We place idols on pedestals only to throw them down and bludgeon them when they reveal feet of clay. Our relationship with our armed forces is one of false expectations, which lead us to extremes: from belting out patriotic, tear-jerking war songs to resorting to rabid calls to “dissolve the whole bloody Army.”
Tribute groups sprang up on Facebook for soldiers like Lt. Yasir Abbas, one of 10 who died in the PNS Mehran attack on May 22 in Karachi. This at the same time that mainstream media ran reports suggesting that the attackers may have been helped by military insiders. So what is the true face of the Pakistan military? Is it the image of the young, heroic soldier bidding farewell to his family as he embarks on his final mission or is it the caricature of the opportunistic, mustache-twirling general? Are these men the bastions of Jinnah’s Pakistan or Taliban sympathizers? And the numbers, which ones do we quote? The figures which show that more Pakistani soldiers have paid for America’s “war on terror” with their lives than any other army or the reportedly unaccounted for billions of dollars that have been funneled to our military since 9/11?
These conflicting accounts reflect a world of parallel realities that Pakistanis have become accustomed to. Our love-hate relationship with the military leads us, at best, to blindly extol the virtues of the armed forces, and, at its worst, to the hateful sneering we see today. It was in response to these attitudes that a group of us developed the Green Ribbon Campaign at the time of the Swat Operation two years ago. We had a simple message: It is possible to support our troops, the young who fall in the line of duty, without unquestioningly supporting those they take their orders from.
Inspired by the yellow ribbon used by the Americans to support their troops, the green ribbon with the white tip was designed to represent the tolerant and pluralistic Pakistan envisioned by Jinnah. As I wrote in “Where is Our Yellow Ribbon?” in the May 9, 2009, edition of Daily Times, “One can be angry with Zardari, think that Musharraf sold out and believe that the ISI is a sinister organization with its own agenda without losing compassion for our soldiers, the young men who are being killed every day. These are men who willingly lay down their lives, men who often return maimed or paralyzed to their young families. In other countries, men like them would enjoy hero status. And yet, here in Pakistan, when they turn on their television sets at night, they see their nation scoffing at them.”
After reading this article, a soldier who had served in the Army for 14 years wrote to me and described the toll his professional life had taken on his family and him: he suffered from chronic mountain sickness, high blood pressure and loss of memory for years after having been stationed in high altitudes. His daughter suffered academically from having to move so often and his wife lost a child because she was unable to get the little girl to the hospital in time. Still, he was willing to go back and serve his country.
Like the rest of the Army boys, this man was no saint and no sinner. He does not deserve to be idolized or demonized. And yet, as civilians, these are the only two categories we have been able to come up with. At best, we defend the Army blindly—like some of our rightwing media anchors who reduce everything to a Zionist conspiracy—and thus absolve it of any accountability. At worst, we judge the entire institution by the misdeeds of the top brass. Both are dangerous precedents.
Without losing compassion and sympathy for those who suffer and sacrifice in order to protect us, it is time for reform. The Army needs to be seen for what it is; its leaders, with all their limitations, for who they are. No deifying, please. We have all heard the stories about Pakistani fighter jets being flown by angels during the 1965 war, after the pilots ejected. It’s time to get real. Romanticizing will not help.
Ayeda Husain Naqvi is a former features editor of The Friday Times. Source: Newsweek Pakistan
