Prior to coming to Pakistan, I gathered intelligence on the security situation from a variety of sources, including travelers and government officials from the U.S., China, and Pakistan. The story was consistent: north of Gilgit is calm, south of Gilgit is a roll of the dice. But in a country experiencing regional warfare and, generally, on the brink of state failure, all roads lead to uncertainty. Entering Pakistan as an independent traveler lacking any form of sponsorship, this was a reality of which I was acutely aware.
My first afternoon in Pakistan, in the northernmost town of Sost, the number of occasions in which I was expressly cautioned against revealing my nationality was disconcerting. These warnings were consistently corroborated by disconsolate reactions in locals who queried my nationality. It was a chilling theme. But I rationalized these observations, perhaps optimistically, as a function of systemic views of America among Pakistanis, with the corollary that, at least in the Northern Areas, popular hatred of America is rather benign.
Pakistanis north of Gilgit are by majority Tajik Ismaili Muslims, also known as the “modern Muslims”. Spiritually led by their progressive Aga Khan in Switzerland, Ismailis embrace globalism, technology, education, and women’s rights. In Tajikistan, northern Afghanistan, and northern Pakistan, the Ismailis have effectively resisted Islamic extremism, which generally accounts for the stability in these areas.
To what extent the peaceful nature of Ismaili Muslims collides with their Pakistani national identity, in a place deeply resentful of America, was at the forefront of my interests. In one conversation, a Pakistani man explained to me that the killing of innocent civilians by suicide bombers in Pakistan is only proximately attributed to the Taliban, and ultimately attributed to their government’s cooperation with the United States, for which terrorism is simply a retribution.