How lazy nations respond

Once upon a time, not very long ago, speaking openly about Pakistan’s problems was considered impolite. Then suddenly, Gen Musharraf one day decided to fire a judge of rather ordinary intellect with extraordinary steele.
The resulting movement helped mainstream talking about Pakistan’s problems. People like Asma Jahangir, who were globally recognised for highlighting abuse and torture, used to be maligned for their efforts here at home. The movement for the restoration of the judiciary made her and others like her, a part of our national evening talk show culture.
Leaders like Shahbaz Sharif were reciting Habib Jalib. It was an exciting time. It normalised the open exploration of all that was wrong with Pakistan and exposed the mainstream to a powerful and unrelenting rule of law and human rights discourse.
The sad paradox? Much like press freedom, which roars ferociously in Pakistan circa 2014, the normalisation of human rights activists and the rule of law discourse has yet to fundamentally alter the actual state of rights. Just like press freedom has yet to fundamentally alter the quality of reporting.
Pakistanis still disappear, still get tortured, still get blown up by drone strikes, still get murdered by militant groups, still get intimidated by proxies of our establishment and still face massive economic and political constraints to living a normal life. Too much of our fates continue to be informed by our gender, geographical location, and invariably linguistic, ethnic, religious and political identity.
Real change takes a long time. It is perhaps, perfectly reasonable for Pakistan to take its time internalising the human rights discourse, and set onto a path of renewal and reform. But the new and different way in which we speak about the state of our country has introduced a very dangerous trend in Pakistan.
Since 2007, the Pakistani elite has caught on. It has essentially dispensed with the mythology of a strong and stable

Pakistan. The lies that were easy to tell in 1986 are much harder to tell as we barrel toward 2016. There’s just too many mobile phones with cameras, too many Facebook pages, and too many news channels. So the Pakistani elite has learnt how to sound credibly realistic about Pakistan. In doing so, it has learnt to dilute the moral high ground from which many critics and objectors used to operate from.
For decades, Pakistan has had a cancerous intimacy with violent religious extremists. People on the political periphery have been lamenting this for decades. Today, this fact is also lamented by the entire political spectrum, including large swathes of the right wing – among whom are some of the godfathers of the very problem they lament.
The slippery slope doesn’t end there.
Despite the rhetorical allegiance to a more normal Pakistan, and the widespread verbal negation of terrorism, our bromance with terrorist groups is far from over. Across the media, the political spectrum and without question, within the civil and military establishment, a paralysis pervades. Groups that employ violence as both a rhetorical device, and an operational instrument, continue to enjoy a mind-boggling level of immunity from the law.
Many analysts believe that Pakistan continues to lust for the ‘benefits’ some of these groups offer. Ultimately however, we have to ask what the ‘costs’ are, of rebounding and rekindling relationships with terror groups like the Haqqani Network, the Jamaatud Dawa and most worryingly, the Lashkar-e-Jhangvi.
Which brings us to the tragic end of fifteen-year-old Aitizaz Hasan’s life. We all know what he did. We all have paid tribute to it. Thanks to passionate Pakistanis from around the world, the prime minister has even nominated Shaheed Aitzaz for a Sitara-e-Shujaat, our highest civilian award. We also all know who sent the attacker that killed young Aitzaz.
Among the dozens and dozens of one-liners we’ve been fed since Aitizaz died, have any of them asserted anything remotely resembling clarity on what to do with his killers?
What value does Aitizaz’s award have while terrorists freely roam the entire country, striking at their favourite targets at will? What value are the condemnations of terror while terror laughs all the way to the bank? What value are the tributes to Aitizaz, or to Chaudhry Aslam, or to any one of the over 50,000 Pakistanis slain in terrorist violence since 2001?
Our elite have learnt the language of Jalib and Asma Jahangir. But poems, speeches and national awards cannot protect the next victim of Pakistan’s raging terrorism problem. Only a strong, uncompromising state can do that. The only tribute to Aitizaz that will mean anything is the systematic bringing of justice to the groups that sanction such attacks.
We have policemen, courts, prosecutors, judges, prison wardens and parliaments for the very purpose of systematically terminating what is bad, and protecting what is good. Awarding a Sitara-e-Shujaat is the lazy nation’s alternative to using that system. Are we really that lazy?
The writer is an analyst and commentator.