Death by delicious duplicity
This govt, like predecessors, fears truth about drones: Pakistan can't stop US from unleashing hellfire from...
The writer is Director News, Express News. He tweets @fahdhusain fahd.husain@tribune.com.pk
Reality bites. In our case, it can chew off a chunk of meat and spit it out in a spray of blood, bone and flesh. That’s gotta hurt. So we shun reality.
Lies, on the other hand, are like comfort food — so good on the palate, not so good on the belly. Lies hug and caress us, make us feel all warm and cuddly. They shield us from the lacerations of brittle reality, and envelop us in the warm glow of self-love. Numbed by the opium of delusional rhetoric, we sway to the rhythm of melodious lies and chant in chorus: “We are the Chosen Ones.”
And we can do no wrong. We didn’t start the fire that burnt down a place of worship and transformed the faithful into a murderous and maniacal horde. We are the Chosen Ones out to civilise the barbarian world. It was ‘they’ who did it. They, of that kind. The kind that does not believe what we believe; that does not chant what we chant; that does not exude the radiance of self-belief that we do.
Nothing compares with this feeling of sheer joy — a joy of pretending what we are not. Nothing compares to the sensation of freely floating on a sea of misplaced innocence, oblivious to the knowledge of having lost the innocence a long time ago.
Yes, we can contain the containers, but cannot contain our contagious enthusiasm for self-contentment of a curious kind. Yes, we can drone the drones with our verbal salvos, but dare not delve deep into the deplorable duality of our policy.
Wait, did someone mention policy?
The history of our policy on drones is knitted together by a magnificent chain of pearly white lies. This jewellery of deceit was bestowed upon a nation lulled by the nectar of delicious duplicity. The hypocrisy we called policy was oh-so-gently handed over from government to government till no one really knew who was doing what, when — and more importantly — why?
But now we may have some idea. The pearly white lies were alloyed within a bonfire of fear — a fear that the people could not stomach the truth because decades of deceit had made them incapable of digesting it. Rulers found themselves sandwiched between a hyper-power and a hyper-people. So the rulers went into default mode.
The lying mode.
And so it continues — a sorry saga of sound and fury signifying nothing. We thump our pumped-up chest like a Tarzan on steroids, only to plunge the dagger into the soft folds of our own belly. The wrath of Khan rains upon the hapless traffic of Peshawar as hordes of his supporters converge on to the Ring Road to bring America to its knees and slice its neck from ear to ear. The wrath of the TTP rains upon the petrified citizens of Pakistan as bombs shred their bodies into bloody ribbons. The wrath of the maulanas rains upon the valiant soldiers nourishing this land of ours with their ultimate sacrifice. And the wrath of the prime minister? Perhaps, all the wrath he had inside, was off-loaded on Pervez Musharraf, and Sharif is now running on empty. Silence can be deadly. Brooding silence, not.
Silence does not constitute policy and neither does wrath. In the echo-chamber of fear, lies resonate loudly. This government, like its predecessors, fears the truth about drones: a truth which says Pakistan cannot stop America from unleashing hellfire from Hellfires. It cannot do so because it is weak. It is weak because it has no financial and international muscle. It does not have this muscle because the leadership has transformed this country of a 190 million people into a nation of beggars.
Sharif knows this. Khan knows this. Maulana knows it. The GHQ knows it. But they do not want us to know it. Containers won’t stop drones. Chaudhry Nisar’s bravado won’t either. But in the long run, truth may. And the truth demands we expel Chechens and Uzbeks from our territory, subdue the TTP, regain control over the territory that is ours and wage ferocious peace with the world. But truth requires facing up to reality. And reality bites like a ravenous wolf.
Published in The Express Tribune, November 24th, 2013.
Lies, on the other hand, are like comfort food — so good on the palate, not so good on the belly. Lies hug and caress us, make us feel all warm and cuddly. They shield us from the lacerations of brittle reality, and envelop us in the warm glow of self-love. Numbed by the opium of delusional rhetoric, we sway to the rhythm of melodious lies and chant in chorus: “We are the Chosen Ones.”
And we can do no wrong. We didn’t start the fire that burnt down a place of worship and transformed the faithful into a murderous and maniacal horde. We are the Chosen Ones out to civilise the barbarian world. It was ‘they’ who did it. They, of that kind. The kind that does not believe what we believe; that does not chant what we chant; that does not exude the radiance of self-belief that we do.
Nothing compares with this feeling of sheer joy — a joy of pretending what we are not. Nothing compares to the sensation of freely floating on a sea of misplaced innocence, oblivious to the knowledge of having lost the innocence a long time ago.
Yes, we can contain the containers, but cannot contain our contagious enthusiasm for self-contentment of a curious kind. Yes, we can drone the drones with our verbal salvos, but dare not delve deep into the deplorable duality of our policy.
Wait, did someone mention policy?
The history of our policy on drones is knitted together by a magnificent chain of pearly white lies. This jewellery of deceit was bestowed upon a nation lulled by the nectar of delicious duplicity. The hypocrisy we called policy was oh-so-gently handed over from government to government till no one really knew who was doing what, when — and more importantly — why?
But now we may have some idea. The pearly white lies were alloyed within a bonfire of fear — a fear that the people could not stomach the truth because decades of deceit had made them incapable of digesting it. Rulers found themselves sandwiched between a hyper-power and a hyper-people. So the rulers went into default mode.
The lying mode.
And so it continues — a sorry saga of sound and fury signifying nothing. We thump our pumped-up chest like a Tarzan on steroids, only to plunge the dagger into the soft folds of our own belly. The wrath of Khan rains upon the hapless traffic of Peshawar as hordes of his supporters converge on to the Ring Road to bring America to its knees and slice its neck from ear to ear. The wrath of the TTP rains upon the petrified citizens of Pakistan as bombs shred their bodies into bloody ribbons. The wrath of the maulanas rains upon the valiant soldiers nourishing this land of ours with their ultimate sacrifice. And the wrath of the prime minister? Perhaps, all the wrath he had inside, was off-loaded on Pervez Musharraf, and Sharif is now running on empty. Silence can be deadly. Brooding silence, not.
Silence does not constitute policy and neither does wrath. In the echo-chamber of fear, lies resonate loudly. This government, like its predecessors, fears the truth about drones: a truth which says Pakistan cannot stop America from unleashing hellfire from Hellfires. It cannot do so because it is weak. It is weak because it has no financial and international muscle. It does not have this muscle because the leadership has transformed this country of a 190 million people into a nation of beggars.
Sharif knows this. Khan knows this. Maulana knows it. The GHQ knows it. But they do not want us to know it. Containers won’t stop drones. Chaudhry Nisar’s bravado won’t either. But in the long run, truth may. And the truth demands we expel Chechens and Uzbeks from our territory, subdue the TTP, regain control over the territory that is ours and wage ferocious peace with the world. But truth requires facing up to reality. And reality bites like a ravenous wolf.
Published in The Express Tribune, November 24th, 2013.