Pakistan: The Realpolitik State

In a recent exchange, Kabir suggested that Pakistanis often feel unwelcome in our discussions on Brown Pundits, and that constant criticism of their country creates a sense of unease. It is worth pausing to reflect on this. Pakistanis, like all of us, are shaped by history and circumstance. And yet, there is something in the cultural tenor of Pakistan that makes open engagement difficult.

I say this not to provoke but to observe. Pakistan, as a society, often leans heavily on hierarchism, patronage, and a culture of deference. To borrow an old saying about the Somalis, that every man thinks himself a SulṭÔn, one might say that Pakistanis often view themselves through the prism of status and validation. This instinct is hardly unique; Indians, too, have their caste-bound privileges and invisible hierarchies. But in India, these structures are embedded in a dense cultural fabric; family, caste, neighbourhood, ritual, that, for all their flaws, anchor society. Pakistan, by contrast, feels less rooted. It is a younger country (with old traditions), with fewer inherited cultural layers to draw on.

This is not simply an abstract point. When I married, we drew freely from Hindu rituals (dual ceremonies, BahÔ’í incl.), Persian customs, and Sindhi traditions, blending them into something whole. But I realised there was nothing distinctly ā€œPakistaniā€ to contribute; no cultural motif that stood outside India or Iran (we didn’t do a Walima, which is Muslim). Pakistan is, in many ways, a derivation: a state forged through separation, rather than a civilization with deep roots of its own. The cultural space it occupies has been overlaid with militant nationalism and, too often, Hindu-phobia (Kabir is so inured to it that he isn’t able to recognise that but on the flipside so is the Commentariat towards Islam).

To acknowledge this is not to deny the prejudices of Indians toward Muslims, which are very real and enduring. Nor is it to ignore the deracinated, secular archetype embodied by figures like Benazir Bhutto, who seemed neither fully Muslim nor fully Western, suspended between worlds and who are the cultural elite of Pakistan (what they give up on their bridge is their Hindu origins; more than being half-Persian, Benazir’s nani was Hindu). It is simply to note that Pakistan’s cultural story remains unsettled & thus interesting.


Validation and Audience Continue reading Pakistan: The Realpolitik State

Borders, Blind Spots, and the Mirror Game of South Asia

A recurring tension in South Asian discourse is the question of consistency: how states interpret borders, secession, and sovereignty; not in principle, but in practice.

Liberalstan’s case is that India acted selectively in 1947: Junagadh saw a plebiscite, Hyderabad faced military action, and Kashmir was referred to the UN. From this perspective, India chose whichever method suited its interests in each case. To Liberalstan, this isn’t pragmatism, it’s hypocrisy. The charge: if self-determination wasn’t good for Kashmir, why should it be for Balochistan? And what of Sikkim, Goa, Pondicherry, Khalistan, Nagaland, or the Naxalites?

Hindustan’s reply is rooted in realpolitik: decisions were shaped by demography, geography, and threats; not abstract norms. Q.E.A. Jinnah’s attempt to absorb Junagadh and court Jodhpur are seen as deliberate provocations, since Junagadh was Hindu-majority, non-contiguous, and largely symbolic (home to Somnath). After that, New Delhi abandoned any illusions of standard rules. From Hindustan’s view, Liberalstan’s moral framing is not only naĆÆve but deeply asymmetrical; ignoring 1947, 1965, Kargil, Mumbai, and the long shadow of Pakistan’s own interventions.

When it comes to Balochistan, Hindustan notes its accession was closer to annexation, comparable to Nepal or Bhutan vanishing into India. Three major insurgencies since the 1960s complicate the narrative of ā€œfinality.ā€ But here, Liberalstanflips the script: what is labeled a disputed territory in Kashmir is declared settled in Balochistan. This inversion doesn’t go unnoticed.

In truth, both sides are mirrors. Each demands flexibility for itself and finality for the other. Each invokes ā€œconsentā€selectively; whether that of a prince, a people, or a state. The tragedy, perhaps, isn’t inconsistency but the absence of a shared regional framework for self-determination. One not held hostage by grievance, revenge, or exception.

Until then, accusations of hypocrisy will persist, each side fluent in the other’s blind spots.

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