LAHORE, PAKISTAN – One of the joys of working in Pakistan is that people here love the media. There are dozens of Pakistani newspapers and TV channels and every other Pakistani, it seems, is – or thinks he is – a journalist.
Of course the government – like most governments – wants to restrict or control coverage, but their own people can’t help themselves. They like us.
In a refugee camp in North West Frontier Province, two policemen came up and told us we had to report to the major. Oh no, I thought, we’re in trouble.
The major was sitting in his tent like a frog squatting on a lily pad. We explained who we were. He broke into a wide smile beneath his shades.
“Last time I had my voice clip on Channel 4 was when I graduated from Sandhurst!” he said. After that we were best of friends, and free to film whatever we wanted in the camp.
Later that day we sped to Lahore to cover the terrible impact of the car bomb which killed more than 20 people. We arrived at the scene after dark, having driven for more than six hours.
At the site, three policemen were on guard keeping the public away. I presumed they would tell us we couldn’t go further to film. They looked at us accusingly. “You are very late for this coverage,” said one pointedly as he led us in.
The official under the most pressure must be Major-General Athar Abbas, the army spokesman. He comes from an illustrious journalistic family – one brother is editor-in-chief of Dawn, Pakistan’s most venerable news group.
Another is senior at Geo TV. The third is secretary-general of Pakistan’s journalists union. So I guess family gatherings must be pretty tense if he ever succumbs to the bureaucratic instinct to curb journalistic endeavour.