Adil Najam
I blog from Islamabad airport.
My flight to Karachi has been delayed, which means that my first meeting of the day will have to be canceled. But that is not what weighs heavy on my mind. What worries me today is all the talk of violence of one kind or another that seems to be all I have been hearing around me. My blood pressure seems to always sit on edge, but all the more so when all anyone can seem to talk about is violence.
The latest, of course, is the carefully leaked story about the attempted assassination plot of Gen. Musharraf by Sheikh Omar, the killer of journalist Daniel Pearl. Beyond relief that the plot was a failure, I do not wish to comment on this story. I have no reason to believe that the story is false, but it smells – no, stinks – so much of a planted leak that I would rather not give much more satisfaction to the “planters” than I already have.
Much more than that I worry about all the jingoism and and chest-beating I have been dished out on the “war clouds” with India.
Was is a horrible thing. And war with India would be very horrible, indeed. But I worry less about that because I do not think there will be war. This hype seems manufactured by TV talk show hosts on both sides of the border who seem to be having great fun (yes, I use the word advisedly) with their chest beating and naara baazi. What does worry me, however, is the fact that we are all so worked up about a war that is not happening and unlikely to happen, but so very content with the wars that are real, ongoing and killing Pakistanis every day. Everyone seems ready to thump their chests in hollow patriotism about the the tensions with India on the Eastern front, while the drones continue to pound our Western flank. Even more than that the Taliban’s war against Pakistan rages strong as ever. Nearly 2000 Pakistanis have been killed in in real war against Paksitan already, andonly this year. Why, I wonder why, are the real deaths of real Pakistanis ignored while foretold threats of the future amuse our sensibilities?
But this, too, has become routine. Denial it may be, but we can learn to tune out the noise.
What I cannot tune out right now is the noise around me earlier today as I entered the airport here in Islamabad. Its Hajj season so the place was teeming with people as the ‘welcoming delegations’ descended on the airport along with the returning Hajis. As I rushed in, a person a few feet from me brushed into another. Before one knew what had happened, they were exchanging punches. Not only them, but now three others were involved in what seemed to be a growing fistfight over nothing with most of the punches hitting the bystanders.
Naive that I am, I tried to break the fighting parties apart and ask for calm. In the process I got a few punches on myself, but more importantly I realized that everyone – including the growing throng of spectators – was now more mad at me for trying to break up the fight than at any of the fighters! And I thought that such reaction to those talking of peace happens only on blogs!
As I picked up by bags (and now aching shoulder) I wondered if maybe this ‘small’ and ‘individual’ violence in society is therapeutic. Maybe it is a way to deal with the larger insecurities and institutional violence around us. Or, maybe just maybe, it is systemic – an emblem of the larger violence within all of us. I certainly hope it is not the later. My faith in the goodness of ordinary people remains firm. But I wonder what all the violence and talk of violence around us is doing to us!
And, so, I sit here at the departure lounge. They just announced that my plane that had earlier been delayed two hours, is now delayed another two hours. The guy next to me announces that he is fried! So are the meetings that I was going to Karachi for. But that is not what gives me heartache right now. Yes, my shoulder still hurts from the punches I got. But what hurts much more and much more deeply in my head as well as my heart is the reminder that the violence we live with is not just in the headlines. The violence is all around us. Maybe, even within us.
I wonder why there is such a difference between Pakistani men and women in this regard. Our men are always ready to display their machismo, whereas the women are generally timid. Of course, we are brought up this way, but if we were a violent society, wouldn’t the women be violent too? We know that too often women are themselves victims of men’s cruelty and violence. Are they transferring their suppressed rage to their sons? Any thoughts?
Our society has ALWAYS been an extremely violent one. What has happened is that our cities used to be usually more civilized (i.e., less violent) than the countryside. This was probably a result of the British Colonial State imposing a totally alien ‘law and order’ on our larger urban areas and the remnants of the Gora Saab’s training and indoctrination keeping things going (more or less) for some time afterwards.
If you don’t believe me, look at the violence of Partition–humara asli roop nikal aaya.
Post-1979, the violence level countrywide has crept up: due to the easy availability of arms, money and the barbarizing influence of our Afghan ‘guests.’ Have you ever made a photocopy from a photocopy from a photocopy from a photocopy…. Using a not very good copier? What does the nth copy of a copy look like? The photocopy is our current leadership/civil service/military, the copier is our training institutions and culture. Guess what you get.
adil:
the violence you witnessed is another manifestation of the intolerance that has been fermenting over the years
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re: the attemp>ted assassination story…a majority of the stories are “leaked”…
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what is to be appreciated and lauded (in a sense) are attempts – any and all attempts – that reinforces the disconnect between the erstwhile occupying army and its organs and its attempt to subvert and distort governance by other means
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stay safe and return unbruised
Eidee Man< Is Eidee Man justifying whats happening in Pakistan is OK, because it also happens in America? Let us not forget what happens in America is due to thug society where as in Pakistan which we see is due to the fact that intolerance has been promoted by political leaders as well as religious leaders.
Each party is for the jugular of the opposing party. There is no sportsmanship anywhere to be found. It seems it has seeped to the street level where children once play without malice for any who seemed different from them because of race or creed. All what one cared for was, that this guy is from my neighborhood and we are brothers at that time quwatai akhuwatai awam looked as if it was in action. But where is it now, you have muhajars, pathans, punjabis, beharies, bengalies, sindis all living in their own patrolled townships and I stress selfmade town enclaves.
All we need in today’s society to pluck those out who are teaching evil and where it comes from.
Pakistan is a volcano which is building it’s pressure ready to blow its cap and then who knows what it will be like, A Pak Sar Zameen or Khak tar zameen thursty for blood since independance
@Adil,
that fight must have been ugly, but all things considered, it’s not uncommon to see such fights break out here (in the U.S.) as well. Perhaps not in the faculty club of Tufts, but elsewhere, yes.
Also, about TV talk show hosts, I think you need to give much more credit to our (Pakistani) TV hosts than their Indian counterparts. When have you heard Talat Hussain, Hamid Mir, etc lash out and try to move people towards violence?
@Bilal,
your idea would be, quite frankly, hilarious, if it were not outright ridiculous. What does your family think of the ‘neutral venue idea?
I can understand that sentiment coming from someone whose only exposure to Pakistan has been through the international media, but not from someone who has been so proud of having lived on the ‘wrong’ side of Clifton bridge. I am not exaggerating at all when I say that probability-wise it is much more dangerous for your children to visit some ‘bad’ neighborhood in Boston than Karachi.
Also, I am somewhat perturbed whenever expats utter words like this. Are you implying that your child’s life is worth more than the millions of other children living in Karachi?