With many ‘official‘ versions, it is hard to deconstruct the singular connotation Pakistanyat bears.  What we do know, however, is: it is much more complicated than a simple question of identify. That it implies a national narrative and a consensus on struggle/existence of Pakistan. Regrettably, our Pakistanyat, after the independence, has never been nurtured by our policymakers. Today, it suffers from post-colonial complexes, imaginary fears and abuses of religion.
Pakistanyat at any rate was going to be an artificial construct. A society as diverse as ours that had strong regional identities and many sub-cultures predating the birth of country, nationalism had to be craftily ‘manufactured’. M.H. Askari points out that the first decade of our independence saw no institutionalised approach towards the building of Pakistanyat. In early days, besides criminal neglect, it received a phantom blow of absolutism as well: anti-Indianism/Communism/Semitism and so forth. Such absolutes became the alpha and omega of our Pakistanyat. Communists are infidels but Maoists, friends. India is our perpetual enemy. Even today, we refuse to recognise Israel, while all of its border Muslim states, including Palestine, not only trade with the Jewish state, but also recognise it. In realpolitik, where interests furnish stances and policies, absolutism albeit in any form, can lead to isolationism on the world stage. Need I remind the readers, not a single Arab country including Palestine apart from consoling lip-service has never taken any substantial stand on Kashmir.
Language is an important tool to cultivate the seeds of nationalism.  Edward Said, in his book Culture and Imperialism, argues that national language for its survival depends on national culture: slogans, newspapers, folktales, epic poetry, novels, music and drama - all of it catalyses the growth of national language and hence permeates nationalism. Unlike the Germans, who define themselves from a common descent and speak one language, Pakistan stands at a stark contrast. After independence, there was only two percent of Urdu speaking community in the newly-born Pakistan. If consensus on language can bring people together, the absence of it can push people apart. No surprises that at first Bengalis and then Sindhis expressed their dissent. The language was not owned up in the rest of country either especially by the Pukhtoons. The reason being, Urdu was utterly ignored by our policymakers, who had now replaced the Sahibs in their respective realms. English continued to be the language of the ruling elite and medium of instruction and teaching in colonial schools. Somewhere else around the world, the Israelis not only understood the significance of a common language, but the purpose it could serve for heterogeneous society. Hebrew was revived after it had ceased to be spoken. Since the publication of the first paper Ha-Maggid in 1856, great efforts were made to popularise the historic language: namely, literature, daily press and applied arts.  Today, Hebrew serves as a symbol of their nationalism and acts as a binding force. Urdu remains out of favour in Pakistan even today. For my brother’s wedding, I printed the invites in Urdu. Following which, I was held out by my kin as the envious sibling plotting against his elder brother to ruin his wedding.
Over the years in Orwellian haste our history has been distorted, facts fabricated and deplorable events romanticised to evolve a national narrative that would epitomise a Pakistani worldview. Our loosely defined nationalism in the formative years and even later, to a large extent, has continued to be the subject of our imaginary fears. Our phobias of victimisation flow from such fears. Our obsession with victimisation and subsequently conspiracy theories has severely dented our national confidence and hampered our collective growth. Hercules like, we alone, are to  shoulder the weight of Mount Atlas, as the whole world schemes against us, which again isn’t our heroism but a conspiracy!
Apart from being glorious victims, we also added religion to the mix just to abuse it. As early as 1949, the Objective Resolution was passed by the Constituent Assembly. A brilliant move, one would think. Our anglophile elite were never prepared to Islamise the nation - not then anyway. On hindsight, after 60 years, even if we make strained efforts to chalk out our policies towards building up of national-Islamic character, we can safely conclude that they were not drawn out of the model City State of Madina. While our rulers, aided by popular Islamic slogans, consolidated their rule, masses were fed on the Islamic opium: the promise for better days to come coupled with fictitious conspiracy theories. In all fairness, to expect of a solider or anglophile leader to steer forward Pakistanyat is preposterous. It is prima facie,  the responsibility of the public intellectuals to step up, take responsibility and evolve Pakistanyat that does not abuse religion , nor portray us as the victims of the universe or temper with history, rather learn from it.
No wonder, the symbolism that has branched out of our chronic Pakistanyat has been contradictory.  For example, in Burn Hall, the houses were renamed after Sultan Tipu Shaheed, Syed Ahmed Shaheed and Shah Ismail Shaheed. These figures for us became luminary symbols of Islamic awakening and were linked with the struggle for an independent Pakistan. Every year on August 14, plays were staged to honour their sacrificial journey. A question beckons: must they be role models for pupils at the colonial schools, when their entire struggle was against the West and its influences? Evidently, it is not a match made in heavens, as the purpose and spirit of such schools in every colony rightly pointed out by Mandela in his book, Long Walk to Freedom, was to prepare “black Englishmen”. Just like no indigenous system of education was developed, such questions got drowned out in the noise of hero worship. Pakistani heroes come right after the followers of the Holy Prophet (PBUH), and the followers of the followers. Ergo, their misplaced positions or elated statuses cannot be challenged or questioned. Perhaps, this example captures flavours of colonial hangover, our sloppy sense of victimisation and relentless abuse of religion
The purpose of this essay is to throw light at the writing on the wall. It is not a comforting read. As a nation, we are drifting apart.  The ethnic and provincial prejudices continue to haunt us in all our provinces, neighbourhoods, on the roads and inside cafeterias. Punjabis, who project themselves as first among equals and more nationalists must also shirk off their high-handedness. Even Mohammed Hanif in one of his interviews lashed out at such a deplorable Punjabi mindset.
Furthermore, the ideology of Pakistan needs to be revisited. Hussain Shaheed Suharwardy had warned that the emphasis on ideology would “keep alive within Pakistan the divisive communal emotions by which the subcontinent was driven before the achievement of independence.” In my opinion, the whole struggle for the Hazara province is ethnic. The federation does not require epidemic provincialism at this hour. This was precisely what we were warned against by the Bengali leader. He, however, did not seem to find many agreeable comrades in the West Pakistan.
Politics in the next few months is likely to take an ugly course. Politicians will manipulate these biases in the coming elections. The common thread to their rhetoric is going to be ‘them’ and ‘us’: how ‘they’ have denied ‘us’ our due rights, how ‘we’ are different and cannot coexist with ‘them’, ‘we’ need a province of our own. Jeffersonian democracy defines individual as the basic unit of the society. Every individual has a responsibility to fulfil in Pakistan’s fractured democracy today. We must discourage such rhetoric that fuels on prejudices. For Pakistanyat today, we do not need more nukes; we need a revived narrative that brings us closer, that revitalises our belief in our country again, that promotes our customs and our cultures, that celebrates us.
The writer is the former editor of The Ravi at Government College University Lahore.