A SINGLE incident, good or bad, doesn’t affect a country’s image. Former Japanese prime minister Shinzo Abe’s murder didn’t change our view of Japan. It remains that of a country peaceful, prosperous and industrially so advanced that in auto production it has eclipsed America, which is 2,502 per cent larger than the land of the rising sun. And the massacre of the faithful in a mosque didn’t tarnish New Zealand’s image of a peaceful country where police stations close at 6pm and people go to bed leaving the keys in their cars.

Bad news often comes from the US — shootings in schools and a mentally disturbed person, a Muslim, killing four co-religionists in New Mexico. But America’s image remains unshaken: non-Americans looking for a better life would do anything, legal and illegal, journey by air or by land or swim across the Rio Grande, even at the risk of drowning, for the green card.

However, all these events pale into insignificance in comparison to those of Jan 6, 2021, when Donald Trump’s supporters stormed the Capitol, calling for the blood of House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and vice president Mike Pence. While many people were killed, the greater damage to America’s democracy was done by Trump’s utterances, which because of space constraints cannot be reproduced here. America nevertheless has carried on, and its image as the world’s strongest economic and military power, with an affluent society and rule of law remains unscathed.

Is a siege of Pakistan’s beautiful capital city a rarity? Or is it something that occurs with painful regularity? Do the people of Islamabad enjoy a sound sleep each night, without worrying whether tomorrow their Camelot will be besieged? Or do they worry about tomorrow?

Read more: Islamabad 'fortified' as Imran reveals march plans

Unbelievable as it sounds, Islamabad’s siege occurs not only regularly but with such venomous planning that many of its inhabitants and those of its twin city consider themselves caught in a war zone, with physical links with the rest of Pakistan severed, and the law enforcement machinery finding itself unable to enforce the state’s writ.

Is a siege of our beautiful capital city a rarity?

What is Islamabad’s scourge — the innocuous-sounding ‘sit-ins’ or something more harrowing that occurs mostly in wars and civil wars or in the twilight of decaying empires? These miseries inflicted repeatedly on Ayub Khan’s legacy convey a message to the world and broadcast an image to friends and foes alike that is not very edifying. Friends — if there are any — view the phenomenon with concern while enemies sneer at it and snicker.

Protests and dissent are citizens’ rights — Queen Elizabeth II had not even been buried when anti-monarchy protests started taking place in Britain, and the then prime minister Liz Truss defended the right to protest. Does Islamabad also have harmless protests that do not turn it into a mediaeval fort under enemy siege?

The issue goes beyond citizens’ rights; it beams a pernicious but not incorrect view to the world about Pakistan and makes foreign countries wonder what sort of a country it is that cannot ensure peace in its capital.

That this has impaired our ability to host high-level diplomatic processes became evident when in September 2014 Chinese President Xi Jinping postponed his visit because his security staff advised him against going to such a dangerous place as Pakistan’s capital. (Compare this with the 1974 Islamic summit when Pakistan had barely come out of the 1971 disaster.)

Many times during the blockades, vital installations — President House, Prime Minister House, parliament, the Supreme Court and the PTV headquarters — have been surrounded by emotionally charged mobs that at least in one case resorted to arson.

As research by a mediagroup shows Islamabad “literally remained under siege for 170 days” between Jan 14, 2013 and Sept 21, 2020 — a period of nearly eight years. The parties involved were Tahirul Qadri’s Pakistan Awami Tehreek twice, Imran Khan’s PTI, whose sit-in lasted 126 days, a siege jointly enforced by two parties, the Tehreek-i-Labbaik and Sunni Tehreek, and finally Maulana Fazlur Rahman’s ‘Azadi March’.

No wonder, the overall image of our country is dystopian. The world is wondering what kind of a country it is that cannot protect its capital; one where those who have been prime ministers are murdered and hanged and accused of hijacking an airliner; where a great international criminal is found hiding in a garrison town and is bumped off by foreign commandos without the government’s knowledge; where over 130 schoolchildren are slaughtered, where foreign mountaineers are gunned down; where the state negotiates with terrorists who want an act of parliament to be undone for their benefit.

Those responsible for this perpetually dark horizon have brains that stymie rational thinking and betray a quest for power and revanche — a pursuit eating into Pakistan’s vitals. The enemies are enjoying a delightful sight.

The writer is Dawn’s External Ombudsman and an author.

Published in Dawn, October 27th, 2022