Tag Archives: Alive and Well in Pakistan 10th-anniversary updated edition

I know what Muslims are like

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I haven’t written many articles or newsletters this year. Part of the reason is that I’ve been busy on other fronts, in my personal life as well as working on a couple of new book projects, plus launching a modest book-publishing venture (the website is still a work in progress). But I also don’t think the world needs a steady stream of op-eds and tweets, opinions and “quick takes,” from me, any more than it needs them from anybody else. Part of our problem these days is that we all have all too much to say.

So I’m writing now to say something I consider important: that the Muslims I know are not like the ones you see on TV. Anyone who knows me either personally or through my writing knows that I’ve said that many times before, in different forms and venues. I really don’t know how to say it differently or better, or to write other than out of my own experience. My personal exposure to Muslim people began in Kashmir in 1994 and continued in Malaysia, Indonesia, Bangladesh, India, Thailand and especially Pakistan, where my extensive travel culminated in a stint living and teaching in Lahore in 2003-04 and the publication of my book Alive and Well in Pakistan. Since then I’ve returned to Pakistan twice, in 2009 and 2011.

And since returning to live in the United States in 2006 I’ve put in a lot of time and air miles getting to know Pakistani-American communities from coast to coast. I can say that I haven’t agreed with or even personally liked every Muslim I’ve ever met, but then again I haven’t agreed with or liked every Christian or Jew I’ve met, either. Human nature is what it is.

So we have to deal with each other, and with ourselves. It should go without saying – but I’d better say it anyway – that the carnage perpetrated in Paris by Islamist radicals is appalling and utterly without justification. But I don’t want to live in an America ruled by fear and loathing, bullied by those among us who lack the self-control or self-respect to resist yielding to their lowest animal impulses. At the moment, I’m speaking in particular of the cretins who have been terrorizing an Islamic center in Irving, Texas by showing up there armed with automatic rifles, which unfortunately happens to be legal in Texas. Just because it’s legal doesn’t mean they’re not cretins and bullies.

And I take this personally because the same outfit, led by a coward named David Wright, has also published on Facebook the home addresses of Muslims and so-called “Muslim sympathizers” who spoke out at a recent Irving city council meeting against an unnecessary and incendiary “anti-shariah” Texas state law. Shame on me for the following, but I was especially brought up short by the fact that one of the addresses published was that of an activist named Anthony Bond, i.e. apparently a non-Muslim American just like me. That World War II-era poem about how first they came for the Socialists, then they came for the Jews, etc.  comes to mind.

You could object that bullies like David Wright don’t represent or lead mainstream America. But if they don’t, who does? And who among us will stand up against large, aggressive men armed with automatic rifles, for the principle that might does not make right? Well, Anthony Bond will, for one. “We have a right to disagree, but we do not have the right to target and cause … harm just because we differ in our beliefs,” he told the Dallas Morning News. “That is the goal of this post: to put a bulls-eye on the back of all the people that stood up against the so-called anti-Shariah law bill.”

The other crucial principle to stand up for in today’s America is that it’s not all right to judge or punish or intimidate people solely or preemptively on the basis of the religion they were born into. Perhaps I have an advantage in this, since I know many Muslims personally. And I know what they’re like: for better or worse, they’re just like you and me.

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Mohsin Hamid Rises to the Occasion

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Discontent and Its CivilizationsMohsin Hamid’s second novel, The Reluctant Fundamentalist (2007), gained the Pakistani writer a measure of well-earned global notoriety and indicated the scope of both his ambition and his ability. But, really, it was only a jumping-off point. Hamid has a great deal more to say than he has said in three short novels to date, or really than is possible to say in novels.

A writer’s occasional pieces are the flip side or reverse image of his or her fiction. As such, they hold a legitimate and even important place in his or her body of work, which can be defined as the statement that he or she spends a lifetime striving to make. Hamid’s novels are concise literary gems, self-consciously crafted in a manner reminiscent of Kazuo Ishiguro, and therein lies not only their durable merit but also their limitation. Hamid’s un-Ishiguro-like willingness, between novels, to put himself on the line by writing explicitly about current events brings to mind a truly great writer who for many decades wrote exquisite novels of global and lasting value with one hand and, with the other, stood always at the ready to leap into the breach with what one critic approvingly called “thin-skinned responsiveness”: Graham Greene.

Like Greene, Hamid rises to the occasion. At 44 he is still young, which bodes very well because his wonderfully-titled new collection Discontent and Its Civilizations suggests the potential for him to give us books of even greater importance, both literary and topical, for many years to come. And we will need him in those years, just as we need him now. For now this book is plenty important enough, and for David L. Ulin in the Los Angeles Times to praise it faintly as a “mash-up” lacking “weight” and “staying power” is to miss the point that rightly compelled its publication now. The times we’re living through are not conducive to staying above the fray, and indeed the relative slightness and datedness of some of the book’s pieces are also very much to the point; to read them collected in book form serves as an apt reminder of just how fast history is moving these days, how alert we must try to be.

The world’s peace party needs for its thought leaders to be as active and assertive as the bullies among both the terrorists and the imperial apologists. Mohsin Hamid’s reputation as a novelist grants him presumptive access to an American audience beyond the usual suspects of East Coast and academic “policy” types – those intellectuals who sell or rent their brains and command of language to the North American imperial state – and he puts that access to good use. I remember only too well my own lunch with a literary agent in New York circa 2004, soon after my book Alive and Well in Pakistan was published in London (that book could not have been published in New York). When I told him that I had written a book about Pakistan, the agent’s immediate question was: “What’s your argument?” As if writing about Pakistan required having an argument. The rejoinder that I lacked the presence of mind to offer at the time was: I’m not making an argument; I’m telling a story.

Pakistan deserves more telling of its stories, and far less hard-nosed, bloodless analysis. There is no half-baked notion in today’s world that’s more tiresome, indeed pernicious, than the notion that Pakistan exists primarily as a policy puzzle or problem for D.C.-based think-tank thinkers to think about. Pakistan – good, bad, and ugly – exists in its own right. I know this because, over two decades of traveling (and, for one five-month stint, living) there, that messy, damaged and complicated but fascinating country and its peoples have earned my love and respect.

Mohsin Hamid knows it more fundamentally because he is Pakistani, and he writes about it as a stubbornly hopeful liberal patriot. He loves his country; he is entitled to do so; and he is generous enough to take time out of his busy novel-writing schedule to explain to us the nature and meaning of that love. In today’s world Pakistani patriotism is a very important subject for us to understand. If Mohsin Hamid is kind enough to help us try to do so, the least we can do is to meet him halfway by hearing him out with curiosity and without prejudice.

The real problem, as Hamid rightly says, is that “both sides of the alliance between the U.S. and the Pakistani military share blame for the violence currently afflicting Pakistan.” An ancillary problem is that until we Americans are prepared to accept this correct premise, we will fail to understand well-informed explanations like this one Hamid offers:

By backing the Northern Alliance against the Taliban and then failing to include a meaningful representation of Pashtuns in a power-sharing deal in Kabul, the U.S. not only sided with India in the Indian-Pakistani proxy war in Afghanistan, it also elevated a coalition of Afghanistan’s smaller ethnicities above its largest ethnic group, the Pashtuns. Conflict was inevitable, and since twice as many Pashtuns live in Pakistan as in Afghanistan, it was also inevitable that this conflict would spill over the border.

Or this one:

The problem, for those who wish Pakistan to take more responsibility for itself, is that these conspiracy theories [cherished by many Pakistanis] are not necessarily false. Indeed, many have elements of truth. India likely is striving to exacerbate the violent discontent in Balochistan, Pakistan’s largest province, to the south of the tribal areas. (That discontent is rooted in the Pakistani state’s long-term mistreatment of the province’s local population.) Afghanistan has in fact refused to accept the territorial integrity of Pakistan. Saudi Arabia and Iran do back Sunni and Shia militant proxies in the country. The U.S. has used a vaccination campaign as cover for an intelligence operation on Pakistani soil.

It’s a shame, but a sign of the times, that I have felt compelled to give over the lion’s share of this review to topical subjects rather than literary ones, such as Hamid’s admiration for Toni Morrison, Haruki Murakami, and Antonio Tabucchi, the Italian author of the unjustly obscure anti-fascist novel Sostiene Pereira (“I have never agreed with the claim that art must be kept separate from politics,” remarks Hamid in his piece on Pereira).

The particular value of Discontent and Its Civilizations is the way its selection and arrangement highlight the way Mohsin Hamid’s occasional writing has concerned itself with both literary and topical subjects, and how those interpenetrate and overlap. That, combined with the remarkably cosmopolitan perspective he brings to his humane concerns, is the sweet spot that defines his special value as a writer in these times.

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The Indian Ideology, by Perry Anderson

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The Indian IdeologyThe Indian Ideology is three essays (titled “Independence,” “Partition,” and “Republic”) by UCLA historian Perry Anderson, originally published in 2012 in the London Review of Books, collected and published in book form by Verso in the UK and US and Three Essays Collective in India. It’s exactly the sort of thing one never expects to find published in India at all, which is part of what makes it so bracing. It could have been written only by an outsider; no Indian would write such a book.

My strong and longstanding interest in Pakistan prompted me to read the second of the three essays, “Partition,” when I first noticed it in the LRB. The Congress Party, writes Anderson,

had accepted Partition as the price of a strong centralized state in which it could be sure of a monopoly of power, but in the mind of its top leaders it was a temporary concession. The party’s resolution of June 5, 1947 that formally agreed to partition made its position very clear. “Geography and mountains and the sea fashioned India as she is, and no human agency can change that shape or come in the way of her final destiny” – least of all “the false doctrine of two nations.” Mountbatten had engineered point-blank Partition with the same end in mind, saying explicitly that this would “give Pakistan a greater chance to fail on its demerits,” and so was in the best interests of India, because a “truncated Pakistan, if conceded now, was bound to come back later. … The delusions of the Congress nationalism reshaped by Gandhi to Hindu specifications died hard.

I was so intrigued that I bought and read the whole book. It’s short but packs a wallop, explicitly and forthrightly challenging decades of cant shamelessly kowtowing to the presumptions of the Indian state that emerged from the struggle against British rule in 1947. Anderson’s incisive critique is especially timely given the current ascendancy of the assertive Hindutva ideology personified by new Prime Minister Narendra Modi, who was Chief Minister of the state of Gujarat at the time of an infamous anti-Muslim pogrom in 2002. But Anderson makes clear that he considers the ostensibly secular Congress little moreso than Modi’s BJP.

The fictional character of India’s secularism is historically significant given the appalling situation in Muslim-majority Kashmir, which I saw for myself in the mid-1990s and wrote about extensively in the early chapters of my book Alive and Well in Pakistan. Kashmir is widely considered the crux of the chronic tension between India and Pakistan, but to assert that is either myopic or a subtle evasion; the real crux, per Anderson’s words quoted above, is the mere existence of Pakistan. Nehru, Mountbatten et al. did all they could circa 1947 to cripple Pakistan at birth, and 67 years later Pakistan – for all its severe and glaring flaws – still exists. And many Indians will never forgive it for that.

That said, the unresolved status of Kashmir, and above all the appalling suffering of ordinary Kashmiri people, deserves to be remembered and emphasized. Anderson does so, with characteristic candor:

There should be little need for any reminder of the fate of Kashmir, under the longest military occupation in the world. At its height, in the sixty years since it was taken by India, some 400,000 troops have been deployed to hold down a Valley population of five million – a far higher ratio of repression than in Palestine or Tibet. Demonstrations, strikes, riots, guerrillas, risings urban and rural, have all been beaten down with armed force. … The death toll, at a low reckoning, would be equivalent to the killing of four million people, were it India – more than double that, if higher estimates were accurate. Held fast by Nehru to prove that India was a secular state, Kashmir has demonstrated the exact opposite: a confessional expansionism.

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Pakistan: “It’s happening right now”

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PHOENIX – On Sunday here I was the main speaker at the annual Daal Saag Luncheon of the local Pakistan Information and Cultural Organization (PICO). I had just sat down after giving my speech, when the Pakistani man sitting to my right informed me that an attack was taking place on Jinnah International Airport in Karachi. “It’s happening right now,” he emphasized.

The news, available via the smartphone of anyone and everyone in the room, brought home the surreal immediacy of the events unfolding on the other side of the planet, even as we tried to say good things about Pakistan for the sake of invited guests such as Congresswoman Kyrsten Sinema (D-AZ) and Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio. This is the meaning of terrorism, especially in the hyper-connected 21st century: there’s nowhere we can go to get away from it. At the same time, it was also true that those of us in the ballroom of the Phoenix Airport Marriott were a lot farther from the immediate danger than were the travelers and staff at Pakistan’s busiest airport.

In my writing and public speaking I try to stress to Americans the most important thing I discovered in getting to know Pakistan and Pakistanis: our common humanity. That sounds, and is, very earnest and feel-good, but its dark underbelly is the potential and reality of human evil. I’m often asked whether, in my nearly two decades of visiting and living in Pakistan, I’ve ever felt myself to be in physical danger. The answer is yes, at least twice: in a town in the North-West Frontier Province in 1999, and at an arts festival in Karachi disrupted by a political party’s goons in 2009. Age and experience have made me more sober about the real possibility of danger, and I also keep in mind something my friend and colleague Mary Kay Magistad told me years ago in Cambodia: that you can’t report the story if you’re dead.

But the Karachi airport attack is sobering anew. I’ve been telling anyone who asks that I plan to focus my next trip to Pakistan on Karachi, because that huge but oddly neglected city is so clearly at the epicenter of all that’s happening in and to Pakistan today. The airport attack not only renders my rather glibly expressed intention a statement of the grimly obvious, but also forces me to wonder not only whether I would actually travel to Pakistan again, but even whether I could. Will the airport be safe? Will it even be open?

The paradox of our times is that we’re at once more immediately and intimately connected than ever before, and more isolated and paranoid. My pitch to the Phoenix audience was that we can’t count on the authorities or established institutions to do for us what needs to be done, which includes first and foremost reminding ourselves and each other of our shared humanity. For my part, I’m continuing to take the story and message of my book Alive and Well in Pakistan to readers and audiences around America. It’s what I’m in a position to do.

I really don’t claim to know what policies either the Pakistani or the U.S. government should pursue, in response to this attack or anything else. What I do claim is that the most important thing for Americans to know about the Karachi attack is not any geopolitical upshot, but the fact that innocent Pakistanis died.

Ethan Casey is the author of Alive and Well in Pakistan (updated and expanded 10th-anniversary edition, 2014) and Home Free: An American Road Trip (2013).

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Alive and Well in Pakistan relaunched – spread the word!

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AliveandWell-front-smDear friends and supporters,

The updated 10th-anniversary edition of my book Alive and Well in Pakistan was launched earlier this month, and I’m now very actively working to give away 3,000 copies to students, opinion leaders, and elected officials around the United States:

  • Dr. Rick Halperin of Southern Methodist University is distributing 1,000 copies to students in SMU’s Embrey Human Rights Program and at other institutions nationwide.
  • Pakistani-American friends in the Washington, DC area are making plans to distribute 1,000 copies to members of the U.S. Congress and other influential people in and around the nation’s capital. (I will be visiting Washington, and thanking that community in person, in late September.)
  • Hundreds of students at Texas Christian University will be given copies as part of my participation in  TCU’s campus-wide focus on Central Asia throughout the 2014-15 academic year.
  • Pakistani-Americans in Arlington, Texas will give 100 copies to all Democratic members of the Texas state legislature, and others, at the state party convention in June.
  • Others in Illinois, Arizona and California have taken delivery of copies to give away.

I am hoping to do another printing as soon as August, from which I would give away another 3,000 copies. To do that effectively, I need your help. If you want to help influence mainstream Americans to gain a more accurate and sympathetic human appreciation for Pakistan and Pakistanis through Alive and Well in Pakistan, please contact me.

To purchase your own personal copy for $18.95 plus $3.95 U.S. shipping, use this button:

You also can help by rating or reviewing Alive and Well in Pakistan – the new edition, at this link – on Goodreads. You can also like it on Facebook. I’ll have it for sale on Amazon soon too, but frankly I’d rather you bought it directly from me.  🙂

Many thanks to my wonderfully supportive friends Talat Rashid, Mir Ali and the Chicagoland Pakistani community for hosting a wonderful launch event May 9 at the Bolingbrook Golf Club. Special thanks to Mayor Roger Claar of Bolingbrook, who was kind enough to attend the dinner and to provide a great endorsement printed, along with one from Congressman Chris Van Hollen of Maryland, on the book’s back cover. Thanks also to Faisal Tirmizi, Consul General at the Pakistani consulate in Chicago,  who also attended the dinner.

I’m making plans to print and distribute the new edition in Pakistan. I will try to get it stocked at Saeed Book Bank in Islamabad and other major bookstores, but I also want to give it away to students at Pakistani universities and secondary schools. I can’t make any money from selling books in Pakistan, so I’m glad just to make sure that the new Alive and Well in Pakistan is widely read there. If you are in Pakistan and think you can help, please drop me a note.

Finally, here are links to two recent articles of mine:

 – Ethan

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