FOR years, Pakistan felt more like a cherished memory of childhood and adolescent travels than a living reality, its struggles and triumphs observed from afar.
Preoccupied with our own lives in distant lands, it’s easy to feel disconnected. Two years ago, guilted by family and friends as well as a yearning to bridge this chasm, I embarked on a journey to reconnect with my ancestral homeland. My first instinct was to turn to mainstream media, expecting it to serve as a window into the nation’s current affairs.
The media landscape I encountered resembled a circus of sensationalism and political pandering, subject to the whim of editorial agendas and the capricious tides of public opinion. A constant diet of political intrigue and impending doom kept viewers glued to their screens, translating into a steady flow of advertising revenue. TV anchors, enamoured of the sound of their own dulcet tones, held court nightly, with an ever-expanding army of self-proclaimed ‘Senior Analysts’.
I wondered how every analyst was a Senior Analyst. Had they sprouted fully formed from the earth, armed with an inflated sense of their own significance, the tireless persistence of a broken record, and an uncanny ability to pander to whichever political deity they had chosen to worship? Their most distinctive trait was a penchant for painting with only two colours: the pitch black of vilification or the blinding white of glorification, depending on the narrative du jour.
Disillusioned but undeterred, I turned to social media, signing up for a new Twitter account to create a digital vantage point for observing Pakistan, promising real-time updates and unfiltered perspectives. I did not have too many followers, nor did I want them. Having always been a social media absentee by choice, valuing privacy over online presence, I preferred to observe rather than participate. But if traditional media was a disappointment, social media was a shock to the system. I found myself in a digital battlefield where fake news, vitriol, and extremism reigned supreme. Any attempt at rational discourse or critique would unleash a horde of digital foot soldiers, their responses devoid of substance but overflowing with obscenities and derogatory slurs.
Coexisting in this ecosystem, I encountered another peculiar breed of online denizens: the devoted followers. Keyboard acolytes, existing in a perpetual state of rapture, showered their chosen leaders with endless praise. Their timelines swarmed with reverential video clips set to emotive musical scores, featuring their idols engaged in such riveting activities as strolling or entering rooms. Perhaps, in Pakistan, the ability to ambulate with gravitas was now considered a qualification for leadership.
Is this the legacy we’re leaving for the country’s largest demographic?
As I delved deeper into this digital realm, a disturbing reality became obvious. The cacophony of voices, whether spewing vitriol or singing praises, seemed orchestrated by unseen hands. In this realm of bytes and pixels, modern-day Pied Pipers had woven a digital spell, leading Pakistan’s youth not to the promise of a brighter future, but down a rabbit hole of toxicity and division.
This tale unfolds to this day not in the quaint streets of Hamelin, but across the vast expanse of Pakistan’s social media platforms and messaging apps. The youth of Pakistan, tech-savvy and eager for change, have become pawns in a grand, cynical power struggle. Conscripted as foot soldiers, they find themselves embroiled in a battle that neither serves nor spares them. Demagogues and zealots, emerging from an old guard that has failed the nation for more than seven decades with their recycled strategies, have repurposed these young minds with sinister brilliance into what they proudly call ‘keyboard warriors’. Their calculus is ruthless: the more adverse and chaotic things become for their rivals, the stronger their own grip on power, or the better their chances of riding a wave of discontent back into office. But these digital foot soldiers are no warriors; they are unwitting conduits for deceit, hate, and division.
Watching this digital dystopia unfold, I can’t help but wonder: is this the legacy we’re leaving for Pakistan’s largest demographic? Nurturing a generation stripped of civility, fuelled by anger, and devoid of the critical thinking necessary for true national progress? The tragedy of this digital devolution is magnified when we consider the untapped potential it plunders.
The very devices wielded as weapons of online warfare carry within them the seeds of revolutionary change. Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak birthed Apple in a garage with less computing power than most Pakistani youth hold in their hands today. Jeff Bezos began Amazon’s journey selling books from his home and car. Mark Zuckerberg created Facebook from a dorm room. Today, the tech giants born from such humble beginnings have a combined market capitalisation larger than the GDP of ‘every’ country in the world except the US and China; a profound reminder of what can be achieved when young minds are channelled towards creation rather than destruction.
Pakistan doesn’t need a miraculous discovery of oil reserves to change its destiny. The true ‘black gold’ of the 21st century isn’t buried in the depths of the earth or hidden beneath vast oceans. Instead, it pulses through circuits and flows in streams of code. This digital oil field, infinitely renewable and boundlessly powerful is the new currency of global power.
Are Pakistan’s youth less talented, creative, or driven than their counterparts who have changed the world? The answer is a resounding no. What they lack is not ability, but direction and purpose. Our youth are as capable of coding the next revolutionary app as they are of crafting viral tweets. They possess the same potential to pioneer groundbreaking startups as they do to lead digital lynch mobs.
Beguiled and marching to the tune of digital Pied Pipers, Pakistan’s youth, wage online wars of attrition, unknowingly holding in their hands the tools that could remake their nation’s future. Instead of crafting the next world-changing tech or pioneering a paradigm shift, the potential for innovation, for driving economic growth and social change, is being squandered away in 280-character bursts of anger, abuse and lies.
The writer is an entrepreneur based in the US and UK.
sar@aya.yale.edu
Published in Dawn, October 25th, 2024
