NATIONALISM, by definition, is a political creed that proclaims the uniqueness, or exceptional character, of a said political community. It is by distinguishing themselves from ‘others’ that modern nations came into being, and, indeed, continue to be sustained.

While all nation-states lay claim to distinctiveness, in a handful of cases ‘exceptionalism’ is projected explicitly by the state as a cherished ideology. The most obvious case is the US; since soon after its creation in 1776, the US state has consistently depicted itself as a unique entity that is somehow entitled to say and do things that ‘normal’ states cannot get away with.

Pakistan and Israel also consider themselves as exceptions to the general rule: in no other country of the world is membership of the political community limited to those who proclaim allegiance to a designated faith. Accordingly, both states engage in conduct that is regularly justified by the fact of their exceptionalism.

It is no longer good enough to pin all blame on our rulers.

Whether or not their neighbours, or for that matter the comity of global nations, are convinced by the logic of exceptionalism is, for state managers, less important than the consent of their own populations. So, for example, American exceptionalism is sustained by the fact that a wide cross-section of ordinary Americans believe firmly that their country is the paragon of freedom and democracy and therefore possesses a mandate to intervene all over the world against ‘tyranny’.

I want to suggest that Pakistani exceptionalism is sustained by a societal rhetoric of religiosity that in turn provides a mandate for the state’s actions, all of which supposedly promote the cause of Islam (and the global ummah).

This societal rhetoric is dangerous precisely because it precludes critical interrogation both of our own conduct as well as that of the state inasmuch as religious principles are supposedly immutable and unchallengeable. So as long as someone claims to be doing something in the name of Islam, there is little or no possibility of that claim being disputed.

At the same time this rhetoric is very instrumental in the sense that one only has to proclaim that faith is the guiding principle of social conduct, even if everyday behaviour is a function of numerous other factors that have little to do with how religious one actually is. While the need to be seen as adequately religious is particularly necessary for public figures, particularly the ruling class, ordinary Pakistanis consistently employ the rhetoric of religiosity.

If the banter about the Peshawar attack representing a ‘crossroads’ in the history of this country is to be taken seriously, we will have to confront this instrumental rhetoric of religiosity head-on. It is precisely because we conflate every matter of public interest with religion that we have yet proved incapable of questioning the most powerful classes and institutions in this country, and thereby identifying the root causes of ‘terrorism’.

In short, I am simply noting that it is no longer good enough — if it ever were — to simply pin all blame for the current state of affairs on our rulers. Those who actually make the decisions that have brought us to this point would not have been able to do so if a significant number of ordinary Pakistanis — particularly within Punjab — were not willing to cheer them on.

Having said this, it is important to clarify that the problem is not limited to the majority of the population that reproduces the societal rhetoric of religiosity. Many people who are generally able to recognise the need to secularise public life also engage in cheerleading.

So, for instance, well-to-do, educated folks in our cities who do not invoke religion in every public exchange, and who are quite ready and willing to speak up against the cynical use of Islam by the militant right-wing, will nevertheless be forever suspicious of Indian ‘designs’ on Pakistan, even scrupulously ensuring that their children do not get exposed to ‘Indian’ television.

In some ways such ‘secular’ folks are more dangerous than even those who wear religion on their sleeves, because state ideologues now realise that a more ‘modern’ and secularised form of Pakistani exceptionalism needs to be cultivated within society at large. Just because someone is English-educated, lives in Bahria Town and has pretensions to being a full participant in the ‘global village’ doesn’t mean that s/he cannot assent to the notion that Pakistan is a one-of-a-kind entity that needs to be defended — and even expanded — at all costs.

Whatever the variant, Pakistani exceptionalism, as practised by the state, continues to have plenty of adherents within society. The consent of ordinary populations is necessary to prop up systems of domination all over the world. In our case it is much more significant than we care to acknowledge. The problem is ours to fix, so long as we recognise our role in creating it.

The writer teaches at Quaid-i-Azam University, Islamabad.

Published in Dawn, January 16th, 2015

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