Pakistan’s dual nationality conundrum

At the end of 2019, Tania Aidrus made headlines. Pakistanis around the world could hardly contain their excitement over the ex-Google executive who had moved back to Pakistan after 20 years to lead the country into the digital age. Less than a year later, Aidrus’ name is back in the headlines. In a sharp U-turn from December’s celebrations, Canadian born Aidrus, along with Dr Zafar Mirza, recently resigned as Special Assistant to the Prime Minister in response to media criticism against her dual nationality. The Aidrus-Mirza resignations uncovered strong opinions on both sides of the dual nationality debate. Some mourned the loss of all-too-rare competent government officials. Some, skeptical of ‘imported’ special assistants to the prime minister, were happy to hold the door open for Aidrus and Mirza on their way out.

To defend the skeptics, we all subconsciously see dual citizenship and patriotism as mutually exclusive; especially when it comes to government officials. This was reflected in the 2018 Pakistani Supreme Court ruling that banned government officials from being dual nationals. Pakistan isn’t the only country that feels this way.

Egypt and Australia, amongst others, follow the same policy. Other countries – like India and China – have banned dual citizenship outright. Although dual nationals can take up government positions in the UK and US, both countries have had their share of citizenship-related controversies. In 2014, Ted Cruz renounced his Canadian citizenship under public pressure. Two years later Boris Johnson renounced his US citizenship – although he was more concerned with avoiding tax obligations than he was with making a grand gesture of loyalty. Therefore, when so many other countries have the same, or harsher, policy as Pakistan, why are the Aidrus-Mirza resignations such a big deal?

Well, it’s complicated. To justify policies, we have to do more than point at other countries and say “look, they did it too!” The uncomfortable reality is that Pakistan has a lot more to lose from singular nationality laws. It has been badly hit by brain drain. More and more Pakistanis are migrating elsewhere for stability and employment opportunities year-on-year. At the end of 2019, half a million Pakistanis left Pakistan. The majority of these were recent university graduates, giving them plenty of time to apply for dual citizenship throughout their professional lives. Under current laws, these Pakistanis are blacklisted from serving in the government or judiciary in the future.

We also overlook that some people don’t actively decide to be dual nationals. Many Pakistanis are dual nationals because of where they or their parents were born, despite having lived permanently in Pakistan for most of their lives. Even if becoming a dual national was an active decision, is it a decision that can really be criticised? The Pakistani passport is the fourth weakest in the world. You could be the greatest patriot ever, and still hate having to fill out grueling visa forms every time you travel.

But a debate is only fair when both sides participate. So I decided to try on the shoes of those who want their politicians to only be Pakistani citizens. Pakistan’s short history has been riddled with politicians who are incompetent, inheriting their positions through the existence of political dynasties. They are, more often than not, corrupt and their political mantras seem to be self-interest above all interests. The same politicians often take the first flight out of Pakistan as soon as the tide turns, they lose power and legal action against them is on the horizon. As a result, the population of Pakistan understandably looks at their government through the lens distrust. If the default attitude towards politicians who are only Pakistani citizens is suspicion, dual national politicians never stood a chance.

Critics might say I’ve got it all wrong, and that the real issue isn’t loyalty but competency. That is, dual nationals shouldn’t hold government positions because homegrown problems need homegrown solutions. If dual nationals haven’t lived in Pakistan day in and day out, how can they claim to understand the problems the country faces?

But is having a green passport, or being geographically within Pakistan, a substitute for loyalty or competency?

The disgraced politicians I spoke of before were all Pakistani citizens. They all had the ‘right’ passport. But this didn’t stop them from making the wrong decisions for the country. This didn’t stop them from fleeing Pakistan and evading accountability for these wrong decisions. Even if they had stayed in Pakistan after their downfalls, could any of us honestly say they were more loyal to Pakistan as a result? People, especially politicians, are complex beings with multiple interests. An A5 booklet can’t act as a magic shield to corruption.

As for competency, we live in a globalised world. Experts in every field collaborate and share information across borders. To think only a limited amount of people can understand Pakistan’s socioeconomic problems is to ignore how good international perspectives are for progress. We’re also forgetting that, whilst working abroad, overseas Pakistanis don’t cut ties with the country. Not being geographically located in Pakistan doesn’t mean they can’t keep track of Pakistani current affairs. And it certainly doesn’t mean they can’t combine their local knowledge and international experience to form coherent policy ideas.

More generally, we’re seeing the emergence of a new generation who have grown up across multiple countries. For them, it’s hard to view self-identity as black and white, linked to one country only. It’s even harder for them to reduce nationalism to a checkbox exercise of whether they’ve lived long enough outside Pakistan to acquire a different citizenship.

Dual nationality is a complicated issue. Clearly, the solution isn’t to open up the floodgates and allow anyone to join the government without regard to loyalty or competency. But I do think the current suspicion towards dual nationals acts as a roadblock to competent individuals joining the government and will hit a new generation of Pakistanis the hardest. Perhaps the answer lies in reframing what loyalty and competency mean, beyond the color of our passports, and coming up with other ways government officials can tick these boxes. After all, who’s to say which of us is a ‘true Pakistani’?