After a thousand years of separation, the two main parts of modern-day Italy – the Italian peninsula and Sicily – were finally unified into the Kingdom of Italy in 1861. This unification, however, did not mean that either of them left their past behind; they couldn’t even if they wanted to.
Sicily, 1861
The island of Sicily had a very long history of being governed by foreign powers – oppressive foreign powers, to state more or less the obvious. The Arabs’ three-hundred-year rule set the foundation for the thousand years of alien rulers that the Sicilians were about to endure. These were the thousand years that taught the Sicilians not to trust the authorities who controlled – or attempted to control – them; the thousand years that gave them Omertà, the code of silence. So once they were finally under the kingdom of an Italian – Victor Emmanuel – they ought to have abandoned Omertà? Not quite. Once Italy was unified and feudalism was abolished from the Kingdom, another kind of “secondary state” emerged: the Cosa Nostra, commonly known as the Mafia.
The Rules of Omertà
While the Cosa Nostra – Italian for “our thing” or “this thing of ours” – is believed to have existed since the 18th century, it rose to prominence only after Italy was unified and other secondary powers were overrun. This group of outlaws made the best use of Omertà that was possible.
Omertà essentially made it unethical for people to share information with or cooperate with the authorities under any condition. If a problem arose, nobody could seek the authorities’ help, and if the authorities came to question, nobody could spill the beans about any misconduct – all problems were to be resolved in-house. The origins of this measure are easily traceable: since Sicily was mostly ruled by foreign powers, the authorities were always alien; they were not their people and were not to be trusted to take care of them. Even killers of their own ethnicity were more reliable than policemen of another.
The Dynamics of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa
The Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and FATA regions of Pakistan can be deemed fairly similar to the Sicily of the mid-nineteenth and early twentieth centuries; if not in other things, in their mistrust of the state. Unlike Sicily, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa hasn’t seen much foreign rule. It is true that the Greeks as well as the Buddhist Shahis ruled them prior to the Muslim conquest, however modern citizens of KPK and FATA, the Pashtuns, have often been their own rulers. Unlike Sicily, then, it could be a result of their winning ways that the Pashtuns refuse to cooperate with the state authorities to this day. Instead of following the state’s rules, indigenous Pashtuns have their own law, their own code of conduct: the Pashtunwali.
The Honour Code
If Omertà is the code of silence, it would not be wrong to say that Pashtunwali is the code of honour. Unlike Omertà, Pashtunwali has many tenets, the most well-known of them being Melmastia (hospitality), Nanawatai (asylum) and Badal (revenge).
Melmastia, the tenet of hospitality, makes it obligatory for all Pashtuns to offer their utmost to their guests: to respect them, provide for them, and provide them the comfort of their home for as long as they wish. Badal is the tenet of revenge: a Pashtun must avenge any wrong that has been done unto him, similar to vendetta. The last, nanawatai, is the tenet that makes Pashtunwali similar to Omertà.
Nanawatai presents the rules of asylum: once a Pashtun offers asylum to someone, that person must be protected at all costs. This protection could be from their enemies or even from the law, giving the protector higher authority than the state. Therefore, should Pashtunwali be followed in its entirety, there is no need for the law. In fact, the law is more or less a nuisance in the presence of Pashtunwali. In this equation, if the Pashtun is the self, the law and the authorities implementing them, are the other.
The Need for Omertà and Pashtunwali
Even though their backgrounds are dissimilar, the Pashtuns of the mid-twentieth century and the Sicilians of the mid-nineteenth century found themselves in very similar situations. A foreign ruler – the Bourbons in the case of the Sicilians and the British in the case of the Pashtuns – had just left, leaving authority in the hands of someone ethnically closer, yet as distant in terms of trust as the foreign ruler. This lack of trust, coupled with their desire for self-rule led them to follow rules that their forefathers had set for themselves centuries ago, when there was no alternate and reliable system of justice. The question is, are such communities unjust in their demand to rule themselves on their own terms?
The answer to this question lies wholly with state authorities. Are they capable enough to understand such peoples’ apprehensions and paranoia? Are they willing to make efforts to involve such communities in matters of the state and the law, in order to gain their trust? Are they capable enough to understand the norms and traditions of such communities? And, finally, do the authorities have the ability to introduce these communities – who are their own people, their own citizens – along with their norms and traditions, to the international community? It’s a lot to ask from a body of a few hundred statesmen, but this is one of the most important parts of their job description: to provide justice to their own citizens.
The problem begins when the state fails to acknowledge the presence and needs of such “problematic” communities, and, in their ignorance, succeeds in marginalizing them, which, in turn, makes their feeling of isolation intensify. It is true, communities who like to live in their own shells are hard to reach out to, but that is not an excuse for a body as large and powerful as the state. Should the state fail to take the initiative, the “self” and the “other” would cement its place in the minds of marginalized communities for eternity – and they would not shoulder the blame for it.
Omertà lives strong in the lives of the Sicilians – and of every other community that the Sicilian Mafia has managed to touch – to this day. Can the Pakistani government continue to afford the presence of Pashtunwali in return for their neglect of indigenous Pashtuns? From what we have learnt from the operations of the Cosa Nostra, the answer to this question should be in the negative.
Sicily, 1861
The island of Sicily had a very long history of being governed by foreign powers – oppressive foreign powers, to state more or less the obvious. The Arabs’ three-hundred-year rule set the foundation for the thousand years of alien rulers that the Sicilians were about to endure. These were the thousand years that taught the Sicilians not to trust the authorities who controlled – or attempted to control – them; the thousand years that gave them Omertà, the code of silence. So once they were finally under the kingdom of an Italian – Victor Emmanuel – they ought to have abandoned Omertà? Not quite. Once Italy was unified and feudalism was abolished from the Kingdom, another kind of “secondary state” emerged: the Cosa Nostra, commonly known as the Mafia.
KP and FATA are similar to mid-nineteenth century Sicily
The Rules of Omertà
While the Cosa Nostra – Italian for “our thing” or “this thing of ours” – is believed to have existed since the 18th century, it rose to prominence only after Italy was unified and other secondary powers were overrun. This group of outlaws made the best use of Omertà that was possible.
Omertà essentially made it unethical for people to share information with or cooperate with the authorities under any condition. If a problem arose, nobody could seek the authorities’ help, and if the authorities came to question, nobody could spill the beans about any misconduct – all problems were to be resolved in-house. The origins of this measure are easily traceable: since Sicily was mostly ruled by foreign powers, the authorities were always alien; they were not their people and were not to be trusted to take care of them. Even killers of their own ethnicity were more reliable than policemen of another.
The Dynamics of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa
The Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and FATA regions of Pakistan can be deemed fairly similar to the Sicily of the mid-nineteenth and early twentieth centuries; if not in other things, in their mistrust of the state. Unlike Sicily, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa hasn’t seen much foreign rule. It is true that the Greeks as well as the Buddhist Shahis ruled them prior to the Muslim conquest, however modern citizens of KPK and FATA, the Pashtuns, have often been their own rulers. Unlike Sicily, then, it could be a result of their winning ways that the Pashtuns refuse to cooperate with the state authorities to this day. Instead of following the state’s rules, indigenous Pashtuns have their own law, their own code of conduct: the Pashtunwali.
If Omertà is the code of silence, Pashtunwali is the code of honour
The Honour Code
If Omertà is the code of silence, it would not be wrong to say that Pashtunwali is the code of honour. Unlike Omertà, Pashtunwali has many tenets, the most well-known of them being Melmastia (hospitality), Nanawatai (asylum) and Badal (revenge).
Melmastia, the tenet of hospitality, makes it obligatory for all Pashtuns to offer their utmost to their guests: to respect them, provide for them, and provide them the comfort of their home for as long as they wish. Badal is the tenet of revenge: a Pashtun must avenge any wrong that has been done unto him, similar to vendetta. The last, nanawatai, is the tenet that makes Pashtunwali similar to Omertà.
Law is more or less a nuisance in the presence of Pashtunwali
Nanawatai presents the rules of asylum: once a Pashtun offers asylum to someone, that person must be protected at all costs. This protection could be from their enemies or even from the law, giving the protector higher authority than the state. Therefore, should Pashtunwali be followed in its entirety, there is no need for the law. In fact, the law is more or less a nuisance in the presence of Pashtunwali. In this equation, if the Pashtun is the self, the law and the authorities implementing them, are the other.
Are such communities unjust in their demand to rule themselves on their own terms?
The Need for Omertà and Pashtunwali
Even though their backgrounds are dissimilar, the Pashtuns of the mid-twentieth century and the Sicilians of the mid-nineteenth century found themselves in very similar situations. A foreign ruler – the Bourbons in the case of the Sicilians and the British in the case of the Pashtuns – had just left, leaving authority in the hands of someone ethnically closer, yet as distant in terms of trust as the foreign ruler. This lack of trust, coupled with their desire for self-rule led them to follow rules that their forefathers had set for themselves centuries ago, when there was no alternate and reliable system of justice. The question is, are such communities unjust in their demand to rule themselves on their own terms?
The answer to this question lies wholly with state authorities. Are they capable enough to understand such peoples’ apprehensions and paranoia? Are they willing to make efforts to involve such communities in matters of the state and the law, in order to gain their trust? Are they capable enough to understand the norms and traditions of such communities? And, finally, do the authorities have the ability to introduce these communities – who are their own people, their own citizens – along with their norms and traditions, to the international community? It’s a lot to ask from a body of a few hundred statesmen, but this is one of the most important parts of their job description: to provide justice to their own citizens.
The problem begins when the state fails to acknowledge the presence and needs of such “problematic” communities, and, in their ignorance, succeeds in marginalizing them, which, in turn, makes their feeling of isolation intensify. It is true, communities who like to live in their own shells are hard to reach out to, but that is not an excuse for a body as large and powerful as the state. Should the state fail to take the initiative, the “self” and the “other” would cement its place in the minds of marginalized communities for eternity – and they would not shoulder the blame for it.
Omertà lives strong in the lives of the Sicilians – and of every other community that the Sicilian Mafia has managed to touch – to this day. Can the Pakistani government continue to afford the presence of Pashtunwali in return for their neglect of indigenous Pashtuns? From what we have learnt from the operations of the Cosa Nostra, the answer to this question should be in the negative.