THOSE who swear by linguistics, possibly for want of anything better to do, tell me that language not only shapes ideas but is also a product of prevailing mindsets. Vocabulary then, if you choose to play along with this school of thought, can be seen as a chisel as well as a barometer of intent, value and meaning.

If so, ‘mere semantics’ is not a phrase to be bandied about as dismissively as some do, for a person’s choice of words (assuming a basic level of proficiency) speaks volumes of both the inner and outer self. What’s in a name? Plenty, especially if it’s Aurangzeb.

Ponder, to take an instance at random, the government’s ‘house for every family’ scheme as advertised in the papers on Monday. Low-cost houses, flats and plots, we were informed on that august day, will be made available to “government servants and all other Pakistanis”.

What’s wrong with this word picture? For one thing, note the use of ‘government servants’ when, in actual fact, the people in question are public servants. Mere semantics, you say? No, the two are markedly different in concept.

Government in Pakistan has become an end in itself, a self-gratifying institution if you will, not a means to an end. We all know well enough how ‘government servants’ are concerned only with their own interests instead of fulfilling what ought to be their basic responsibility — to wit, serving the people who keep them in cigarettes.

Public servants, in sharp contrast, are expected to be aware of the fact that the real boss is the taxpayer who furnishes their salaries, not some bureaucrat or minister who is himself similarly indebted. In short, the words we use and the definitions we accept cast a blinding light on who and what we are.

Note also the distinction between government servants and “all other Pakistanis”, the chosen few no doubt and the riff-raff.

When banking was less slick, simply cashing a cheque used to be an ordeal. Why, you ask, all agog? Well, it depends. If like me you were so deprived of the nicer things in life that you had to maintain an account at a nationalised bank, you would know the inside story. The teller, possibly a victim of chronic constipation, acted as if he was doling out favours giving you your money. Or accepting the utility bills you were paying for in cash.

In most other government offices, the situation hasn’t changed even in this day and age. Be it in the income tax department, Nadra or the hellish maze that is Civic Centre, I have yet to encounter a single official or flunkey who appreciates the fact that the citizen on the other side of the window helps pay his salary and put food on the table.

Would the attitude of ‘government servants’ be less foul if they were better paid? Maybe, but then again, maybe not. In any case it’s not my problem. Do my day-to-day woes factor into how government functionaries treat me? No. So why should I give a shitake mushroom about their well-being?

It’s interesting — well, to me anyway — how some people put on airs riding in fancy cars they didn’t pay for, and possibly couldn’t even afford. Green in my memory is an incident some months ago when, in the course of a traffic altercation, the party of the second part jumped out of his vehicle and stood glaring and gesturing outside my window.

When absolutely unavoidable, I really don’t mind a bit of confrontation. So I too stepped out of the auto and was delighted to discover that he was several inches shorter than me. Looking down at the adversary always helps, believe me. The gist of the man’s argument as to why I should have let him cut across traffic was this: “Can’t you see the number plate? This is a government car.”

To which I replied, “so that means it’s my car”. Initially quizzical, he became visibly worried when I began insisting that he should, in all fairness, simply hand over the keys and leave. I’ve noticed this before in people who think you’re off your rocker. They register either disgust, sympathy or alarm and usually walk away muttering inanities to themselves. In any case, this policy has stood me in excellent stead over the years.While on the subject, how can we ignore the ‘gifts’ bestowed on us by the city government? That’s how officialdom in the concrete jungle chooses to describe them, even though the parks, pipelines and housing schemes that have come up in recent years have all been bankrolled with taxpayers’ money.

These are not gifts, sarkar, you’re just doing your job — or a fraction of it anyway. But no, we should be thankful for the few morsels tossed our way from our own kitchens.

Enough said, for now.

imalik@dawn.com