16
One helpful aid in such considerations is the thoughts of those for whom anarchy is but a nifty philosophical thought experiment or at best a momentary situation following some natural catastrophe or extraordinary event. Take for instance the words of David Henderson, a libertarian economist and scholar who wrote this in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy in New York City: “The traffic in the blackout area of Manhattan is lawless in the most literal sense; the traffic lights aren’t working, so the law cannot be applied as usual. But “lawless” doesn’t seem to be a fitting description; the driving seems better behaved than usual. We (Americans) are so used to seeing people act under a system of government rules that it is easy to assume that without the rules, everything would descend into chaos” Now David Henderson is a libertarian, and libertarian economists and theorists are in adherents of the perspective that a large, meddlesome government is unnecessary and that people in general should be allowed to come up with their own rules.
There is much more to libertarianism of course, and much of its core philosophy derives from the idea that left alone, humans like markets will self-regulate, not behave with complete depravity and avoid a brutal, chaotic and ruthless condition. One favorite example of libertarian theorists making their point about human behavior in such conditions is the championing of roundabouts versus traffic lights. In the libertarian calculus, the traffic light, its imposition of the rule of stopping is an indicator of big government, central planning, the limitation of human action where there may be no need for it. Roundabouts on the other hand, leave the person in the driver’s seat at the helm; have him or her judge based on whether there is approaching oncoming traffic from other sides of the intersection, to choose a course of action based on the determinants of the situation.
It sounds lovely, if I had not seen so many, too many Karachi roundabouts chock full of cars, motorbikes packed in crevices, a donkey cart or two, a crammed bus with a dangling conductor all acting in the most primal, lawless way. Choice is present at the stateless intersections of Pakistan, where every man, woman, car and motorbike must fend for itself, but it is choice turned, twisted and abused, slaughtered, stomped and pillaged. As far as one can see, the assertions of the libertarian theorist, that those confronted with choice will self-regulate, act reasonably in the face of oncoming danger/traffic, understand that the need for the rule was not arbitrary but based on maintaining some minimal order, seem nowhere at all to be found. A rickshaw swerving suddenly to make a U-turn hits a car, they both stop and the driver of the car steps out and picks up a giant rock to hurl at the absconding rickshaw. It is a common sight in the Pakistani experiment with anarchy.
It is a pity, because in a country where having a functioning state, fulfilling the task of providing some bare minimum of security seems like such a tall, even unachievable order; a new aspiration toward a libertarian style, a minimal state may well have been a worthy aspiration. Some solace for renovated hopes based on a small state may still be taken from the writings of anthropologist James C Scott who in his latest book “Two Cheers for Anarchism” writes that “choice and freedom: are good for humans in almost every setting. “A little anarchy,” according to Scott is useful in every place from a school playground to an office boardroom because it encourages ‘cooperation without the demonic, hierarchical shadow of a vast and powerful state bearing down on the individual citizen. In simple terms, the absence of an all-seeing power forces citizens to come up with their own localised, personalised means of creating order and insuring basic well-being.
If Scott’s hypotheses are true, then why indeed, like most libertarian assertions do we not find Pakistan and Pakistanis faced with a largely defunct government, that can provide little security and even lesser utility, and not arriving with a more robust sense of ethics that would insure a little less anarchy? The answer is hinted at by Scott and also in Pakistan’s peculiar ethnic and sectarian demographics. The fact may well be that while a little anarchy may indeed be good, force neighbor to cooperate with neighbor and enable such happy occurrences of fellow feeling, a complete banishment of Government or too much anarchy actually provokes a panic which disables chances of collaboration and an aversion of disaster.
In a case such as this, and Pakistan is the example, the majority, trying to come up with overarching rules that are enforced by mobs instead of the state, systematically seeks to silence or eliminate those who would not follow them. With great chaos as the backdrop, all choice becomes somehow dirty and problematic and the efforts that would or should or may have been directed at maintaining order at the roundabout or the traffic light, are geared instead to curbing the conscience and eliminate altogether the problem of choice. So completely denied of order, it is no surprise that in their dark moments, literally lightless from failed grids and unexplained faults, Pakistanis dream of an absolute order, where no choice is permitted, and where their own and their neighbour’s failed predatory selves, matter not at all.
The views expressed by this blogger and in the following reader comments do not necessarily reflect the views and policies of the Dawn Media Group.
Rafia Zakaria is an attorney and human rights activist. She is a columnist for DAWN Pakistan and a regular contributor for Al Jazeera America, Dissent, Guernica and many other publications.
She is the author of The Upstairs Wife: An Intimate History of Pakistan (Beacon Press 2015). She tweets @rafiazakaria
