Islamabad: Amongst the very many talking points generated by the never-ending Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaaf (PTI) and Pakistan Awami Tehreek (PAT) shows in Islamabad, arguably the most intriguing one is the hypothesis that they have provided an opportunity for women to enter public space and occupy it without fear of censure or attack. Given that ours is a deeply patriarchal society in which women cannot hope to even walk down a street anonymously, such small victories, goes the argument, cannot be understated.
I think this is a classic case of perception triumphing over reality. While it is important not to dismiss perceptions as irrelevant, especially in the realm of politics, we overstate the significance of the images that we see on TV screens at the cost of comprehending actually existing reality.
Many commentators have already noted the varying class backgrounds of PTI and PAT supporters. The PTI’s gatherings have attracted a fairly affluent segment of society, quite obvious when one surveys the crowds at the nightly gathering (read: concert) in Islamabad, as well as the choice of Defence Housing Authority (DHA) and Clifton for protests in Lahore and Karachi respectively.
Tahirul Qadri’s supporters, on the other hand, are of more humble origin. Yet that does not necessarily make his whole shebang more representative of the Pakistani public at large.
Serious observers are aware that Qadri’s relatively staple support base owes a great deal to the comprehensive infrastructure of the networks of schools known as Tehreek-i-Minhajul Quran. As such, I do not consider Qadri’s to be a genuine political movement and therefore believe there is no utility in discussing the significance of women participants of his stage-managed “revolution”.
The PTI phenomenon, however, deserves more attention. As a general rule, the affluent upper middle class based in Pakistani cities has garnered relatively little scholarly attention. While there are many treatises on political power in which the “elite” occupies a distinct polemical position, as well as regular reporting by foreign and local journalists alike on the whims of the upper orders of society, insightful sociological studies on the urbanised elite are few and far between.
Karachi-based planner Arif Hasan wrote an incisive piece on what he called the Roots of Elite Alienation back in 2002 in which he argued that the urban elite had gradually retreated from the public domain through the 1980s and 1990s and established private ghettoes in which it sustained its preferred cultural practices.
In related vein he noted that the elite had completely relinquished responsibility for public services and increasingly met its everyday needs through the market in accordance with its ability to pay for the best services available. In short, he confirmed that the elite had completely alienated itself from the public spaces occupied by the majority of ordinary people.
Over the past decade, one episode of “religious extremism” after another has provoked growing alarmism on the part of the elite. Unending concern about the impending “Taliban”takeover has precipitated repeated calls for a military “solution” to what is absurdly conceived of as a static “problem”.
Hasan argues that the elite dug its own grave. Its hate of the leftist politics which had reached a crescendo in the mid-1970s meant that it was a silent supporter of the military coup that toppled the first Pakistan Peoples Party government. It stayed quiet through the horrors of the Zia dictatorship — including the so-called “Islamisation” policy — simply because the spectre of a resurgence of left populism continued to hang over the country.
The self-inflicted cultural and political alienation of the elite has not necessarily meant a rollback of its privileges. It has maintained its links to the centres of power even while it has decried the destruction of Pakistan variously by “corruption”, “terrorism” and so on.
In recent times, the elite has discovered a new saviour, a politician with a difference. Imran Khan’s appeal to the elite is obvious; he offers a somewhat typical commitment to a conservative state nationalism alongside the freedom to maintain a lifestyle that is distinctly liberal. He talks up his World Cup-winning exploits and unmatched philanthropic achievements while lambasting
Pakistan’s political leadership for its underachievement and nepotism. Finally, he reminisces about the days when the civil bureaucracy was honest and politicians were under the thumb of a purportedly people-oriented permanent state apparatus.
A significant proportion of the PTI participants in the epic march that has brought the country to a standstill hail from the cultural and politically alienated elite that is as responsible for the current state of Pakistani society as any other social or political constituency.
That it maintains a holier-than-thou attitude is hardly inconsistent with its historic posture. More than anyone else, I want to see women from across the class divide break the social taboos that imprison them. But this does not mean cheering on the forces of reaction.
The writer teaches at Quaid-i-Azam University, Islamabad
By arrangement with Dawn
