Our obsession with projecting a ‘good’ image
An American stand-up comedian named Jeremy McLellan, from Charleston, South Carolina, came to Pakistan along with a group of dentists. He spent about two weeks here, doing several shows and touring a couple of cities in Punjab. Thousands of Pakistanis were emotionally invested in his journey, with several offering their best help to the foreigner, informing him of the places to visit, the pitfalls to watch out for along the way, while others engaged in some harmless banter with him on Facebook. Judging from his daily posts, meant to recap each eventful past day that he had spent in the country, Jeremy seemed astute enough to make some accurate observations about our culture, rather quickly.
His humorous look at the various aspects of our country has appealed to many; since coming to Pakistan, he has gained about 70,000 new followers on his Facebook page, a clear indication, that his spin on things sat well with us locals, as we approve of his perceptions about us, his parody of how easily our politicians are ready to rally in the streets, his quip about how the meat we consume is always suspicious or the phenomenon that is the ‘Pindi Boy’.
His reinforcement of our self-image has convinced many that the comedian will serve as a cultural ambassador in the future.
“Jeremy! I am very happy. You showed a brighter side of Pakistan,” said a person bidding him farewell, and “Safe travels! Thanks for being a great ambassador for us,” said another.
Jeremy’s comedy seems to revolve around topics that we have collectively sanctioned to talk or joke about: our craze for biryani, Pakistan’s political tumult and its tussle with India, the customary blocking of Mall Road during Independence Day celebrations, etc.
Good comedy is funny but it is also incredibly serious. It is about the most pertinent insights sharply delivered as the butt of a joke. And what it allows is an opportunity to reflect on some narratives that the popular discourse is not yet ready to engage with. Granted, Jeremy McLellan bears no responsibility to ask the toughest questions for us, but aside from the momentary amusement that was afforded by his arrival, what have we learnt about dealing with our most difficult truths during this entire episode?
Right around the time that Jeremy was to leave the country, it was revealed that Malala Yousafzai has received admission at Oxford University. In stark contrast to the adulation that saw off the American comedian, Pakistan’s own – Malala, was responded with the same cynicism that has rejected her as a BBC conspiracy, ever since she survived a gunshot in the face.
In Malala’s case, to the surprisingly large number of educated people I have met, who consider her struggles and achievements to be entirely controlled and constructed by foreign agendas, their desired conclusion to her story would be for her exposure to die so she can cease to represent that facet of our culture in which a girl is forbidden from pursuing education.
In other words, put a lid on it. We’d rather let that be known about us than this.
The need of our society to reach consensus by marginalising certain narratives is perhaps cultivated by the state itself. Our government has actively pursued the promotion of a soft image. Part of it also has to do with presenting the country as economically viable.
It is only fair to be most vocal about the best qualities of the country. There is nothing worth talking about more, with respect to Pakistan, than its beautifully diverse culture of foods, arts, sports, its multiple ethnicities and languages, its religious heritage, the history of its own achievements and its creation. Then to squirm at the possibility of a shortfall coming to the fore, only suggests a lack of faith in what is, otherwise, an incredibly rich culture.
The backward aspects of our values and traditions require redressal, not concealment. And there is no better reminder of this, then in an opportune moment of a cultural exchange, similar to when an American named Jeremy wears the colours of Pakistan’s flag or when Malala sits in the same rows as the English at Oxford, that camouflaging reality is not a substitute to changing it and that no society is without its flaws. Our preoccupation with the kind of image we depict of ourselves is only going to feed into an obsession with identity, which precludes real agency from bearing fruit.
Perhaps it’s the same agency that Malala Yousafzai currently exhibits around the world, through charity work, her advocacy for women’s rights and education – all noble endeavours, none of which would have been possible, if she had chosen to stay silent about the wrongs she saw around her in the first place.
There is a clear disparity in our reactions to the journeys of Jeremy and Malala. This selective projection reveals a collective anxiety to situate ourselves in the modern world; an effort to control how others around the globe perceive us, especially after our post-9/11 encounter with terrorism, which has tainted the identity of a Pakistani. But we’d be better off taking our issues head on, rather than hiding them obsessively or denouncing those who critique them. A commitment to our reality, and not celebration interspersed with disownment of who we are, will determine the true image of Pakistan.
