Visual Podcast-4 years in Pakistan
Mustafa: So where was the next flight to?
Tobias: I lived in Pakistan for four years. When I arrived, a female politician by the name of Benazir Buto was in power. Her husband, who was called Asif, had faced numerous allegations of corruption. While I was there, her brother was assassinated, and then a military coup removed her from power. Our organization had teachers and employees who lived on the street where the assassination happened, so my experience there was characterized by awareness of the challenges associated with a tense socio-political situation.
Mustafa: I find it interesting that your first remark about the location you moved to next are ones that describe politics. This was the case with Yemen as well. Do you attribute that to the fact that the social circles you ran it tended to be engaged with the local political developments?
Tobias: I would say so. My colleagues, whether international or locals, tended to be interested and mentally invested in the politics of the respective country. Many people I knew worked for NGOs, and their engagement in the field of cultural development meant that they were involved in the politics and the cultural scene in general. They tended to be like-minded in that they supported freedom of thought and expression. Our students also tended to have ambitions which were of an international orientation. This birthed a lot of discussions about politics.
Mustafa: Your social circles had an outlook which was global then, but the reality of living within legal restrictions of international borders and jurisdictions created intellectually stimulating conversations which directly and personally affected the individuals in your circles.
What adjectives would you use to describe your life in those 4 years in Pakistan?
Tobias: As I mentioned, I was aware of tensions which could turn violent. Pakistan had undergone the partition of the Indian Subcontinent just a generation earlier. There had been a lot of people who had emigrated out of India, and they clashed with the local population who had already existed in the city I lived in: Karachi. The newcomers felt underrepresented in the politics of the country.
As this preceded the emergence of groups such as Al-Qaeda, Western governments were not too concerned in the local violence that could erupt. There weren’t many safety protocols to speak of, but I felt quite unsafe. For example, vehicles which belonged to our organization were hijacked a number of times with the drivers kidnapped. We were advised not to drive around in fancy cars, so I got a very old, tiny, and rusty Suzuki Alto. Driving that car made me inconspicuous and no one ever bothered me.
Mustafa: A European man wouldn’t be conspicuous?
Tobias: My humble appearance probably obscured me.
Mustafa: A massive city like Karachi in an ethnically diverse country probably meant that skin tones did not identify nationalities. A Caucasian man such as yourself could easily pass for a Pakistani as that country has such a diverse population in terms of ethnic origins.
What else happened in Karachi?
Tobias: The city was very alive: the hustle and the bustle, street noise. My parents also became interested enough and they came to visit.
Mustafa: What about the nightlife or the gay scene?
Tobias: Karachi now probably has a more vibrant night scene. In those days it was just dinners with colleagues. I did not end up getting involved in any romantic interests while there.
Mustafa: What about the art scene and the intellectuals?
Tobias: It was in Pakistan that my interest in the visual arts scene first started. There was a good number of galleries which featured the works of local artists. My organization would also often host art exhibitions. The first painting I ever bought was, in fact, from a Pakistani artist: An architect who ended up moving to Australia. My taste has always nudged me towards the abstract. This particular piece had a couple figures that could be interpreted as abstracted people. Dark blues with touches of yellow and golden hues: acrylic on paper behind glass. It hangs in my place in England now. The art and intellectual scene was very interesting indeed.
Mustafa: We often hear of intellectuals and writers being censored (ab)using blasphemy laws in Pakistan. Was this also the case back then with legal or social censorship? This ties into our experience when we visited art galleries in Dubai. The laws were so restrictive but the local artists did not disappoint me as a visitor in cleverly treading a fine line and experimenting with how far these laws could be stretched, played with, or circumvented.
Tobias: Pakistan, and Karachi in particular, has a such a large population. In those days, if you knew where to look, you could find anything you were looking for. Things are not flaunted overtly in order to antagonize the local culture, but there was a higher degree of freedom that one might expect. One just needed to know where to look.
Mustafa: News headlines in international media often site persecution of free-thinkers there.
Tobias: In the 90s this was rarer. A work contact of mine informed me that 8 years ago there was a heavy clampdown on writers, that is true. Nevertheless, the visual art scene there has grown significantly. Also, when it comes to visual art, the message can be cleverly obscured more easily than with writing. Therefore I think writers find it a lot more difficult with persecution.
Mustafa: In many countries, and indeed in Pakistan, blasphemy laws which restrict freedom of expression are often utilized by people in power. In many cases, these laws are invoked not because they challenge the ruling elite per se, but in an appeal to a majoritic populace which does not grant a minority of free-thinkers the right of self-expression. How was your experience with that, particularly when it came to literature?
Tobias: We did have a large library open for public access at our organization. We did have to make decisions based on what we thought was going to keep us safely open. Perhaps it was a form of self-censorship.
Mustafa: Were there particular protocols in place for such decisions to be made? Or was each book decided on with due discretion?
Tobias: These decisions were made in joint discussions with employees who were local nationals. There was no protocols per se set from the headquarters in London. The expatriate and the local staff were involved. There definitely was a feeling of shouldering a responsibility of the image of the organization as being engaged with society, rather than antagonizing. We had to remain vigilant of the potential implications of allowing certain books to be publically accessible.
Mustafa: Ok. On a separate note, what did you do for fun in Pakistan?
Tobias: As mentioned earlier, there were lots of dinners with colleagues. I also did some travelling despite the safety risks. We went to the swat valley. In those days it was much safer than nowadays. That is where Nobel Prize winner Malala Yousafzai is from. At the moment it would be unthinkable for one to go for tourism there. It was absolutely beautiful.
Other than that, not much went on. The climate was harsh and the politics were tense. We did sometimes go to the beach, but for that we needed to contact the embassy to make sure the roads were open and that there was security clearance. Much of the time roads were blocked. When we did make it to the beach or the harbour, it was quite fun to join local people in crabbing and fishing.
Mustafa: Were most people in society very conservative?
Tobias: It literally depended on which part of town you were in. The wealth disparities were quite shocking.
Mustafa: Yeah, acquaintances of mine who have been to India -especially in major cities like Mumbai- have noted how stark and visible the contrast is between social classes. Luxury highrises seem often to be located in the midst of impoverished slums. I imagine its quite similar in Pakistan where wealthy neighbourhoods are often within walking distance to visible signs of poverty.
Moving on, where did you travel to after Pakistan?
Tobias: My next posting was in Jordan.