That security threats compelled organisers of the Lahore Literary Festival (LLF) to slash a three-day schedule down to just one day presents a conundrum to observers. They have to grapple with whether it is or isn’t appropriate to subject the festival to the same level of scrutiny that would have been warranted had an alleged bomb not exploded in Lahore’s Z block a day before it was scheduled to kick off.

One route is to shelve critical analysis in favour of morale-boosting, ego-bolstering praise that makes liberal use of the word ‘resilience.’ Most commonly read in the foreign press and written by whichever (usually white) correspondent happens to be in Pakistan at the time, this route is now largely passé. To this we owe thanks in part to a foreign journalist whose piece on the Karachi Literature Festival (KLF) some years ago was badly received and critiqued for exoticising Pakistan.

But we can’t dismiss outright the circumstances in which the LLF was hosted. Though it’s probably true that the LLF’s organisers had more to lose in cancelling the lit fest than by presenting us with a truncated agenda, their last-minute scrambles — for a venue, for a means of shortening their agenda with minimal disruption and inconvenience to their speakers — ought to be applauded. Beyond this, we have to take the fest for what it was.

Kudos for pulling off the LLF given the recent state of affairs, but more conversation is needed

In its fifth year now, the LLF continues with its tradition of marrying high-profile international speakers with both established and emerging Pakistani talent. It differs from the KLF in that the LLF’s foreign panellists aren’t necessarily directly relevant to Pakistan. This isn’t a knock on the LLF — it’s actually quite refreshing and presents us with opportunities to either indulge in flights of fancy or create links between genres and ideas where none existed before.

Take this year’s inclusion of Michael Palin and Molly Crabapple. The festival kicked off with a session with British actor Palin (of Monty Python fame). While Palin couldn’t — and shouldn’t be expected to — meaningfully engage with the average Pakistani’s concerns or our literary tradition, his presence took the edge off an otherwise highly charged and serious series of talks. It also brought legions of Monty Python fans out of the woodwork. Who knew so many of them resided in Lahore?

American artist and illustrator Molly Crabapple was an unexpected treat, too. She brought the audience crashing back to earth in her session titled ‘Art in the Age of Fascism’ with Salima Hashmi. Her take on art’s democratisation and on the importance of pushing back against populist nationalism through literature was incredibly relevant — and at times painfully ironic. At one point she said: “For art to mean anything under authoritarianism, artists cannot ensconce themselves in wealthy enclaves.” This kind of talk in a heavily barricaded luxury hotel filled with Lahore’s elite ought to serve as a reminder that we simply can’t let security concerns cut off literature festivals and other cultural events from the general public. This defeats their entire purpose. We have to find a better way to cope.

While the foreign speakers fared well, local panellists frequently floundered. This wasn’t so much their fault as it was a flaw in the LLF’s programming. Ayesha Jalal and William Dalrymple were badly matched in their session ‘Pakistan at 70’. Dalrymple’s amiable charm didn’t offer the provocation necessary to counterbalance Jalal’s unapologetic scholarly competence and draw forth engaging insights.

Mohsin Hamid’s conversation with Teju Cole would have fared better had a host been thrown into the mix. After all, when two equally accomplished writers appear on stage together, is it fair to expect each to periodically suspend his own conversational agenda and relinquish the spotlight to serve as a moderator for the other? This requires a complete and total shift in focus, which is obviously difficult to sustain, which meant Hamid and Cole talked at and around each other rather than engaging in sincere interrogation. The question and answer session that followed their conversation was so much more effective.

Much the same happened in Kamila Shamsie’s talk with Daniyal Mueenuddin, with the added complication that Mueenudin’s new book appears to be at least a year or so away from publication. Featuring him so prominently felt like jumping the gun.

Luckily, at the launch of Hamid’s newly-released title Exit West, Dwight Garner, book critic for the New York Times did justice to his role as the session’s moderator, plucking from Hamid fascinating personal details and anecdotes through close and careful questioning. Garner’s attention to detail and obvious attachment to literature elevated the conversation, casting both subject and moderator in a pretty fantastic light. I hope this serves as proof that selecting a moderator is just as important to a panel’s success as choosing who to feature as its main attraction.

The LLF continued to gather steam during an inspiring session with humanitarian and philanthropist Dr Adeeb Rizvi, which culminated in Dr Rizvi being given a lifetime achievement award for his invaluable efforts to uplift Pakistan’s medical services. A planned session with Tehmina Durrani on Abdul Sattar Edhi was expected to be similarly uplifting.

The only other obvious snag in all this was the niggling awareness that half of the LLF’s agenda had been axed to fit the festival into one day, which meant some sort of hierarchy of a speaker’s value was at play. And considering this, it felt unfair that some speakers were featured twice in the truncated schedule.

I can’t think of a valid reason why anyone other than the festival’s headline acts should have featured twice in any panel. Surely a cancelled speaker could have taken their place? Perhaps there might have been room enough to fit at least two of the axed book launches or talks into the space of the sessions that weren’t obvious crowd-pullers. Still, it was encouraging how much relevant conversation was had during just one day. Fake news, writing through war and trauma and migration, Pakistani heroes and Pakistani films — these subjects needed to be unpacked, and attempts were made to unpack them all.

Questions do remain, such as who are these conversations relevant to, and are we being honest about the agendas of Pakistani literature festivals? I don’t think answers will be found by turning inwards. As the LLF (and the KLF) gear up for next year, perhaps they can find a way to pose these questions to their large audiences instead of just their organisers and financial backers.

After all, culture is conversation, and the Pakistani reader deserves to be heard.

Correction: An earlier version of this piece implied that a session on Abdul Sattar Edhi with Tehmina Durrani had taken place. The error is regretted.

The writer is a member of staff

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, March 5th, 2017