Heresy can make sense
 

During a National election in the seventies, I remember a British journalist sitting in the Gymkhana club, absolutely at a loss as how to translate the extreme vulgarity that had become the hallmark of political canvassing in Pakistan. He wondered how it was possible that such a conservative and rather prudish society countenances such obscenities in the name of politics. More than that, I wonder how a region of the world which is notoriously distinguished for violating women rights produced the first, and the most number of women prime ministers — Sri Lanka, India, Bangladesh and Pakistan. Traditions of heredity do not explain this quite satisfactorily.

I suspect there is a pattern here that needs to be understood in greater depth. Most cultural paradoxes of our society are comprehensible only if you can recognise a peculiarity. The whole approach to life and the manifestation of a value system is divided across a sharp divide: Routine versus the Venerable — For lack of any established diction, I am coining these terms.

Everything here falls in one or the other category — events, people, institutions, artefacts, traditions, beliefs and even imagination. Routine part of life is open to manipulation in any way deemed fit or found necessary by anyone or everyone where as the venerable part is out of bounds for everyone; it is cast in stone, immutable. Why certain entities fall in one category and certain in the other is not logically explainable. They seem to just happen to be so. Transmutation of entities between the two domains is never discernible; if it is there it is too slow for casual observation. Enough of abstractions let me analogize the phenomenon.

There was a time when Mr. Jinnah was a common mortal. Some people revered him and some were sceptical of his stature. He belonged to the routine part of life. You could criticise him or even poke fun at him. Maudoodi wrote about him, "Not a single leader of the Muslim League from Jinnah himself to the rank and file has an Islamic mentality or Islamic habits of thought, or looks at political and social problems from the Islamic viewpoint . . . Their ignoble role is to safe-guard merely the material interest of the Indian Muslims by every possible political manoeuvre or trickery." These are words dipped in arsenic, which certainly could not be used today to describe our Quaid-e-Azam.

He has become safely ensconced in the far reaches of the venerable domain of life. He was a champion of the Muslim cause in the subcontinent, not necessarily that of Islam but that distinction has been lost in our history. We have tried to Islamise Jinnah progressively because the greatest venerations that we can perceive are theological. Had Zia continued to rule, the process would have been almost completed by now. Did you notice that in portraits, how Mr. Jinnah was gradually being stripped of his meticulous suits and clothed in Shalwar and Sherwani. In time, I suspect, the Shalwar would have risen above the ankles; then a chequered cloth would have appeared on the shoulders followed by faint trace of a beard that would grow steadily to form a gracious white mane eventually. The process would culminate in replacement of the Jinnah cap with a cane cap, the sort mullahs wear. And we would have had Maulana Hazrat Mohammad Ali Jinnah, Quaid-e-Azam, the Momin-e-Azeem. It was only Divine intervention that saved Mr. Jinnah from that posthumous mutation of character.

The question is, at what exact point in time did he cross the line from the routine world into the venerable world? I suspect it was sometimes soon after his death. The venerable world that we nurture is deeply connected to obsession with the past; ancestor-worship is a stark indicator of this phenomenon. When Manto was criticised for writing his collection of character-portraits, Ganjey Farishtey, which is perhaps the only honest and candid piece of character sketching in Urdu, he retorted in disgust that, "I spit on the tradition that sends a man’s character to the laundry after his death and when all his blemishes have been bleached off, it is hung on the hook of ‘Rehmatul-Elleh.’ Manto was a drinking heretic, so no one paid any heed to him. Today you could be hung for saying something akin.

Worshipping the past is a product of romanticism, which is intellectually a form of escape from reality into a make believe world and when this habit hardens into a common social mind set, it turns into chauvinism. The venerable part of life is an embodiment of escape, romanticism and chauvinism. Therefore, it becomes a sacred ground, not to be traversed, let alone desecrated by any suggestion of review or change. This dichotomy exists in all cultures, to a varying degree. The advance of social evolution narrows the gap between the routine and venerable spheres of life. Gradually routine matters gain greater significance in terms of governance, justice, fair play and rules of business, whereas more freedom is given to question, evaluate, review and reform entities that were once in the venerable domain.

Churchill lost elections right after the Second World War and his militancy towards global strategy was rejected by British people, even though many of his ideas stood the test of time. Kennedy emerged as the champion of social agendas in the US and many believe he was martyred for stepping on the toes of the military and security establishment. However, soon after his death the dirty linen of his personal life was washed in public. Today, as George Bush is trying to establish an ‘American Empire’ on ‘manifest destiny’, Western public is growing sceptical about his mission. Nothing can become venerable in developed societies – even democracy and human rights are being debated pragmatically.

Here in Pakistan society has moved in the opposite direction over time. Venerable domain has been further reinforced with strong embankments of prejudiced sentiment. And the routine part of life has been abandoned to a free for all plunder. Rules, decorum, sense of fair play and a ‘workable order’ have all been discarded for momentary expediency. Meeting the ends, in any manner what so ever, has become an accepted norm to conduct affairs. Let’s see now: The Legislatures are nothing but routine affairs to kick the opponents in the butt whereas the Marriage ceremony is venerable, however impractical and inconvenient. The Courts of Law are routine: You may encumber them with all forms of chicanery and lie with impunity (under oath) in pursuit of legal sustenance of your activities, what ever they may be, economic, political or simply eccentric but the ‘Khabarnama’ is venerable — it can’t be altered no matter how obvious that its newsworthiness is questionable. Manipulating polls is a routine matter although it violates the basis of equity and democratic values but grave-worship at the shrines is venerable. Even the leaders are compelled to be sanctimonious towards this tradition. Banks are routine; rob them if you can but mosques are venerable even if the Mullah on the pulpit is uninspiring who creates unsolicited noise pollution in the neighbourhood, and despite the law against it, the local magistrate can do precious little about it.

There is something quite wrong here, but unfortunately I can’t say, "obviously." It is far from obvious to us. Whereas we should be endeavouring to make routine matters more organised and venerable domains more transparent and accessible, we are regressing to medieval times. We keep stuffing the dictionary of national euphemisms with new venerables– poverty alleviation, women empowerment, SMEs, 1973 constitution, LFO 2001, National defence imperatives, stand on Kashmir and so forth. All these are laudable issues but once they move into the venerable domain the establishment’s view becomes immutable, out-of-bounds for rational debate.

We seemed to have locked ourselves in to a crumbling house and lost the key. Talking sense is a routine matter that can be harassed into submission by rampant fanaticism, whereas spouting sanctimonious nonsense has become the standard measure of a public profile, protected by venerable security. We need some heresy to make sense here today and that is the irony of our existential situation.

Iqbal Mustafa
11 October 2003

1350 words