The police in Pakistan are well respected and responsive to public interests. Officials involved in the criminal justice system are highly trained professionals interested and effective in preventing crime and rehabilitating offenders. Because of expert and humane dealing of legal infractions, they have the complete trust and respect of the general public.

None of the above, of course, is, sadly, true. But would be if the government's confidence in the National Public Safety Commission, announced last week, is to be believed. It has been handed the challenging mandate to reverse the estrangement between the police and citizens by bridging the trust-deficit between them.

Approved by the government and parliament, the NPSC has been a long time coming. Its constitution was required under the Police Order 2002. It will aim to transform a highly politicised, corrupt and inefficient police into an effective and efficient people-friendly force through a panel of 12 people that will be headed by Interior Minister Aftab Sherpao and assisted by National Police Bureau Director General Shoaib Suddle.

The commission will oversee the operations of the federal law enforcement agencies including the police, Federal Investigation Agency, Anti-Narcotics Force, Frontier Constabulary and the National Highway and Motorway Police and have the powers of recommending chiefs of these agencies and removing those not up to the mark.

It will also regularly review the law and order situation in the country and performance of law enforcing agencies, recommend reforms in policing, prosecution, prisons and probation processes services, create citizen-police liaison committees and submit annual reports to parliament.

So far so good; few can argue against this mandate. The litmus test of success, however, lies in the composition of the commission, the trust that its members invoke among the stakeholders as well as their ability to enforce their mandate. Pakistan's history is replete with commissions with lofty goals but failed endeavors. Why NPSC will succeed, or fail, will depend on who run it, what powers they have and how will assert themselves.

The composition of the commission includes six members of the National Assembly -- three opposition legislators Ishrat Ashraf of Pakistan Muslim League-N, Nayyer Bukhari of Pakistan People's Party and Ghafoor Haidery of Muttaheda Majlis-e-Amal and three treasury MPs Ghulam Rasool, Shabina Talat and Sher Akbar -- and six members from the 'civil society' -- including Lt Gen (retd) Moinuddin Haider, Abbas Khan, Sikandar Jamali, Sabina Hassan and Sarkar Abbas.

One-third of these members, as required, are women and the tenure of office is four years for parliamentarians or dissolution of the National Assembly, whichever is later, and five years for civil society members.

Who selected these people? The treasury and opposition benches chose their own nominees, but the members of civil society were appointed by a National Selection Panel headed by the chief justice of Pakistan. Without prejudice to the bona fides of the civil society members, their public profile regards advocacy of human rights pales before several national giants of rights advocacy and activism that come to mind -- people such as Asma Jehangir, I A Rehman, Afrasiyab Khattak, Abdul Sattar Edhi, Iqbal Haider, Abid Hasan Minto, Farzana Bari, Tahira Abdullah, etc. -- who could have lent instant public ownership to the commission through the immense trust people place in them and given it a flying start. As it is, the announcement of the commission has hardly set the country on fire or raised hopes for securer rights and respect for the rights of the ordinary citizen. And therein, ominously, lies the first stumble for the new commission.

Even the announced membership of civil society has not been smooth sailing. It has taken over a year of aborted attempts and changed nominations to come up with the current civil society membership. In early 2005 the government through a newspaper advertisement invited expressions of interest from civil society for membership of NPSC.

Hundreds applied. No information is available if any of the above-mentioned renowned non-members of the commission applied. It's sad if they did not apply and sadder if they did and yet were not selected.

The short-listed (few know what was the criteria that resulted in current membership, including that of a retired general who became part of a ruling dispensation resulting from a military coup and one with a controversial record of public service) candidates were interviewed by a committee headed by Chief Justice Sheikh Riaz. But the whole exercise turned out to be a waste of effort when it was discovered that the two members of the selection panel were appointed in violation of conditions set by Police Order 2002.

The Order states that members of NPSC selection panel should not be elected representatives or public servants and yet in clear violation of this the government had appointed Interior Minister Faisal Saleh (an elected MNA) and Chairman Federal Public Service Commission Lt Gen (retd) Jamshed Kiyani (a public servant) as the two members of the selection panel under the chief justice.

More controversy followed when later Chief Justice Nazim Siddiqui declined to become part of the selection process. Consequently Justice Tasadduq Jilani was appointed chairman of the selection panel, which comprised former interior secretary Hasan Raza Pasha and former defence secretary Lt Gen (retd) Hamid Nawaz -- sadly albeit predictably, again, a former general and a former bureaucrat, both representing the Establishment's interests.

This selection panel interviewed dozens of shortlisted candidates and recommended a list of 12 members for civil society representation including former Sindh Governor Lt Gen (retd) Moinuddin Haider, former interior secretary Afzal Shigri, former secretary and inspector general Abbas Khan, former secretary Sikandar Jamali, former petroleum secretary and National Reconstruction Bureau consultant Dr Gulfaraz Khan, former women's development secretary Dr Perveen Agha and other candidates with similar backgrounds. All are either generals or bureaucrats who, after retirement from a service of Establishment interests, seek resurrection as civil society representatives -- predictably and conveniently selected by co-former bureaucrats, of course.

Of these, Moinuddin, Abbas and Sikandar have made it to the final list of six 'civil society' representatives on the NPSC. Considering that virtually all of them are either retired generals or bureaucrats, there is scant hope that they will override the interests of the Establishment they served all their lives in favor of the public they failed to protect while in service.

Notwithstanding the desire of these government servants to re-invent themselves in a role they have neither experience nor demonstrable capability of and thereby perpetuate the defining self-assumed belief of the current dispensation (led by the army chief-president) ñ that they are indispensable for the country -- it should fall on the parliamentarians to demand a re-composition of the civil society membership of NPSC that is truly representative rather than sham.

How can persons who demonstrably failed to protect their own relatives being killed while in power in Sindh, couldn't stop the slide of Balochistan into anarchy or were unable to halt the rising incidents of gang rapes in Punjab when in service -- with all the civil and military dispensation at their command -- be able to do all that now? Again, notwithstanding their bona fides as individuals, they neither have the administrative authority they once commanded nor the moral authority they have never been accorded to save the people from the very forces they once commanded influence over. We saw they couldn't do it then and we can see they can't do it now.

'Art bana hua hai'...

As the honest confession of someone who herself has studied at an art college, I admit that a great deal of what is referred to as 'abstract art' in common parlance eludes me. I'm not a mind-reader. Trying to make intelligent noises about someone else's conception of - whatever - while not knowing jack about the 'whatever' that may be in question, is not really my forte.

And so 'art bana hua hai' is how the common man refers to this higher form... of art.

I loved it when this statement came up in an art exercise conducted recently; because to me this is the supreme all-encompassing phrase used by the man on the street to describe a work of art. And in our country the man on the street is more likely to be uneducated, or semi-literate, more concerned with the unsophisticated concern of earning the next meal. So for a small-scale study of what art may mean to the person-next-door, and as much for a study of how many different meanings one painting, or any one piece of art, can have for as many people, Munch's The Scream was the painting chosen. This painting, relatively better known in general, was also chosen for its expressive content. And among other things, an interesting psycho-analysis came across: the figure of indeterminate gender in foreground appears to be a woman -- to most men viewing the painting. Perhaps this has something to do with the action of the protagonist -- who is screaming, or in any case appears visibly agitated, or perhaps it has something to do with what the physical appearance conveys -- the long-faced, thin persona.

What people see in a picture/painting, it is also said, is a revelation of their minds; so, while to some, the sky was red, to another it was fire, and to a third a windstorm. To Faisal, who works in Joyland, operating a ride's switchboard, the painting shows "a bridge over water, the woman is afraid because someone is going to kill her from behind, or she is going to be attacked from the front, so she is afraid." While to a ticket checker in the same place, the painting shows "a bridge over a river, a long-haired girl with her mouth open, who is wearing only a long shirt,".make of that what you will... nothing else in the painting is mentioned, except the 'girl'. While there are recognisable elements in the painting, other areas are dealt with in linear strokes. To Ramzan, who works as domestic help, the painting shows "water, a bridge, a windstorm (aandhi) turning the sky turbulent and red," and defines the right side background (a blur) as "jungle". Ramzan does not comment on the figure until prompted to do so, to him the background is absorbing.

There are cultural differences as well, which express themselves all around. Vilma, a maid, who is here from Manila, thought the water in the painting was a "typhoon", and the person in the painting a "ghost", while the sky was "fire or red sky". Another young maid, Saima, aged 20, also thought the figure in the foreground a "bhoot, and the two smaller figures coming up behind are also bhoot." While Nabila, aged 16, also a maid, saw the figure as "a child who is afraid," and the painting as depicting "windy weather".

The "river, bridge and boats" are elements commonly pointed out by all, save in the case of Vilma, who saw the water as a "typhoon". Sher Rehman, a bakery attendant, viewed the painting in great detail, pointing out to me the distant specks that are "boats, with two people in one, and one in the other," and deducing the atmosphere as depicting "evening time". He also found the painting to be "simplistic".

A different take on the scenario came from Imran, who works in a photocopy shop; to him the activity in the painting shows "someone standing on the road asking for help," while the background "is earthquake-like, because of the red sky". Imran does not classify the protagonist's gender, but Hanif, working as an assistant with a police car-lifter, says "there's a road, blue river, boats, and a woman making noise".

An office helper, Masood, when asked to comment on The Scream, said "art bana hua hai," without further explanation. When asked to elaborate on what the "art" is, Masood said it was a "samundar, sehra," and "a woman with two people behind". Asked what he thought of the colours used in the painting, "art ke hisaab se theek hai," said Masood.

As an icon of existential anguish, as it is regarded, The Scream clearly evokes the feelings the painter means to relay; be it "asking for help/making noise/windstorm in the background/earthquake or typhoon". Also, while some people asked to voice their comments on the painting talked only about the background, to others the figure was the paramount focus.

'Art ke hisaab se theek hai'...

Edvard Munch

1863-1944

Edvard Munch was a Norwegian painter and printmaker, who studied art in Oslo in 1880-1882, travelled to Paris in 1885, and moved back to Norway in 1910. He is regarded as his country's greatest artist. He left many of his works to Oslo, where a museum was later built in his honour. Among Munch's friends was Ibsen, the playwright, and Munch designed sets for several of his plays.

Munch's painting was a major influence on the development of German expressionism in the early 20th century. His work is often regarded as a bridge between the post-impressionists, such as Van Gogh and Gaugin, and the early-twentieth century German expressionist movement. The Scream, or The Cry as it is known, is his most familiar painting and is regarded as an icon of existential anguish. The medium is waxed crayon and tempera on paper. The Scream is a part of three groups of work on the themes of love, suffering and death, which Munch collectively called The Frieze of Life.

Although Pakistani art has moved along no single line during the 60-odd years of its existence, in public fora its discussion remains entangled in a few elementary questions, like the issue of abstract and realistic art, or the conflict between local tradition and Western influence. I recently took part in a PTV show, Baat niklay gi, in which this kind of fixation was apparent.

Another important consideration that emerged in the programme was the role of art education in guiding the artist. It was noted that the test of curricula, strategies and human resources associated with art institutions is their success in making new artists. There are different schools of thought in this regard, since some believe that a conventional form of teaching is necessary, while others feel that young minds should be exposed to a variety of ideas and approaches, and should be free to choose whatever they like. The school must not impose any specific style or way of working, since the concept of education is to shape thinking individuals, not clones aping their masters.

Hence the many kinds of work by students that is in evidence. Some, studying under the guidance of well-established painters, tend to copy the tried-out methods of their tutors, and offer them at a cheaper price. Others have been inspired by their teachers to borrow a few elements here and there, but only to create their own style and carve out their niche in the local art scene.

Yet it is true that art institutes can be stifling for students, who, for the sake of grades, appreciation or quick fame, try to please their tutors by imitating their work. One finds a number of artists-teachers who are busy churning out substandard, commercial stuff which further generates works of inferior quality in their ardently-mimetic pupils. Exhibitions and degree shows are not short of displays in which one can spot the influence of certain artists.

It follows from this that an artist who is not part of an art institution, has not studied in a system, is innocent of being taught by a big name, may have a better chance of formulating his personal vision and individual vocabulary. Sadequain is the prime example here. Never having studied in an art school, he fabricated a visual language that fully represented him, was rooted in his culture and appeared starkly individual. His surfaces denoted a link to the indigenous sensibility and local taste in image making -- aspects usually neglected by the elite art schools. Perhaps due to this, our public responded most enthusiastically to his art.

This healthy result of being away from an art institute was witnessed, to some extent, in a recent exhibition held at Co-opera Art Gallery in Lahore. From 9th to 20th June 2006, the gallery displayed works by four different artists. Among them, only Aaqib Sharif hasn't had a formal education in art, whereas the rest, Ghazala, Saima Munawar and Saba Rashid, were all trained in the fine arts from the Punjab and Peshawar universities.

However, the matter of formal education in art was not the only difference between Aaqib and the others in this exhibition. Ironically the artists out of school did not impress one with the originality or sensitivity of their works. Either their surfaces were made with the drippings of paint, or formulaic females were drawn to suggest obscure inner feelings. Also included in the show were a few conventional landscapes. In these potentially interesting art works, the level of understanding, the handling of the medium or the clarity of ideas was not remarkable.

On the other hand, the only painter in this group who did not study art but mechanical engineering, ably demonstrated his skill. His cityscapes, both in paint and in pastels, were far more accomplished. Aaqib treated his subject matter -- scenes of city with pedestrians -- with multiple layers of marks made in pastels and paintbrush. There was a sense of atmosphere in his works on paper and canvas; details were transformed into a composition of soft hues and basic shapes. For Aaqib the cityscape seems a means of exploring the possibilities inherent in materials and tools.

If Aaqib's work impressed the viewer due to its sophistication, the paintings of the other three revealed unresolved ideas and immature handling of images and forms. Yet all three were included in this exhibition, including Ghazala, who in the past has already had 35 solo exhibitions.

Every painter, regardless of the kind or quality, aims for an exhibition of the entire body of his or her work. The urge to exhibit is natural one in artists, but it sadly seems that exhibitions have become their ultimate goal. An exhibition not only uplifts the artist's CV, it also sells the work; therefore it is considered an essential step in monetary gain as well as professional prestige. Hence many artists - especially beginners -- are keen to arrange their solo exhibitions or desperate to send works to as many group shows as possible, without considering well the quality of their own creations. This has stimulated the habit of working only when the date of an exhibition is fixed or the deadline for a group show is nigh.

In this way artmaking is reduced to the art of showing in galleries, which, regardless of the quality of the works, provide space for a large number of artists. They do it, no doubt, just as much to encourage young practitioners as to initiate them in the rites of market. Nevertheless, the gallery-and-exhibition mania has been a double-edged sword for aspiring artists.

As urban theatre flourished in the cities of Bombay and Calcutta, the big theatre companies set up touring sections. The entire production unit and cast, with other paraphernalia like sets and equipment, moved from city to city, town to town, putting up their performances.

These big companies were copied, at a much more modest level, by smaller companies that often performed in the rural areas, towns and even the cities, especially on the sufi urs and on festivals like basant or baisakhi.

With the decline of the big theatrical companies and the rise of the Talkies, these small companies that performed in smaller areas survived and were able to face the change without altogether disastrous consequences. This tradition continued even after partition, and some of the theatre companies that performed in the rural areas were formed after independence. These theatre companies chose the most backwards parts of the country to perform, where there was little or no entertainments other than the traditional ones. Phaji Shah Theatre, Shah Jehan Theatre, Watan Theatre, Kisan Theatre, Gaman Theatre, Wali Shah Theatre, Tufail Theatre and Lucky Theatre, were some such companies formed after nineteen-forty-seven.

These companies were also in a much better position to carry on traditional theatre from a pre-electrification and pre-recording era to times when music and plays could be recorded aurally and visually. Electrification and recording brought into being the film and the recording companies, which were more conditioned to aesthetically tastes of the urban audience. The urban audiences, more in love with change, welcomed something that did not represent traditional culture. Film and recording technology were polyglot media that encouraged the coming together of various traditions and styles. Purity of form was not one of the virtues that they espoused.

The urban-based theatre companies, like their successors the films, also embraced change, the modern thing to do as against succumbing to the unchanging reality of living in a culture accused of being static. But these smaller companies, despite their desire to appear modern, could not go very far because the audiences they were playing to were not so welcoming of change as the urban audiences. This theatre, therefore, became a mix of the traditional theatre that revolved round the folktale, and the theatre that became known by the generic nomenclature of Parsi Theatre.

This theatre was a mixture of the romances and heroic deeds of our heroes and the indigenised versions of European plays belonging mostly to the Elizabethan age, considered to be the golden period of theatre in Europe.

And in both the theatres, Parsi and rural, music played a very important part. The leading players in both types of theatre were singers, and the popularity of the play depended on the ability of the singer to draw accolades from the people. Rural theatre was more of a song-and-dance affair than acting, a credible plot and the development of character.

The music was live and the orchestra sat on either side of the stage -- it was rare for them to follow their placement in the pit. The actor was at liberty to sing whenever he wanted to, as the plays were loosely constructed to honour the wishes of the audience. If the audience wanted a song earlier than was scheduled, then the actor had to accede to that wish. It was more convenient if the play was made in a manner amenable to such changes on the spot.

Lucky Theatre was started by electricians who supplied generators and electrical equipment. It soon merged with a circus and formed the Lucky Irani Circus. This outfit became the largest circus in the country and they continued with the tradition of touring from one mela to another, from one town to another, even pitching their circus tents in the biggest cities of the country. The group became big enough to enter the film world as well. Paji Shah's Theatre was one of the oldest folk theatres, and played a central role in popularising the lok theatre in the Punjab .It also served as a training academy for several artists who later established theatre groups of their own. It was owned by Syed Fazal Shah, who was himself an actor, director and theatre manager, and his wife Iqbal Begum, a theatre actress. The couple acted as hero and heroin the theatre's plays. In later life they contented themselves with playing character roles. The Phaji Shah Theatre did not survive their death and was wound up soon after he became something of a legend in the field of folk theatre.

Shah Jehan Theatre was owned by Mian Anwar, who named this company after his daughter Shah Jehan .She acted in the leading female roles in the theatre. Though not an actor himself, he married the famous stage actress Khurshid Kuku and was a friend of Bali Jatti. He died in a traffic accident. Watan Theatre was owned by Muhammad Ismail, who remained true to the tradition of marrying his leading ladies. Alam Lohar rose to fame while he was associated with the Watan Theatre.

Kisan Theatre was owned by Muhammad Sharif China, who was popularly known as China Pehalwan and was also an actor. Actually both China and his wife Gulzar Jatti worked in the theatre in the roles of hero and heroin. Their daughter Bilo inherited the theatre after his death and her husband Muhammad Nasim now manages it. Inayat Hussain Bhatti was associated with this theatre and the company was popularly known by his name. Gaman Theatre, owned by Gaman who was from a village in Multan, was very popular in the saraiki speaking areas of the Punjab. The cast of the Theatre is all male; the female roles are played by the males as is the wont with popular and traditional theatre.

Wali Shah Theatre was named after Wali Shah, himself a theatre person and a hero. His son Yaqub was for a long time a successful hero in the theatre, and another son became a good harmonium player. Wali Shah Theatre usually did traditional plays not departing much from set rules and principles. The theatre died with the demise of its owner.

After working in many theatres Tufail Niazi formed his own theatre with the help of his relatives and friends. He rose to fame as a singer. The other Theatre of note was Shahama Theatre, the only theatre owned by a woman, Bali Jatti, it lasted for about sixteen years.

With the rise and expansion of satellite television networks, these theatre groups have been pushed even more to the fringes. While some have simply disappeared, the others are fighting to survive. Though their audiences are now in even more remote areas, yet they have attempted to adopt the more saleable aspects of urban popular culture.