A few weeks ago, actor Hira Tareen posted an Instagram video about a contract that, on the surface, looked like any other television agreement. However, buried within it were clauses that alluded to something far more sinister: a grant of permission to use an actor’s face, voice, gestures and performance to create digital replicas using artificial intelligence (AI).

It was a contract that gives a company the right to give birth to — and own — someone’s digital doppelgänger.

“I don’t usually make videos like this,” Tareen said, explaining that she had initially raised the matter within the Actors Collective of Pakistan (ACT), Pakistan’s actors’ association, after carefully reading her contract. Within weeks, she said, other actors received similar agreements. And here’s the scary part: some had already signed them.

“This is not just one bad contract,” she warned in the video. “It’s already becoming an industry-wide norm,” she pointed out. She should have added the words “If we don’t stop it!”

Artificial Intelligence’s role in Pakistan’s television industry remains modest — for now. But contracts granting extensive rights over actors’ digital likenesses have sparked fears that performers may be signing away control of their future selves

The reason Tareen felt the responsibility to speak publicly points to another major, widespread issue within the entertainment industry. Most actors do not read their contracts — period — forget the fine print. Those who do manage to trudge through the repetitive clauses and long-winded language often assume — quite erroneously — that paragraphs relating to AI are mere legal jargon that allow the use of one’s visage for visual effects or promotional work.

Others, who are adept in English (the de facto language of contracts) — and most aren’t— do not speak out for fear that they may lose work in an already highly competitive industry. That very fear forces some actors to sign first and ask questions later. Later, when one casually inquires and gets a wishy-washy answer, there’s little choice but to leave everything in the Almighty’s hands.

READING BETWEEN THE LINES

According to a copy of the agreement obtained by Icon, the clauses extend well beyond the routine use of AI-assisted editing or publicity artwork. They grant the company extensive and perpetual worldwide rights over an actor’s image, voice and likeness.

The language cagily points out that the training is for the particular drama series one is signing for, but one can infer leeway, allowing those digital replicas to be reused without seeking further approval. These rights extend across current and future media platforms and empower the company to train other models and create derivative works from the AI dataset.

And, as if that weren’t enough, for their (willing or unwilling) contributions, artists receive zero financial compensation or royalties for that, or any future shows.

One actor who declined to sign over her digital soul was Faiza Hasan. She raised her concerns directly with the production house and requested amendments. Her request was flatly denied.

So far, the agreement reviewed by Icon originates from one broadcaster: Hum Network, through Hum Network FZ LLC — the Dubai-based arm of the network. The location raises another question: if rights over an actor’s digital identity are assigned to an overseas corporate entity, what legal recourse does a performer have if those rights are later disputed or licensed elsewhere?

Under conventional contracts, an actor is paid for the days they spend on set. If additional reaction shots, continuity inserts or establishing moments are required, the performer is generally called back and compensated accordingly. While these few days of extra work do not matter to a big-name actor, for a supporting actor or a day player (an extra with lines of dialogue), it makes a world of difference. AI has the potential to alter that equation.

HUM’S SIDE OF THE STORY

Mahesh Waswani, the Head of Productions at MD Productions, a subsidiary of Hum Network — and the go-to man when it comes to contracts and production, according to actors Icon spoke with — tells a different story.

“Everything is smooth, it’s going fine,” he said during a phone call. “There was some misunderstanding, which has been cleared up.”

Waswani said the controversy stems from an early draft that should never have reached actors. The AI used on his end, as he describes it, is mostly for editing titles and posters rather than unrestricted ownership of performers’ digital identities. He blames the sweeping clauses on a misstep by the legal department.

An “immature person”, he said, added pages of AI language that were never meant to go out. The contract, he insists, has since been fixed. Waswani promised Icon a copy of the contract they use for comparison against the old one. As of this writing, despite multiple requests, their routine contract has not arrived.

LOSING LIVELIHOOD TO YOUR DIGITAL SELF

At present, no other production house contacted by Icon appears to have introduced comparable AI clauses. Actors — who understandably do not want their names to appear in print — anonymously affirmed this. For now, AI’s most visible use in Pakistan’s television industry remains relatively modest, yet still concerning.

Production houses routinely use AI-generated content to manipulate promotional artwork, posters and marketing materials, often without seeking separate permission from performers. Most actors accept the practice, deeming it little different from using Photoshop and failing to see the bigger picture.

They are allowing someone to use their likeness to create new images, even after they have done separate photoshoots for promotional purposes.

Perhaps the widespread use of AI through free services that are embedded within social media apps has something to do with this acceptance.

Today, one can simply take their — or anyone else’s — picture and change the time of day, body weight, clothes, background or even the people in it within seconds. Those who have never met a celebrity delude themselves into a fantasy by standing next to Shah Rukh Khan or — and this happens quite often — reincarnate dead superstars in infantile videos that are fake, forgettable or offer a sense of pride or achievement. After all, they just prompted a celebrity into existence while sitting on a couch, not striving to meet one.

But, one can argue, if everyone is doing it without any checks and balances, why can’t a production company do the same? Because, in the simplest terms, livelihoods are at stake. And producers and corporations have a duty to safeguard the industry.

This debate surrounding AI was always an eventuality. Some (mostly from production houses) say it has emerged at a very bad time. But then again, when is it ever a good time? Pakistan’s television industry is always grappling with — and putting off — longstanding problems. Actors have spent years raising concerns about delayed payments and the absence of royalties. They haven’t gained an inch of success.

Today, dramas are rebroadcast, dubbed and monetised on digital platforms.

The pay-outs are handsome but — and there’s always a ‘but’ — as one producer made it very clear to this writer, the returns count for little because dramas have become increasingly expensive to make.

If that were not enough, one has noticed a genuine lack of opportunities, especially for emerging talent, as advertisers use digital characters instead of real people in commercials and print advertisements. As mentioned above: livelihoods are at stake.

FRUSTRATIONS OF PRODUCTION HOUSES

Now, it would be unfair to present just one side of the argument because production houses have frustrations of their own.

Producers are fed up with actors’ tardiness. Most actors (especially the big names) arrive late in the afternoon, or even in the evening, after promising to be on time (as this writer has witnessed time and again). Then there are the overlapping commitments, with shoots extending beyond their allotted days.

Under conventional contracts, an actor is paid for the days they spend on set. If additional reaction shots, continuity inserts or establishing moments are required, the performer is generally called back and compensated accordingly. While these few days of extra work do not matter to a big-name actor, for a supporting actor or a day player (an extra with lines of dialogue), it makes a world of difference.

AI has the potential to alter that equation. If a production house has already acquired the contractual right to generate digital performances from an actor’s existing footage, some of those additional shoot days are no longer necessary.

That’s money saved from the producer’s perspective, and compensation lost from the artist’s point of view.

That concern sits at the heart of actor, director and producer Shamoon Abbasi’s argument.

ACTING CLAUSES

According to Abbasi, the issue is not whether AI should be used — it already is, he tells Icon. Rather, the question is whether performers understand what rights they are giving away when broad AI clauses are included in a standard acting contract.

A digital likeness, once created and trained, could theoretically be reused not just to complete scenes for the drama in question but also for other dramas, shows or films.

Abbasi also points to another often-overlooked distinction: conventional contracts govern performance and AI clauses govern the data created from that performance. The two, he argues, are not the same. That distinction is precisely what Hollywood spent months negotiating.

When the Screen Actors Guild-American Federation of Television and Radio Artists (SAG-Aftra) concluded its 2023 strike, one of the central outcomes was the inclusion of guardrails around AI. The agreement requires actors’ consent before studios create or use digital replicas of performers and provides compensation when those digital replicas are employed.

The terms do not prohibit AI, but rather regulate its use. They certify that a performer’s digital likeness has value independent of the original performance.

That approach is worth noting because it mirrors the points of view of many Pakistani actors.

Very few argue that AI should be banned. In fact, most accept that the technology will quickly become part of modern production. The objections — especially those raised by Abbasi and ACT — concern permissions that provide clarity on duration, purpose, ownership and compensation.

A TANGIBLE SOLUTION?

Abbasi and Hasan believe any AI use should be governed by a separate agreement altogether. If a production intends to use digital doubles, AI-generated sequences or voice synthesis, those uses should be disclosed in advance, be limited to a specific project and be accompanied by appropriate remuneration. Actors should know precisely what is being created, how long it may be used and under what conditions.

A dedicated group within ACT has been examining the implications of AI on performers’ rights. Their objective is to establish a framework that can be applied across the industry before AI practices become standard. Among the proposals under discussion is a broader initiative designed by Abbasi, tentatively titled the Pakistani Actors Guild-Pakistani Artists Film, Television and Radio Association (PAG-Paftra).

While the body does not yet exist, the idea reflects a growing belief that Pakistan’s performers require a dedicated institution. One capable of negotiating AI standards, advising artists on emerging technologies and protecting their digital rights in the same way professional guilds and unions do internationally.

The pressing question is whether the rules governing its use will be written before or after the technology becomes commonplace. Speaking from experience, one can guess that it is bound to happen afterwards — no matter how much one wishes otherwise.

For Hasan, the issue extends beyond a single contract, she tells Icon. It is about recognising a pattern before it becomes an industry practice. She draws a comparison with the lingering, unheeded issue of royalties. By the time performers recognise the commercial value of their digital likeness, the rights may already have been lost, she fears.

But lost to whom and where? The questions are inevitable. For example: where is the data stored? Who has access to it? Can it be licensed to another company? Can it be transferred to another jurisdiction? If ownership changes hands, does the performer retain any practical control over how their likeness is used in the future?

Hasan says this was one of the principal reasons she refused to sign the contract. She was uncomfortable granting unrestricted rights over her digital likeness without knowing where that data might ultimately end up, or who might use it later.

Beyond commercial concerns, she also sees a reputational risk. If an AI-generated performance or voice is misused years from now, determining responsibility may prove considerably more difficult.

READING THE FINE PRINT

The recommendations being contemplated by the artists’ community may be incorporated into a bill by the Government of Punjab that would establish minimum standards for AI use in Pakistan’s entertainment industry.

Among its guiding principles are informed consent (ie one must obtain permission from the artist, even if one has the dataset), project-specific agreements, transparency and fair compensation. There are even murmurs that the bill might become part of federal legislation.

Anyone familiar with law and legislation can attest to how difficult that may be — especially when matters involve provincial and federal jurisdictions.

However, the bill addresses only one part of the problem.

In Hollywood, actors rarely negotiate these issues alone. Agencies routinely manage licensing, merchandising and digital rights on behalf of their performers. Pakistan has no comparable system. That leaves many actors individually negotiating highly technical contracts against organisations with considerably greater legal and commercial resources.

Maybe the industry needs to consider a different model altogether. Perhaps it can take the form of an independent agency — one dedicated exclusively to safeguarding and commercialising performers’ digital likenesses.

Such an agency — akin to an actor’s management agency but entirely transparent — could be governed by actors and legal specialists. It could license AI rights, maintain secure repositories of performers’ digital assets and negotiate standard terms with production houses. Companies would have access to the technology they require through this organisation, while performers would retain meaningful control over one of their most valuable digital assets.

It could very well be a simpler solution to a greater looming problem.

Artificial intelligence will continue to play a role in film and television production — that much is increasingly clear. However, once standards and practices are in place, AI can function as just another production tool.

Without standards, though, the industry risks repeating a familiar story — recognising the value of an artist’s rights only after they have been signed away, willingly, forcefully, through fear or simple obliviousness.

Perhaps it’s time people actually read what they sign.

The writer is an entertainment journalist and Icon’s primary film reviewer

Published in Dawn, ICON, July 5th, 2026