Last week, global citizens of social media raised a hue and cry over Air China’s racist precautions offered in their in-flight magazine. The booklet while describing London had advised its passengers to be vigilant while entering areas populated by Pakistanis, Indians and blacks. We all felt incensed and flared our nostrils at how dare they think of us as dangerous.
Legally speaking, it was a terrible thing, completely uncalled for, but in many ways, Air China’s soft warning represented our inner selves. There is a ‘friendly racist’ in most people that creates boundaries for themselves and others. This amiable racist is to be feared more than the outright hatemonger, as at least there is some iota of honesty involved there.
Let’s face it; sadly, we, Pakistanis, are quite racist at heart even if we don’t like to admit it. When travelling in New York we cringe upon seeing a group of African American people, holding onto our handbags tightly. Non-resident Pakistanis will agree with me when I say most of them hesitate to buy property in areas populated by African Americans. To us, all Chinese people look similar and eat worms and dog meat. The one race that we do look up to is white people, but that has more to do with our submissive colonial past than our genuine liking for them, because even they are thought of as ‘dirty bums’ who use tissue paper to wipe their behinds and not lota (washing utensil).
Pakistanis are not only racist but heavily divided on ethnic lines too; even today we are acutely aware of a person’s background, be it a friend, a neighbour or a colleague. We use this piece of information to build up conclusions and aid our generalisations; favouritism may come into play due to this as well, but on the face of it we all like to sing Dil Dil Pakistan on 14th August every year.
No one is born a racist or disliking a group of people. Left alone in the daycare, a Caucasian infant instantly warms up to his or her Asian friend. Similarly, in Pakistan we can spot toddlers playing with children of the domestic staff till they are rebuked, and taught to pick friends from a certain financial standing, sect or caste. Our hearts are so divided and tainted with negativity for the ‘other’ that it is difficult for us to like anyone except our own kind. Variety is certainly not the spice of life in Pakistan.
Almost every major mainstream political party of the country, except for the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI), has an ethnic subtext and supporter base; they have built their narratives on the subtle dislike that we carry for those who aren’t like us. The friendly racist in us sees the Punjabi as an uncouth paindo (villager); the Pashtun as an illiterate, gun-toting gang member; the mohajir as a dark-skinned, paan-spitting, mini Altaf Bhai; and the Baloch as the tribal minded, non-nationalist percentage of the population. The friendly racist certainly has buddies from the community he’s uncomfortable with, but also has a lot of stereotypical notions about them and cracks offensive jokes behind their backs. He or she is more toxic to the social fabric than one can imagine.
People essentially hate what they can’t understand; if it is a culture with polar opposite traditions to their own that leaves them confused, they put up red flags around it. Superficial patriotism creates more damage, and it is not only limited to news channels; Pakistanis will need to acknowledge ethnic fault lines in their hearts first and then work toward diminishing them. The situation may be better than what it was in the 1980s, which, for example, led to the creation of the Muttahida Qaumi Movement in Karachi, but even today we fear venturing into the other’s domain. A little mishap or a bad experience, and one entire community gets written off in our minds.
PTI, thankfully, does not use the worn-out but powerful ethnic card. It is headed by Imran Khan who has fluency in Punjabi, and is not even seen as a pure Pashtun by his ethnic brethren as the Niazi tribe settled in Mianwali in Punjab a few centuries ago. Khan essentially represents two cultures, one that is rooted in Pashtun traditions, and another that he grew up surrounded by. Multi-ethnicity works to shatter divides: some Pashtuns of Karachi, for example, will identify themselves more with the Urdu speakers of Karachi than with Swat-based Pashtuns. This adopted ethnicity or mannerism is something most Pakistanis should choose to embrace to develop a more melting pot like culture.
The problem arises when we are taught that Sindh belongs to Sindhis, Punjab is for Jatts, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa for Pashtuns and Balochistan for the Baloch. This leaves many groups such as the mohajir community or even the south Punjabis feeling vulnerable and ‘rootless’. The ideal first step would be to rid the mind of the secret hate for anyone, and recognise the other as just another human being trying to make ends meet and improve his or her lives.
The writer is a freelance columnist with a degree in Cultural Studies and a passion for social observation, especially all things South Asian. She tweets @chainacoffeemug