Pashtun Nationalism and the Lessons from Golding’s Lord of the Flies
William Golding’s Lord of the Flies tells the story of a group of boys stranded on a remote island. With no adult guidance, they struggle to govern themselves. One tries to build a democracy, another becomes fixated on hunting, while others lose their sense of purpose altogether. The novel highlights how quickly structure can collapse without leadership, vision, or unity.
Now imagine replacing the conch shell with a jirga tent, and the British schoolboys with Pashtun nationalists. The similarities are thought-provoking: an absence of cohesive leadership, weakening institutions, and a community caught between deep-rooted tribal traditions and the demands of a fast-changing world. But unlike Golding’s story, this is not fiction—it is a longstanding and evolving political reality.
In Lord of the Flies, the character Ralph eventually loses control as his priorities shift and the group fractures. Pashtun nationalist politics, at times, echo this breakdown—not due to lack of vision, but perhaps a lack of strategic focus. While the rhetoric is often powerful and emotionally resonant, it sometimes lacks concrete, actionable plans. Calls for unity and rights are common, but practical pathways to achieving them are often missing or unclear.
For instance, the Afghan refugee crisis continues to impact thousands of ethnic Pashtuns who share culture, language, and history. Yet, political responses to this humanitarian issue have often been limited to symbolic protests or speeches, without substantial policy proposals. Internal party dynamics—such as leadership inheritance or competition for parliamentary seats—sometimes take precedence over the broader cause. This gives the impression that the urgency of real issues is being sidelined.
If passionate speeches alone could bring about change, Pashtun nationalists would already have reshaped the region. But real progress requires more than eloquence—it requires planning, unity, and effective execution. Leadership needs to go beyond honoring historical figures and focus more on addressing immediate challenges like economic hardship, security concerns, and civil rights.
Unfortunately, political leadership in the region sometimes appears inherited rather than earned. When party structures begin to resemble family assets—passed from one generation to the next—merit-based leadership becomes difficult. While traditional values and tribal affiliations are part of the cultural identity, relying solely on these in modern political spaces limits growth. Emerging voices, especially from the youth working on digital rights, education, and environmental advocacy, deserve space and support.
Today’s political environment demands leaders who can connect heritage with innovation. Comparing outdated methods to modern-day governance is like attempting to repair an electric vehicle using tools made for a horse cart—well-intentioned, but ineffective.
Despite ongoing challenges, Pashtun nationalist movements often remain divided in their approaches. While some advocate for autonomy, others seek better integration and rights within the current framework. A unified, strategic approach—such as legal advocacy, regional cooperation, and consistent policy dialogue—is essential.
The treatment of Afghan Pashtuns in Pakistan raises serious humanitarian and moral concerns. But in the absence of consistent, coordinated leadership, responses often remain reactive. Digital campaigns may trend briefly, but lasting impact requires policy-oriented planning and sustained advocacy, both locally and internationally.
Just as the boys in Golding’s novel feared a mythical beast and overlooked the real threat—their own division and loss of order—Pashtun political efforts face both external pressures and internal hurdles. The task is to confront both with clarity, responsibility, and a commitment to long-term development.
In the novel’s end, a naval officer rescues the boys, but such external salvation is unlikely in real life. Pashtun nationalism, if it is to thrive and serve its people, must be rooted in visionary leadership, inclusive representation, and a strategic roadmap. Reflecting on past glory is important, but it must inspire action today, not delay it. The future depends not on waiting for rescue, but on building the tools and trust needed for self-reform.
The views and opinions expressed in this article/paper are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the editorial position of The Spine Times.
Younas Nasar
The writer is a Public Policy student at Government College University, Lahore.
