By Sarwat N Shah
A nation celebrates. Tanks roll back. Headlines scream victory at the border. Moreover, somewhere in a cramped home in Lahore or a village in Sindh, a mother checks her phone for the fifth time—not for the body count of enemies, but for the price of flour. This is the peculiar, psychological contradiction of living in a developing nation like Pakistan. We are simultaneously asked to feel proud of military readiness and terrified of our own kitchen tables. Inflation eats the silence out of our homes. Climate disasters displace entire districts. Lawlessness bleeds into neighborhoods. And then, a victory on the border arrives—and we are told to feel safe. But do we? When victory cannot heal the inner wound, we must look through a mental health lens.
Safety is not a single event. Safety is a baseline—the quiet, unshakeable sense that tomorrow will not be worse than today. For most Pakistanis, that baseline has been shattered for years, not by enemies across the border, but by economic precarity, corruption fatigue, climate anxiety, and the slow erosion of public trust. A military victory provides what psychologists call an external anchor of collective efficacy—a moment of national pride and shared identity that temporarily reduces helplessness. Celebratory flag-waving releases oxytocin and dopamine. For a few days, anxiety drops. However, here is the hidden wound: when the victory fades and the price of gas doubles again, the psychological crash is brutal. “If we are strong enough to win at the border, why can’t we afford bread?”
The mind cannot reconcile two opposing truths. Therefore, it fragments into cynicism, apathy, or chronic low-grade depression. This is not ingratitude toward the military. It is a cry for integrated safety—external and internal. The military’s role in safety as a psychological necessity is often misunderstood. Let us be clear: national defence is not optional. A nation without border security collapses into predation, and the first victims are always the most vulnerable citizens. In Pakistan’s case, facing hostile neighbors, proxy warfare, and asymmetric threats, military readiness is not jingoism—it is survival. However, the psychological contract between a nation’s military and its citizens is deeper than most realize.
The military provides what mental health professionals call containment—the knowledge that no matter how bad things get economically or socially, an external invader will not walk into your home. That knowledge is a baseline requirement for any other form of thriving. When that containment is credible, citizens can focus their anxiety on domestic crises. When it is weak, compound anxiety emerges: fear of the enemy plus fear of collapse. Pakistan’s military, despite internal challenges, has historically provided this containment. That is not a small thing. In a region of constant volatility, that sense—even if imperfect—prevents collective PTSD at a national scale.
Stealth technologies and the modern nervous system bring us to an uncomfortable but necessary conversation. In a crisis economy, why invest in stealth technology, drones, and surveillance systems when people cannot afford medicine? The psychological answer: because perceived vulnerability invites predation. A nation that visibly lags in defence technology signals weakness—and weakness is a magnet for aggression. For a developing nation already drowning in economic and climate crises, the added psychological weight of military inferiority would break the collective spirit entirely. Stealth technologies do not just kill enemies. They send a message to the citizens: “We are not asleep. You are not unprotected.” That message, when believed, lowers baseline anxiety and frees cognitive energy for problem-solving elsewhere.
It is not a luxury. It is a psychological necessity in a hostile neighborhood. The prophetic sunnah teaches that military readiness is a primary duty. This is not a modern invention. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) established a clear principle that is often misquoted as warmongering but is, in fact, a profound psychological and political truth. The Quran instructs: “And prepare against them whatever you are able of power and of steeds of war by which you may terrify the enemy of Allah and your enemy…” (Surah Al-Anfal, 8:60). The Prophet (PBUH) emphasized that military readiness—technical, logistical, and psychological—is a communal obligation (fard kifayah) before a defensive war even begins.
So breathe. Study. Pray. Allow yourself a moment of pride in your country’s defenders. And also allow yourself to demand better governance, better economic management, and better mental health support. These are not treasonous thoughts. These are the thoughts of a mature citizen. The Prophet (PBUH) also said: “The strong believer is better and more beloved to Allah than the weak believer, while there is good in both.” (Sahih Muslim) Strength is not only the sword. It is the nation that can feed its children and defend its borders. It is the citizen who can hold gratitude for the military and grief for the economy in the same heart. Victory on the border is real. It is necessary. It saves lives. But the harder victory—the one that will truly heal the citizen’s mind—is the victory over poverty, corruption, and hopelessness. May we live to see both.
(The writer is a practicing integrative therapist, author, and motivational speaker, can be reached at editorial@metro-morning.com)
