The Ivory Tower and the Alhamra Square: Deconstructing ThinkFest 2026

As the winter sun dipped behind the red-brick arches of Lahore’s Alhamra Arts Council on January 23, 2026, the atmosphere was thick with more than just the city’s seasonal smog. It was the opening day of the 9th Afkar-e-Taza, ThinkFest, an event that has, over the last decade, cemented itself as Pakistan’s premier intellectual arena. Yet, as the chairs filled and the microphones hummed to life, a familiar, restless tension rippled through the audience, a tension that suggests Pakistan’s “festival culture” is facing a profound identity crisis.

A Hall of Echoes?

ThinkFest 2026 arrived with its usual promise of high-brow rigor. With a roster featuring global heavyweights like inequality economist Thomas Piketty and geopolitical strategist Vali Nasr, the festival ostensibly succeeded in its mission: bringing the “world’s best minds to Lahore.” However, the reaction on the ground, and across the digital ether, was far from unanimous praise.

For many young attendees, particularly students from public universities who traveled from across Punjab, the “ThinkFest experience” felt increasingly like a curated bubble. While the entry remained free (a commendable feat in a crushing economy), the invisible barriers to entry felt taller than ever. Critics pointed to a program dominated by the “usual suspects”, the same circle of English-speaking elites, former ministers, and international academics whose perspectives, while intellectually stimulating, often feel lightyears away from the gritty, inflationary reality of the average Pakistani.

The “Negative” Pulse

The audience’s skepticism was most palpable during sessions featuring political figures. As former finance ministers and planning experts discussed Macroeconomic Stability and Tax Justice, the whispers in the back rows were not about GDP growth, but about the price of flour and the recent Gul Plaza fire.

There is a growing fatigue with what some call “The Circular Debate.” The negative reception wasn’t directed at the presence of ideas, but at the perceived lack of accountability. When Ahsan Iqbal or Miftah Ismail speak at these forums, the younger demographic, suffering from a record-high youth unemployment rate in 2026, often views it as a performance rather than a dialogue. To many, ThinkFest has become a “safe space” where the architects of the status quo can intellectualize their failures without facing the heat of the street.

The Need for the Literary Litmus Test

Why, then, do we continue to host these festivals? And more importantly, why do thousands still show up?

The “need” for intellectual festivals in Pakistan is undeniable. In a country where the public education system is in tatters and mainstream media has largely devolved into a shouting match of partisan clips, spaces like ThinkFest and the upcoming Karachi Literature Festival (KLF) are the last remaining outposts of civil discourse. They provide a rare platform where a student from a remote village can sit in the same room as a Nobel nominee or a world-renowned historian.

However, the “literary festival” model is evolving, or perhaps, it needs to be forced to evolve. The reception of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto Jr.’s session at ThinkFest 2026 provides a clue. By framing climate change through the lens of local rivers and indigenous identity, he managed to bridge the gap between the elite stage and the popular imagination. It was one of the few moments where the audience felt “seen.”

Beyond the Elite Capture

The overarching critique of ThinkFest 2026 is a microcosm of the broader Pakistani dilemma: Elite Capture. Whether it is the economy, the judiciary, or the literary stage, the control of the narrative remains in very few hands.

Literary and intellectual festivals in Pakistan are at a crossroads. To survive and remain relevant, they must move beyond being “Adabi Baithaks” for the upper-middle class. There is a desperate hunger for Linguistic diversity. A shift away from the hegemony of English to include more robust sessions in Punjabi, Sindhi, Balochi, and Pashto.

There is want of moving beyond the “circuit” of established journalists to include activists, grassroots organizers, and young thinkers who aren’t yet on the state’s radar.

People want there to be radical honesty. This can be achieved by creating panels that don’t just “discuss” issues but confront the systemic reasons why those issues persist decade after decade.

The Verdict

ThinkFest 2026 was a triumph of logistics and international networking, but it was a sobering reminder of the growing chasm between Pakistan’s “Thinking Class” and its “Working Class.”

The negative audience reactions aren’t a sign of anti-intellectualism; they are a cry for inclusion. The people of Lahore didn’t just come to Alhamra to listen to Thomas Piketty explain why they are poor, they came looking for a sign that the people on the stage actually understand what it means to live in the Pakistan of 2026.

As we look toward the rest of the 2026 festival calendar, the challenge for organizers is clear: Break the bubble, or watch the audience walk away.