Guest Post: Packed-Suitcase Politics

Sarah is an American friend of mine who has done quite a bit of research in Lebanon; she also visited Pakistan for my wedding last December. This week's attack against the Sri Lankan cricket team compelled her to write a post for us. Without further ado...
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When I woke up for the fourth time this morning (okay, several days ago now), I switched my alarm to NPR and lay sleepily in bed, listening to the world news. That’s when I heard about the attack on the Sri Lankan cricket team in Lahore.

I was immediately upset (as I am at the news of any attack), but for very distinct reasons. To the international policy community, this attack just looks like a new link in a chain of events that inevitably leads to a Pakistan divided between the Taliban and the rest of the country. I’m sure that Thomas Friedman will write a hand-wringing op-ed about Pakistani nukes, do a drive-by “democracy will save them all” sermon, and go back to putting gold rims on his custom Prius. Thing is, I think many people are missing the point. If I hadn’t been to Pakistan, I never would have picked up on this (mainly because I live on the assumption that the rest of the world religiously obsesses over football). Of course, Ahsan (proving my forthcoming point, actually) beat me to it in his post:

“Nothing binds Pakistanis quite like the love of cricket.”

There’s nuance to this attack. This wasn’t an attack on a politician, a police station, a military convoy, or a “Western” organization. It was political in an entirely different way. This was the Sri Lankan cricket team—one of the few teams that will/would still play Pakistan on Pakistani soil. It’s also one of the few countries that doesn’t require Pakistanis to have a visa in order to visit. Having seen cricket games in every driveway, every empty lot, every deserted street, it’s clear that the Taliban is now aiming directly at a central aspect of Pakistani society—and at one of the few things that tie people together across classes, regions, and political affiliations. After this attack, it’s very likely that the Pakistani national team will no longer play at home. The Taliban are now basically saying “Oh, that made you happy? We can’t have that, because all of you aren’t out smashing your TVs and beating on Swat’s dancing girls like the rest of us. So let’s just make it clear who’s running shit around here: not you, and certainly not the government.”

For me, being in Pakistan was similar to many experiences that I’ve had in the past few years. I’ve spent around six months living in Lebanon—a place that has its fair share of crazy. It’s also another country where people tend to be surprised—and yes, concerned—when “unaffiliated” Westerners show up (by unaffiliated I mean that I don’t work for an NGO, government, or have family in the country). Once I get past the “What are you doing here?! Aren’t your parents worried? [Whispered] Who exactly do you work for?” stage, people are incredibly friendly, welcoming in a frequently over-the-top (but very, very appreciated) way, and always eager to tell me that the whole country isn’t full of—in their words—“tribals” “fundos” “the bearded ones” or “killers.” I still giggle internally at the thought of Lebanese and Pakistanis using terms that have been deemed egregiously regressive, un-PC, and Orientalist in the US.

I’ve seen how people can hedge on that statement. In Lebanon, they engage in what I call “packed suitcase politics.” In my experience, people will live in their home country as long as they can and through seemingly insane situations (I have friends who hoard toilet paper “just in case”). Yet when it comes down to men with guns potentially showing up at your door and threatening your kids, or, in one friend’s case, commandeering her bedroom balcony to shoot at another militia? You at least think about leaving—because you start to believe exactly the opposite of what you tell people. You start sitting around with friends or family saying: “You know what? This country is full of psychos in bad leather jackets with home-modified AK-47s. We are part of the .01% of people living there who aren’t totally nanners. We need to get out of here.”

Some Lebanese literally keep bags ready when things are tense. Many who live abroad have “exit plans” for their parents and siblings (dual citizenship or residency are clearly helpful, but I also know people who just make sure that their parents usually have a visa to come “visit” for graduation/meeting girlfriend/etc.). Still others only go back for the summers—and make sure to always have a round-trip ticket and two passports handy. In the context of this week’s events, I feel like especially when the Taliban starts attacking things like foreign cricket teams, Pakistanis—at least those who can—are going to start keeping those bags in the coat closet and their savings in Dubai.

I can’t say that I blame them, having friends who both stayed and left through various instances of civil violence. There's no right way to decide between leaving your country to a bunch of warlords (whether they're wearing turbans or Gucci) or waiting for some psycho with a Kalashnikov to shoot up BBQ Tonight. Yet Lebanon was a very different situation, and I’m just trying to draw a parallel along one dimension of the experience of internal conflict. I also don’t mean to be alarmist or to imply that Pakistanis are at the tipping point—the planes out of Karachi and Lahore aren’t stuffed with aunties heading for London, Toronto, or LA quite yet. But I guess my question is: what would it take? I think that because this attack is so calculated—at once obvious and unbelievable—that it may start a new line of conversation in Pakistan. Waziristan is one thing. Swat was a little different. But it seems like this attack in Lahore is putative (and that is not to downplay the tragedy and brutality of it, especially since Pakistanis protecting the Sri Lankan team bore the brunt of the casualties). It was designed solely as a signal to Pakistanis that, at least how the Taliban views the non-Taliban population’s priorities, there will be less and less that’s worth fighting for in Pakistan. That’s not to say that Pakistanis believe that or that Pakistan itself isn’t worth the battle. I’m just asking: if the Taliban is going to pursue this particular tactic, will Pakistanis view the situation as changing and push back harder than they have before? Or will they think of packing those bags?