There was a time when Pakistani television dramas held a magnetic appeal far beyond national borders. Productions such as Humsafar, Zindagi Gulzar Hai, and Dastaan captured audiences from South Asia to the Middle East, reviving the legacy of PTV’s golden era. They offered stories grounded in emotional authenticity, moral complexity, and cultural resonance.
For many, they represented Pakistan’s soft power at its most effective, projecting national creativity and depth. A decade later, that momentum appears to have faded. The country’s entertainment industry, once defined by quality and innovation, now finds itself trapped in repetition and commercialism, struggling to produce work that speaks to either domestic or global audiences.
The decline is not a result of talent scarcity. Pakistan’s directors, writers, and actors remain highly capable, but their work is constrained by an industry that values volume over vision. Television screens are saturated with interchangeable plots of domestic conflict and jealousy. Cinema, which showed promise after Khuda Kay Liye and Bol, has not sustained consistent quality or audiences beyond festival seasons and Eid releases. The result is an ecosystem that produces content regularly but seldom produces excellence.
A central reason for this stagnation lies in the collapse of strong writing. In earlier decades, scriptwriting was the creative foundation of Pakistani entertainment. Writers such as Haseena Moin and Umera Ahmed defined social conversations and set benchmarks for cultural storytelling. Today, writing is treated as a technical necessity rather than an artistic discipline.
Themes of class, identity, and social change have been replaced by formulaic narratives designed for short-term ratings. For a society as young and dynamic as Pakistan’s, this creative retreat has deep consequences. The youth, who make up nearly two-thirds of the population, see little of their experience reflected on screen. Their linguistic diversity, economic struggles, and social aspirations are missing from mainstream drama, replaced by a narrow portrayal of urban domestic life.
This creative gap is compounded by Pakistan’s fluid cultural identity in a globalized world. Our storytelling tradition has always balanced conservatism and expression, but the most powerful narratives were those that negotiated this balance with honesty. Zindagi Gulzar Hai resonated with audiences abroad because it captured a universal story through a distinctly Pakistani lens. Its success in India, the Gulf, and among diaspora communities showed that authenticity, not imitation, travels best. Today, that authenticity is difficult to find.
Regulation has also played a role in narrowing creative expression. The Pakistan Electronic Media Regulatory Authority (PEMRA), established to uphold ethical and cultural standards, has often restricted the space for experimentation. Its reluctance to approve unconventional or socially complex content discourages producers from tackling real issues such as gender inequality, mental health, or class mobility. What results is an entertainment landscape that is safe but stagnant. A modern regulatory framework should safeguard decency while protecting artistic freedom, allowing creators to reflect the complexity of the society they depict.
Economically, the consequences of this stagnation are significant. According to the Pakistan Bureau of Statistics, the entertainment and media sector contributes less than 0.8 per cent to the country’s GDP, far lower than comparable economies such as Turkey at 1.7 per cent or South Korea at 3 per cent.
The Federation of Pakistan Chambers of Commerce and Industry (FPCCI) has estimated that Pakistan’s film and drama sector employs nearly 200,000 people directly and over a million indirectly. Yet much of this employment remains informal, low-paying, and without professional progression. In an economy facing a fiscal deficit and youth unemployment above 10 percent, creative industries could provide a sustainable source of jobs, exports, and soft power if their potential were recognised through targeted policy.
The global entertainment economy now revolves around streaming. Platforms such as Netflix, Amazon Prime, and Disney+ have changed both how stories are told and how they are financed.
Pakistan has lagged in this transformation. While neighbouring India exports billions of dollars in digital content annually, Pakistan has yet to establish a formal digital production pipeline. A handful of dramas have appeared on Netflix, but the absence of consistent partnerships or investment strategies reflects structural neglect. Netflix alone invested over $400 million in Turkish content in the past five years; no comparable figure exists for Pakistan. This underutilisation of streaming services is a missed opportunity both for economic growth and for cultural projection.
Reviving the industry therefore requires structural reform rather than nostalgia. Investment in creative education is essential. Scriptwriting, direction, and production should be treated as professions deserving institutional training and grants. Broadcasters must move from being gatekeepers of conventional content to facilitators of diverse voices. Young creators already produce innovative work on YouTube and short-form platforms, but these remain disconnected from mainstream networks. Integrating this digital creativity into professional spaces could produce new genres and audiences.
Financial sustainability must also become central to reform. Film financing remains limited to private investors, leaving little room for artistic risk. Establishing a national film fund supported by public-private partnerships could incentivise experimentation and ensure equitable access to resources. Collaboration with regional and international studios, particularly for digital distribution, would help Pakistani storytelling regain a global footprint. The goal is not imitation of Western models but the creation of stories rooted in local experience that can speak to a wider world.
The state too has a role to play. Countries that successfully expanded their entertainment exports, such as Turkey, South Korea, and Malaysia, did so by integrating culture into foreign policy. Turkey’s drama exports exceeded $600 million in 2023, second only to the USA. Korea’s Hallyu strategy tied entertainment to tourism and technology, creating an ecosystem that contributed nearly $12 billion to its GDP. Pakistan’s entertainment industry, by contrast, operates without strategic direction or institutional backing. A national cultural export policy linking media, tourism, and education could help reposition Pakistan as a regional creative hub.
The cultural stakes are equally high. Entertainment is not merely recreation; it is a reflection of how a society sees itself. The global success of Turkish and Korean dramas demonstrates how media can influence perception, strengthen cultural identity, and contribute to economic growth. Pakistan’s own history shows similar potential. Our stories, when well told, have travelled far and inspired deep emotional connection. That potential has not vanished; it lies dormant beneath layers of neglect and institutional inertia.
To reclaim the screen, Pakistan must once again trust its storytellers. The industry’s revival depends on confidence in creative merit rather than reliance on commercial formulas. If regulators, investors, and producers recognise that cultural production is both an economic and national asset, reform becomes possible. An entertainment industry that values realism, quality writing, and youth representation could redefine Pakistan’s soft power in a region increasingly defined by cultural exports.
For now, the gap between talent and opportunity remains wide. Yet the solution is within reach: to move from producing for survival to creating for significance. If Pakistan’s screens can once again capture its spirit with honesty and imagination, they can re-emerge not only as a source of pride but as a voice of who we are and who we might become.
