Shabir Ahmed
The few faithful readers will perhaps find solace in the caption. To most others “this too shall end” – the end of agony – will be the more apt caption. With this last piece, it shall end. The accidental columnist has decided to stow away the word processor that spewed out so many wayward thoughts over some 160 weeks.
Thank you, Editor, for providing space for all these weeks, since its debut way back in April 2015. Blissfully, for all concerned, we could inflict our views on the hapless readers only once a week. We have no doubt this space will now be taken up by someone who has something more substantive to share with the BR addicts.
No, it has not been a labour of love. But it was fun. No, it has not been a licence to settle scores. But we did get even – sometimes. No, we did not put the Malir gorge on fire. But we did light a few fires under certain governmental heavies – they were unmoved. No, we didn’t become the guests of na maloom afraad. But that shows we didn’t matter!
During all these weeks, the world seems to have moved on. The apostles of capitalism and democracy are having a rethink, just as we resume our rattling journey to such destinations. Tribalism, long rejected in favour of greater universalism, is the ‘new exceptionalism’. Trump and Marine Le Pen thrive despite representing the narrowest and the most bigoted of their societies. Who could have believed less than two years ago that they will become role models to the world’s revisionists? That Euro-sceptic little island, famous for muddling through, can’t make up its mind whether to swallow supra nationalism or spit it out. Meanwhile, #metoo has swallowed several icons, and taken the Mickey out of all those budding Lotharios.
And we don’t know if we should embrace or dread the advance of technology; Artificial Intelligence and all that. It’s a scary thought being operated upon by a robot! What will the world look like when Chinese UHV cables carry power from Democratic Republic of Congo to Europe at a cost on delivery of seven cents per kWh, compared to the current average household cost of 23 cents?
The lexicon, too, changeth.Fake news, alternative facts, post –truth; the juiciest to us is ‘retro talk’, using verbal fossils, yesterday’s lingo, that we now hear only in the Courts or ISPR briefings. You will certainly not hear it among tech-savvy five year olds who didn’t pick up their language in class rooms. Even the vernacular has changed. When was the last time we heard hartal or pyah jaam? Now it is dharnas, long marches, and the death of Sec 144 banning the congregation of more than five persons.
And, of course, even in Kharan they know what suo motu is.
We are not alone in ‘living in interesting times’, but we seem to have taken the traditional Chinese curse to a whole new level. The fervour of patriotism that we wake up to gives way to clutching at the straws as the evening sets in. We take heart from ‘Emerging Pakistan’ videos, or some Pakistan-origin academic in the US creating waves in disciplines that we can’t even pronounce, or winning an Oscar, or cadets from our military academy stealing the show at Sandhurst. We pin our hopes to a vibrant social media that is giving ‘voice’ to civil society. The eternal optimists see ‘tabdeeli’ around the corner – except when we turn the corner we meet the same old faces that we wanted to escape from.
In our columns, we have touched upon governance, economic matters, and our principal fault lines. We couldn’t resist offering solutions – all arm chair critics revel in it – but steadfastly left the business of making predictions to worthies like Shaikh Rashid.
The only thing certain about Pakistan is that there is nothing certain. What crystal ball could have seen Panama-gate, amnesty as our version of ‘truth and reconciliation’, the rise of the ‘vigilante court’, or the sophisticated orchestration of regime change? Had anyone heard of someone called Sadiq Sanjarani?
The economy best typifies our uncertainties. It finds itself on a stretcher almost as soon as it is pronounced to be in sound health. Ayub’s ‘decade of development’ set the tone. Until 2007, Musharraf’s claim to fame was a robust economy. Come 2008 and we are rushed back to ICU - the IMF. Two years ago, under the omnipresent Dar, everything looked hunky dory, and we happily concluded the IMF facility. Suddenly, the dams burst again, and our distinguished commentator on these pages warns us of self-fulfilling prophecies. Those who forecast doom yesterday because of an overvalued rupee are now forecasting doom because of its devaluation!
Our see-saw economy looks like an electro-cardiogram: steady ups and downs at regular intervals, apparently insensitive to Policy interventions. Does it tell us that economy is but a symptom of the real sickness - our atrophied political system? Does it say something of our collective culpability – self-interest trumping national interest?
June, when we decided to hang our columnist robes, was the cruelest month. We lost some good souls. Dr Umar Memon, a true scholar who also translated several masterpieces into Urdu and took Urdu literature to the West. Mushtaq Yusufi made us laugh, except to the more discerning his humour was the armour with which he covered subtle but disturbing messages of our social decay. Jamsheed Marker, a proud Pakistani who did Pakistan proud. He was a great diplomat because he was a great human being. May they rest in peace and may they inspire many lilacs to breed out of the dead land.
Thank you, readers, for your indulgence. Forgive us for the shallowness of our thoughts and analyses. But as Malcolm Gladwell said, this is “what the dog saw”. At the end of the day, all scribes are worms in horseradish - and to them the world is horseradish!
The job of the writer is not to persuade but to engage. Judging from the several emails we got we cannot pretend to have changed many minds. But if you allow a final indulgence, we like to think we engaged quite a few.
Enjoy BR as we pass the baton on to the more learned. Thank you.
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