AS the conversation inevitably turned towards the country and all that ailed it, one of those present observed that Pakistan-bashing had become something of a default national sport.
Instead of constantly washing our dirty laundry in public, the gentleman remarked, we ought to try to be more patriotic all countries have their issues, no place is perfect, but people from other parts of the world are not as openly critical of their nations and governments as Pakistanis are.
One must concede that, yes, in any gathering of any nature, no matter where the discussion starts, it leads inevitably to this dreary, familiar place: where is Pakistan headed, how can it be fixed and the increasingly desperate refrain of what on earth happened to us?
Im not sure whether its fair to say that Pakistanis are especially critical as compared to citizens of other countries; certainly, people from across the world discuss the politics and issues of their governments. It is true, though, that Pakistanis are often exclusively obsessed with their country and the state it is in.
Yet there is good reason for that. The realities with which most of us must contend everyday are so grim that one cannot help but be consumed by their enormity; they take up every moment of ones waking thoughts, allowing no respite from the struggle that is the life of the ordinary person in Pakistan.
It is difficult to not constantly be worrying about rising levels of crime and terrorism, after all, when there is a fairly reasonable chance that you may be at the next marketplace or mosque that gets bombed.
It is next to impossible to not discuss what is going on in the political arena when you live in a city where, as a result of wrangling between political parties and actors, mutilated bodies stuffed in gunny bags and drive-by shootings have become a common occurrence.
In a country where money that could be used to build schools and hospitals is going towards the military, it is hardly unexpected that people are obsessed with battle lines, some of which we drew ourselves and others that were presented to us as a fait accompli.
What the ordinary person needs, after all, can hardly be held to be readily forthcoming in Pakistan. Education and employment opportunities, access to sufficient quantities of food and potable water, a semblance of peace and a reasonable level of security all these are luxuries that few in Pakistan have access to. And as these basic necessities increasingly become the preserve of the privileged, so too does patriotism, that lynchpin on which more complex constructions of nationalism rest.
This is not to say that the average citizen does not define himself as patriotic. He does. But in most cases, it is the patriotism of either the indoctrinated or those on the defensive.
As an experiment, some time ago I started randomly asking people who I met through the course of my day shopkeepers, people in marketplaces, petrol pump attendants, vendors, etc how they felt about Pakistan (this was a little before Aug 14).
The question Do you consider yourself a patriot in the overwhelming majority of the cases netted a resounding answer in the affirmative.
What exactly they liked about the country, though, had to be mulled over. A few people came up with Pakistans natural beauty and diversity, others mentioned resilience against India and the US or the defeat of the Soviet Union; a few came up with the bomb as an answer. But most just looked at me blankly, as though being patriotic was a given not really to be thought about or considered, just something that one was.
This is what I refer to as the patriotism of the indoctrinated, a phenomenon that is, of course, not limited to Pakistan. The idea is hammered into our consciousness from childhood, reinforced in a million little ways: proud to be Pakistani, screams the subconscious. And why not, for if you dont love your own country, what are you?
The other sort of patriotism is born of defensiveness in the face of a world that is stridently critical, if not outright condemnatory, of the country.
But thought-over patriotism is becoming a luxury of the privileged. How much love can you feel for your country, I wonder, when there is no electricity and your business is suffering, or when your sick child cant get suitable treatment at an overcrowded hospital, or if your world has been washed away by floods and a year later, youre still in a camp for the displaced?
Yet for the privileged of Pakistan, patriotism comes easily and glibly. No electricity? Buy a generator. No water? Contact providers of bottled water. Rising crime? Hire a security firm. Country going up in flames? Raise the boundary walls, invest abroad and keep that immigration card tucked away somewhere safe, close at hand.
When the realities that the ordinary person must face in Pakistan can be held at arms length, then the world must indeed appear a rosy place then one has the leisure to reflect upon notions such as national pride.
For the majority of Pakistanis, as for the country itself, life is lived just one step away from disaster, spinning on the edge of the catastrophe curve. Most people, I imagine, are too busy just keeping afloat to ponder over questions that have merely ideological and little practical value.
Patriotism? Sure, well get round to that just as soon as we get some respite from the daily challenge of keeping body and soul together.
Hajrah Mumtaz (Dawn.com)
Instead of constantly washing our dirty laundry in public, the gentleman remarked, we ought to try to be more patriotic all countries have their issues, no place is perfect, but people from other parts of the world are not as openly critical of their nations and governments as Pakistanis are.
One must concede that, yes, in any gathering of any nature, no matter where the discussion starts, it leads inevitably to this dreary, familiar place: where is Pakistan headed, how can it be fixed and the increasingly desperate refrain of what on earth happened to us?
Im not sure whether its fair to say that Pakistanis are especially critical as compared to citizens of other countries; certainly, people from across the world discuss the politics and issues of their governments. It is true, though, that Pakistanis are often exclusively obsessed with their country and the state it is in.
Yet there is good reason for that. The realities with which most of us must contend everyday are so grim that one cannot help but be consumed by their enormity; they take up every moment of ones waking thoughts, allowing no respite from the struggle that is the life of the ordinary person in Pakistan.
It is difficult to not constantly be worrying about rising levels of crime and terrorism, after all, when there is a fairly reasonable chance that you may be at the next marketplace or mosque that gets bombed.
It is next to impossible to not discuss what is going on in the political arena when you live in a city where, as a result of wrangling between political parties and actors, mutilated bodies stuffed in gunny bags and drive-by shootings have become a common occurrence.
In a country where money that could be used to build schools and hospitals is going towards the military, it is hardly unexpected that people are obsessed with battle lines, some of which we drew ourselves and others that were presented to us as a fait accompli.
What the ordinary person needs, after all, can hardly be held to be readily forthcoming in Pakistan. Education and employment opportunities, access to sufficient quantities of food and potable water, a semblance of peace and a reasonable level of security all these are luxuries that few in Pakistan have access to. And as these basic necessities increasingly become the preserve of the privileged, so too does patriotism, that lynchpin on which more complex constructions of nationalism rest.
This is not to say that the average citizen does not define himself as patriotic. He does. But in most cases, it is the patriotism of either the indoctrinated or those on the defensive.
As an experiment, some time ago I started randomly asking people who I met through the course of my day shopkeepers, people in marketplaces, petrol pump attendants, vendors, etc how they felt about Pakistan (this was a little before Aug 14).
The question Do you consider yourself a patriot in the overwhelming majority of the cases netted a resounding answer in the affirmative.
What exactly they liked about the country, though, had to be mulled over. A few people came up with Pakistans natural beauty and diversity, others mentioned resilience against India and the US or the defeat of the Soviet Union; a few came up with the bomb as an answer. But most just looked at me blankly, as though being patriotic was a given not really to be thought about or considered, just something that one was.
This is what I refer to as the patriotism of the indoctrinated, a phenomenon that is, of course, not limited to Pakistan. The idea is hammered into our consciousness from childhood, reinforced in a million little ways: proud to be Pakistani, screams the subconscious. And why not, for if you dont love your own country, what are you?
The other sort of patriotism is born of defensiveness in the face of a world that is stridently critical, if not outright condemnatory, of the country.
But thought-over patriotism is becoming a luxury of the privileged. How much love can you feel for your country, I wonder, when there is no electricity and your business is suffering, or when your sick child cant get suitable treatment at an overcrowded hospital, or if your world has been washed away by floods and a year later, youre still in a camp for the displaced?
Yet for the privileged of Pakistan, patriotism comes easily and glibly. No electricity? Buy a generator. No water? Contact providers of bottled water. Rising crime? Hire a security firm. Country going up in flames? Raise the boundary walls, invest abroad and keep that immigration card tucked away somewhere safe, close at hand.
When the realities that the ordinary person must face in Pakistan can be held at arms length, then the world must indeed appear a rosy place then one has the leisure to reflect upon notions such as national pride.
For the majority of Pakistanis, as for the country itself, life is lived just one step away from disaster, spinning on the edge of the catastrophe curve. Most people, I imagine, are too busy just keeping afloat to ponder over questions that have merely ideological and little practical value.
Patriotism? Sure, well get round to that just as soon as we get some respite from the daily challenge of keeping body and soul together.
Hajrah Mumtaz (Dawn.com)
