No room to talk
Forget the high road, even asking for a middle ground has become too much to ask for.
Pakistan has been an emotional pressure cooker for the past week and a half. From D-Chowk to Constitution Avenue, newsrooms to drawing rooms, stakes have been high and voices even higher.
Unless you have been living under a rock, it is impossible not to have been voluntarily or involuntarily drawn into one of the “ub kiya hoga?” (what do you think will happen now?) type political discussions. If you are one of the strong opinionated ones, you have also probably been accused of being one or all of the following — too idealistic, too democratic, not democratic enough and my personal favourite, too hormonal. If you still have some regard for how others perceive you, you have probably toned down your views; given them the right diplomatic twist, or the most convenient of all –began feigning indifference. You see, for a country that has been celebrating its historical democratic transition, one of the basic premises of that very same principle, i.e., the freedom to express yourself, is still too much to ask for.
Each of us had our own reasons when we set out to vote in the May 2013 elections. As an urban, privileged, twenty-something Pakistani woman who set foot in a polling booth for the first time, my reasons were much simpler than most. As I marked the ballot paper, I was not merely choosing a candidate. Having grown up hearing tales of draconian dictators who butchered words and muffled voices, I was playing my part in choosing a system that in principle at least, upheld what I valued the most — the freedom to act, believe and express.
While I was well aware that nothing short of a miracle was required to honour the first two, freedom of speech was something we had had under control for a while now. The media was relatively free, there were spaces to engage in dialogue but most importantly, there was a willingness to not only express your own viewpoint but also hear out those with a different one.
The past 12 days, however, have somewhat robbed us of the latter to a huge extent.
Civilised discussions have flared up into full-blown fights, often ending up in name-calling, ugly accusations and even threats in extreme cases. If you side with Imran Khan, you are pro-establishment. If you try and make a case for Nawaz Sharif’s government to continue, you are a brainwashed Western, smitten by the idea of democracy. Forget the high road, even asking for a middle ground has become too much to ask for.
Just the other day, I found myself unconsciously lowering my voice while discussing Mr Khan’s refusal to budge on his demands. “He is too set in what he believes, not willing to see the situation from a different angle,” I was told. Frankly, in that moment, I did not see much difference between Khan and those who were criticising him — both of them had the same blinders on.
And, in my opinion, that is where the problem lies.
While we see democracy being championed behind microphones day after day, political allegiances still have to be whispered. Thousands have taken to the streets to uphold a system whose basic principle is forgotten the minute we are behind closed doors. As a result, words spewed out of intolerance, anger and panic, have ended up drilling as big a hole in democracy as the threat of the ‘infamous boots’.
In these turbulent times, for those of us who still wish to play a part in protecting the democratic system, without making unconstitutional demands or hiding behind stolen mandates, the best thing to do seems to be the willingness to not only speak but also listen, advocate but not propagate and to be guided by political ideologies, but not be enslaved to them.
You may now proceed to agree or disagree with all of the above since the space to do so must always remain sacred — inside containers and outside.
Published in The Express Tribune, August 27th, 2014.
Unless you have been living under a rock, it is impossible not to have been voluntarily or involuntarily drawn into one of the “ub kiya hoga?” (what do you think will happen now?) type political discussions. If you are one of the strong opinionated ones, you have also probably been accused of being one or all of the following — too idealistic, too democratic, not democratic enough and my personal favourite, too hormonal. If you still have some regard for how others perceive you, you have probably toned down your views; given them the right diplomatic twist, or the most convenient of all –began feigning indifference. You see, for a country that has been celebrating its historical democratic transition, one of the basic premises of that very same principle, i.e., the freedom to express yourself, is still too much to ask for.
Each of us had our own reasons when we set out to vote in the May 2013 elections. As an urban, privileged, twenty-something Pakistani woman who set foot in a polling booth for the first time, my reasons were much simpler than most. As I marked the ballot paper, I was not merely choosing a candidate. Having grown up hearing tales of draconian dictators who butchered words and muffled voices, I was playing my part in choosing a system that in principle at least, upheld what I valued the most — the freedom to act, believe and express.
While I was well aware that nothing short of a miracle was required to honour the first two, freedom of speech was something we had had under control for a while now. The media was relatively free, there were spaces to engage in dialogue but most importantly, there was a willingness to not only express your own viewpoint but also hear out those with a different one.
The past 12 days, however, have somewhat robbed us of the latter to a huge extent.
Civilised discussions have flared up into full-blown fights, often ending up in name-calling, ugly accusations and even threats in extreme cases. If you side with Imran Khan, you are pro-establishment. If you try and make a case for Nawaz Sharif’s government to continue, you are a brainwashed Western, smitten by the idea of democracy. Forget the high road, even asking for a middle ground has become too much to ask for.
Just the other day, I found myself unconsciously lowering my voice while discussing Mr Khan’s refusal to budge on his demands. “He is too set in what he believes, not willing to see the situation from a different angle,” I was told. Frankly, in that moment, I did not see much difference between Khan and those who were criticising him — both of them had the same blinders on.
And, in my opinion, that is where the problem lies.
While we see democracy being championed behind microphones day after day, political allegiances still have to be whispered. Thousands have taken to the streets to uphold a system whose basic principle is forgotten the minute we are behind closed doors. As a result, words spewed out of intolerance, anger and panic, have ended up drilling as big a hole in democracy as the threat of the ‘infamous boots’.
In these turbulent times, for those of us who still wish to play a part in protecting the democratic system, without making unconstitutional demands or hiding behind stolen mandates, the best thing to do seems to be the willingness to not only speak but also listen, advocate but not propagate and to be guided by political ideologies, but not be enslaved to them.
You may now proceed to agree or disagree with all of the above since the space to do so must always remain sacred — inside containers and outside.
Published in The Express Tribune, August 27th, 2014.