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THE tragedy of nearly 80 dead in Quetta demands that our commemoration of independence remains muted. Some may think we have much to thank for having ridden ourselves of actual British colonisation and hypothesised Hindu domination, but the long list of unasked for ‘sacrifices’ from this last decade compels us to be a little more circumspect.
Many amongst us, including those who govern, feel a reversion to nationalism and patriotism is a good antidote for the constant crush of debilitating violence. More flag-waving, song-singing, and thoughtful paeans to country, dead civilians, and its armed forces are integral to the fight against militancy. While I know many of my progressive friends may disagree, the abstract idea is not entirely misplaced. Nationalism has its uses in times of violence. If militants recruit using anti-status quo ideology and existing societal fractures, then getting people united through a state-oriented culture may help limit the damage.
In Pakistan, however, such an idea will be far less successful (and even counterproductive), given how the content and execution of all nationalist projects is deeply flawed.
Here’s the most recent example of this failure: In the immediate aftermath of the attack in Quetta, both the military high command and the civilian leadership referred to the bombing as a foreign conspiracy against Pakistan’s prosperity and specifically against the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor. Not an attack on society, not an attack on a much-abused province, not an attack on a city’s intelligentsia and its legal system, but on an infrastructure project.
These patriotic statements were likely intended for the Chinese. A way of saying we’re really serious about this project and the security of this region you’re investing in, and it clearly occupies a great deal of space in our thoughts. No one thought to figure out how these statements would appear to other people. Such as the relatives of those lying dead or injured in the very hospital where accusations against foreign states and the sanctity of a transit route were being outlined.
Should we attach primacy to foreign conspiracies when the country’s own nationalist project is celebrated by those we’re apparently resisting?
The CPEC statement is simply another bullet point in the flawed construction of Pakistani nationalism. Elites everywhere exaggerate the truth and generate myths to — if you’re a cynic — protect their interests, or — if you’re an optimist — to create what they feel are better societies. Our elites are no different in this regard. Except in our case it’s quite clear that the only ones benefiting are those charting out these myths in the first place.
What happens when the military in particular becomes the sole arbiter of nationalism during times of violence? The first thing it does is limit space for any sort of criticism, because that would logically be seen as divisive and ‘playing into the hands of the enemy’. Balochistan has virtually been under military rule for the last decade. Yet the spectrum of foreign conspiracy appears to thrive there the most. Surely there’s a case to be made here for questioning incompetence, especially when we know a series of senior officers were lining their own pockets on the job.
Secondly, as much as it is a cliché now to say this, the frequent resort to foreign conspiracies as literally the first explanation is remarkably thick and counterproductive. I have no doubt that a number of states are working to weaken the Pakistani state by instigating violence and discord. It is no different from what states everywhere (including ours) do to protect and further whatever their perceived interests are. But has anyone thought about what an exclusive reliance on this foreign conspiracy discourse does to the actual problem at hand?
A week before Aug 14, an openly sectarian organisation with strong links to militant activity published a poster advertising its Independence Day celebrations. On it, the organisation published a picture of the COAS in what was ostensibly a bid to showcase its nationalist and patriotic credentials. It is unlikely that the armed forces approve of this particular poster or of the organisation itself. But it is cause for concern that symbols of nationalism that our state sells to its people sit comfortably with a dangerous sectarian organisation. Do we really need to attach primacy to foreign conspiracies when the country’s own nationalist project is celebrated by those we’re apparently resisting?
Finally, fashionable and nationalistic as it is to do so these days, by elevating civilian casualties to the status of ‘sacrifice’, the state makes it sound like these dead bodies line the path to some eventual salvation. There is something so dark in the fact that instead of sobriety, admitting shame on our failure to protect the innocent, and reflecting on what’s gone wrong in the past, we’re more than happy to engage in an elaborate, almost celebratory pantomime of ‘sacrifice’.
The most recent manifestation of Pakistani nationalism — whether it is through a popular music programme or in the statements of our elite — is not building a progressive, productive nation. It is instead limiting accountability, deflecting blame everywhere but within, and furthering obscurantism. Since independence, the state elite has adopted religion, deference towards militarism, and insecurity as its combination of what defines Pakistani citizenship. While the religion angle has been toned down somewhat in the last few years, the primacy accorded to the military and the constant state of insecurity and foreign threats remain in place. There is no attempt to incorporate a civic understanding of nationalism — one built on the celebration of diversity, of humane values, and of social justice for the millions in poverty. It seems patriotism for us will always be a gun, a martyr, and a watchful eye towards our borders.
The writer is a freelance columnist.
Twitter: @umairjav
Published in Dawn, August 15th, 2016
