Finding space for linear reason

Last week, I wrote about the need to recognise that non-linear reason has a place in Pakistan’s public discourse. Since it does, the state had a duty to draw a circle of trust. And then expel those that break the law from that circle.
Afiya Shehrbano – an exceptional Pakistani intellectual resource, and Babar Sattar – an inspirationally clear-headed thinker, both wrote eloquent responses that made several very good points.
Academic crispness, philosophical rigour and moral clarity are all important parts of the public discourse. Depending on which ideological end of the pool we swim in however, it is usually possible to reach vastly different conclusions based on vastly differing ideas of what constitutes crispness, rigour and clarity. That’s the whole point of recognising non-linear reason.
Of course, we can get too caught up in that specific term, so let’s simplify this a little further.
Pakistanis invested in a vision of a safe, prosperous and democratic republic are currently living in a country where plenty of educated, urbane people seem to have gotten in the habit of validating criminal behaviour through a peculiar use of logic and reason. Non-linear reason in the public discourse is not some amorphous idea or an innovative philosophical experiment. It is a tangible reality.
Indeed, non-linear reason thrives. It validates itself in faith, politics, ethnicity, caste and class. It kills people. It rapes women. It divides, and conquers. It blows up things. It burns tyres. It breaks the law, whilst citing the law. It is not nearly as confused as those who are considerate, thoughtful and spiritual enough to exchange ideas, and disagree as friends. Non-linear reason is on television, on the street, in the mosque, in the school, in the market, and at the secretariat. It is in parliament, at the stock exchange, at the bar association and at the courts. The warm embrace of moral clarity, borne of academic rigour and deep

philosophical roots cannot alter the expansive, penetrative and perverse reality of non-linear reason. To put it crudely, no matter how much sense you make, there is plenty of twisted logic out there.
Pakistanis invested in a vision of a safe, prosperous and democratic republic must be dramatically less arrogant about the realities we occupy. The question is not really of accommodating non-linear reason. The challenge is remarkably different. The question is how we can get some oxygen for linear reason. How we can foster clear, linear rules of the game, within the constraints of existing cultural, social and economic institutions? These “rules of the game” is what is often referred to as the rule of law. But the rule of law is not restricted to documents like constitutions, laws or regulations. It goes much deeper. It is about the instruments through which rule of law is established. Equally importantly, it is about the norms and standards that enable the establishment of rule of law.
It is not clear that there is any one formula for how “rule of law” or clear, linear rules of the game get established. It is clear however from the very top on down, there are substantial leaps of “faith”, in the institution of rule of law in Pakistan. The Constitution and laws of the land (documents), the courts, police, prosecution and prisons system of the land (instruments), and the unquestioning obedience across social strata to intimidatory zealotry across this land (norms and standards) all represent a system that is a-linear, if you will. The system is also largely unapologetic about all this.
In this environment, one way to approach improved outcomes is to challenge the entire edifice. Many Pakistanis who, for lack of a better term, self-identify as liberals, take this approach. Such Pakistanis want to strip the constitution of its non-linear reason (such as where it vests all sovereignty), abolish laws that implicitly and explicitly discriminate against groups of citizens (this is not a short list), “reform” the courts, police, prosecution and prisons system and be rid of the burden of living in a society in which free thought and inquiry are being asphyxiated by unchallenged violent extremism-perpetrated, often by groups allied with parts of the state. It is not particularly surprising that such Pakistanis have consistently been frustrated by an enduring resistance to this programme. Add to this frustration the manner in which these voices are demonized as unpatriotic, heretical and unworthy. The shrill sense of victimhood among Pakistani liberals, then, should hardly be a surprise. Of course, here is where the rubber hits the road.
Despite the reality of a national discourse heavily skewed in favour of dangerous religious zealots, a wide swath of Pakistanis-who do not self-identify as liberals-feel as inundated, as boxed in, as wronged by the system as liberals do. Those with publicly visible signs of religious conviction often express their anger at being constantly mocked for their ideological identity. This sense of victimisation has a lot of raw material to draw on-from the scandal of missing persons, to the Red Mosque, to a plethora of global issues that feed the monster of local political discontent. These voices also feel a deep sense of victimhood. Their shrillness doesn’t articulate itself in English language op-eds (at least not very well). Instead, it often finds life in the heart of a crowd burning tyres and brandishing bamboo sticks-and sometimes in much more sinister kinds of violence.
There is little doubt that these competing narratives are feeding off each other. The result is a dizzying spiral of increased hostility that exposes a stark polarity in the country. Pakistanis who are tired of the suffocated space for diversity in this country will erroneously cheer on drone strikes. Arguing in the wildest instances, that this is what tribal people really want. Pakistanis who have been nourished on fantasies of Islamist utopia, will celebrate a murderer, and misdirect their class and socio-economic anger. Often the victims of this anger are public figures that chastise our centres of power, and stand up for the truly vulnerable and weak in Pakistan-think Aasma Jahangir. In the hot partisan mess we’ve landed in, it is those weak and vulnerable who are lost in translation.
That’s the tragic irony. There is a national consensus among Pakistanis of all ideological persuasions about a range of failures in the public space: personal security and safety, dysfunctional economic conditions, inadequate and skewed social services. Everybody agrees we need to do better. Yet how do we seek common ground, when the political imperative is to call each other names? We don’t. And so we go. Louder and louder.
Of course, there is no moral equivalence between the two poles. But that’s exactly the point. We are in a context where a murderer who shows off about his crime is celebrated, and we respond with celebrating this murderer’s conviction. This is hardly a position of strength. The sheer force of our academic crispness, philosophical rigour and moral clarity is not about to magically deliver outcomes.
So what will? A different approach to challenging the entire edifice of Pakistani state and society is to seek small but valuable victories that do not perpetuate conflict-rhetorical or otherwise. Pakistan may not be ready for changes to its rule of law documents; but everyone agrees that the instruments of rule of law aren’t working. Why isn’t there a greater demand for police stations that people feel safe going to? Where is the agitation for better prosecution departments in the provinces? If we don’t know the answers to these questions, it is because we’ve not been asking them enough. A little humility can go a long way in re-establishing the space for linear reason. It is a long journey. We should embark soon.

The writer advises governments, donors and NGOs on public policy.