M. Shaban Rafi and Ayesha Saddiqa
Hollywood is not just about cinema. It is a political machine, a partner in shaping America’s image and its enemies. Since 9/11, the film industry has marched in step with the Pentagon, producing war stories that blur the line between screen fiction and foreign policy. It is not far-fetched to claim that Hollywood and the White House are not from two different sets of DNA.
How many Hollywood directors and producers would be willing to make films on the ongoing Israeli and its collaborators’ genocide in Gaza, just as they have extensively done on the Holocaust?
The films produced within 27 years, such as American Sniper, Zero Dark Thirty, Body of Lies, among others, have created a distorted lens through which millions now view the Muslim world. At the heart of these distortions is the figure of the Muslim woman. She appears on screen almost always veiled, almost always silent, almost always in need of saving. At times, she is cast as a victim while sobbing, pleading, and waiting for Western rescue. At other times, she is pushed into the role of a terrorist, her faith fused with fanaticism. Rarely, she is humanised.
In contrast, Western women are portrayed as articulate, autonomous, and powerful. For instance, Maya, the CIA analyst in Zero Dark Thirty, embodies courage and intellect, while Teya in American Sniper is a portrait of emotional strength. Western, particularly Caucasian, women shine in order and light. The message is clear: one culture needs rescuing, and the other does the rescuing.
Edward Said’s theory of Orientalism helps explain this contrast further. Hollywood, like much of Western media, continues to imagine the East as the silent ‘Other,’ a world defined by oppression, irrationality, and backwardness. The screen does not show Muslim women as teachers, doctors, entrepreneurs, activists, or businesspeople. Instead, it reduces them to caricatures of suppression who need to be rescued from the Muslim society.
The pattern is just as stark with Muslim men. They are shown as terrorists, patriarchs, or zealots, stripped of humanity in many ways. Meanwhile, Western male characters, even when violent or traumatised, are given depth, emotion, and justification. The American soldier is haunted and conflicted, yet a human. The Muslim man, however, is simply a threat or dehumanised. The imbalance is surprisingly glaring and repetitive.
These portrayals, among others, spill far beyond the cinema. They shape policy debates, justify wars, and feed public suspicion. For many Western viewers, who may never meet a Muslim in their lives, these films become their only window into Muslim identities. And when that window shows only fear and silence, the consequences are dangerous. Fiction begins to masquerade as fact. Russell explains in his book titled “My Philosophical Developments” that when an actor says something that usually confers falsity as truth, nobody says s/he are lying.
This article draws on the first author’s research paper, “Screen Image of Muslim Women in the Popular Post-9/11 Films on War on Terror,” published in the Pakistan Journal of Gender Studies. The study highlights how these screen portrayals are deeply connected to power, politics, and policy.
Audiences are already growing weary of the recycled tropes-the woman in the burqa with a bomb, the call to prayer as a backdrop to violence, the brown-skinned villain speaking broken English. Viewers ask: where are the Muslim doctors, the engineers, the poets, the parents who raise their children in peace? Where are the everyday lives that do not revolve around conflict?
The way forward lies in reclaiming narratives through Pakistani cinema, regional storytellers, and cross-cultural collaborations that emphasise truth, humanity, and diversity. This may provide a lens for Western audiences to question the stereotypes recycled on screen.
As Pakistan opens itself to the world, especially in its growing ties with China and the United States for economic cooperation, cultural narratives on screen must reinforce dignity, diversity, and the lived realities of its people. It is crucial for the Pakistani film industry to actively debunk these stereotypes and project authentic portrayals of Muslim life.
Pakistan’s civil-military government’s support and funding to our struggling film industry is badly needed to promote, of course, a much-needed positive and authentic image of the country.
The role of the playwright and scriptwriter becomes crucial, along with technologically advanced laboratories powered by AI that can refine film editing locally to create a global impact. It is also important to collaborate with Western studios to reduce stereotypical representations of Muslim lives. Even Hollywood has a responsibility, not just to entertain, but to speak the truth.
The film industry thrives on collaboration, which fuels creativity, innovation, and global reach. Rather than endlessly waiting for Godot, it is time to envision meaningful partnerships. Imagine if our film industry were to collaborate with Hollywood to co-produce even one film each year. Such an initiative would not only mark a remarkable achievement but also project our cultural narratives onto the global stage, strengthening Pakistan’s soft power, enhancing cultural diplomacy, and opening new economic opportunities for the industry.
Almost every private and public university in Pakistan now has a department of media and communication studies. However, most of these departments struggle with low admissions and rarely take the initiative to engage with the creative arts or the film industry. The same is true of English departments, even though their graduates and faculty members could serve as a valuable resource in reviving theatre and film. Unfortunately, they seldom choose this path. In this context, we must appreciate the efforts of the University of Lahore for its active role in film production. The university stands as a living example of the successful production of films such as Zarrar (2022) and Seylum (2026) that other institutions can follow.
In this journey, institutions like ISPR must also step forward, capturing and narrating the Pakistan Army’s recent victory against its four-times-bigger enemy, India, with cinematic craft-ensuring that stories of resilience and triumph are shared with global audiences as counter-narratives to Bollywood’s quite expected cinematic distortions of facts and realities about this war, among others.
Until then, Muslim lives will remain screen images, trapped in scripts written by others. And Hollywood, whether consciously or not, will continue to serve as the cinematic arm of American power. The same is true for Bollywood. But the bottom line remains: are we ready to reclaim the narrative and impact the Muslim world?
The first author is a Professor of English at Riphah International University, Lahore. He is a lead guest editor at Emerald and Springer publishing.
The second author is an Assistant Professor of English at Govt. Graduate College for Women, Samanabad, Lahore
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