Moral policing and taxes
Streets of Pakistan are abound with informal, but highly effective moral policing, not just for women, but also men.
Pakistan has problems; big, big problems: problems of the existential sort. The sort that can only momentarily be forgotten by walking in a park with ones beloved, worldly troubles left outside its gates. Or can they? For a number of couples, a cool January morning in 2012 will go down in infamy as the day when an innocent or otherwise stroll in the park turned into a terror-mela. A Mongol-like horde of ‘vigil-aunties’ descended upon a bunch of confused kids, demanding information on their marital status and associated topics.
If there’s a perfect example of the genre ‘truly perverted comedy’, this was it. One can only watch and cringe with shame as the mob went about administering unasked-for justice to whichever hapless victim happened to come within their clutches. See, I don’t want to resort to clichéd retorts, so I won’t. But surely a topic such as the lack of parks in Karachi would have been more interesting? Or perhaps, lack of trees in the city? Instead, national TV fare in this case was reduced from pressing issues to moral Maya-carthyism.
The streets of Pakistan abound with informal, but highly effective moral policing, enforced by a snide comment here, a leery look there. And to those who think it applies only to women (well, it does mostly), think again. The amount of times I was told not to wear shorts! Not just any teeny tiny chaddi, but good ol’ respectable Bermuda shorts. And not only in some middle or lower income neighbourhood but smack in the middle, outside one of Karachi’s most elite schools.
The latter, a short saga (pun intended), began as I was applying for different schools after my O-levels. I showed up outside the gates ready to hand in the documents, nervous at the size of the crowd because that just meant more competition, only to be stopped by the gatekeeper. (Very politely) I was told that I could not enter the gates to hand in the forms, as my clothing was not appropriate.
Like some lady who shows up at a majority burka-posh event in a sleeveless kameez, I unconsciously tried to cover my nakedness. What a baptism on the boundaries of attire! Sleeveless in most countries is meant to denote the physical state of a dress. Pakistan is one of the few places where it used to signify the moral box one belongs to.
Are these all warning signs, portents of some bleak Talibanised future? Has medieval confessionalism and over-bidding of holiness insidiously weaved itself into the fabric of Pakistani psyche and society?
Firstly, unlike in the case of poor torn-to-shreds Afghanistan, we don’t have a scheming neighbour intent upon fulfilling military fantasies of strategic depth by letting loose highly reactionary proxy militias. The masters of our security establishment would — I hope — never tolerate the same medicine being administered on themselves.
Secondly, and more importantly, the Pakistani public in general, would themselves never tolerate it. Despite the variations, it is my strong belief that Pakistanis are inherently liberal. When was the last time religious parties won anything of significance anywhere? Yes, there was an MMA government in the NWFP but the MMA is now a thing of the past.
One should not begrudge the right of someone to be religious, or even show outward signs of it. Don’t the liberalised, secularised groups flaunt our credentials outwards and inwardly? I wouldn’t (and don’t!) appreciate any policing of my attire and legally-bounded behaviour. But there cannot be a hegemony of the narrative or morality. It seems that culturally diverse, Pakistanis have internalised a set of self-enforced boundaries.
We should extend our outrage not only to personal but also social issues. On our own, we also contribute a lot to what is wrong with Pakistani society, so why not look inwards? One example, that immediately comes to mind is: How about paying our fair share of taxes? If we did that a lot of our economic — and by consequence social — problems would be taken care of.
Published in The Express Tribune, February 3rd, 2012.
If there’s a perfect example of the genre ‘truly perverted comedy’, this was it. One can only watch and cringe with shame as the mob went about administering unasked-for justice to whichever hapless victim happened to come within their clutches. See, I don’t want to resort to clichéd retorts, so I won’t. But surely a topic such as the lack of parks in Karachi would have been more interesting? Or perhaps, lack of trees in the city? Instead, national TV fare in this case was reduced from pressing issues to moral Maya-carthyism.
The streets of Pakistan abound with informal, but highly effective moral policing, enforced by a snide comment here, a leery look there. And to those who think it applies only to women (well, it does mostly), think again. The amount of times I was told not to wear shorts! Not just any teeny tiny chaddi, but good ol’ respectable Bermuda shorts. And not only in some middle or lower income neighbourhood but smack in the middle, outside one of Karachi’s most elite schools.
The latter, a short saga (pun intended), began as I was applying for different schools after my O-levels. I showed up outside the gates ready to hand in the documents, nervous at the size of the crowd because that just meant more competition, only to be stopped by the gatekeeper. (Very politely) I was told that I could not enter the gates to hand in the forms, as my clothing was not appropriate.
Like some lady who shows up at a majority burka-posh event in a sleeveless kameez, I unconsciously tried to cover my nakedness. What a baptism on the boundaries of attire! Sleeveless in most countries is meant to denote the physical state of a dress. Pakistan is one of the few places where it used to signify the moral box one belongs to.
Are these all warning signs, portents of some bleak Talibanised future? Has medieval confessionalism and over-bidding of holiness insidiously weaved itself into the fabric of Pakistani psyche and society?
Firstly, unlike in the case of poor torn-to-shreds Afghanistan, we don’t have a scheming neighbour intent upon fulfilling military fantasies of strategic depth by letting loose highly reactionary proxy militias. The masters of our security establishment would — I hope — never tolerate the same medicine being administered on themselves.
Secondly, and more importantly, the Pakistani public in general, would themselves never tolerate it. Despite the variations, it is my strong belief that Pakistanis are inherently liberal. When was the last time religious parties won anything of significance anywhere? Yes, there was an MMA government in the NWFP but the MMA is now a thing of the past.
One should not begrudge the right of someone to be religious, or even show outward signs of it. Don’t the liberalised, secularised groups flaunt our credentials outwards and inwardly? I wouldn’t (and don’t!) appreciate any policing of my attire and legally-bounded behaviour. But there cannot be a hegemony of the narrative or morality. It seems that culturally diverse, Pakistanis have internalised a set of self-enforced boundaries.
We should extend our outrage not only to personal but also social issues. On our own, we also contribute a lot to what is wrong with Pakistani society, so why not look inwards? One example, that immediately comes to mind is: How about paying our fair share of taxes? If we did that a lot of our economic — and by consequence social — problems would be taken care of.
Published in The Express Tribune, February 3rd, 2012.