The making of culture

Culture is not static. It is woven daily in the lives of ordinary people, and reshaped under the weight of politics, religion, and economics. Some shifts open space for freedom; others tighten the social fabric until it suffocates.

In Pakistan, these shifts are visible in small details. A woman in a Karachi katchi abadi recalls: "We used to dance, but then men said dancing was against our religion. So, we stopped dancing." A midwife in Thatta remembers being mocked by other women for adopting the shalwar-qamees instead of traditional attire. These stories remind us that culture is lived, enforced, and contested at once.

When the state dictates

Sometimes cultural change is imposed from the top. Maoist China flattened a complex fabric of traditions into a single, drab uniform. Closer to home, the One Unit policy of the 1950s and 1960s sought to erase Sindhi identity in the name of political expediency. Sindhi poets and activists pushed back, but the experience left scars. One activist put it plainly: "Non-Sindhi speakers did not understand our sentiments. We felt removed from them."

Even celebrations meant to unify can divide. In one school, students were asked to pay Rs 500 each to cover Independence Day festivities. A father of three could not afford the demand, and so his children stayed home. When inclusion requires a price tag, the nation's story excludes its poorest.

The ethics of daily life

Ethics, like culture, are made in everyday practice. When Sindh began registering villages, residents were delighted at the protection it promised. Yet when the government surveyor demanded Rs 50 per household to complete the paperwork, the villagers shrugged and paid. The problem was not corruption itself - it was whether the amount was "reasonable." Acceptance of graft becomes a cultural fact.

The legal profession offers its own example. A lawyer who once entered the field idealistically took on a sexual-harassment case. He used technical manoeuvres to secure a stay order while withholding critical information. Later, over tea, he explained why: "I was getting a crore plus. How could I leave it?"

Corruption here is not only systemic but cultural, sustained by those who practice it and those who endure it.

A different model

Contrast this with Japan after the 2011 tsunami. In the midst of scarcity, people queued patiently, each taking only one loaf of bread. Ethical restraint was cultural, not imposed.

The question for Pakistan is whether our institutions - schools, hospitals, courts, bureaucracies - can cultivate such ethics rather than undermine them. Bioethics, now entering medical curricula and hospital committees, offers one small path. Yet outside medicine, the social sciences still hesitate to grapple with ethics in research and practice.