On January 13, 2014, the Frontier Corps (FC) raided a book fair that was organised at Atta Shad Degree College, Turbat. Later on, Lieutenant Colonel Muhammad Azam of the FC while talking to the media claimed to have seized “anti-Pakistan” literature, books, maps, posters, banners and other subversive material.
The “anti-Pakistan” material the FC officer spoke of turned out to be literature penned by Karl Marx and Bertrand Russell as well as the biographies of Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, Nelson Mandela and Che Guevara. Other literature recovered was history books written from a Baloch nationalist lens, including one authored by Mir Gul Khan Nasir, the most famous poet and scholar of Balochistan who died in 1983. Literary magazines including Mahtak Balochi, Sangar, Zrumbish and others were also seized.
In April that year, similar raids were carried out by the police in Gwadar, in which two shopkeepers were arrested. On January 3, 2015, more raids were conducted in Turbat albeit under the auspices of the NAP. The purpose of the security agencies was the same: to confiscate any literature deemed to be dangerous to state interests.
Turbat, the headquarters of district Kech, has been particularly problematic for security forces due to the popularity of ideas that are considered to be seditious or subversive by the state. As explained earlier, Turbat is also the historical home of Baloch separatism — both peaceful and militant. A strict check on what is being read is always maintained in order to stem these ideas.
Although the public education system is largely in the doldrums in the Makran belt (as it is elsewhere in Balochistan), Turbat got its first public university in 2012. The University of Turbat is only the second university in the province — that it was constructed 65 years after Partition tells a story of its own. Institutions such as the Atta Shad Degree College, for example, are now in the process of getting affiliated with the varsity.
But the Pakistani state has largely been unable to institute its narratives in the Makran belt, in part because many have access to the English language as well as to Balochi literature. English in particular is cause for concern among a segment of security forces, who believe with some justification that knowledge of the English language will push students towards the kinds of literature the state does not want them to read.
“Just before I was graduating from college, I was at a gathering with leftist politicians and progressive literature lovers,” narrates one nationalist activist. “At the beginning, it was embarrassing for me since I had hardly read any books. One of my senior colleagues then suggested I start my reading journey with [former communist leader and intellectual] Sibte Hassan. I really liked his books Maazi Kay Mazaar and Musa Se Marx Tak.”
Having started with Sibte Hasan’s books, the activist soon diversified his reading choices. He’d go on to read the primary works of Marx, Engels, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr, Nelson Mandela, Jean Paul Sartre, and Paulo Freire among a host of others. “Reading these writers is very interesting because they teach you how to think rather than what to think,” he argues. “It is somewhat like having a conversation with the great minds of their times.”
Like this activist, others in Turbat too often start off with a writer of their choice before diversifying their interests. But while 2009-2011 saw a great revival of a culture of reading ideas (based on the vibrancy of Baloch students politics in educational institutions), the recent past has once again witnessed a crackdown on private centres teaching English. On January 8, 2014, the FC raided an English language teaching centre in Turbat on the pretext that it was teaching “anti-Pakistan literature.” The centre was subsequently shut down.
One centre that has stood strong despite all that is happening around them is the Delta Language Centre. Established in 2006, one of its primary motives according to its founder, renowned educationist Barket Ismail Baloch, is reading and engaging with the wider world.
“After Quetta, Turbat is the only city where Dawn is widely read by students,” explains Barkat Ismail. “There are daily 50 subscribers to Dawn at my Delta Language Centre but readership increases to 100 on Saturdays and Sundays.”
With public schools largely in disarray in Turbat, access to the English language is a game-changer for many students. Duresham Karim Baloch, studying in class IX at one of the Delta centres, describes how she was introduced to Khalil Gibran’s book The Broken Wings in class VII. Reading habits cultivated back then have stayed with Duresham ever since.
But in various background interviews, it becomes clear that higher literacy in Turbat despite a public education system in disarray is because the city refuses to accept one idea or another as gospel truth. Diversity of thought also exists because official literature propounding the victories of warriors such as Mohammad bin Qasim or Mehmood of Ghazni is at odds with the rich oral traditions in Balochi, where indigenous heritage is given more weight than the culture brought along with foreign invaders.
“The first poetry that was actually penned in Balochi was in the 15th century, by Hammal Kalmati in Makran,” explains Hamid Ali Baloch, chairperson of the Balochi Department at the University of Balochistan. “The tradition of oral Balochi literature dates back to 1440.”
The professor explains that the era of written Balochi literature starts in 1838. It was only in the 1950s that Makran progressed to modern literature writing. “A group of writers were the trailblazers,” says Hamid Ali. “Syed Zahoor Shah Hashmi from Gwadar, Karim Dashti from Dasht, who is said to be mentor of Syed Zahoor Shah Hashmi, and Yar Mohammad from Makran too.”
This encouraged others to turn to the pen. For example, the great poet Atta Shad was inspired by the afore-mentioned wave of the 1950s and he in turn inspired another group of youngsters with an extraordinary interest in poetry and literature. From the 1970s to 1990s, Balochi poetry in Makran was as popular as Urdu poetry was in the rest of the country.
“In the past, academies were not established in Makran because the hub of literary activities used to be Karachi,” explains Hamid Ali. “Lyari, the Baloch-dominated locality in Karachi, was home to magazines published in Balochi on language, literature, and poetry.”
This association seemed to have weakened with political changes in Karachi as well as in Balochistan. As Lyari distanced itself from the murky politics in Balochistan, various academies sprouted in Makran to fill the literary vacuum. It is safe to say that Makran’s contribution to Balochi literature has been second only to Sindh. In fact, Balochi literature produced in the Makran belt now better reflects their political realities in their particular scenarios.
JIHAD IN THE NORTH?
The construction of jihadist thought in northern Balochistan is widely believed to be an outcome of large swathes of Pakhtun populations living there. The argument is that Pakhtun people are conservative by nature and therefore, right-wing ideas have greater appeal in the Pakhtun belt.
But Barkat Shah Kakar, a teacher at the Pashto Department of the University of Balochistan, argues that this construction is artificial. “It is deliberately shown that Pakhtun society is religious but that is not the case in reality,” contends Barkat Shah. “To this day, discussion of nationalistic ideas is dominant among the Pakhtun population in Balochistan.”
For the Pashto professor, the seeds of extremist thought in Balochistan were sown even before Partition. “In undivided India, more than 100 people from our northern belt went to Deoband to study religion. When one of them would return, he’d erect a madressah and get his disciples,” explains Barkat Shah. “In this way, religious thought expanded slowly and gradually. From here, Maulana Abdul Haq, Maulana Mohammad Hassan, among others, went to Deoband for religious studies. Religious education was already present [in the region] but it was not as institutionalised in the beginning as it is today.”
Modern literature, in its written form, arrived in Balochistan’s Pakhtun belt with people who were attached with Persian and Arabic. These included religious ulema who were teaching in madressahs and mosques. “They are your first poets, calligraphers, and even their poetry reflects a religious flavour,” explains the professor.
In the 20th century, he explains, the first short story was penned in Pashto literature. It was titled The Virgin Widow. From the 1920s to the 1930s, literature produced in Pashto had a dominant “reformist” element. Before and after Partition, Pakhtun intellectuals such as Abdul Samad Khan Achakzai, Sain Kamal Khan Sherani, and Ayub Khan Achakzai among others were all considered “anti-imperialist.” These men were progressives who had a pivotal role to play in Pashto literature, language, and politics.
“But while leftist literature was produced a lot in the Pakhtun belt, the problem is that those who produced progressive literature did not associate with the mainstream left despite the fact that their work is progressive,” asserts Barkat Shah.
“Right-wing literature has a fixed and limited readership but it does enjoy patronage from some quarters,” argues the professor. “In Pashto, you can find around half a dozen magazines which enjoy such support that they can be handed out for free. It is somewhat like creating an artificial need.”
CAN THE STATE REBOUND?
Plurality of thought and the healthy debate it generates is central to a vibrant, functioning democracy. But in a place where as columnist Cyril Almeida puts it, “murky things happen for murky reasons,” thought in Balochistan is policed by various quarters. Various ideologies are already considered suspect and therefore, no constructive debate or discussion tends to happen.
Nevertheless, one of the key reasons behind the current state of affairs is governmental apathy in the matters of education, literacy and the production of literature. In the vacuum left by the government, others vie for greater influence.
“Hate speech and material have starting appearing on the internet which the Federal Investigation Agency (FIA) should take notice of and prosecute under the cyber crime bill,” says CCPO Cheema. “Since hate-mongers on ground are afraid of selling and propagating jihadi materials, they find it easier to propagate their agenda on the internet. They propagate and distribute hate material very secretly.”
Academics argue that sectarian outfits were given a free hand in Balochistan to undercut the influence of Baloch nationalists, particularly those arguing separation from Pakistan. Although sectarian outfits have recently been reined in, their propaganda continues to spread far and wide. Such are the challenges being faced by the Balochistan governmental machinery on the ground.
But there are other institutional problems too — mistrust of anything in English or Balochi being the foremost of these. While Urdu is the country’s national language, Balochi does not enjoy much cultural capital within governance structures. The heroes of Balochi literature, for example, are not the heroes of official literature printed in Urdu. In Urdu literature, these same Baloch heroes are described as trouble-makers and unpatriotic.
Similarly, religious literature in Urdu is widely read in the central and eastern parts of Balochistan. Interestingly, Balochi writers and readers are predominantly based in Makran but their audience is also largely Makran-based. Even Panjgur, one of the districts of Makran, is comparatively religious in nature. Co-education and private schools were closed down in recent years by religious extremists over there. The situation now is that there are a few magazines in Balochi which solely discuss religious affairs.
These dichotomies and the inability of various political stakeholders to resolve them have left knowledge production in great danger in Balochistan. The ultimate losers of this status quo are Baloch citizens particularly the newer generations — differentiating between fact and propaganda is not something they ought to have been burdened with but it is still a burden they are forced to carry.
*Identity changed to protect privacy
The writer is a member of staff.
He tweets @Akbar_Notezai
Published in Dawn, EOS, April 16th, 2017