Why we miss the talk shows
By Asha’ar Rehman
EVEN if the channels were to return on air now, they can hardly be expected to compensate for what has been taken away from us over the last few days. The country has just lost a battery of fiery official spokesmen who lent energy and crispness to the private television enterprise. The famous ministers prone to speaking their mind at the feel of a microphone are no more, their places taken up by the sober, even demure, caretakers. For the moment at least.
The responsibility for setting the tone for a discourse lies with the government functionaries. They are bound by an unwritten code that puts a premium on decency in the face of the most obnoxious of calls by the opposition.
They are not supposed to retort in anger as desperate journalists ask the question about the military-democracy equation for the millionth time since Oct 7, 1958.
They have to or are supposed to carry themselves with grace in the most trying and potentially most embarrassing of situations. They are not supposed to shout dissent down.
Is this how the official side has behaved during the just-concluded glorious period of media freedom? Is the old query to be blamed or can we be allowed to question the staleness, the sheer hypocrisy of the answer, which breeds more frustration?
When General Pervez Musharraf proclaimed his second Provisional Constitution Order on Nov 3, he inevitably invited uncharitable remarks about the futility of his first eight years in power. Among the objectives towards which his regime made little progress was the introduction of a culture of tolerance where the government did not always have to play the persecutor.
Mr Musharraf might himself have at times shown an ability to take criticism but his lieutenants who had a knack of placing themselves in favourable positions in front of the television camera fell hard on anyone and anything that to their eye was anti-government.
They did the job for the tolerant general and played the main hand in giving the channels the reputation that has now become a bane for them.
Most of these hard-talking Musharraf defenders came from Punjab. Many among them were not a part of the Pakistan Muslim League when it was reinvented. Consequently, they worked with the guilt and passion of converts, providing a microcosm of aggressive behavioural trends in Pakistani society.
The bunch was undoubtedly led by Chaudhry Wasi Zafar, an erstwhile Pakistan People’s Party politician from Faisalabad, who finally earned his due place in the country’s hall of fame by managing to muscle his way out of impossible situations during television talk shows.
He survived as the spokesman and he continued unthreatened as a minister, albeit with a late change in his portfolio. His shows drew large audiences and the channels are greatly indebted to his services.
Mr Zafar had managed to enter the fold of the official PML before the 2002 general election. No one from the loyalists in the league came close to competing with him for the coveted post of the chief defender of the Musharraf government.
The toughest challenge came from Dr Sher Afgan Niazi, a Patriot and a PPP renegade who had joined the government post 2002 polls.
By his own accounts hurt by the indifference of Benazir Bhutto towards a senior party colleague like him, the Sher from Mianwali roared the loudest on the floor of the National Assembly — with reason, he reminded everyone around, and in favour of all action initiated by his new-found leaders. But it was the television talk shows that brought out the best in him.
His ‘main nahin manta’ (I don’t accept) refrain on television after a certain Supreme Court decision would have placed him next only to Habib Jalib in the history of Pakistani politics, but for the fact that while Jalib had openly declared his opposition to the Constitution, whatever Dr Sher Afgan does he does according to the Constitution.
He was a talk show star, taking on the most brilliant opposition orators with ease and without ever having to raise his voice.
Sheikh Rashid Ahmed is another outgoing minister to whom the channels owe a special gratitude for their popularity. At the outset, he was a bit confused about which of the two Leagues he should side with and at one point in time even indicated that he could gift the two Rawalpindi seats that he had won hands down in 2002 elections to Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz. Five years on, he is fully behind General Musharraf even if he maintains his independence in the official PML.
If Dr Afgan swore by the Constitution, Sheikh Rashid’s slogan all through was that he was the voice of undiluted truth. That led to plenty of coarse yarns spun by the silk merchant for the benefit of the ordinary man.
The printed word is ill-equipped to measure the service these politicians have provided to the ordinary man over the last many years — at just Rs300 a month courtesy the cable operator. That has to be seen to be believed and marvelled at.
The fans of these candid politicians will be hoping that the power of their speech will not be compromised as the authorities move to bring errant television networks in line, hoping that they will return to wax eloquent in a manner no opposition jiyala or matwala can ever come close to matching.

