April 13 will be remembered as a black day in Pakistan’s
history. This is the day, future historians will write, when its pampered and
stuffed-up political elites opted for a grand surrender.
We have to live with the pain, infamy and ignominy of the
December 1971 surrender at Ramna Park, Dhaka. That black moment was faced by a
general who shall remain the face of Pakistan’s atrocities against its own
citizens, the interference of an irresponsible, vengeful neighbour and the
bravado of Bengalis who had been excluded from the privileged ‘martial race’
category by none other than Field Marshal Ayub Khan and his junta. This
exclusionary act by the field marshal, later recorded in his memoirs, set the
tone for an agenda of discrimination that was subsequently responsible for the
second amputation of South Asia in less than 25 years.
On April 13, 2009 the National Assembly accepted that armed
militias seeking power through militancy were legitimate. The House, while
endorsing the Swat deal, indulged in little or no debate, let alone weighing the
pros and cons of such a deal. Whilst recognising the legitimacy of Parliament,
the minimum that should be expected from the representatives of the hapless
awaam (people) is a meaningful discussion on an issue that is of manifest
national importance. It was a tragic farce that had already been scripted and
enacted in the desolate valley of Swat which will now ‘obey’ a sectarian version
of Shariah branded as Islam and ‘divine will’ by Pakistan’s right wing and its
electronic media bedfellows.
There stood the new-age majestic rajas, driven by short-term
power imperatives and capitulating like their ancestors, only confirming that
history repeats itself often in a brutally cruel manner. Yes, there were death
threats and the well-established norms of top leaders that prevailed. But was
there no intra-party discussion, trepidation or rumbling? How can they, the
proponents of the rule of law and the people’s will, be so oblivious to what is
dereliction of duty and an abject surrender?
One can obviously not ignore the extra-parliamentary forces that
are larger than life in Pakistan. The way these forces and centres of power
operate within and permeate national institutions, discourses and myths is
amazing, to say the least. A dear friend from Islamabad took one and a half
hours to explain how foreign infiltrators were aiming to destroy Pakistan and
how the new Shariah deal was actually the best way to counter this larger
conspiracy to destroy Pakistan.
Who is spreading this disinformation and how have such rumour-mongering
factories, without providing a shred of evidence in the public domain, started
to convince our urban middle classes of the ‘patriotism’ and wisdom of this
infamous deal?
One cannot be blind to such realities. But disappointment
remains. Each time we (re)start the democratic journey the paths are so muddled
and broken that often the journey is consumed by its laboriousness. However,
unlike 1988, we are at the brink of internal combustion even though the popular
imagination, with decades of false textbooks and a controlled thought process,
holds external enemies responsible for where Pakistan stands today. If it is not
India, the Hindu state, then it is the US or its stooge, Israel, wanting to ruin
the country. These days Russia is also back in the fold of popular lore on
"those who want to destroy" Pakistan, the only Muslim nuclear state in the
world.
Such is the perversity of the ideological polarisation in the
country that we are split down the middle. There is a sizeable number of
Pakistanis who think that the Taliban are not all that bad, as they are fighting
a war against America and, at the end of the day, they want to promote
‘religion’. The largest number of adherents of this theory live in the most
populous province and, ironically, in its cities. The peasantry and the working
classes, in any case, live a life that is nasty and brutish hence they remain
unmoved by a post-material ideological conflict.
The other, the majority group does not agree with the former
school of thought. The urban proponents hold extremism of this kind to be a
danger to civilisation and its manifestations such as western education, the
English language, globalisation and the opportunities it accords. In addition,
this group is strengthened at the subaltern level by the fact that Sufi Islam is
a living reality in the villages and towns of Pakistan. Name one kasbah where a
dargah does not intersect cultural life. This is true for all parts of Pakistan
and more so in Sindh and the Punjab.
Such ideological divisiveness leads to distortions of reality
and its various discourses. But the camp that’s soft on the Taliban is more
powerful. So what if it is not a group with the majority of the population
behind it? It has arms, terror, money and the appropriate credentials for great
gaming. This is the cabal that has now silenced the National Assembly and its
power wielders. This is the group that articulates what the mainstream media
should relay. Media messages are therefore confounding: excuses for flogging a
17-year-old have been crafted, the virtues of kazi justice are being counted and
‘the Taliban are actually Indian agents’ is a transmitted urban legend now.
This is why the only dissenting party from the National
Assembly’s collective wisdom, the Muttahida Qaumi Movement (MQM), is being
viewed suspiciously for its forthright and strong condemnation of the Swat deal
and its endorsement by the legislature. Instead of recognising that in these
dire times any degree of truthfulness and courage should be welcomed, the
historical capitulators are damning this urban group in the country. If
anything, the MQM has rekindled hope among citizens that capture by the
extremists would not be that easy or pervasive.
The fog of confusion is also a metaphor for inaction. A
collective sense of resignation prevails. In the Pakhtunkhwa, this feeling has
grown beyond belief. Even before the political elites capitulated, parts of the
civilian administration, as press reports are now suggesting, were quick to
recognise the new Shariah-branded rulers. This trend wants to flow downwards
into the rest of Jinnah’s Pakistan. It wants to compete with the course of the
mighty Indus and criss-cross the Punjabi heartland where Nanak had once sung
songs of love and divine unity under the influence of Muslim Sufis. Here Baba
Farid Ganj-e-Shakar spread the message of love and equality of man that is
central to Islam.
The recent horrific threat to the Taxila museum is an ominous
message for our civilised existence. The mysteriously beautiful ruins of Taxila,
where the followers of Gautama Buddha sowed saplings of peace and enlightenment,
are now endangered and, god forbid, might suffer the tragic fate of Bamiyan
where millennia old gigantic statues were blasted with dynamite and destroyed.
The merchants of hatred also want to capture the truly cosmopolitan urban centre
of the country and the mystical lands of Sindh. And we hear ad nauseam that the
deal will bring peace. It can only guarantee ruination of our centuries old,
syncretic, plural and predominantly Sufi culture.
I have been told that silence is the best reaction to the
gravity of this situation. But how can I remain unaffected and quiet when my
country might be disfigured and my roots pulled out, to be replaced by an
ideology completely alien to my thousand-year-old consciousness? How can I not
write about an absolute lack of a cultural challenge to the barbarians and the
shameful retreat of the progressives?
If nothing else, I don’t want to end up as an exile without a
cause.