“Political power is as permanent as today’s newspaper. Ten years from now a few will know or care who the most powerful man in any state was today.”
These words propelled my mind into relating it to my knowledge and experience of politics and to test if this statement stands true in its light. Before I do so it would be apt to introduce myself. I am a perfect layman who has nothing to do with politics or even “po” for that matter, unless it intrudes his senses like a pungent odour, a spine freezing horror movie or nerve shattering heavy metal music. I am the kind of conscientious citizen who would never cast his vote in an attempt to keep his vote from falling into the wrong hands, since the needle of my vote for the right person would be lost not to be found in the haystack of the votes cast for the wrong person. Call it pessimism! Call it realism! Maybe it is just what Russell called Byronic unhappiness- the tendency of intellectuals and world-weary people to equate wisdom with despair rooted in cynicism. Nevertheless, if my vote is going to get wasted, I would not want to spend my calories commuting to and from the polling station for it.
However, I did drag myself out of the bed once on a wonderful election holiday morning, a little earlier than I usually would, to cast my vote for a change and I did so. With an aura of a patriot out to do the motherland a great favour, I went through the ritual of casting my vote. Sitting at home, I kept cherishing and showing off the black mark on my thumb, like a warrior from medieval times would treasure his scars. To my surprise, I found myself as interested in the election results as someone having everything at stake on one of the horses, watching keenly over the derby race with binoculars. Disappointed I was to see the candidate, I voted for, lose but the silver lining was that my disappointment lasted shorter than the ones’ who voted for the winners.
Political power maybe short lived but one would easily be able to quote instances where it has lasted more than a decade. Prior to checking the local scene let us cast a glance at the Bush legacy. Before we could forget or even stop thinking about the beneficent tenure of George Bush the senior, we were confronted by yet another Bush who in no respect proved himself less than daddy. The wounds of interference by the father had still been fresh and oozing when the noble cause was taken up and forward by the subservient son. As if we were hoping for things to get less destructive. Yes! We are talking about a time span of more than a decade here.
As for the harvest in the political scene in our beloved country, the crops haven’t turned out well ever. Our political history, not purely political because of the huge marshal law weeds, also offers such legacies. Since right after the creation of the country, there has never been a serious consistent leadership. Pakistan has either been a ping pong served by Zulfiqar Bhutto to Benazir Bhutto or a base ball pitched by Nawaz Sharif to Benazir who hit it to be caught by Nawaz Sharif again. The later analogy stands true the other way round too. The ping pong, however, obviously out of the court after Benazir’s demise came rolling down to the Zardaris under an acquired family name of Bhutto. If we take into account long lunch breaks of army marshal laws, obvious or camouflaged, that about sums up political innings played on Pakistani grounds. Whether it is the exchange of power between Bhuttos and Sharifs or army interventions, a case of exploding mangoes or a case of exploding people in order to explode more, it has been made sure that our short term memory makes its way to the long term memory.
Where has the spectating nation been all this while? We had the fronts of our own to fight on. Constantly juggling our standards based on prejudices of colour, language and territory, we still had time to be exploited and moved like pawns on a chess board. Lately, we are being made to follow the carrot tied at the end of the stick by people riding on our back. Lawyers, politicians, clerics, NGOs all had baits and we fell prey to them recurrently hoping for a better change. We, like the emotionally charged audience of Shakespearean plays, would give the reins of the country’s administration to some one just because his beloved wife died. Our friendships are based on common enemies instead of common interests. Doing everything for the wrong reasons, deliberately or unknowingly being led by one Macavilian opportunist or the other, we stand at the brink abject and unhealthy.
I remember who was in power ten to fifteen years from now or even before that no thanks to my memory. Rather, I am able to do so not only because of the reappearance of the same faces and last names, but also for the reason that these appearances bring about the same situations, or worse at times, that we have survived as a nation during that decade or even longer. This makes me wonder if such recurring happenings will not wake and shake us up, what will? This thought made me revisit the famous axiom.
History repeats itself. It does so in vain if there is no one to notice.
