It is rare for announcements of national awards in Pakistan to be met with universal acclaim. The same sentiment has been observed this Independence Day.
Reactions range from derision to a sense of dismissiveness, often rooted in a perceived bias underlying the selection process. As with many such events, though not all, the process tends to suffer a gradual decline in public approval.
Since the formation of the modern state, it is expected that outstanding citizens will be recognised for their exceptional contributions. There have also been instances where awards have been conferred on individuals who are not citizens of Pakistan, but whose impact has been significant enough to be considered of global relevance. The actor Dilip Kumar, for example, received an award from the government around thirty years ago, and at least one foreign national has been honoured with the country’s highest civilian award.
In the past, when monarchs or dynasties ruled, honours and recognition were extended to those who were loyal or deemed to be contributing to the greater human cause. The judgment was always through the lens of their usefulness to the ruler. In all societies, poets, painters, scholars and musicians have been acknowledged, often because they wrote qasidas, painted portraits of kings and their consorts or sang of their greatness.
There is a telling anecdote about Emperor Akbar and his court musician Tansen. When Akbar asked if there was a singer better than him, Tansen replied, “Yes, my guru, Swami Haridas.” When the emperor asked why he had never heard him perform, Tansen explained: “He does not sing for kings. He sings only when he wants to. He cannot be summoned.”
Perhaps it is time for an award for all those who never received one: a prize for the unknown poet, the unsung musician, the unrecognised painter.
It is no secret that even Iqbal composed adulatory verses for nawabs, rajas and the British monarch. While many in India surrendered their knighthoods as an expression off nationalist sentiment Iqbal did not.
When the Soviet Union came into existence, it was expected to offer a more objective definition of merit. Yet it too failed, castigating its critics and applauding only those who marched to its tune. In the early days, with its emphasis on economic and political equality, it appeared to offer a breath of fresh air compared to capitalist systems. But over time, even that sheen began to fade.
Some international organisations, such as the Nobel Committee, were established ostensibly to be independent of state influence. But even the Nobel Prize has come under increasing scrutiny. Critics argue that the so-called Free Wrld exercises bias in determining merit, with criteria that reflect its own values while condemning others, once the Soviet bloc, today perhaps those with Islamist sympathies. In a world of shifting perspectives, it is often difficult to distinguish between a terrorist and a freedom fighter. One generation’s terrorist may well become the next generation’s symbol of resistance.
That the most powerful man in the world now openly calls for himself to be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize only deepens the cloud of scepticism the Nobel Committee has long struggled to dispel.
This year, the scale of national awards distributed resembled a heist. So many were handed out that one wonders who, if anyone, was left behind.
There is, or once was, a memorial to the unknown soldier. Perhaps it is time for an award for all those who never received one: a prize for the unknown poet, the unsung musician, the unrecognised painter. Add as many categories as you like.
The writer is a Lahore-based culture critic.