WHEN the news first came of Aun Ali Khosa having been picked up, the name didn’t strike a bell. Then his pictures began to be shared on social media, and it turned out the face was very familiar. Many of his videos had made their way to my phone screen through myriad ways. Chances are that far more people recognise him than they realise. His satirical videos, which highlight political and social issues, do the rounds quite widely.

He is funny, irreverent and, yes, he has a political bias. But his content is far from boring or forgettable.

Recently, someone even compared his work to PTV’s iconic show 50-50 that we grew up with. But that show, brilliant and funny as it was, was produced by a team which was backed by an institution — from a time when Pakistan boasted more than one institution and PTV was called one too. Khosa appears to be a one-man content creator.

And perhaps that is why he had irked someone, somewhere.

As a journalist who has been slogging at it for decades, the talent and creativity of those who are using social media never ceases to amaze me. Aun Ali Khosa is one of them. There is also other work — for instance, a video by the digital media platform, Raftaar, where a young man, to illustrate the size of indirect taxation, spends Rs1,000 on charging his phone, filling up his bike, and so on, to show how much of what people spend ends up with the government. The two-minute video made its point far more effectively than entire newspapers and hours of talk shows.

The real change is the technology and the young, dynamic individuals using it.

Then there were the light interviews of politicians by The Current, another digital website, started by two young women journalists and podcasts on Pakistan Experience. A young man who doesn’t seem to have any journalistic experience has perhaps done hundreds of excellent interviews that any working hack would be proud of having in their portfolio.

In contrast to these young creators, the mainstream media in Pakistan has spread its tentacles to nearly every new platform on social media, without actually creating any new, path-breaking content. The same stories, the same conversations and the same formats — the only difference is that multiple platforms are being used to spread it. But the real change is the technology itself and the young, dynamic individuals who are using it in new ways.

The word in mode for it is ‘disruption’.

It is not just being caused by these technologies but also the people using it. People such as Khosa, or Pakistan Experience‘s Shahzad Ghias. In politics too, the change is evident, be it the PTI’s social media team or how the young Baloch use it to mobilise and reach out. Even human rights activism has changed; the way Imaan Haazir uses her X account to reach out or highlight issues runs parallel to her court appearances.

Disruption or rather the way in which it is caused is new but perhaps one can just call it change. And change is never easy for those in charge.

The natural reaction is to try and stop it. This is perhaps the simplest explanation for many of the recent arrests and dis-appearances. What else can those scared of change do? It is like asking why the Pope imprisoned Galileo.

Because social media cannot be put in a cell, the other choice is to curtail it. It is noisy, uncontrollable and irreverent so it has to be controlled, even shut down. But the problem is that by the time the change is large enough to cause discomfort to those in charge, it is perhaps too late to stop it altogether.

In a way, it is similar to the government’s recent reaction to solar power installation. Struggling with capacity payments, circular debt and skyrocketing electricity prices, it considered the option of discouraging solar installation. But it couldn’t because the disruption had created an ecosystem of its own, forcing the government to back down.

A similar pushback is in process since the rumoured installation of a firewall has slowed down the internet and disrupted platforms because too many livelihoods depend on it: the young freelancers, local industries such as delivery platforms that use young riders and even perhaps the young women who use Skype or other platforms to teach from the comfort of their homes and earn a living.

It is the pushback which has forced the government to defend this decision — that everyone knows is being made elsewhere — offering explanation after explanation. First had come the denial that the government had not issued a ban on X; then the famous statement from the information minister, Atta Tarar, who said the only wall he knew of was the Great Wall of China while his counterpart in Punjab, Azma Bokhari, mentioned a ‘fibre’ wall being installed.

But once the internet disruptions became too big to pass unnoticed, the denials were replaced by vague explanations. Last week, the IT minister for state, Shaza Fatima, mentioned the web management system was being upgraded (which some media outlets took to be an acknowledgement of some problem or intervention which caused the internet slowdown) and on Sunday she held a press conference to blame the use of VPNs for the slowing down of the internet, without explaining why VPNs were being used.

But how long will vague statements suffice when an entire industry, from big firms to individuals doing deliveries to earn a small income, continue to suffer. Sooner rather than later, the government and the establishment will have to decide if it is going to tolerate criticism directed its way or let a large part of the economy crash and burn, as they find solutions to imagined problems.

However, if the right decision is made, the only option to deal with the likes of Khosa (who is said to have returned while this piece was being written) will be disappearances, arrests, threats. Still, the change or disruption will not stop. These young people are here to stay — the present and future of this country.

The writer is a journalist.

Published in Dawn, August 20th, 2024