The Cost of Never Saying ‘Well Done’ | Zabir Saeed Badar

 The Cost of Never Saying ‘Well Done’

Zabir Saeed Badar

A strange and regrettable tradition has taken root in Pakistan’s political and social history. Instead of praising those who do the work, we pull their legs. Instead of giving credit for performance, we subject them to baseless criticism. The current noise over the Punjab government’s use of aircraft and the Chief Minister’s visit to London is a case in point. Setting aside the question of what is right or wrong, a basic question arises: is the use of official resources or protocol happening for the first time in this country?

Power and protocol have a long history here. Whoever comes to power makes grand claims about turning Governor Houses into universities and adopting a simple lifestyle. In practice it is never that easy. Serious security concerns and the practical demands of running the state keep those in office within a certain circle. The real question is whether we will keep arguing only about formalities, or whether we will also look at who is actually delivering.

If a woman Chief Minister is working day and night with visible effort and sincerity across Punjab, should that not be acknowledged? Whether it is the roads of Lahore or the network of highways, the improvement in travel is plain for people to see. Only recently a passenger arriving from Gilgit asked the taxi fare to the other side of Lahore and was quoted 700 rupees. The same passenger reached his destination on the Orange Line train for just 60 rupees. Who provided this facility—the Orange Train, the motorways and the basic road network?

Some people say, “She didn’t build it from her own pocket; it was her job.” Think about it calmly. A teacher who prepares thoroughly, works hard and delivers excellent notes is different from those who merely mark time. If a student then tells that hard-working teacher, “What favour have you done by teaching us? It was your duty,” how unfair that attitude would be. Sadly, this has become the collective attitude of our society. Those who do little resent the hard workers because their own shortcomings are exposed. At the same time, the public also turns its criticism on the very people who are delivering.

Why do we find it so difficult to acknowledge someone’s performance? Is it because we fear that praising a good deed by a leader from an opposing party will make people think we support that party? Have we made our political loyalty so central that recognising good work now feels like a betrayal of our own group? When a government creates a facility for the public, completes a project or improves an institution, you do not need to be a party worker to acknowledge it. Recognising public benefit is not an act of party support; it is a matter of fairness.

The work of the PML-N, and especially the past and present leadership in Punjab, speaks for itself across Pakistan. Ask the people of Swat and Chitral, who used to be cut off from the rest of the country for months at a time. The Lowari Tunnel has changed their lives. Journeys that once took hours now take minutes, saving both time and money. Look at the best hospitals; institutions such as the Punjab Institute of Cardiology remain a mark of quality treatment to this day.

Another question arises. Should we judge an entire government’s performance by every single decision it makes? If a government has delivered good projects for the public, does that mean every action it takes must be declared correct? Of course not. Equally, if one objects to a particular decision, does that mean the whole record of performance should be dismissed? That is not fair either. It is perfectly possible to acknowledge a government’s good work while criticising its mistakes. The real problem is that we have taken political difference to the point where everything the opponent says appears wrong and everything our preferred side says appears right.

By all means criticise, but do not be unjust. Compare the performance of other provinces—Sindh, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, Balochistan, Gilgit-Baltistan and Azad Kashmir—or look back at the period in Punjab under Usman Buzdar that was labelled “Wasim Akram Plus.” The difference becomes clear on its own. What was delivered there, and what has been done here?

We need to move beyond constant bickering, criticism for its own sake and abuse. We must learn to appreciate performance. If we keep discouraging those who work and refuse to recognise their effort, the tradition of working with sincerity and commitment in this country will die out for good.

We have to decide what kind of attitude we want to encourage in our society. Will we keep searching for faults behind every good deed, or will we sometimes simply say that yes, this was well done? Will we refuse to acknowledge someone’s hard work simply because they do not belong to our preferred party? If that is the case, then we should also examine the way we criticise. Nations do not advance on criticism alone. They move forward through a combination of criticism, recognition and reform.