A similar crisis to that of Sri Lanka, but with a different public reaction—a path to great tragedy

             The July inflation rate was over 20% last week, according to data. This statistic gives concrete evidence of a trend that middle- and low-income households have been experiencing over the past four years. Although more current Labour Force Survey wage data are not yet available, it is safe to assume that people's incomes have not kept up with this inflationary pressure.

 

The prognostications for the upcoming years seem rather bleak. Macroeconomic scholars generally agree that nations like Pakistan will find it difficult to resist the pressure brought on by a rising currency. The domestic economy's irregularities—rent-seeking industries, shaky agricultural markets, and meagre exports—will take their toll. Over the coming years, households that are currently experiencing a severe financial crunch will continue to do so.

 

The Pakistani context is familiar with all of this. Over the past three decades, there have been many brief boom times followed by protracted busts and difficult adjustments. The only thing that has changed is that it seems like booms are getting shorter and busts are getting sharper and more frequent.

 

Something needs to give in a situation like this, where inflation depletes people's salaries, making future planning difficult, and forcing them to make pitiful trade-offs between food and school fees. How is it possible for the political climate to resist strong societal pressure? However, the public has not expressed the same level of fury as we have lately seen in Sri Lanka or other suffering nations, despite the fact that the country has seen stagnant growth and underwhelming human progress over the previous few decades.

 

All of this is not meant to imply that such outbursts of rage are automatically advantageous or even good in the grand scheme of things. Just that political assertion by those who disproportionately suffer from a faltering economy seems to be much less common in Pakistan. Political economist and activist Aasim Sajjad Akhtar has written two books that address the issue of "relative acquiescence" and "resignation towards circumstances" among the general public.

The first book, The Politics of Common Sense, which was released in 2018, made the case that since the 1970s, transactional favours given out by regional elites have been sufficient to keep the masses in check. Examples of how Pakistan's political system handles local pressure include the sporadic development projects for a neighbourhood or a hamlet, the employment handout, the preferred contract, and the mediated negotiation with state officials in the judicial and policing system. Where necessary, the Pakistani state utilises religion to coerce compliance or uses force, as we've regularly seen against demonstrating workers and others who call for rights for their own communities, usually in the country's outlying areas.

 

Aasim Sajjad Akhtar addresses this issue in his most recent book, The Struggle for Hegemony in Pakistan, which is probably more provocative and focuses on the world of ideas and culture. What has been marketed to the general public in Pakistan that permits the existing situation to persist in the manner that it does?

 

Religion and nationalism with religious overtones are frequently cited as solutions, but the reality is that governmental propaganda has never been universally accepted. Local customs, opposing orthodoxies, and even alternate definitions of what it is to be a Pakistani have long challenged it. Instead, Pakistanis have been addicted to the idea of consumption and the notion that a more economically gratifying life is conceivable through a more commodified economy over the course of the previous 40 years, propelled by neoliberal globalisation. The emergence of private electronic media, followed by the rise of social media, has been its main pillars, and Akhtar refers to this as the "selling of desire" to the urban and peri-urban masses.

 

It is extremely simple to understand how this notion of a pleasant life centred on consuming enters people's minds. In the last two decades, mass marketing and advertising, particularly around lifestyle-oriented consumption, have risen tremendously. The monetization of rural land through real estate schemes, which use extravagant branding and fake images designed to simulate major cities, has been the pivotal factor in this transformation.

 

The main takeaway is that by investing in these projects, you can eventually lead a lifestyle similar to that of Dubai. One of the most important aspects of this story is how the majority of such projects, like the DHAs of the world, that are created are beyond of reach for the majority of middle-class households. Akhtar claims that a darker aspect of the situation—the systematic and usually violent eviction of marginalised communities, particularly in remote areas—complements this selling of desire.

 

The experience of Pakistanis across wide geographic areas illustrates the shadowy side of aspiration, from the war-torn northwest to ecological disasters along the river Indus. It demonstrates how even when a select few succeed, it is frequently at the expense of a great number of people. And in many instances, these other groups are marginalised ones, including vulnerable gender groups, ethnic minorities, and religious minorities.

 

A response can occasionally be seen in the form of opposition being mounted by marginalised groups. It uses terminology associated with ethnic rights, religious activism, or calls for greater gender equality. However, these early answers have so far been unable to dismantle the larger inequity framework that continues to sell some people's ambitions at the price of many others.

 

What is certain, however, is that this paradigm cannot continue as long as people continue to buy into it on a political level and economically, when inflation makes it impossible for people to to afford basic necessities, let alone to have ambitions for the future.