The buzz has gone up that the television channels are ‘out shopping’. And a bunch of young ‘uns who refer to journalism as their ‘calling’ are all a’quiver, expecting to do nothing less than laugh all the way to the bank.

The meaning is clear, of course, and the turn of phrase revealing if somewhat unfortunate. With the number of channels increasing virtually every day and the pool of competent workers drying up, network bosses are doing their best to grab each others’ talent. Anyone with a bit of experience under his or her belt can except to approach or be approached by a rival network and be relatively certain of getting a fair shot at lateral career advancement: a better position, greater perks and a higher salary.

The situation cannot be sustained indefinitely, of course. The more far-sighted are already warning in hushed undertones about the bursting of the bubble, when networks will be forced to consolidate, smaller channels will shut down or be bought out, and when incompetent staffers will unceremoniously be handed the pink slip.

But right now, anyone who considers journalism their ‘calling’ is sitting pretty – or zig-zagging prettily, if you prefer. Pull in the money hand over fist while you can, kal ho na ho.

Such an approach towards a career – and journalism is a relatively serious profession – sounds cold and almost contemptible. Isn’t journalism about ideas and ideologies, a higher professionalism, objectivity and fair scrutiny, you ask. Didn’t Lord Northcliffe, the WWI British newspaper pioneer, make that famous comment “News is what somebody, somewhere, wants to suppress; all the rest is advertising”? Isn’t journalism, for heaven’s sake, about the public’s right’s to know?

Well no, not really, not in Pakistan at the moment. Right now, it’s all about gathering rosebuds while ye may, for they will almost certainly not be around tomorrow.

The approach speaks of a certain opportunism ingrained in many of the newer entrants in the field, young, urban professionals who are willing to follow their hearts as long as it leads to the money. Mercenary? I suppose. Cold-blooded. That too.

And yet . . . why on earth not? Most of us here in Pakistan, with its peculiar issues and endemic shortages, what are we if not opportunists at heart? Spend a decade or so here and knowingly or unknowingly, willing or not, the reality you’ll be forced to concede to is that, really, tomorrow may contain many things but rosebuds will certainly not be amongst them.

Consider, after all, what happened to the little Pakistani squirrel who failed to go to the Utility Store and buy as many sacks of flour as he could while they were still available. There he is now, hungry. What happened to the one who foolishly relied on urban electricity provision systems and didn’t put a generator in his shop? His world is darkness. And how about the commuter squirrel that didn’t have his petrol tank filled last week? There goes this week’s cigarette money.

We see this opportunism – instilled, I believe, through insecurity, desperation and frustration – everywhere around us. On the roads, it leads to each car inching ahead, blocking the others in a desperate attempt to clear the traffic light while one still can: the next minute a VIP circus may bring traffic grinding to a halt. In the workplace it leads us to elbow out anyone who may be a rival, in the home it leads us to grab the biscuit from younger siblings while biscuits are still an option.

We can even see this opportunism in the corridors of power. Whether riding on the back of a popular mandate or an army, a parliamentary vote or bureaucratic shuffling, successive figures enter, grab as much power and pelf as possible, and then fade into the footnotes of history taking with them nothing but a few millions, a few plots, a few forex accounts. The rest of us, meanwhile, are left to scrabble for ata on empty shelves, light candles to our fortitude and grab the highest-paying job we can find while jobs are still available.

In all the uncertainty, the one thing we do know is that the earth shall certainly not be inherited by the meek. Other lands may be of opportunity; ours is one of opportunism.

Post script: In 1983, Mel Brooks produced and acted in a remake of the 1942 film, ‘To Be or Not To Be’. The plot concerns a theatre group, some of whose members are Jewish, that ends up impersonating Hitler and his crew in the attempt to flee wartime Warsaw. I mention it because there is a song that reminds me of Islamabad: “All I want is peace,” sings Brooks’ Hitler. “A little piece of Poland, a little piece of France; A little piece of Hungary and Austria perchance!”

hmumtaz@dawn.com