A friend said something the other day that stopped me cold. I had just wished America a happy 249th birthday on July 4th – while my friend acknowledged, that “despite its flaws, that at least 150 of those years had real greatness.” A step to overcome borrowed outrage.
Introspection Needed
I asked how many of our own 80 were great? “Not a single one of Pakistan’s 80 years has been great.” was his honest admission. And honesty, especially from South Asians, especially about ourselves, is rare currency. So when it appears, it deserves not just applause – but introspection.
That, right there, is the conversation we never seem to have. We – the fractured sons and daughters of colonized continents, the diaspora warriors with Twitter handles and Western degrees – have become quite adept at critiquing America, Europe, and the West.
We rail against their hypocrisy, we hashtag their sins, we quote Chomsky and Fanon and feel momentarily brave. And yet, when it comes to our own nations – Pakistan, India, Nigeria, Egypt, Iran, Russia, China, say 150 nations the world over – we turn mute.
We whisper. We defer. Or worse – we lie.
Straight Talk
Let’s talk straight: America is no angel. Its fingerprints are on Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan, Latin coups, African assassinations, and the oil-slicked handshakes. But here’s what I admire: the American system, unlike ours, corrects itself. It apologizes. It convicts its own presidents.
It allows a comedian to mock the Senate and a teenager to challenge the Pentagon. In India or Pakistan and 150+ other countries in the world, such satire can get you shot – or “disappeared.”
My friend – let’s call him Zee – wasn’t wrong. Pakistan is a mirror shattered by its own hands. And yet, too many of us spend our days screaming at America’s reflection, refusing to sweep our own shards. Amreeka ka ulloo seedha hai … lekin humaray upar ulloo kay pathay hain. Translation, for my Western readers: “America’s owl may be askew, but we have an entire parliament of lunatic owlets roosting on our heads.”
Eastern Obsession With The West
Why are we still obsessed with the West, when the fires are burning right under our beds? Why do we find courage in critiquing Trump or Biden, but none when it comes to our Bajwa or Sharif or Zardari or “beyond”?
Why does Modi’s India lynch men for eating beef, while pretending the caste system is an antique, not an epidemic while Dalits are raped or killed and dehumanized, literally? Why do some praise sports while jailing journalists?
Why do educated Pakistanis or others sit at dinner tables in the EU or MidEast and scoff at “American imperialism” – but say nothing of the mullahs who burn girls’ schools, the politicians, bureaucrats, judges and generals who buy islands, or the dynasts who drain the country dry?
Why? Because geopolitics is transactional. That’s the bitter truth.
Western leaders clink glasses with tyrants when trade, oil, or China are at stake. Democracy becomes a slogan, not a standard.
Fleeing Migrants
But here’s another truth: if the West truly wants fewer migrants at its shores, it should support more justice in ours. Not just with aid – but with allegiance. Align with those who fight for press freedom in Pakistan.
Fund the courts that chase corruption in Kenya. Back the good voices silenced in Gaza or Tehran. Stop selling spyware to Delhi.
Stop calling our rotten leaders a “stabilizing force” to your interests, when all they stabilize is their grip!
We do not flee because we crave your malls or Euros. We flee because our homes have become prisons. Because living with dignity is no longer an option. And when we land at your airports, clutching a visa or a prayer, we carry not just suitcases – but scars.
90% of the world’s population lives off $1 a day, the luckier 50% of them get 5 (a day!) – and you imagine why the rush at the borders? Not that they are incapable of making that money at home but when it’s siphoned off by corrupt politicians, militaries, police and even judges and bureaucrats, what’s left to stay home for? Local delicacies? You get them in London and NYC too!
Borrowed Outrage
And to my own people: enough. Enough with this moral tourism. Enough with borrowed outrage and stolen indignation of the West. It’s easy to criticize America when you’re safe in LA, Mississauga or Manchester.
Try doing it in Multan or Mumbai. Try defending an Ahmadi child. Try tweeting against the Rangers.
Try talking about a Dalit girl’s rape, or a Muslim boy’s killing for carrying “beef” on his motorbike (sometimes even the assumption that “it’s beef” has gotten people killed, you heard that right! All beefeaters beware of India, where a cow is a Holy Mother to many, under state protection!
Try writing, like I do, with your real name. Try being honest – fully, fiercely, publicly. Then come talk to me about bravery.
Pakistanis love to say we trained Emirates Airlines, wrote South Korea’s five-year plan, and dined with Jacky Kennedy.
And we did.
But somewhere between Ayub’s vision and Zardari’s villas, we outsourced our soul. We imported pride but exported our pain. Today, we’re loud in exile – and silent in captivity.
Turn Outrage Into A Positive Future
To the West: Please stop being “politically correct” and “diplomatic” with our leaders all the time, treat them as they should be. And stop disrespecting our people, the victims, with visa bans, do that to our leaders and their children and friends!
Your democracies, for all their rot, still bloom. That’s your gift – and your responsibility. Don’t let the transactional logic of your left or our “rest” today undo the transformational leadership of tomorrow.
To the rest: Stop waiting for the West to fix you. Stop shouting at the mirror, and start cleaning the room. Reform is hard. It’s messy. It’s dangerous. But so is rot. And rot has won far too long.
I’ve been at this for 20 years – writing, warning, resisting. Not for applause, but because I still believe. I believe a better Pakistan or India or the rest of the world is indeed possible. I believe the rest of the world – bruised, broken, but breathing – can rise. But it starts with one thing:
Truth. At home. Not just abroad.
So the next time you feel compelled to share something like Zurain Imam did on my Happy Birthday America post, “I’m ashamed to be an American,” I won’t stop you. But I will ask: Are you ready to be ashamed of yourself too? Because only then can healing begin.
