Time has moved at a breakneck, apocalyptic pace, yet we stand frozen in the Baghdad of One Thousand and One Nights. Even today, the axis of our thought remains Aladdin’s lamp, which, by summoning a genie in a few moments, can transform everything. Even today, our dreams are like the hero of Naseem Hijazi—mounted on a horse, tearing through the enemy ranks. Our concept of a ruler remains Baghdad-inspired to this day: that he should wander through the city at night in disguise to conduct surprise raids. Twelve hundred years have passed, yet we still dream of acquiring wealth through genies, perpetually searching for a hidden treasure behind an “Open Sesame” like Ali Baba. In reality, it is precisely this mindset that stands as an obstacle in the path of our intellectual and material progress. Overnight transformations driven by genie-like powers are possible in fables, but not in reality. Treasures are discovered through years of scientific research and exploration, not by chance or sheer luck. When it comes to resolving our flaws, we constantly feel the need for a newer lamp of Aladdin to instantly illuminate our darkness. At one point, the elimination of corruption was declared Aladdin’s lamp; at another, politics itself was branded as the root of all evils, and a new system was analogized to Aladdin’s lamp. Sometimes, creating One Unit was seen as Aladdin’s lamp, and at other times, breaking One Unit was considered the same. Nowadays, new provinces have emerged as the latest version of this lamp.
It appears as though creating new provinces will magically solve all problems—even though systems are rectified only after agonizing, arduous years of enforcing the constitution and the rule of law. New provinces will neither eradicate corruption, nor fix police behavior, nor rectify the judicial system, nor mend our economy. Despite the passage of twelve centuries, this dilemma between fiction and reality remains unresolved; indeed, it has now become an integral part of our collective and individual psychology. We wait for miracles. We sit in anticipation of a conqueror. We are in search of some magical formula that will change everything. Everyone is busy looking for the philosopher’s stone that will turn our iron into gold. We crave a magician who will transform our destiny. Twelve centuries have gone by, yet neither our hope has faded nor has the messiah or hero arrived to instantly alter our fate.
I confess that a conflict has always raged within me as well. Owing to my environment and upbringing, Aladdin’s lamp has frequented my dreams too. Relying on science and logic deems these dreams false. This battle between the mind and the heart is not mine alone; it is the single greatest issue of our Muslim society. We demand magical and instant solutions to every problem. That is why, driven by instinct, I too look into the mirror of fortune. Collectively, when a Prime Minister suddenly announces the discovery of oil in the sea, it is celebrated as a miracle—even if, as usual, this miracle later turns out to be a fabricated lie. Until a few years ago, decisions about high offices were made by looking at pictures and reciting texts over them. Seeking omens from parrots or consulting the Divan of Hafez has been part of our tradition. We still haven’t changed: if a mystic claims today that precious minerals lie beneath a certain hill, excavation begins immediately. Along the banks of the River Indus, cranes stretch for miles, busily panning for gold particles from the river. Mysterious powers have convinced a former Prime Minister that history intends to accomplish a momentous task for the Islamic world through him. Every ruler and power-holder finds some superstitious miracle-monger who convinces him that God has chosen his hands alone to alter the destiny of this nation. Initially, when the ruler retains his senses and sanity, he rejects such claims. But then, the intoxication of power destabilizes his senses, the spell of the miracle-mongers takes hold, and the ruler begins to view himself as an emissary sent by God. Alexander the Great, Napoleon, President Ayub, and General Zia-ul-Haq all suffered from the same delusion. It seems this delusion refuses to leave us. Today’s reform agenda is also the creation of these miracle-mongers, who invariably mislead rulers by assuring them that God has specially dispatched them to fix this country. But what a disastrous game these past miracle-mongers and their messiahs played with the country—may God protect us!
New provinces can certainly be a subject of debate. Smaller administrative units can be effective, and an empowered local government system can bring improvement. But the question is: if rubbing Aladdin’s lamp actually summons the genie and creates small new provinces, will teachers’ attendance in schools be fixed starting tomorrow? Will the availability of doctors and medicines in hospitals be guaranteed? Will electricity theft end overnight? Will tax collection increase from tomorrow? Obviously, none of this is going to happen—which means the problem is not about creating new provinces, but something else entirely.
The destiny of nations is not built by Aladdin’s genies; provinces must build it themselves through hard work and patience. Lamps do not come pre-made; they must be crafted, filled with the oil of hard labor, and protected against the gales of danger with the blood of one’s heart. We do not need a genie. We need to consistently abide by our agreed-upon constitution and refrain from violating it. Results do not appear in two or three years; they take 20 to 25 years. We are in a hurry; we are restless. Lasting and permanent change comes only after patience.
If only we could step out of this world of One Thousand and One Nights! We may witness miracles performed by legendary conquerors and mysterious figures in stories, but we should not expect them in the real world. In reality, the path of practical progress is gradual, not revolutionary. Nations have labored for decades and patiently waited for the fruit to ripen. We lack even the patience to wait for mangoes to ripen; before the raw green mangoes even appear, we grow disillusioned at the sight of the blossom (boor), and cut down the tree on the pretext that if the blossom wasn’t good enough, there was no hope of getting full fruit anyway. If trees with green shoots are cut down, how can we ever get fruit?
Just as Aladdin’s lamp is a fable, just as the philosopher’s stone was a lie and iron can never turn into gold, or just as a universal cure—a Panacea—for every ailment is a delusion, God forbid that new provinces also turn out to be such a fable, where, when reality dawns, neither our destiny changes nor our circumstances…