involvement with this cause. Of course, how much of this is a political stunt and how much is true conviction, remains to be seen. One could ask these questions, but the answer won’t change: they’re chosen because of who their parents are.
But here’s the rub: these ladies may well be passionate about their causes and may well believe in what they’re doing but given the ham-handed way in which their media interactions are handled, we’ll never know.
That’s because in place of the court poets of the past, we now have media managers, whose job it is to line up interviews and make sure the ‘correct’ image is presented to the public. This results in a completely sanitised and squeaky-clean image that, quite frankly, no one in their right mind would buy.
Granted, journalists and politicians have a symbiotic relationship: journos need politicians for news, information and leaks, as well as for the explosive soundbite that would enliven an otherwise slow news day. In return, politicians need coverage and projection. It’s a give and take relationship in which a careful balance has to be maintained on the part of the journalist in particular. Lean too far towards a certain politician or party and you risk being labelled as their ‘agent’. While the resulting favours may be tempting, one’s credibility suffers an often mortal blow.
But the airbrushed images we get of the ladies in question don’t serve their purposes either. Pakistanis are a savvy lot and sceptical to the point of paranoia. We know a fluff job when we see one and thus far, fluff jobs are all we’ve seen. Those entrusted with guarding their political images would do well to take a look at the stream of negative comments that inevitably follow any such piece. Granted, some can be credited to the general disdain for political dynasties and others can be attributed to the trolls that will flock to just about any story, but the stream of invective is mostly because most of us can differentiate content from crap.
Ms Gilani, Ms Sharif and Ms Bhutto may all have been born with a political silver spoon in their mouths, but if they want to be seen as leaders, or even people in their own right, then they need to move out of the shadows of their inheritances and media managers to let us see them as they are, warts and all. We deserve it, and they need it.
Published in The Express Tribune, August 30th, 2012.