Guardian - 15 December
2011 - Pakistan: bombs, spies and wild parties
Viewed from the
outside, Pakistan looms as the Fukushima of fundamentalism: a volatile[1],
treacherous[2]
place filled with frothing[3]
Islamists and double-dealing generals, leaking plutonium-grade terrorist
trouble. Forget the "world's most dangerous country" moniker[4],
by now old hat[5].
Look to recent coverage: "Hornet's Nest[6]" declares this week's
Economist; "The Ally from
Hell" proclaims
the Atlantic.
But pull off[7]
the road and everything changes. Pakistanis are welcoming, generous and voluble[8].
They insist you stay for tea, or the night. They love to gab[9],
often with glorious indiscretion[10]
– national politics and local tattle[11],
cricket scandals, movie stars and conspiracy theories. This is fun, and good
for the business of journalism.
While Islam is technically the glue[12]
of society, you learn, the real bonds are forged around clans, tribes, personal
contacts. To get anything done, the official route is often pointless – the key
is sifarish, the reference of an
influential friend. Journalists use sifarish a lot; occasionally they are
called on to dispense[13]
it too.
[3] extremely
angry
[10] carelessness; an act or remark that is indiscreet, especially one that is not
morally acceptable
That, however, is just
the cosseted capital – the real pain
has been felt elsewhere. Pakistan has paid a high blood price for what my
guardian colleague Jason Burke calls the "9/11 wars". Since 2001, up to
5,000 Pakistanis have died in more that 300 suicide attacks; the victims range
from toddlers[1]
to three-star generals. Another 13,000 have been wounded. This is partly the
legacy from the military's decades-old dabbling[2]
in Islamist extremism, but for most Pakistanis the culprit is America.
Television shows fizz[3]
with anti-American anger; many say the "Ally from Hell" epithet[4]
applies to the US, not them. Things have never been worse: outrage at the
killing of 24 Pakistani soldiers in a murky[5]
border incident triggered a blockade on Nato supplies, the closure of a CIA
drone base and the boycott of a conference on the future of Afghanistan – and
that's just in the last week.
Washington, meanwhile, is moving to restrict
$700m (£450m) in aid. The relationship is beset by frustrations and misunderstandings
on both sides, but the net effect is that Pakistanis are more profoundly
isolated from the outside world than they have been in decades. This cannot be
good.
[5] dark
and dirty or difficult to see through
Pakistan is beset with
problems that no amount of jolly beer stories or whirling dervishes can remedy.
It is, as a psychologist might say, a country with serious issues. Most are
decades old – the overweening[1]
army, the confused place of Islam, the covert[2]
support for jihad, deep-rooted corruption, the poisoned bond with America.
Resolving them has never been so urgent.
One reason is
Afghanistan. As western troops draw down[3]
by 2014, Pakistan can help construct a stable future for the war-ravaged[4]
country – or spoil a deal it dislikes. But beyond that, it is the internal
stability of Pakistan that is more worrying. The country is riven[5]
by ethnic, tribal and political faultlines[6],
which, in turn, are being exacerbated[7]
by galloping population growth and deepening poverty. Turmoil[8]
in a country with at least 120 nuclear warheads and a projected population of
300m people by 2030 could make Afghanistan look like a walk in the park. Talk
of a "nuclear Somalia" is overstated[9],
but you get the point.
Yet there is little
sign of revolution. As the Arab spring swept
the Middle East, Pakistan was quiet because, in a sense, it already has what
others are demanding: elections. The problem is that few like the results.
Will ordinary Pakistanis tire of this power
game? While there is no sign of a spring tide, millions of tiny waves are lapping[10]
the shores of despair.
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