In Pakistan, denial is easier than heartbreak

Ever since Osama bin Laden’s assassination, the western media have been wondering why Pakistanis refuse to accept the truth and instead believe in wild conspiracy theories. As one particularly scathing article in a Canadian paper puts it, “This is the salve that now comforts millions of Pakistanis at a time of fundamental crisis. They choose the magical world of conspiracy.”

As an expatriate Pakistani, I’ve also been asked by confused Britons, Arabs, and Indians: “Why don’t you guys admit that things are out of control? Why is everything that goes wrong in Pakistan always a CIA conspiracy?”

Let me explain.

In the 1980s, every 5-year-old in Pakistan wanted to become a commando or a pilot. Nobody wanted to become an accountant or an architect or a civil engineer. Ever wonder why?

It’s because the army was awesome.

Pakistan's national heroes

One of my earliest memories was waking up early in the morning each Sept. 6 to watch the Defense Day Parade on TV. It was amazing. There were planes, commandos, and missiles: everything that makes up the fantasy toy world of a young boy.

As we watched the tanks roll by, my mom told me that Sept. 6 is celebrated to commemorate the valiant defense of the country against an Indian attack in 1965. The Pakistan studies book in school later taught me that India attacked Lahore in the dead of the night, without any provocation or formal declaration of war – a “cowardly attack.” We won the war and caused major losses to the Indian military machine. Maj. Shaheed Aziz Bhatti was my hero.

The next chapter talked about 1971. We learned that India created a terrorist group called the “Mukti Bahini,” which terrorized the population in Bangladesh. While a massive conspiracy engineered by the Indians misled the East Pakistan population and eventually led to partition, our army still won the war and the Indian army was left licking its wounds. Shaheed Rashid Minhas was the hero this time.

School books told us that India never accepted the creation of Pakistan and that its army would invade Pakistan the first chance it got; we would then be forced to lead terrible lives, just like Muslims in India lived a life of servitude and backwardness.

A career in the army was a dream. Regardless of economic background, if a young man made it into the Pakistan Army as an officer, it was guaranteed that he would have a nice house, a decent car, and access to the prestigious Services Club. His children would study in good schools and he would be eligible for discounts on everything from groceries to airline tickets.

Never again would the police harass him, and petty burglars would think twice before trying to break into his house in the military cantonment. He would get to play golf and polo. When he retired, he would end up with a couple of plots of land in prime neighborhoods, allowing him to grow old in peace.

The army was everything good and reliable

Over the years, we observed that everything that was good, pure, and reliable in the country was associated with the army. The state infrastructure was corrupt, inefficient, and lazy, while the army was honest, disciplined, and efficient.

Policemen in the street were overweight, unshaven, and unkempt – they traveled in banged up pickups. Soldiers, on the other hand, were lean, well groomed, and smartly dressed. They drove around in Land Cruisers and big shiny army trucks. Army officers wore Ray Bans. Girls dreamed of getting married to dashing young lieutenants.

The army was awesome.

The army was also obviously successful in the pursuit of Pakistan’s strategic interests. In addition to the fending off the Indians, the army had now also saved us from the wrath of the Soviet juggernaut. The creation of the Taliban and a pro-Pakistan government in Afghanistan was a success in our effort to achieve “strategic depth” in Afghanistan.

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