RECENTLY, I typed the name Flamholc into Google, that indispensable Internet search engine. Instantly, I got 10 pages of information about Leon and his son David. Both are eminent filmmakers, and have produced and directed a number of award-wining films under the banner of their company, Caravan Films. While they are Swedish citizens, they live and work in London.

I ran a similar search for Tahir Shah, and was again rewarded with a long list of the numerous books he has written, as well as glowing comments about his work as a travel writer of great renown and distinction. Born and brought up in Afghanistan, he is now a British citizen, and lives in London. So what were all three of them doing for two weeks, locked up in solitary confinement in Peshawar last year? After his release, David Flamholc said the room he was in was a veritable living museum of mediaeval torture instruments, and the walls and floors were smeared with blood and excrement.

According to a letter from the French NGO Reporters Sans Frontieres (Reporters Without Borders) addressed to the interior minister, the three were arrested in Peshawar on July 18, 2005, and accused of filming while travelling as tourists, and not journalists. They were initially interrogated by military police, and later by military intelligence. While they were not given the usual third degree, it must have been a terrifying experience. To reinforce the charges against the foreigners, the authorities accused them of filming a military installation. However, at the end of their ordeal when their videos were returned to them, they were informed that nothing objectionable had been found on the tapes.

So what was all the fuss about? The technicality about the visa was the final reason given for their ultimate deportation, but this is a very flimsy cause for subjecting visitors to this kind of treatment. The reality is that if a visa application is made, giving the reason for the trip as film-making, the request is sent to the information ministry by the Pakistani mission where it was submitted. There, bored section officers search desultorily through their files for any anti-Pakistan material the applicant may have produced in the past.

They also demand to see the outline of the script as well as names and details of the film crew. In short, endless red tape and delays. In an era where schedules are tight and the availability of the crew has to be ensured, nobody has the luxury of waiting around for the Pakistan information ministry to get around to doing its work in a reasonable timeframe. Indeed, when businessmen are flying into Pakistan, they routinely come as tourists: if they were to put business as the reason for their visit, they too would be waiting for weeks for their visas to be processed.

So why are we so paranoid about visitors? Considering how few foreigners apart from Arab and Central Asian terrorists come to Pakistan, why do we do everything to discourage genuine visitors to our country? Incidentally, the Flamholc team was in Pakistan to make a film about Mughal treasures. Nothing more sinister than that. And yet they were treated worse than any civilised country would treat convicted criminals. If our spooks were suspicious of them, all they had to do was what I did: type their names into Google. Surely even our military intelligence must have access to the Internet.

Sadly, I came across this story a year after the incident had happened, so I can only use it to illustrate our attitude towards the rest of the world. We are so conditioned to think that everybody is out to get us that we have convinced ourselves that every foreigner is a spy. Our pathetic information and interior ministry babus cannot imagine that somebody might actually wish to explore our history, or that our country might be of genuine interest to foreigners. So visitors have to be followed by spooks and any suspicious-looking activity reported.

The purpose of demanding that visiting journalists declare themselves is that the information ministry can attach handlers to them to report on whom they meet and where they go. Compare this paranoid behaviour with the casual attitude of our officialdom towards the hordes of terrorists who have made a beeline for Pakistan over the years.

Legal and illegal entrants have been routinely allowed to live among us for as long as they like, no questions asked. When it comes to these very real threats to our security, our intelligence agencies seem to be on perpetual vacation. And as their performance is beyond public scrutiny and accountability, who knows if this laissez-faire attitude is due to official policy, or congenital inefficiency.

Returning to the question of why we fear the presence of foreign journalists, one inference we can safely draw is that our rulers are deeply uncomfortable with bad publicity abroad. Indifferent to local concerns and criticism, they squirm under the international spotlight. Knowing that their western benefactors are vulnerable to domestic pressure, they seek to keep potential critics at arms length. And what better way than to deny journalists visas? Or make the process so difficult that most reporters would just give up?

Whenever a negative story about Pakistan does make the foreign media, the first thing our rulers do is ask why the journalist was issued a visa in the first place. Basically, our initial instinct is to shoot the messenger. As the sad Mukhtaran Mai episode revealed, our government was not really concerned that a defenceless woman was gang-raped, but was more interested in damage control. And when the poor woman was invited to New York to receive an award, she was prevented from leaving by none other than General Musharaf. True, he intervened to have the rapists arrested, but largely, this was due to the immense amount of adverse publicity abroad.

Our policymakers simply do not understand that blocking information in an era of instant communication, blogs and tiny video cameras, it no longer makes sense to try and keep the world out. There are few secrets left to guard, and the foreign media often appoint local stringers to get the news out to them. Like it or not, dirty linen is going to be washed in public. So can we please relax, and try and make foreign visitors feel welcome for a change?