Our longing for a revolution

Conversations in this country often end with the desire for a revolution. As in, “This country needs a revolution; that’s the only way to tidy up this land.” Nothing new in that. I remember people wishing for a Khomeini who could transform this country and rid it of all that ails it.

Given Iran’s current situation, I hope the desire for a Khomeini has subsided. But I’m sure the longing for a revolution remains intact. Political divisions, poor governance, a badly-managed economy and sundry other problems appear to feed more despondency. One cannot altogether fault the people for wanting to restart with a clean slate, caught as they are in a vicious cycle, unable to break the binds of a system that has evolved over many decades further and further away from the very people it should serve.

And yet, moving away from good old English gradualness to the idea of a social revolution — I use the term as defined by sociologist Theda Skocpol — may not be the best outcome. The longing for a revolution may thus offer a cure that’s worse than the disease. What follows are my own fictitious and facetious notes on how I’d like a revolution to work for me. It is also a half-jesting critique of the idea of a revolution, with the term thrown about loosely and carelessly!

I am a naturalised Lahori, part of the flotsam washed onto the shores of this city. I like to think that I think; in any case, I like to hold forth, both in print and at dinners and get-togethers, now universally known as GTs. Since I have read a few books and can string a sentence or two together, I consider myself a cut above my neighbour or anyone who is sitting beside me. Of course, it is not necessary for others to accept this but then who cares. I don’t, and that is what matters.

I am quite passionate in matters political. For years now, seeing this country slipping, I have been on the verge of taking to the street and bringing the Temple down on the corrupt and their collaborators, our equivalent of the Philistines.

But I haven’t done that. Not because I lack courage. No sir, my cup floweth over with it and no, Courage is not a brand of malt, though I wish it were. The reason I haven’t taken to the street is because I am to be the ‘mind’ of the movement against oppression. This is not a medieval fight where generals led from the front; in modern combat, the front is the ops room in the rear. Plus, the contested zone requires foot-soldiers.

Nor am I the Orsino of revolutions, more in love with the idea of revolution than making one happen. That would be a harsh judgement and misplaced too. It’s just that if I were to give vent to my fury and take to the street, the vulgar functionaries of the government would not be able to appreciate the difference between a thinking revolutionary and a fighting one.

I am a Pakistani Jean-Paul Sartre. I know that violence, like Achilles’ lance, heals its own wounds, but that is no reason for me not to keep a safe distance from it. In any case, this is an intellectual discovery. It will be outrageous to see a thinker becoming a guinea pig for his own idea of a revolution.

There are thousands of our sans culottes (the unwashed) whose energies can be diverted towards the task of overthrowing a dysfunctional system. Most cannot think and will never be able to achieve anything because the system offers no upward mobility. It is my calling to instil a new consciousness in them. They shall be remembered. I will even write a book, fraught with new formulations, one that will be picked up by the departments of sociology and political science across the world as a classic on socio-political movements.

Why must I present myself on the street to the black-and-tans, who will have no regard for my intellect, and let the world lose an asset? Also, who would enlighten the elites at dinners? If I were put in jail, I would also be deprived of the many necessities of life that are essential to my well-being. It should be obvious that unless I feel good and satiated, I cannot think. That would hurt the revolution.

Then there is the morning cup of tea without which I cannot begin my day, brought to me by the local variant of Jeeves. It takes me time to get up, sip the tea and read through the morning newspapers. I am also rather finicky about my bathroom. Latest research has also found a strong link between thinking and delivering a load comfortably. So a decent bathroom becomes essential to deep thinking. I am told the jails don’t put much premium on bathrooms. Going to jail would then mean not being able to think and that would only delay the advent of the much-needed political consciousness and its endpoint — a revolution!

I know Marx thought revolutions were a non-voluntarist phenomenon but he was wrong. You need a vanguard and you can’t have the thinkers in the vanguard go out and get arrested or worse, killed. Once the head is cut off, the movement will become a headless chicken and we all know what a headless chicken does. It does nothing except go round in circles.

I also need to earn enough so I can keep thinking. I need a decent car and need to be driven around. Thinking is a full-time job and a sacred one. Comfort and thinking go hand in hand. Unless jails are prepared to provide me with a suite, cable TV with Netflix and HBO etc, a laptop, books and other stuff to imbibe and regular outings where I can hold forth intellectually, I will not be able to write Prison Notebooks. Hence I consider it a waste of time to invite myself to jail.

The point really is that I fervently want a revolution and to test my theories. But I want others to get clobbered on the streets. Why must people insist that just because I know that only a new ‘political consciousness aka ‘revolution’ can make a difference that I must also start one?

Postscript: hopefully, the above should be enough to purge us of the longing for a revolution during dinner conversations!

The writer is interested in foreign and security policies