It’s easy to take freedom of the press lightly in this day and age of real time electronic news and social media, but things were not always so. And more than any group or publication, one man’s name stands out in the long battles for press freedom in the struggle for and after Pakistan. That is why the late Hameed Nizami, founder of one of the country’s most famous newspapers Nawa I Waqt, is remembered and appreciated even more than half a century after his passing. But the story of Nizami the man and visionary is far bigger than the story of Nawa I Waqt, or even the wider Pakistani press, which owes its freedom and muscle in no small manner to the gentle yet persistent campaigner who revolutionised people’s thinking and approach towards politics.
I remember a freedom movement veteran addressing a group of expat Pakistanis in London some years ago. And as the narrative entered the decade of the ‘40s, inching closer to Partition, the name of Hameed Nizami inevitably came up. And far more than his paper, which was mentioned a number of times, it was Nizami’s personality that the speaker concentrated on. His greatest feature, it seems, was capturing and sticking to the initiative. That is what enabled him to rise from humble beginnings to iconic recognition. And that is obviously what fueled his spirit in those long years of literary and political struggle, first advocating the League’s point of view in a hostile environment, to say the least, and then defending the ideals of Pakistan as they were attacked by those sworn to protect them.
Those closest to him were sure all along that Nizami was aware of his greater role right from the early days. He was always a restless fellow. Born exactly a century ago, in 1915, in Sangla Hill, he was, according to reports, never the typical Punjabi lad who’d never venture out of his inherited circle of influence. Hameed Nizami recognised his most prized asset relatively early in life. He knew, it seems, that his power of imagination, combined with his sense of discipline and hard work, would catapult him far beyond more typical creatures. If it sounds exaggerated, it’s because real-life inspiration normally is.
The London speaker also mentioned Coln (r) Amjad Hussain Syed, who became friends with Hameed Nizami at Islamia College, and the two worked closely with him from the days when Nizami was elected president of the Punjab Muslim Students Federation. He mentioned how they decided to talk to Allama Iqbal about their ideals and way forward for their struggle – just another example of their ‘reaching out’ spirit. The Allama no doubt appreciated their spirit, even directing his trusted servant Ali Buksh to give water to these ‘pakhay huay munday’ (fired up boys). But he also told them that the ‘asli pehlwan’ of the struggle was Jinnah not Iqbal, and the boys should approach him, and then obey his commands.
So they boys readily called on the future father of the nation when he visited Lahore in ’36. He was staying at the famous Faletti’s, a stone’s throw from Charing Cross, where Nizami was to house his Nawa I Waqt, and where it would stay for half a century. But the first meeting with Jinnah was not as sweet as the one with the poet. Jinnah would not agree to come to the college for a talk unless formally invited. And since they neither represented the student union nor had a formal invitation from the principal, they were duly directed to return through a more formal channel, which Jinnah would be happy to accept.
The principal, though, was not really game. The sentiment is not too difficult to understand considering the circumstances. This was when politics of agitation against the British was gathering force, in one way or another, and the principal just didn’t want to politicise his area of influence. Interestingly, though, the rebuttal was more a source of inspiration than frustration for Nizami. It also gave him an important lesson in politics. There will always be opposition, from the most unlikely sources sometimes, and one’s persistence would always be put to test.
Not much later, Jinnah would publically say that as long as youngsters like Nizami made up the Muslim rank and file, the nation’s future was bright. He also requested Nizami to take up the cause of the Muslims through Nawa I Waqt. And since Nizami had not forgotten the orders of Iqbal that fateful day when he and his friend the future colonel decided to pay the great poet a visit, he followed Jinnah’s instructions to the letter.
Again, the press of the ‘40s was nothing like the cluttered landscape of today, but it had its own peculiarities. And for Muslim editors, problems were manifold, since they not only had to counter the ‘establishment’, but also face the fierce onslaught of the Hindu press. Nizami did not have the luxury of too many comrades in the press at the time, so Nawa I Waqt was left to go it alone, especially in the feverish politics of Punjab, where the road to Partition was paved with more pitfalls than anywhere else.
In keeping with the spirit of that quiet boy from Sangla Hill who vowed to grow big enough to realise his ideals from the beginning, Nizami’s Nawa I Waqt became the pulse of the people as the country moved towards the fateful caesarian section of the subcontinent. It was never the League’s official paper, and he was never Jinnah’s official spokesman. But the powers that be cracked down on the publication just as such. There was political pressure, social strangulation, and the age-old financial squeese – shutting down government advertisements to run the paper out of business – but Nizami persisted, something he had made a habit out of by now, and something that would be challenged again and again in years to come.
There was, of course, jubilation when Pakistan was born. Nizami rejoiced along with his friends. Jinnah was among the first to acknowledge the part he and his publication had played. They had achieved remarkable feats over the course of the struggle for the homeland. They had proved that the pen was really more powerful than the sword. It could at the same time give people a voice, help rally the scattered around a unified platform, fight the oppressor and defend the oppressed. And, above all, they proved to the world that one man’s ideals could change millions of people’s lives.
But the hope that was born with Pakistan soon began dying. Everybody realised the huge cost of freedom. Millions upon countless millions had been mercilessly uprooted from their habitats of thousands of years, countless had been put to ugly deaths by mobs and much of the countryside had been reduced to ashes. It was hoped that those that had made it to the new world would guard it with their lives. It was supposed to be more precious than their lives.
Unfortunately, though, it was not so. The dream of Pakistan had not quite mutated into the nightmare that it is today, but signs began emerging quite early that the dream was going sour. The locals and migrants had problems from the beginning. And after the old guard, especially Jinnah, departed, politics and politicians began degenerating. It was against this backdrop that Nizami had to defend the ideals of Pakistan. Jinnah himself had urged, at Partition, that he press must be vigilant in its oversight, and quick to point out when leaders begin to lose their way. But no matter how much Nizami persisted, there were no land reforms and politics increasingly became the realm of the feudal class. The differences and problems of migrant communities continued to spill out in the open, and the government became increasingly dictatorial.
Things came to a head when Governor Rule was imposed in Punjab in ’49. Nawa I Waqt had always rallied the cause of the people, and this time that struggle brought him in direct confrontation with the powerful government. Nizami ultimately demanded that General Gracey be removed from the position of commander in chief. Then one thing led to another, and in ’51 the government had had enough, and shut down the newspaper.
Once again, rather than put him down, this onslaught inspired another fight for right in Nizami. He went straight back to the people, launched another paper Jihad, and continued his editorial verbosity and political vibrancy by reconnecting with the people. By the time the government moved, in typical fashion, to lock up Jihad, Nizami had already gained the moral high ground in the eyes of the people. The government made a fool of itself a little while longer, but in June ’52 Nawa I Waqt was back online, more popular than ever.
Nizami’s never-say-die spirit was only part of his success story. His other strength, unparalleled in the press, was his ability to speak the language of the masses. His editorials were far more spirited than the contemporary press. And his arguments were always clear, reflecting a long thought process that matured with the struggle for independence, not just from the British but from the phenomenon of subjugation. The government realised this when it banned the paper back in ’51. By then the paper had spoken to and for the people for far too long to be so conveniently detached from the public psyche. Indeed, the more Nizami rallied, and the more Jihad carried on Nawa I Waqt’s fight, the more his stature grew. From believing in him, the people had moved on to looking up to him; knowing they finally had a voice, and that voice finally mattered.
When Ayub took power, another confrontation was imminent. Again, the press of today is a different beast, but it still houses some old war horses; those who took their first baby steps in the world of journalism when Hameed Nizami was at his height. They tell of Nizami’s final years; the Dark Night of martial law. It was unusual, to say the least, to raise such a strong voice against the military regime at that time. Yet the more the government strongarmed him, the more he fought back, and the people backed him all the more. Soon, as Ayub cemented his grip on power, Nizami’s resistance grew stronger, and the fight consumed him. In the end, it took his life. In Feb ’62, at the age of 46, Hameed Nizami passed away.
Journalism, unfortunately, is a subtle art. And unlike more martial arts, it cannot be taught in an institutional manner. It requires certain inherent qualities, which can in turn be nurtured. But they cannot be instilled, nobody can be schooled to be an exceptional journalist, at least that’s what the old school says. No doubt Hameed Nizami influenced those around him to no small degree, and his struggle endures to this day, but his personal aura, and his unique connect with the people, remains unequalled.
The Pakistan of today is far removed from Hameed Nizami’s time. Back the, people’s problems were largely political. It was the political elite that had captured what belonged to the masses, and refused to let go. The struggle against official authoritarianism and corruption was the most consuming fight of the time. Today, a number of other, far more lethal, problems have emerged. Decades of official duplicity, faulty policy, and institutional nurturing of hatred have turned the country into a killing field. Just like the dream of Pakistan was disfigured into a nightmare, the peace and love of Islam have been degenerated into hatred and murder.
The duty of the press in such times is that much more serious. When society is tearing at the seams and the government is dumfounded into inaction, the press must fill the official vacuum that must manufacture and maintain a powerful national narrative. Unfortunately, despite its feverish burgeoning over the last decade and a half, Pakistan’s popular media has proved unequal to the task so far. It is just as divided as the society it furnishes. And it is just as lost about that crucial missing narrative as much of the periphery, where the distinction between orthodox and militant Islam remains blurred.
Today’s Pakistan needs Hameed Nizami perhaps even more than his own time. Then, the fight was for the ideals of Pakistan. Now, it’s for the survival of the country. No army or government alone can win such a deep rooted war as Pakistan’s. This war symbolises the coming to the fore of society’s deep inner conflicts. And it will only be won when people as a whole are mobilised in a certain, progressive direction. And that cannot happen until there is a glue that holds them together. Since times immemorial, that glue has been the pen; reflecting innovative solutions to existential problems, coming from enlightened and progressive minds.
Now, the media is more about quantity than quality. It is little surprise, in hindsight, that media has been unable to keep a check on official excesses over the years. Also, issues like ratings and earnings are a bigger concern for corporate entities that own and control popular media. Therefore, sensalisation takes precedence over substance.
For more than half a century we have remembered, cherished and celebrated Hameed Nizami and his creation. But have we, as people and as Pakistanis, carried forward his legacy? This is particularly true for the media. Is there any among us now who can stand up for the ideals of the real Pakistan; to the point that it consumes him and, ultimately, takes his life?
A journalist is more than just a critic or reformer. A true, dedicated journalist is a soldier. And considering the kind of war Pakistan is engaged in at the moment, the nation needs soldiers like Hameed Nizami just as much as we need the soldiers who are risking their lives in Zarb-e-Azb. It is the responsibility of every Pakistani to keep Nizami’s example in mind. And it is especially important for his rightful heirs to carry forward his torch. He laid the finest example of holding the light in the long Dark Night. And since this night is longer and darker, we need to be up to the fight. There’s no better example than Hameed Nizami on this uphill trek.
