THE late Enid Blyton enriched my childhood with tales of adventure and derring-do, as she did for millions of kids around the world. I am happy to see her Famous Five and Secret Seven series still on sale, an indication that some things, at least, have not changed.
However, I did not associate the author with serious, philosophical views until I came across this quotation attributed to her: "Growing old is compulsory; growing up is optional."� The more I reflected on these words, the more I saw how relevant they were for Pakistan as a nation.
In the 1950s, the constant refrain I heard was how young a state Pakistan was as an excuse and an explanation for the new country's many failings and shortcomings. Gradually, this mantra has faded as Pakistan grew older, even though things have got worse, not better, with the passage of years.
As I look around, I see many signs of a country that has grown older, but has failed to grow up. For one, we remain too immature as a nation to reflect on where we have gone wrong, and what needs to be done to set matters right. We live from one day to the next, confident in the expectation that generous adults will look after us, no matter what transgressions we commit.
In the event, foreign aid has propped us up, relieving us of the tough decisions we need to take in order to make Pakistan a viable, prosperous state.
Other examples abound. When we see we can't have something, we tend to throw a tantrum and dig in our heels instead of moving on. For over 60 years, we have been fixated over the Kashmir issue. Whatever the legal rights and wrongs of the matter, the harsh truth is that India is not going to budge, and there is nothing Pakistan can do to change this reality.
Hundreds of billions of rupees and thousands of wasted lives later, we are where we were decades ago. In fact, we have lost whatever diplomatic support we once had. The world is heartily sick of the dispute, and wishes we could just put the matter to rest and move on.
We are aggressive and touchy to the point of paranoia. Take the recent furore over the Kerry-Lugar law as a good example. For weeks, the media and the military were in hysterics over the evil intentions of the Americans who were bent on throwing billions of dollars in our direction.
Pundits and TV anchors fulminated and frothed at the mouth, insisting that somehow ghairat or our national honour had been affronted. Then suddenly, as though a switch had been turned off, this crescendo of irrational argument ceased. What had changed? Probably the dollars had started coming in, and nothing shuts up a needy teenager like a fistful of cash.
Like most young boys, we love playing with toy guns, only in Pakistan's case, they take the shape of lethal weapons, including nuclear ones. All nations have armed forces and arsenals, but they do not generally take such pride in them. In Pakistan, derelict jet fighters are mounted in public squares; models of missiles decorate parks; and mock-ups of Chagai where our first nuclear tests were conducted, sprout in open spaces.
Kids usually hate being mocked or criticised, and take umbrage at the smallest slight, whether it is real or imagined. So, too, do our leaders. A few months ago, a law was seriously being considered to prevent people from passing around jokes about the president on the Internet, or by SMS. This move drew much derision internationally, and was mercifully dropped.
More often than not, children are intensely self-absorbed, caring little for the needs of those around them. Similarly, our well-to-do tend not to think about the rest of their countrymen, focusing only on their immediate families. And when they do give to charity, they are concerned only about how their alms will buy them a place in heaven. Partly as a consequence of this callousness, poverty continues to stalk the land. Illiteracy, hunger and disease are endemic. Nevertheless, enclaves of obscenely ostentatious wealth flourish amidst a vast ocean of poverty.
Impatience is another attribute of the young. Living only in the present, they want everything now. So, too, do our politicians demand regime change whenever they are not in power. Unwilling to wait for a government to complete its term of office, they plot with the military or the judiciary to overthrow the ruling party so they can grab power. More often than not, the army uses these discontented politicians as levers to upset the political applecart.
This refusal to follow the rules and allow a government to complete its tenure is rife among the media as well. Thus, we can see the feeding frenzy among TV chat show panellists and their hosts in the wake of the NRO judgment that has dealt the PPP government a severe blow. In fact, we can almost see these people salivating at the prospect of more political upheaval.
Like children with a short attention span, we get bored with the same ministers saying the same thing after a year or so. We just cannot understand that above all, we need a period of political stability and tranquillity. And we desperately need a consensus to fight the jihadis who are threatening to tear down the foundations of our state. Despite these dangers, we continue to squabble like kids; far from developing a common front, we are doing everything we can to destroy our political rivals, destabilising the entire system in the process.
Faced with harsh reality, many kids escape into fantasy. We, too, continue nursing dreams of a united Muslim ummah that would be able to take on the hated West. In Pakistan, various extremist groups are committed to restoring Muslim rule over the entire subcontinent.
But while individuals can indulge in daydreams, nations do so at their own peril. So wake up and smell the coffee. Above all, let's please try and grow up.
irfan.husain@gmail.com
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