Throttled by Fear

I smell fear. The stench of it permeates the entire country. Our ‘bold’ parliamentarians cower behind their security detail, nervously hiding from the threat of being labeled ‘non-muslim’ by a band of renegade mercenaries. Our security forces, busily trying to protect the elite government ‘servants’, are now stricken with notions of bombs in their own vehicles and compounds. Our army, pounded in recent months by an over-zealous media, are too afraid of being accused of manipulating a coup to do anything except exactly what the civilian government tells them to do. And the lawyers, with all their street power and recent victory? Well, they proved their point, and it’s time for them to return home and start earning the bucks they had forsaken for two years. And the people? The ‘masses’, the ‘common man’? He’s weighed down with the fear of possible starvation as prices continue to make a steady climb.

Yes, I smell fear, and the nation has yet to feel the consequences of this fear. In our fear, we’ve lost more than the ability to function normally. We’ve lost yet more of what was Pakistan, and we’ve set a precedence. For once, I have to say ‘Bravo’ to India, who, with at least 100 insurgencies within their own country, have yet to cave in to even one.

Today was the historic passing of the Nizam-e-Adl Bill by our parliament. It was probably foolish of us to expect this government to do anything but back down in the face of the Taliban and Sufi Mohammad gang, and it will be equally foolish to expect them to stand up for us in the future. We should face this fact and brace ourselves for the penalty. They ran from militants in the northern areas. They cowered in face of a stick-wielding mob of lawyers in their black coats. They shook under pressure from the US and India after the Mumbai attacks, and only grew some cojones when David Miliband finally stood up for Pakistan in a public address.

And it’s not just the government that backs down in fear. Take the recent Shanakht Festival, and the ruckus at the art exhibition. A group of ‘unknowns’ rioted the exhibition and threatened the organizers to the extent that the Festival was shut down, because they didn’t like a picture that was displayed there. In a video of the riot at the festival, a man clearly demands that someone from ‘management’ come out and face the mob. No one did. I caught a glimpse of one of the organizers, but by the time the stands and banners were being torn down, he was nowhere in sight. Even the members of the Citizen’s Archive of Pakistan have given in to fear, and rather than take a stand, they bowed to the inevitable. When they later disbanded the festival altogether, they were ably supported by the Sindh government who refused them protection for the duration of the remainder of the Festival.

In a nation of law-abiding citizens (pardon me if I snigger a bit), offensive images would have resulted in complaints and perhaps media criticism, a protest outside the venue, maybe even a sit-in. Negotiations would have ensued, and both parties would have reached a compromise. In Pakistan, we learn that might is right and when you have might on your side, why compromise? Use violence and political threats, and when you know that fear is a driving force in a nation, you will invariably get your way. Ironically, a large part of democratic practices include the art of compromise. Ironically, the rioters at the Festival were supporters of Benazir (the protector of, um, democracy?), out to enforce the democratic principles of Freedom of Expression.

There are no ‘democratic’ parties in Pakistan, not even the PPP or the MQM (who, kudos to them, chose not to be a part of the Nizam-e-Adl farce), nor is there any democracy. All our political parties work from fear of their leaders, not love for them. If anyone were to criticize either ZAB, Benazir, the Sharif brothers, the Chaudhry brothers or Altaf Hussain, they wouldn’t last a second in any of those parties, and would probably face financial and physical consequences. As a result, these leaders are all elevated to the seats of Gods, for they can do no wrong, and as appropriate, are feared by their followers. It’s unlikely fresh blood with revolutionary ideas will ever enter their parties; I’m sure all of these leaders have already hand-picked their successors in the time-honored traditions of any autocracy. The fear under which these party members live, whether they choose to recognize it as such or not, will never allow any evolution into a real democratic set up.

Then there’s the media. The PPP, PML-N, PTI and various religious parties were all part of a ‘civil’ movement to restore the judiciary, which, they promised, would bring us justice and peace to all the land. While any fool can see that these were empty promises and impossible to boot, I have yet to see any anchor on TV ask all these parliamentarians some basic question: how could you agree to the Nizam-e-Adl bill when you’ve just brought justice to the land? Is the Malakand Division’s nizam-e-adl bill so much better for them than this fabulous, new and improved, ‘independent’ judiciary system we all live with in the rest of the country? In which case, shouldn’t we all switch over to the Nizam-e-Adl? Or perhaps, do you have no faith in this judiciary yourselves? No belief that justice will now be speedier, fairer and less corrupt?

My question to the media is, are you, too, bound by the fear that grips the parliamentarians? Or is this just the fear of possible Contempt of Court directives that just a few months ago you were claiming as ‘Draconian’ and ‘Barbaric’? What happened to the lions that faced down a military dictator?

Let’s face it. We aren’t a nation for whom democratic principles and civil co-existence will work, not when we’re afraid to question men in power (except Musharraf, who ironically, as a dictator wielded less might than his civilian counterparts), or back down when their mob is larger than ours. Each and every one of us has allowed fear to rule us. Whether it’s religious leaders, politicians, influential businessmen, the Taliban, dacoits, our own police or just the bulky neighbor who encroaches on our land; whether it’s fear of opening our mouths against injustice, our fear of criticizing where criticism is due, fear of shouting alone in the face of overwhelming silence, fear of standing out in a crowd for having ‘different’ views, fear of living a life that might conflict with your neighbor’s values, fear for our families, our wealth or of change in our comfortable existences, we live in fear and denial. Even I, with this blog, have to think twice before suggesting that we remove the ideology from Pakistan’s name and become a secular nation. What kind of repercussions do I face with such a suggestion?

And we will continue to be ruled by iron fists, masked in the garbs of democracy and justice, or flagrantly displayed in a uniform, until we let go of the fear and stand up to the bullies.