On December 16, Pakistan as we knew it seemed to have changed. The tragedy of the Peshawar attack brought about a collective state of national grief and anger, a palpable bloodlust that raged through the streets and the corridors of power. Vigils were lit, rallies rallied, meetings held, and stakeholders coerced, cajoled and catapulted into hasty decisions and compromises. In a televised speech, the prime minister announced a 20-point agenda to combat and eradicate the menace of terrorism. For the first time, the blurred lines in the upper echelons of power began to come into focus, the good vs bad Taliban narrative gave way to the “you’re either wish us, or against us” doctrine. The 21st constitutional amendment was passed to allow for the controversial military courts, arrests were made, loudspeakers were turned off, printing presses were raided.
For a moment, it seemed Pakistan was finally awake.
Unfortunately, the flurry slowed to steady pour and finally dawdled into a light drizzle. Information on government activity slowed down to a crawl, morsels of information being doled out sparingly with seemingly inflated numbers. The initial propulsion seemed to fizzle out, replaced by lethargy and stagnation. The revelation last week on a private news network that the government had reached a secret deal with cleric Abdul Aziz, despite a non-bailable arrest warrant against him, did not help matters much. There were rumors of bans on dozens of other organizations, including the Haqqani Network, which primarily operates in Afghanistan, and Jamaatud Dawa, the alleged humanitarian front for the banned Laskah-e-Taiba, which operates in Kashmir and India. But these remained rumors, quickly snubbed out by clarifications from the Interior Ministry.
There are faint glimmers of hope, such as the hurried, disjointed statement from the foreign office this week, praising Saudi Arabia for their financial assistance and continued support, but stated that private funding is being brought under stricter inspection. This is unprecedented, and may allow for a national debate to finally discuss matters that were considered largely taboo. The ship has been launched, but who will steer it, and brave the treacherous waters that have sunk many a dissenter? Unfortunately, none in our leadership seem to realize that calm seas never a good sailor made.
When the Shikarpur massacre happened, the national, political and religious apathy that followed reminded the world once again, that Pakistan remains as divisive, divided, and divergent as it has ever been. A collection of people galvanized by no characteristic in particular, bound by birth and locked by national boundaries and borders. Think about that for a moment. As a nation, we have no central narrative, nothing that makes us inherently “Pakistani”, there is no measured, structured national tent pole to hitch ourselves to. In times of chaos, confusion and catastrophe, this lack of a central grounding force is more apparent than ever. And in our leaders, born from the same loose soil, it is more evident than anywhere else.
The top-tier agenda items remain the five principles of politicking: blame-gaming, finger-pointing, mud-slinging, side-stepping, and power-NAPping. The irony of our national response has been calcified in the National Action Plan itself, which acronyms to NAP, a fitting and frighteningly accurate description of our political willpower, acumen and depth. The fact that the leadership firefights from one crisis to the next allegation to the next fallout is indicative of the reactive nature of our esteemed leaders, incapable of fighting multiple battles, inept at multi-tasking, and incompetent at proactively stubbing problems.
Commentators like Feisal H Naqvi, Mosharraf Zaidi and Fahd Husain have postulated that perhaps the fault lies in us, for expecting a largely incapable, uninspiring leadership to take charge and bring change. Perhaps they are right after all. There is an upper limit to what this government can accomplish, intellectually, ideologically and operationally. Expecting them to work wonders beyond this hard and fast capacity is unfair and unwarranted. Our only saving grace is that we can use the term “Prime Minister Sharif”, without alluding to which Sharif we are really looking up to solve our collective crises. Perhaps the best we can do is accept that except for a few salient points, we should expect little.
At the end of the day, you cannot fit a Nawaz-shaped peg into a Jinnah-shaped hole. Not that Jinnah would want anything to do with us.
The author is a journalist, development professional, and a Senior Research Fellow at the Center for Research and Security Studies, Islamabad. He holds a Master’s degree in strategic communications from Ithaca College, NY.
Email: zeeshan[dot]salahuddin[at]gmail.com
Twitter: @zeesalahuddin
For a moment, it seemed Pakistan was finally awake.
Unfortunately, the flurry slowed to steady pour and finally dawdled into a light drizzle. Information on government activity slowed down to a crawl, morsels of information being doled out sparingly with seemingly inflated numbers. The initial propulsion seemed to fizzle out, replaced by lethargy and stagnation. The revelation last week on a private news network that the government had reached a secret deal with cleric Abdul Aziz, despite a non-bailable arrest warrant against him, did not help matters much. There were rumors of bans on dozens of other organizations, including the Haqqani Network, which primarily operates in Afghanistan, and Jamaatud Dawa, the alleged humanitarian front for the banned Laskah-e-Taiba, which operates in Kashmir and India. But these remained rumors, quickly snubbed out by clarifications from the Interior Ministry.
There are faint glimmers of hope, such as the hurried, disjointed statement from the foreign office this week, praising Saudi Arabia for their financial assistance and continued support, but stated that private funding is being brought under stricter inspection. This is unprecedented, and may allow for a national debate to finally discuss matters that were considered largely taboo. The ship has been launched, but who will steer it, and brave the treacherous waters that have sunk many a dissenter? Unfortunately, none in our leadership seem to realize that calm seas never a good sailor made.
You cannot fit a Nawaz-shaped peg into a Jinnah-shaped hole
When the Shikarpur massacre happened, the national, political and religious apathy that followed reminded the world once again, that Pakistan remains as divisive, divided, and divergent as it has ever been. A collection of people galvanized by no characteristic in particular, bound by birth and locked by national boundaries and borders. Think about that for a moment. As a nation, we have no central narrative, nothing that makes us inherently “Pakistani”, there is no measured, structured national tent pole to hitch ourselves to. In times of chaos, confusion and catastrophe, this lack of a central grounding force is more apparent than ever. And in our leaders, born from the same loose soil, it is more evident than anywhere else.
The top-tier agenda items remain the five principles of politicking: blame-gaming, finger-pointing, mud-slinging, side-stepping, and power-NAPping. The irony of our national response has been calcified in the National Action Plan itself, which acronyms to NAP, a fitting and frighteningly accurate description of our political willpower, acumen and depth. The fact that the leadership firefights from one crisis to the next allegation to the next fallout is indicative of the reactive nature of our esteemed leaders, incapable of fighting multiple battles, inept at multi-tasking, and incompetent at proactively stubbing problems.
Commentators like Feisal H Naqvi, Mosharraf Zaidi and Fahd Husain have postulated that perhaps the fault lies in us, for expecting a largely incapable, uninspiring leadership to take charge and bring change. Perhaps they are right after all. There is an upper limit to what this government can accomplish, intellectually, ideologically and operationally. Expecting them to work wonders beyond this hard and fast capacity is unfair and unwarranted. Our only saving grace is that we can use the term “Prime Minister Sharif”, without alluding to which Sharif we are really looking up to solve our collective crises. Perhaps the best we can do is accept that except for a few salient points, we should expect little.
At the end of the day, you cannot fit a Nawaz-shaped peg into a Jinnah-shaped hole. Not that Jinnah would want anything to do with us.
The author is a journalist, development professional, and a Senior Research Fellow at the Center for Research and Security Studies, Islamabad. He holds a Master’s degree in strategic communications from Ithaca College, NY.
Email: zeeshan[dot]salahuddin[at]gmail.com
Twitter: @zeesalahuddin