The Islamabad disconnect

For Islamabad residents, politics is nothing but a game, nothing that should ever be infected by questions of morality

Occasionally I will show up at a political event in Islamabad only to be greeted by an acquaintance who asks in amazement, ‘What are you doing here?’, as if the sole purpose of the event was to keep people like me out. And truth be told, they are right in expressing shock since I would rather make a trip to the dentist than make my way to a bureaucrat’s garden party. A born introvert (I console myself knowing that extroverts and IQ score are inversely proportionate), I prefer listening to talking. But having to hear Islamabad’s denizens pontificate on politics makes me wish I had been born without ears.

Here’s the strange thing about residents of Islamabad and their relationship to politics. Politics is all they ever think about: they probably brush their teeth to the soothing dulcet tones of a “Capital Talk” rerun, their business lunches are dominated by chitchat of political manoeuvring and they fall asleep at night counting members of the National Assembly as if they were sheep. But in the end politics to them is nothing but a game, certainly nothing that should ever be infected by questions of, heaven forbid, morality. The obsession is akin to that of a sports fan devoted to the English Premier League. He wants to know what the score is, who is up this week and who is down. It is politics stripped of everything that makes it important, relevant and worthwhile.

Take as an example the addition of four new ministries announced by Prime Minister Yousuf Raza Gilani last week. Much of the talk in the town centred around strategy; how the PPP could use these new posts to shore up the support of wavering allies or reward cronies. No one saw fit to remark that the key to one of the new ministries, that of food security and research, had been handed to Senator Israrullah Zehri, a man who should have been drummed out of politics three years ago.

It was in 2008 that a human rights group discovered that three young girls and their two mothers were buried alive in a town in Balochistan, the girls for having the audacity to choose all by themselves their future husbands and their mothers for agreeing to go along with this. Following the revelations, there was predictable outrage but Zehri was not among their number. He said of the heinous acts, “These are centuries-old traditions and I will continue to defend them,” adding, “Only those who indulge in immoral acts should be afraid”.

For a few days, a lot of venom was justifiably lobbed in Zehri’s direction. Then everyone forgot all about it, allowing Zehri to continue his upward trajectory in the world of politics.

Mention Zehri’s past in Islamabad circles and remark that this should disqualify him from holding positions of power and you are chided for bringing up something that is ancient history and mocked for your naivety, as if being naive is a crime but their cynicism is perfectly acceptable.

The Islamabad mindset is corrosive to the heart and soul, particularly for journalists. Everyone in the capital loves to talk but no one ever wants to be quoted. For journalists, that means regurgitating what you have been told but never attaching a name to that information. For all you know, you may have been fed a pack of lies and the person who provided you that false information will never be held accountable thanks to their anonymity. And that is Islamabad in a nutshell: a place where everyone acts but no one has to face the consequences.

Published in The Express Tribune, November 3^rd, 2011.