The public places name bill

A rose is now “illegal” by any other name

It’s been noticed that there is no federal mechanism in place to allow the concerned authorities to name or rename public places or government-run bodies. This has understandably led to a proposal to put together an official ‘Naming Committee’.

 
If you refer to Benazir Bhutto International Airport as ‘Islamabad Airport’, you may be charged for felony under a newly introduced bill.

The Public Places (Names) Bill 2017 is a curious piece of legislation that typifies a curious Pakistani tradition: to allow a minor problem to continue unchecked for decades, and then descend upon it without warning with all the subtlety and grace of a cluster bomb.

It’s been noticed that there is no federal mechanism in place to allow the concerned authorities to name or rename public places or government-run bodies. This has understandably led to a proposal to put together an official ‘Naming Committee’.

Before even getting to the most harrowing and widely criticised aspect of the bill, there are glaring contradiction between what it purports to achieve, and what it actually does. The bill recognises the importance of names in reflecting community values, but allows the government to largely bypass the community itself while deciding the names of public places.

There are many naming principles to be adopted by the committee. It ought to be ensured that the name is easy to write and pronounce (farewell, Chichokimallian Railway Station), and that names containing cardinal directions should be avoided (stay strong, North Nazimabad).

The bill does make a vague reference towards taking the historical relevance of the public place into account. However, there is no clear recommendation to consider the community’s own preference for what their public spaces should be called. While making specious claims of respecting the residents, their identities, and their aspirations; the bill does little to include the affected citizenry in the Naming Committee’s decisions.

It gets worse. What elevates the bill from a simple act of chutzpah to a terrifying leap towards despotism, is section 13:

“If a person intentionally or negligently uses a name of a public place other than the name notified under section 12, he shall be liable to imprisonment which may extend to thirty days or fine which may extend to five hundred thousand rupees.”

An average citizen may take heart in the knowledge that this disproportionate punishment may not be commonly awarded. To me personally, this idea provides no solace at all.

The mark of despotism is not that it puts millions of citizens behind bars over minor infractions. The objective is to enact laws that are so vague and open to interpretation, that they allow the government legal cover to harass or arrest any citizen at any time.

Consider your 80-year grandfather who has not visited the website of the National History and Literary Heritage Division to learn the official name of his mohala. Under the proposed law, this elderly man could be jailed for referring to a local intersection by its traditional name of ‘Bakramandi chowk’ instead of ‘Kalma Chowk’.

It’s understandable to have fixed names for public places for official use. However, it is absurd to punish ordinary citizens for referring to these places by unofficial names. It follows the same principle as having one fixed language for official use, but allowing the public to speak in any regional language which may be translated for official purposes.

It’s not uncommon for locals to have multiple names or metonyms for the same place. Nobody’s up in knots about New York City also being called ‘Empire City’ or the ‘Big Apple’.  Nobody is confused about Rawalpindi being referred to as ‘Pindi’; a colloquial often repeated for public places whose names also contain the word ‘Rawalpindi’.

When there is one official name for a place, you don’t need to punish people to make them use the official name. It is quite possible, for example, to refer to your relative as ‘Munnu Uncle’ at home, but remember to call him ‘Munawar’ in a court room.

The proposal of sending citizens to prison for not using the official name is not just Machiavellian, it’s unprecedented. It’s a product of a ludicrous mindset that this country runs on the power of a stick, not a carrot. Perhaps it does, but only because our brutal authorities have dog-trained their person to respond only to sticks. We’re not genetically irrational or inherently incapable of being reasoned with.

It would be unfair to dismiss the usefulness of putting together a committee to name public places. But the Public Places (Names) Bill 2017, in its current form, is testament to the federal tradition of doing far too much, way too late.