Pakistan is making it very hard for me to do my job as a writer. It would have been easier for me were I only a writer of fiction, but I made the decision a long time ago to write non-fiction, and even foray into journalism — not reportage or investigative journalism, but opinion writing — in which I could use my intellect and my writing skills to analyse the problems we face in Pakistani society.

I’m not a take-it-to-the-streets protestor like my friend, the late Sabeen Mahmud. I’m naturally reticent, more introverted, suspicious of groups and groupthink. Protests have their place, but I always felt I was more able to make a difference with my education and my ability to put ideas into words. So much a writer am I that instead of participating in street protests, I wrote about them in a novel. In building a better society, we must all play to our strengths: my social conscience, that sense of responsibility or concern for the problems and injustices of society, expresses itself best through writing.

In writing, not only can I communicate my concerns about where Pakistani society is headed, but I can share progressive ideas and solutions with my readers. You never know where a seed will take root and result in positive change. You never know which young person sees himself or herself in your words, or uses them to envision a better, bigger future. Words are one of our most useful commodities, and our most powerful. When used well, they last longer than we do.

Over the last five years, writing and information-communication technologies have been merging into a powerful tool for positive social change in Pakistan. Hundreds, if not thousands of young people are crowding the halls of media sciences and journalism departments in universities across the country. These young people want to contribute to a better country by acquiring skills and knowledge, then putting them to practical use ... they are finding their voices online, trying out and testing new ideas, new personas, new ways of being in a society that has never truly encouraged experimentation or exploration.

I also use my writing to highlight others’ efforts, their successes and failures, in making Pakistan a better place to live, whether that is daring attempts to eradicate child marriage, bold plans to improve economic conditions for women, or compassionate efforts to increase awareness about the disabled in Pakistan. I believe strongly in using modern platforms — online newspapers, social media, Twitter and blogs — to spotlight and amplify messages and information about Pakistan, Islam, and women to the rest of the world.

Over the last five years, writing and information-communication technologies have been merging into a powerful tool for positive social change in Pakistan. I’m not the only one with this idea, even though I may have been one of its early advocates. Hundreds, if not thousands of young people are crowding the halls of media sciences and journalism departments in universities across the country. These young people want to contribute to a better country by acquiring skills and knowledge, then putting them to practical use. Excited by the technologies that enable them to do this, they are finding their voices online, trying out and testing new ideas, new personas, new ways of being in a society that has never truly encouraged experimentation or exploration.

The death of young Mashal Khan, the journalism student in Mardan, lynched by a mob of his fellow students after an accusation of blasphemy, has put an ugly fear into the hearts and minds of those of us who believe in the power of the written word and the platform of the internet to amplify that power. Yet Khan’s murder was only the latest in a series of blows aimed at reducing, if not silencing, the power of writers to act as the conscience of society. This silencing never happens overnight. It is a process of slow defacement, a psychological terrorism of the mind by those who appoint themselves the guardians of society.

The progression in Pakistan of writers being stripped of their power has its roots in the trial of Saadat Hasan Manto for obscenity in 1950 for his short story ‘Thanda Gosht’. It was strengthened by the state’s grip on broadcast networks, by the censorship of news throughout dictatorships and wars, in the ’60s, ’70s, ’80s and ’90s. Its instruments are organisations such as the media regulatory body Pemra, and laws such as the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act passed just last year. And it has its non-state enforcers, who can be let loose on individuals such as Khan at the slightest provocation, often utilising the most dangerous of insinuations in our tinderbox of a country.

Curbing the freedoms of writers is one of the most effective ways to kill hope and progress in a newly developing country. It is also one of the most-used methods to retain the status quo, where the powerful continue to reign supreme, their interests untouched, their practices unscrutinised. As Khan himself wrote in a blog post before his death: “Writing the truth has become the most difficult thing in Pakistan.” Today, writers are an intellectual minority who dare to attempt change through nonviolent means, but if our voices are silenced with violence, we are at risk of becoming an endangered species in Pakistan.

The columnist is a writer based in Karachi.
She is the author of six books and also writes for The New York Times

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, May 21st, 2017