Perplexed in Pakistan
Tomorrow morning we will leave Pakistan, heading back over the border to India to catch our onward flight to Kazakhstan. When we first arrived here I was full of nerves and expectations, and now, a month later, I am leaving the country still confused and newly disheartened. Pakistan is probably the most interesting country I’ve ever visited, but I can’t wait to leave.
From the moment we crossed the border, breezing through customs without hardly opening our passports and speeding off in a taxi past a border sign reading “Welcome to Pakistan” in Urdu, and “Mountain Dew- Do the Dew!” in English, nothing about the place was what I expected. In some ways, our visit fulfilled the predictions of naysayers who told us it was too dangerous a place to visit: We had stones thrown at us by a mob of teenage boys on the main street in Lahore, and Sarah and Jessica were simultaneously asked to swaddle their bodies in cloth and then groped through the window of a moving car. But the people here were also the most hospitable I’ve ever encountered, climbing over one another to host and help us, insisting on arranging everything for us and covering all of our expenses.
Pakistan was the first place where the mission of the Common Language Project met with a serious challenge. We theorized that even in a “failed” state like this we would be able to find a wealth of individuals and organizations fighting in creative ways to improve their country. If Pakistan taught me anything, it’s what people mean by the term “failed” state.
Again and again we had conversations with well educated, articulate people who had lost the sense of their own ability to change their world. A common theme in these conversations was the idea that nothing could change for the better in their country until the government stepped in and changed it, paradoxically coupled with a complete lack of hope that the government could be reformed or that it would ever take such action. Maybe this is the political culture that is bred by 60 years of dictatorial government- a sense of the government as an omnipotent but incompetent father figure who can’t be challenged or circumvented.
Another common theme in these conversations was that outside forces, specifically America, were to blame for Pakistan’s political and social problems. We were told over and over again the story of the U.S. funding the Islamic mujahadeen against the Soviet invasion of neighboring Afghanistan, framed as a catalyst for all of the problems with religious extremism Pakistan has had. There were constant mentions of the presence of CIA agents and their being directly behind fundamentalist violence throughout the Muslim world.
For whatever combination of reasons- a lack of democratic traditions, the repression of women’s participation in society, or drastic class stratification- Pakistani society struck me as being filled with friendly, intelligent people completely lacking hope.
This was the first time I really felt homesick, and I think it was more than just the cumulative fatigue of three months of travel. It was a new understanding of what a great thing we have going for us back home in America, despite all of our present issues. You can build all of the shopping complexes and franchise restaurants you want, and construct beautiful suburbs with a brand new SUV in every driveway, but if these things only serve an elite population while the rest of the country is left to beg an education and a meal off of the mullahs, then what are these things worth?
A book I read here described Pakistan as divided between two groups: the air conditioned elite and the great overheated masses. Of course it’s hard to think about reforming your country when your stomach is empty and its 105 degrees in your house. But it seems that even if you are living a simulated upper-middle class American lifestyle, the awareness of these un-air conditioned masses surrounding you drives you to look outside your country to fulfill your dreams, and to throw your hands up in the face of domestic problems.
The CLP was right to theorize that places like Pakistan are filled with sympathetic souls interested in international dialogue, rather than bearded fundamentalists bent on Islamic revolution (although we met some of those too and they were really nice guys). But we were wrong to think that everywhere in the world there are masses of people who are taking the initiative to solve the problems in their society, independent of the government or of the West.
I’m very serious about returning to Pakistan in the near future to be reunited with some of the great people we met and to cover the next election – when there might be a chance for the change in government everyone kept talking about. But right now I’m exhausted by all of this fatalism and I’m glad to be moving on.
© 2006 The Common Language Project