E

Can ignorance still be considered a blessing in this age of technology and information? Hands down, in Pakistan, my answer to this question is a big “yes”. Under ordinary circumstances, information, the close antonym of ignorance, is considered a weapon that, if used with care and caution, can help us to neutralise or subjugate our enemies. Whether that knowledge is about the malicious acts of other human beings (intelligence), an antidote for the Ebola virus infection or the exact timing of natural disasters like earthquakes and tsunamis, the more you know about your foes, the better you can equip yourself to fight them.
However, when it comes to following political activities in Pakistan, the rapidly changing landscape both under local and foreign influence, its intricate ethnic subdivisions, its culture of horse trading, its U-turns, its shortsightedness, its never ending mud slinging and, on top, its 24 hours a day coverage by an immature and callous media, I must say ignorance is a blessing and complete ignorance, I admit, is no less than paradise on earth, without any question.
Following that hypothesis, last month, like many other friends and family members who had received more than their fair share of political updates in the last one decade and have stopped following the circus actively, I also decided against watching the news for at least one month. Restrictions were applied to all the channels without any exception. Albeit hesitantly though, I permitted myself to watch a few music shows every once in a while for a short duration. Since I was travelling, I thought my timing was ideal to stick to my commitment without getting too nervous. Being a well-known news junky, I was only going to read the morning papers for 10 minutes every day to keep myself updated and informed about important events. I feared, by suddenly removing myself from these current events, I would face a severe withdrawal reaction. In the back of my mind, I must also have questioned how the system could move forward without my peripheral presence in it. And, in my absence, I was certain that everyone (people around me, at least) would also lose interest in current events and somehow, without having a good sense of direction, they would beg me to return to ‘normal’. Even the country, I assumed, may not have the capacity to be governed well without my comments, Facebook input and reactions on Twitter. Trust me, being unimportant and irrelevant at that time never crossed my mind as being real.
Nevertheless, during the first few hours I did not any have withdrawal symptoms: there were no tremors, no nervousness, no anxiety prone binge meals, no headaches and even no insomnia. I was surprised myself but I ignored it as it was too early to comment. A couple of days passed without any reaction as well but I still did not pay any heed to it. To shy away from reality, I blamed my mental peace and emotional stability on travelling, jet lag and family reunions. A week, two weeks and finally all four weeks went by with improvement in every aspect of my personal life: my nerves settled down, my paranoia faded away about the imminent threat to Pakistan and my sleep improved even further.
As a consequence, in a matter of a few days, I became more interested in the everyday issues of life in Pakistan like the job situation and its internal dynamics, the salary structure and my chances of getting a raise, the haphazard traffic all over the city, the relentless load shedding and the worsening law and order situation in general. Obviously, the eternal bickering in family politics and 50 shades of in-laws cannot be ignored from the list of very important issues that caught my enthusiasm! Equipped with all these tools of a normal person, after many years, I felt that I could casually communicate with my friends and colleagues. Larger political issues, most of which did not affect our personal lives and only brought unhappiness, dissatisfaction, frustration and anger were pushed back for all good reasons where they belonged: cyber space.
My equanimity notwithstanding, I also noticed that the whole system worked just as good with or without my input. No one had missed me much. The talk shows were the same, their discussions boring, their content superficial, their attitudes insincere and their demeanour insulting. Politics was unchanged as well, the members of parliament cunning as scorpions, their behaviour rude, their arguments fake and their loyalty on sale. At that point, I asked myself why I was killing myself over these national issues when everyone else in power seemed busy trying to work for their personal benefits only.
I have also noticed, after talking to a lot of people, that a certain level of fatigue has developed in society from a never ending, hopeless political circus from which nothing substantial can be achieved except a corridor for individual gains at the cost of chaos. People who fight, fight for selfish reasons, no matter how deep they show their concern is and those who befriend their rivals, befriend for personal benefit regardless of their claims of selflessness. Similarly, the talk soaps that used to carry a loyal audience in the evenings and used to help people make up their minds have lost a substantial number of their audience. Each broadcast, at the moment, has become more or less like a modified version of an episode of Tom and Jerry: entertaining, sensational and cartoonish. I am not sure how long this shock and awe news business is going to last but I know the countdown has started because people grow out of watching cartoons. This is exactly what I think is going on in Pakistan.

The writer is a US-based freelance columnist. He tweets at @KaamranHashmi and can be reached at skamranhashmi@gmail.com