Mark Twain once wrote, “Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it.” This distinction—between loving the nation and blindly backing its rulers—is more relevant to Pakistan today than ever before.
In the aftermath of the 2024 general elections, Pakistan continues to witness a deepening crisis of trust between citizens and the state. Allegations of electoral manipulation, the arrest and disqualification of opposition leaders, the crackdown on digital spaces, and the shrinking room for dissent have all contributed to a suffocating political climate. In this environment, criticism is often equated with betrayal, and questioning official narratives is seen as being “anti-state.” Such attitudes are dangerous—not only for democracy, but for patriotism itself.
True patriotism is rooted not in silence, but in service. It means speaking up when the voiceless are ignored. It means defending constitutional rights even when the government finds them inconvenient. It means insisting that the promise of Pakistan—a land built on justice, dignity, and democratic representation—is not deferred, diluted, or denied.
Take, for instance, the recent protests by teachers and low-wage government employees in Islamabad and Quetta. These citizens, demanding fair pay and job security, were met with indifference and, in some cases, force. Are these voices not patriotic? They serve the nation daily. Or consider the young journalists and activists being harassed under vague cybercrime laws for expressing political opinions. Is love for the country measured by conformity or by courage?
Supporting the government when it deserves it means evaluating its performance on tangible metrics—governance, transparency, rule of law, protection of civil liberties, and delivery of public services. It does not mean endorsing every action unconditionally. Indeed, the recent reversal of fuel subsidies and repeated IMF negotiations, while perhaps necessary, demand scrutiny: Are the poor protected? Is burden-sharing equitable? Are decisions made transparently?
Pakistan has been through cycles of democratic hope and authoritarian relapse. From Zia’s ideological control to Musharraf’s media censorship, and now to rising digital surveillance and pre-trial detentions of political workers, we’ve repeatedly confused loyalty with silence. But silence is not stability—it is stagnation.
A healthy political discourse requires room for disagreement without demonization. When supporters of one party call others “traitors,” and when institutions define patriotism through narrow, shifting lenses, the national conversation turns toxic. Such tribalism not only undermines unity—it kills reform.
Our Constitution guarantees freedom of expression, peaceful assembly, and political participation. These are not luxuries granted by the state; they are the lifeblood of a democratic republic. When citizens protest, journalists investigate, and courts challenge executive overreach, they are not breaking the nation—they are building it.
It is time to stop asking, “Are you with the government or against it?” and start asking, “Is the government with the people or against them?” Patriotism must not be a demand for obedience, but a collective pursuit of justice, inclusion, and truth.
In a time of fear and polarization, Pakistan needs principled patriots—those who support the country always, and the government only when it deserves it. Let us cultivate a culture where criticism is not criminalized, where dissent is not demonized, and where loyalty is measured by integrity—not applause.
