Pakistan’s bipolar disorder

If Pakistan went into therapy today, how would physiologists diagnose the root cause of Pakistan’s ailments?

An intelligent therapist may argue that some of Pakistan’s most visible ailments — poverty, loadshedding, militancy — are simply manifestations of deeper but unresolved fissures within the national psyche. Unfortunately, a disproportionate amount of our national energy is spent talking about these visible ailments without an attempt to understand the underlying mindset responsible for creating these recurring ailments in the first place.

If Pakistan’s situation was analogous to a young woman repeatedly slashing her wrists in a desperate bid to seek attention, then Pakistan’s national discourse is analogous to the parents of the young woman having a serious conversation about getting rid of all sharp objects (i.e., knives, blades, razors, etc.) from their house. While their efforts may be well-intentioned, they are woefully inadequate to heal the real wounds which manifest themselves through the slashed wrists.

Remember the blocked mobile phone lines on Eid and Youm–e–Ishq-e-Rasool that were supposed to act as a security measure to prevent large-scale terrorist attacks? This is a classic example of Pakistan focusing its energies on getting rid of sharp objects instead of making a genuine attempt to heal the root causes of the insecurity and extremism prevalent in the country.

The infamous car that could run on water is another example of how we get easily excited about quick fixes that can cure our visible ailments without having to open up the painful wounds that lie at the heart of our recurring problems. This national blind spot often perpetuates the very problems we seek to solve.

The time has come for an honest, painful conversation about the wounds that lie at the heart of our national psyche. This would be a welcome first step in triggering the process that will eventually heal the wounds that manifest themselves visibly in the form of poverty, loadshedding, militancy etc.

For the sake of theoretical simplicity, let us divide the psyche of Pakistanis into two distinct schools of thought. Pakistanis in the first school of thought genuinely believe that the country has a very depressing future and cannot be saved. They attribute their hopelessness to the broken ‘system’, as well as their collective assessment of the Pakistani people, who they believe are more corrupt or seek more shortcuts than people of other nations (this school of thought jokingly argues that ‘Pakistanis har dau number kam mein number one hotay hain’).

Pakistanis in the second school of thought believe in the inherent greatness of Pakistan as a nation. This school of thought argues that foreign powers and our corrupt elite have conspired to frustrate Pakistan’s ability to grow and develop. According to this school, all Pakistan needs is the right saviour to put it back on the path of greatness. At the moment, the saviours being promoted by this school include Imran Khan, the army and a strict social adherence to ‘pure’ Islamic values.

If you put these two schools of thought together, you may conclude that Pakistan’s national psyche suffers from a bipolar disorder. On the one hand, you have Pakistanis who are convinced that their country is corrupt beyond repair and cannot be saved. At the same time, you have Pakistanis who believe that Pakistan is inherently a great nation and simply needs a saviour to rescue it from foreign powers and a self-serving elite class.

Interestingly, both schools of thought advocate a position where the actions of the Pakistani people have minimal influence on our future. Either we are inherently corrupt or inherently great; we understand these positions as a function of our worldview — not our individual actions.

This leads to a simple but profound insight into our self narrative: Pakistanis like to believe that our success or failure as a nation is determined by our identity; not by our actions.

When applied to real life, this insight has significant implications. Problems like militancy, poverty and loadshedding are considered part and parcel of Pakistan’s identity today. In our heart of hearts, no one genuinely believes that we can get rid of these problems. In our minds, we are the problem.

A good therapist may suggest an intervention for us at this stage; to re-imagine our problems as a function of our actions, not our identity.

Stripped of our psychological crutches, we will finally be able to confront our deepest fear: that we are still firmly in control of our destiny. We are neither doomed to fail nor biding our time to greatness.

Published in The Express Tribune, September 28^th, 2012.