Karamatullah K Ghori writes
Every student of Greek mythology is familiar with it: the myth of Sisyphus. I’d read it in my school’s Greek history textbook and felt sorry for the poor sinner, king Sisyphus, eternally condemned to push a huge boulder up the hill only to see it slide right back to the starting point.
That was myth crafted to instill in the people’s hearts an eternal message that one must pay a price for one’s sins. Pakistan isn’t a myth; it’s a reality. But its people are being reminded, daily, of the terrible burden of their so-called leaders’ corrupt shenanigans that they unfortunately seem condemned to shoulder as the price of their hankering for a democratic polity.
Islamabad, nestling in the lap of Margalla Hills, has been presenting a bizarre spectacle the past 10 days. The heart of the well-planned city has been turned into a huge open-air stage—or the location set of an epic movie under production—right in front of the parliament building. The so-called D-Chowk (Square) where tree-lined boulevards from three directions converge has been occupied by tens of thousands of people, the followers and aficionados of two leading political parties of Pakistan, as manifestation of their protest against alleged corruption and electoral theft of the ruling Muslim League of PM Nawaz Sharif.
The agitators, egged on by their leaders, are calling their protest a dharna (sit-in) that they vow will continue as long as Nawaz doesn’t surrender his power and resign.
One of the agitating factions, the Pakistan Awami Tehreek, is led by religious scholar and preacher Dr Tahirul Qadri, who has the reputation of a firebrand speaker. Qadri is a Canadian import calling for a political “inqilab” (revolution) in Pakistan. A demagogue, he would like to uproot the entire system of state and governance, warts and all. Many a pundit, including this one, suspects him to be an implant of the establishment’s lunatic ultra-right fringe.
However, Qadri is a sideshow, despite his immense street power that has translated in his followers outnumbering those of the more charismatic matinee idol, Imran Khan, when it comes to the numbers turning up for the dharna. That Qadri can assemble an impressive crowd around him only speaks for the magical hold religious sentimentalism has on the people of Pakistan.
However, his demagoguery and street-wizardry still doesn’t impress many in the political landscape of Pakistan for a very valid reason. His call for Inqilabis is no more than a pie in the sky. He hasn’t been able to explain what would he replace the present system with. Surely, despite their infatuation with religious bigots and demagogues, the people aren’t prepared to live under the kind of Khilafat chimera that the murderous and bloodthirsty ISIS assassins have been hawking with such vandalism in Iraq and Syria.
It’s Imran and his Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (Movement for Justice) that Nawaz and his government have been worried about and taking seriously. The Nawaz government, with its words and actions, seems genuinely concerned at the concerted assault Imran and his aficionados have mounted at its ramparts of power.
With his clean-cut visage and sterling reputation for integrity and transparency Imran has managed to ignite the imagination of the nation’s youth, in particular, in a way that Arvind Kejriwal couldn’t in India. But it could also be said—to be fair to the Indian electorate that rejected Kejriwal at the recent general elections—that the people of India have become far more discerning than their Pakistani counterparts. The maturity that Indian electors have in spades eludes the Pakistanis because Indian democracy has travelled a smooth and undisturbed path against Pakistan’s meandering and tortured course.
Imran also has an axe to grind with Nawaz that sits well with his (Imran’s) people. He has relentlessly accused Nawaz of massive bungling at last year’s polls, which returned the latter to power. Imran has eloquently articulated his grouse as a brazen “theft” by Nawaz, whom he condemns for robbing the people of Pakistan of their right to elect a leader of their choice.
Nawaz initially ignored Imran’s demand for a fair and judicious reassessment of the election results hoping, in vain, that Imran’s fulminations against him would lose their lustre with time; he couldn’t be more wrong. With the benefit of hindsight it could be said that Nawaz underestimated Imran’s capacity to rally large crowds round his flag. Exhausting his patience, Imran called his followers to commence a Long March, from Lahore and Peshawar to Islamabad, starting with Pakistan’s Independence Day on August 14.
The sense of severity of Imran’s populist backlash against his government sank with Nawaz only belatedly when the “long marchers” had come knocking at his portal of power in Islamabad. He relented, in despair, and agreed to set up a commission of the apex court’s judges to investigate the charge of electoral rigging.
But Nawaz’ delayed awakening from his deep sleep looks too little too late under the massive popular assault mounted against him. His government is now besieged and with it the country paralysed. A buoyed Imran has raised the bar and moved the goalposts. He’s no longer content with the judicial probe alone but demands Nawaz to resign before anything else, something that Nawaz is unprepared to concede.
So that’s where Pakistan is poised: on the knife’s edge. Neither side seems ready to climb down from their maximalist position. Nawaz wouldn’t resign just because Imran would like him to, and Imran wouldn’t budge from his demand.
On the face of it, Imran’s demand for Nawaz’ resignation is not tenable. It will make sense for Nawaz to resign only if the charge of electoral theft is proved. The constitution and law stand behind him: he’s innocent until proven guilty.
Imran may think he can whip Nawaz with his street power, but seems unmindful of Pakistan’s history of the “third force”, the power-addicted army stepping into a breach like this with relative ease. As it is, the news media are crediting the army’s diktat for the impeccable orderliness of the long agitation. Islamabad hasn’t lost a flower pot or a streetlight to the agitators. A lesson from history, again, comes rushing to refresh memory. Blinded by his incontinent urge to spite Nawaz, Imran shouldn’t bring the wobbly citadel of democracy crashing down like the Biblical Samson brought down the temple with him.
But that still leaves bemused Pakistanis wondering why they should be condemned to push their erratic democracy’s boulder up the slope only to see their cavalier leaders pushing it right back. Greek gods couldn’t be more punishing.
Every student of Greek mythology is familiar with it: the myth of Sisyphus. I’d read it in my school’s Greek history textbook and felt sorry for the poor sinner, king Sisyphus, eternally condemned to push a huge boulder up the hill only to see it slide right back to the starting point.
That was myth crafted to instill in the people’s hearts an eternal message that one must pay a price for one’s sins. Pakistan isn’t a myth; it’s a reality. But its people are being reminded, daily, of the terrible burden of their so-called leaders’ corrupt shenanigans that they unfortunately seem condemned to shoulder as the price of their hankering for a democratic polity.
Islamabad, nestling in the lap of Margalla Hills, has been presenting a bizarre spectacle the past 10 days. The heart of the well-planned city has been turned into a huge open-air stage—or the location set of an epic movie under production—right in front of the parliament building. The so-called D-Chowk (Square) where tree-lined boulevards from three directions converge has been occupied by tens of thousands of people, the followers and aficionados of two leading political parties of Pakistan, as manifestation of their protest against alleged corruption and electoral theft of the ruling Muslim League of PM Nawaz Sharif.
The agitators, egged on by their leaders, are calling their protest a dharna (sit-in) that they vow will continue as long as Nawaz doesn’t surrender his power and resign.
One of the agitating factions, the Pakistan Awami Tehreek, is led by religious scholar and preacher Dr Tahirul Qadri, who has the reputation of a firebrand speaker. Qadri is a Canadian import calling for a political “inqilab” (revolution) in Pakistan. A demagogue, he would like to uproot the entire system of state and governance, warts and all. Many a pundit, including this one, suspects him to be an implant of the establishment’s lunatic ultra-right fringe.
However, Qadri is a sideshow, despite his immense street power that has translated in his followers outnumbering those of the more charismatic matinee idol, Imran Khan, when it comes to the numbers turning up for the dharna. That Qadri can assemble an impressive crowd around him only speaks for the magical hold religious sentimentalism has on the people of Pakistan.
However, his demagoguery and street-wizardry still doesn’t impress many in the political landscape of Pakistan for a very valid reason. His call for Inqilabis is no more than a pie in the sky. He hasn’t been able to explain what would he replace the present system with. Surely, despite their infatuation with religious bigots and demagogues, the people aren’t prepared to live under the kind of Khilafat chimera that the murderous and bloodthirsty ISIS assassins have been hawking with such vandalism in Iraq and Syria.
It’s Imran and his Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (Movement for Justice) that Nawaz and his government have been worried about and taking seriously. The Nawaz government, with its words and actions, seems genuinely concerned at the concerted assault Imran and his aficionados have mounted at its ramparts of power.
With his clean-cut visage and sterling reputation for integrity and transparency Imran has managed to ignite the imagination of the nation’s youth, in particular, in a way that Arvind Kejriwal couldn’t in India. But it could also be said—to be fair to the Indian electorate that rejected Kejriwal at the recent general elections—that the people of India have become far more discerning than their Pakistani counterparts. The maturity that Indian electors have in spades eludes the Pakistanis because Indian democracy has travelled a smooth and undisturbed path against Pakistan’s meandering and tortured course.
Imran also has an axe to grind with Nawaz that sits well with his (Imran’s) people. He has relentlessly accused Nawaz of massive bungling at last year’s polls, which returned the latter to power. Imran has eloquently articulated his grouse as a brazen “theft” by Nawaz, whom he condemns for robbing the people of Pakistan of their right to elect a leader of their choice.
Nawaz initially ignored Imran’s demand for a fair and judicious reassessment of the election results hoping, in vain, that Imran’s fulminations against him would lose their lustre with time; he couldn’t be more wrong. With the benefit of hindsight it could be said that Nawaz underestimated Imran’s capacity to rally large crowds round his flag. Exhausting his patience, Imran called his followers to commence a Long March, from Lahore and Peshawar to Islamabad, starting with Pakistan’s Independence Day on August 14.
The sense of severity of Imran’s populist backlash against his government sank with Nawaz only belatedly when the “long marchers” had come knocking at his portal of power in Islamabad. He relented, in despair, and agreed to set up a commission of the apex court’s judges to investigate the charge of electoral rigging.
But Nawaz’ delayed awakening from his deep sleep looks too little too late under the massive popular assault mounted against him. His government is now besieged and with it the country paralysed. A buoyed Imran has raised the bar and moved the goalposts. He’s no longer content with the judicial probe alone but demands Nawaz to resign before anything else, something that Nawaz is unprepared to concede.
So that’s where Pakistan is poised: on the knife’s edge. Neither side seems ready to climb down from their maximalist position. Nawaz wouldn’t resign just because Imran would like him to, and Imran wouldn’t budge from his demand.
On the face of it, Imran’s demand for Nawaz’ resignation is not tenable. It will make sense for Nawaz to resign only if the charge of electoral theft is proved. The constitution and law stand behind him: he’s innocent until proven guilty.
Imran may think he can whip Nawaz with his street power, but seems unmindful of Pakistan’s history of the “third force”, the power-addicted army stepping into a breach like this with relative ease. As it is, the news media are crediting the army’s diktat for the impeccable orderliness of the long agitation. Islamabad hasn’t lost a flower pot or a streetlight to the agitators. A lesson from history, again, comes rushing to refresh memory. Blinded by his incontinent urge to spite Nawaz, Imran shouldn’t bring the wobbly citadel of democracy crashing down like the Biblical Samson brought down the temple with him.
But that still leaves bemused Pakistanis wondering why they should be condemned to push their erratic democracy’s boulder up the slope only to see their cavalier leaders pushing it right back. Greek gods couldn’t be more punishing.
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