While the Islamabad Literature Festival 2016 (ILF) was certainly not very coherent this year, occasionally lapsing into pure chaos, it took risks that made me feel as if I were witnessing a pivotal moment in the development of curatorial practice. Were Pen on the Pulse of the Taliban or Swat: Transition from Tribal System to State to Pakistan consistent and precisely articulated sessions? Probably not, but these contributions to the 2016 festival took real risks with their unusual structures and multiplicities of artistic and curatorial voices, all of which have been utterly absent in Islamabad.

This does not, however, mean that ILF 2016 was dull, necessarily, but rather that the context in Islamabad has become so bland, its organisers so resistant to more ambitious and critical curatorial propositions, that it is almost inevitable that we keep seeing a very similar, at times uninspiring, affair: an overview of the latest trends in political non-fiction, lined up one after another without much intellectual gravity.

These sessions suffered from inconsequential themes and even more ridiculous titles devoid of any concrete meaning: August 1947: The Parting of Ways, Mera Paigham Mohabbat Hai: Secular and Pluralist Tradition of Urdu Poetry, etc.

The achievement of ILF 2016 lay neither in its concept (which was rather vague) nor in its structure (which was not particularly innovative), but in its execution of two straightforward principles: a good selection of politically agitated foreign  speakers and a very precise sequencing in terms of layout and design, especially in giving linguistics its due space. While Lok Virsa premises in Shakarparian, Islamabad, is always a rather tricky space to work with, given its fairly spread out grounds and many little office blocks and complicated floor plan, the ILF has never looked shabbier.

Having said that, overall the ILF 2016 was a mature demonstration of a traditional festival. In fact, its conservatism might be counted among its biggest strengths. It was not a show that made grand gestures, but it did allow some ‘smaller’ authors to shine: for instance, in sessions such as Springtime Voices: Poetry in English and Potohari Mushaira.

The large and spectacular crowd pullers that dominated some of the previous editions were obviously there, such as Zehra Nigah and Mustansar Husain Tarar while Mohammed Hanif and Kamila Shamsie were most likely ‘sent into exile’, and in their place we were treated to more delicate or modest works by authors such as Hameed Shahid and Shahnaz Aijazuddin.

Likewise, the two authors -- one English, the other French -- Anatol Lieven and Christophe Jaffrelot, respectively, did not want to change the world, but rather wished to satisfy their audiences by offering an uncomplicated (but not undemanding) intellectual experience. They put the American intervention centre stage, even though this strategy and approach does not seem particularly en vogue these days. Given the tendency of the ILF’s organisers to veer away from more experimental sessions and more complex societal articulations, the speakers delved into issues of country’s international standing and internal class divide.

In their keynote speeches on the inaugural day, Hina Rabbani Khar and Masood Asher started out with cliched concerns regarding ‘taming the hostile neighbours’, ‘challenging terrorism’ and educating the female component of the society.

Broad strokes and Olympian visions -- fervour of another kind -- although it’s worth remembering, of course, that the etymology of ‘development and progress’ points to any kind of commitment, otherworldly or otherwise -- was the stuff of hot debate in the sessions Qualified Equality: Minorities in the Constitution of Pakistan and Women’s Protection: Yeh Bill Mangey More -- whatever that would mean to literature. Presided over by such speakers as former JUI-F spokesman Jan Achakzai, Fauzia Saeed and Nasira Iqbal, the see-saw debate swung between right-wing activism and left wing emotionalism. "Democracy means aggregating the interests of diverse constituencies, and religious voters are a strong constituency" or "Laws protecting women from abuse don’t cause divorce -- wife-beating causes divorce" were some of the eloquent pontifications bandied during the volatile session.

The stony-faced, gruelling earnestness of Anatol Lieven’s Pakistan: A Hard Country failed to impress the non-believers, its much-touted irony finally drowned out by flag waving and method acting. Luckily, something of the unruly, libertarian spirit of the Pakistani nation is kept intact at the very tail-end of Christophe Jaffrelot’s The Pakistan Paradox: Instability and Resilience trajectory. As the two authors’ fan base continues to expand and an ever-widening circle of acolytes is dragged into their projects, a distinctly cultic whiff has descended upon their heretical practice. In a similar spirit of refreshing insolence -- elucidating rather than illuminating, light-hearted as opposed to enlightening -- Lieven remarked, "The single most important thing to me is that Pakistan has survived".

Luckily enough, for those among us whose interest in art is not always merely ‘experiential’ in the terms outlined above, this year’s ILF also offered ample discursive distractions and entertainments, from the singularly wordy to jam-packed sessions in Sadequain Media Centre on art organised by Art Now Pakistan, bristling with mostly good and noble intentions, of the sort commonly associated with the invocation of something as spectral as ‘free speech’.

Among the deceased lay Fatima Surraya Bajia, Intizar Husain, and Nasreen Anjum Bhatti remembered for more than a mere handful of memorable lines, both rhyming and rambling -- such as the assertion that "if a writer has any obligation toward society, it is to write well" and that "art is not a better, but an alternative existence" echoed through the sessions held as a tribute to the great deceased voices.

Of course the benefit of picking and choosing different threads and through lines is that you can ignore the talks that don’t fit, appear brash or boring, or seem to have been selected to satisfy bureaucratic expectations. Perhaps, they were all boisterous, riveting or accomplished sessions, but to my mind they were filler. With author signing and a book fair, to say nothing of the countless other unofficial events glomming onto and leeching off the Festival’s body -- filler was the endemic condition of the event. For those about to rock the boat in 2017: good luck!