IN the midst of a general sense of insecurity spawned by terrorist attacks and the gloom spurred by spiralling inflation, something rejuvenating happened in Karachi last week.

The Pakistan Publishers and Booksellers Association held its Fourth Karachi International Book Fair much to the delight of bibliophiles.

What is more, its success was beyond popular expectations. According to the convener of the managing committee, Iqbal Saleh Mohammad, a veteran of the book trade, the five-day fair attracted about 200,000 people. The estimated turnover? Rs100m.

Now that is something to talk about in a society that is notorious for its aversion to reading. The organisers had booked three pavilions at the Expo Centre to accommodate the 100 or so participants. The number fell when 25 from India pulled out at the eleventh hour. Yet five ventured to cross into Pakistan — one being from the University of Srinagar — to signal their confidence in people-to-people diplomacy, which, it is now felt, should determine the state of peace in South Asia and not the politics of leaders.

Another gesture of friendship came from the Kashmiris who promised to leave their unsold stock as a gift to an educational institution in Karachi.

The book fair also gave the lie to the claim made by the purveyors of gloom that people have lost their zest for life. The fair provided a rare five-day outlet for recreation for the educated of Karachi. Some believe that we have to thank the KESC for giving a boost to the reading habit. With long hours of power outages, people have to forego television viewing. Books are handy as they can be read even in the light of emergency lamps. Be that as it may, Karachiites voted squarely for books when they flocked with their families to the Expo Centre to browse through publications of all hues — and buy them too.

There was also a message for the terrorists who love to blow themselves up in the name of religion in crowded places along with hapless innocent victims. People refused to be deterred by them. Many have also had their fill of religion, it appears. Nuzhat Rehman, who retired recently as LOC’s head of acquisitions in Pakistan, Iran and Afghanistan, tells me that Islamic books that had topped the list of the most purchased titles in Pakistan for several years have now slipped to second position with politics, especially memoirs of public figures, moving to the top.

The electronic media has certainly created public awareness. Rehman has been observing the trends for several years and is knowledgeable about what people love to read.

Even in the heartland of terrorism, books continue to inspire people. There was the brave woman from the Peshawar Textbook Board who pointed out that while girls’ schools were being torched in Swat, there were many more that were still functioning and people like her were hard at work developing new textbooks. For projecting this message of hope we have to be thankful to Mujahid Barelvi, one of the few TV anchors who brings cheer to our lives by choosing to step out of the studio to focus on the positive, such as the book fair, in his programme Doosra Pehlu.

Does the success of the book fair predict the birth of the book culture in Pakistan? One would like to believe that. But one swallow doesn’t make a summer. Two hundred thousand in a population of 16 million constitutes a minuscule fraction of 1.25 per cent. Most observers believe that the growing population has made even a small percentage of the total pretty visible in absolute numbers. Therefore the crowds at the book fair were bigger than what one used to see a decade or so ago when Shams Quraeshi, the doyen of booksellers in the metropolis, would grumble to me that people spend money on adorning their bodies but not their minds.

The absence of a tradition of reading books can be traced back directly to our socio-cultural and political trait of encouraging conformism and fearing intellectual curiosity and pluralism. The less the exposure of people to a diversity of ideas, the fewer will be the questions asked and minimal the level of dissent that challenges prevailing norms. No wonder our society has never been too enthused by books and education.

In that context, a good omen was the presence of children in large numbers at the book fair. In fact children’s literature was the success story of the day. With parents encouraging children to read, there is hope for the future.

If the reading habit is to be consciously cultivated attention will have to be paid to making books accessible and affordable. Whether a book is expensive or cheap depends on the pocket of the buyer. While one reader wants books to cost no more than Rs300, another considers Rs700 to be reasonable. Iqbal Mohammad was spot on when he said, “Those who want to read cannot afford books. Those who can afford them do not want to read.”

Publishers are all too willing to lower prices only if the government plays its role. At the moment all printing material and paper are imported and there is a heavy duty on it — that cumulatively works out to 40 to 50 per cent. With their small turnover, booksellers can survive only with heavy discounts from publishers (40 per cent). This adds to the cost and reduces sales, trapping the book trade in a vicious cycle. This cycle can be broken by promoting libraries that would increase sales and make books accessible to people. But libraries by themselves are not enough — though one cannot forgive Karachi’s city government for converting the site of the city library into a trauma centre.

Every province must have a library law that should make it mandatory for all local bodies to ensure the establishment of a mohallah library in their jurisdiction and earmark at least two per cent of their budget for the purchase of books. Sindh should become a pioneer in this field.

zubeidam@gmail.com

LAST month’s first death anniversary commemoration of Benazir Bhutto did not do her justice. Some of the eulogies were focused on her political career and others on her personal life.

As expected several commentators dwelt on conspiracy theories pertaining to her tragic death. Maudlin hyperboles about her eventful life marked most of the reminiscences.

A more befitting tribute to the first woman leader of an Islamic state would have been the affirmation of a resolve to reverse the deplorable state of women in the country through empowerment, central to which is the eradication of illiteracy. Education and vocational training backed by micro-credit financing are indispensable for alleviating gender discrimination within the country and which stems from primitive tribal codes, economic deprivation, commodification of women and the distortion of religion.

This is undoubtedly an uphill task as the existing public education system in Pakistan is wholly inadequate and is said to be one of the worst in Asia. The claimed literacy rate of 56 per cent, out of which only 36 per cent are women, is also considered to be based on bloated figures as this includes, according to analysts citing UN reports, “people who can handle little more than a signature”. This deplorable state of affairs is further compounded by threats from militants and semi-literate clerics whose purpose is to perpetuate the subjugation of women.

According to one assessment, 40,000 girls may be deprived of education in Swat due to a ban proclaimed by the Taliban. Shah Duran, a deputy of Maulana Fazlullah, has given a Jan 15, 2008 deadline following which, it has been threatened, all schools, government or private, who have enrolled girls will be bombed. This is a declaration of war and is the continuation of the trend that has destroyed, according to the Pakistan Coalition for Education (PCE), more than 100 of the 429 primary schools for girls in the area.

Once again, not only is the writ of the state being seriously challenged but also the fundamental rights accorded to all citizens by the Pakistani constitution. For instance, Article 34 of the constitution states: “Steps shall be taken to ensure full participation of women in all spheres of national life.” Article 38(d) stipulates: “The state shall provide basic necessities of life, such as food, clothing, housing, education, and medical relief, for all such citizens, irrespective of sex, caste, creed or race…” and Article 25 (2) affirms: “There shall be no discrimination on the basis of sex alone.”

These inalienable rights provided to women under the provisions of the constitution are being flagrantly violated by self-appointed clerics who have also arrogated to themselves the authority to implement, through violent means, their skewed interpretation of Islam based on a mix of Quranic verses that have been quoted out of context, tribal customs and traditions. The socio-economic regression of women, constituting 50 per cent of the population, is the outcome of these distortions and has to be addressed on a war footing as one of the fronts in the fight against extremist violence.

Despite this, there is talk of the ANP-led NWFP government’s willingness to negotiate and possibly capitulate to the demands of the militants to impose their distorted concept of Sharia. This would not only relegate the women of Swat to a pariah status but it would also deal a devastating blow to all hopes of progress and modernity in the light of actual religious teachings. Furthermore the appeasement of extremism would only embolden similar outfits to emulate militants in Swat on a national level.

The reason behind the NWFP government’s desire to re-evaluate their stance regarding the Swat fiasco may stem from the threats to and attacks on the upper echelon of the ANP coupled with what seems to be the failure of the military presence in the area to defuse the situation. It has been over one year since the military offensive was initiated in Swat. Though at one point the militants appeared to be on the retreat, they have, since then, regrouped and returned.

The resilience of Maulana Fazlullah and his cronies suggests that there are other forces at play. The army operations in Swat have not been successful in disrupting their access to weapons and funds. Their latest edict and threat regarding girl’s schools further indicates that their confidence in the implementation of these threats has not faltered. This, in turn, demonstrates that they are even more firmly entrenched with little inclination towards compromise.

Negotiations should always be undertaken from a position of strength. This was reached with the initial military successes but was squandered. No concerted efforts were made to win hearts and minds through reconstruction and rehabilitation. As a result of this neglect, the militants have re-emerged and have unleashed a reign of terror in which women have become the primary victims through a denial of the rights guaranteed to them by the constitution as well as the tenets of Islam. Government efforts to win back their freedom as citizens would have been the most befitting tribute that could have been paid to the memory of Benazir Bhutto.

The writer is editor-in-chief of Criterion Quarterly.

mushfiq.murshed@gmail.com

MY wife asked last week: “Is £35bn a lot of money?” This was not intended to be a facetious question, and was certainly not a foolish one. It was prompted by news that £35bn is the latest unofficial estimate for the cost of the Beijing Olympics and its associated infrastructure projects.

Last summer, international opinion held that China’s spend on its prestige games was grotesquely large. It was alleged such a huge sum could only be squandered by a newly rich dictatorship unaccountable to an electorate. In September 2007, the British government’s bail-out of the Northern Rock bank was said to have reached “an eye-watering £7.75bn”. A few months ago, we were told that the UK Ministry of Defence faced a financial crisis because there is a £2bn “black hole” in its annual budget.

Yet in the past four months, the financial meltdown has yielded a flood of global figures that make all the above sums sound small change. The British government has injected £37bn into part-nationalisation of the banking system, and is said to be exposed to £150bn of potential mortgage liabilities. In 1967, the then UK government provoked a political crisis by devaluing the pound 14 per cent, yet in 2008 the currency fell by almost 25 per cent.

The US administration has pumped vast sums into its banks and mortgage institutions, and Barack Obama plans infrastructure spending and an economic fiscal stimulus that will cost close to a trillion dollars. A $17bn bail-out is projected for US motor manufacturers. Last year, £30 trillion was wiped off the value of the world’s stock markets. Statistics of this kind pour forth daily from governments and institutions. The point of my wife’s question, which I was unable to answer, is that in the face of such tidings most of us have succumbed to number blindness. Beyond grasping we are in a mess, we lack the slightest idea of the significance of the sums of money being pledged, lent, spent or squandered in our name. In the short term, such ignorance helps incumbent political parties. Electorates are grateful for any government action that promises to stave off immediate pain, job losses, bankruptcies, factory closures. A few months ago it was deemed a scandal that the UK’s ruling Labour administration was committed to spend £9.3bn of taxpayers’ money on the 2012 London Olympics. Now, so far have parameters changed, so drunk on figures have we become, that this sum sounds paltry.

Ministers are widely expected to throw up to £1bn at Jaguar Land Rover, notionally because it is “too big to fail”, but more credibly to protect 15,000 jobs in marginal constituencies. Almost every independent industrial and financial commentator condemns such a subsidy to the manufacture of gas guzzlers. But it would be rash to assume that it will be bad politics. Nobody seems to take a billion pounds seriously any more.

How do we sustain a hold on reality about the meaning of money, and the relative significance of the sums being expended to assuage the financial crisis? I have tried to help myself to do so, by looking up some government spending figures for 2009. The nation’s gross domestic product is projected to be £1,473bn. The central government’s budgeted expenditure is £455bn, that of local authorities a further £166bn. Central government will spend £110bn on healthcare, £52bn on welfare, £28bn on education, £37bn on defence, £10bn on transport.

All these commitments have been made before the government embarks on further bank and industrial rescues, infrastructure projects and new unemployment relief programmes. Even on the basis of the November pre-budget report numbers, government borrowing next year will reach £118bn.

I can grasp that the collapse of Bernard Madoff’s hedge fund, to which UK banks are substantially exposed, has written off a sum almost as great as Britain’s annual defence budget. I understand that central banks have little choice save to keep printing money, to start credit moving again and stave off a depression. Thereafter I have little or no understanding of the implications of this huge government borrowing, beyond the fact that at some time there will be a ticket-collector at the head of the escalator.

Much has been written in recent weeks about Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal, the storm of activity with which, following his inauguration in March 1933, he sought to resurrect the US economy from the Great Depression. Among his less-noticed measures was a cut in public sector pay.

Today, is it credible that hundreds of millions of employees in the world’s manufacturing, service and financial services industries should suffer, as they are going to, while public sector pay and benefits remain inviolate? Will our crippled economy be able to fund the huge public pension liability — and even private sector final salary commitments?

I have no idea of the answers to any of these questions, but lots of people are asking them. Many crises that afflict the world — Zimbabwe, Congo, Iraq, Afghanistan, Gaza, even climate change — invite ready expressions of opinion, however footling, from every bar customer. What seems most striking about the credit crunch is that it reduces most people to silence, because they find its implications and possible solutions beyond their comprehension.

It is rendered especially baffling because, metaphorically speaking, no bombs are falling. Shoppers still pack suburban malls, cars crowd motorways, passengers throng airports, the lights stay on. Thus far, for all except some hundreds of thousands who have already lost their jobs, only statistics reveal the bad news. The implications have yet to work through into real life.

There seems an overwhelming public mood of fatalism. Anger must follow, sooner or later, and even perhaps social unrest. But this will come only when the consequences literally reach home. Meanwhile, number blindness has overtaken most of us. We are obliged to hope, with only limited conviction, that this does not extend to the office of the UK prime minister in Downing Street, London, and the Obama White House.

— The Guardian, London