In a recent interview, Pamela Constable, a Washington Post correspondent, explained what she saw as the primary contradiction in Pakistanis’ relationship with the United States.
How odd is it, she questioned, that while groups as disparate as mullahs (religious leaders) and rock musicians rant and rave against the US, the lines outside the American embassy continue to be yards long.
This central conundrum lies at the heart of the baffled confusion that typifies US reaction to the news of the ever-increasing tide of anti-Americanism in Pakistan: do they love us or do they hate us? Ask American experts as they scratch their heads. Are the crowds at American fast-food franchises worthy reflections of the feelings of Pakistanis or should one believe the anti-American vitriol painted on walls in Karachi and Peshawar?
While there are no easy answers to these vexing questions there are some considerations that can provide some insight into a schizophrenic relationship that vacillates inexplicably between edification and vilification. Take, for instance, the seemingly ironic desire of wanting to migrate to a country so unequivocally constructed in the Pakistani political psyche as the source of its troubles. The reasons are simple: economic success promised by America represents the evasion of the overwhelming troubles of remaining in a country where connections rather than achievement define one’s chances at success.
Migration to America thus represents that slim chance at a windfall, at the opportunity to evade the structural constraints that impede success in a society where the accident of birth defines access to a comfortable life. The decision to pursue migration represents thus not an ideological conversion that suddenly sees the inherent value of American capitalism. Rather, it represents the pragmatic search for exits pursued by the middle-class, educated public of any conflict-ridden country: the practical pursuit of self-preservation in an environment where all is threatened. The constituency that stands in line outside the American embassy — opening itself up to some truly condescending scrutiny — represents those to whom economic progress represents a more convincing practical reality than any fundamentalist ideology. Simply put, if America is to woo Pakistanis it must focus its energies on the Pakistani middle class. The reasons for this are simple. First, elite Pakistanis benefiting from the status quo that grants them a tax-free bonanza based on land holdings and industrial enterprises have few expectations from the US other than to be the evergreen provider of aid packages that can be diverted to their private coffers.
Similarly, the poor in Pakistan are too entangled in the rigours of everyday survival and too entrenched in tribal and feudal allegiances to provide a credible support bank within the country. Their current condition being little better than those of landless serfs of medieval Europe provides few opportunities for considering political choices and even fewer for mobilisation to demand accountability from institutions.
The Pakistani middle class, on the other hand, while small in size, represents the most upwardly mobile, entrepreneurial and educated cadre of the country. It is the members of the middle class who are interested in whether their children can get to their schools, whether they can open their shops and whether they can enjoy the occasional meal at a restaurant with their family.
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