The panic triggered by “IT IS OVER” by Zorain Nizamani is not about the text itself; it is about what the text represents. States that are confident in their legitimacy do not fear essays. They rebut them, ignore them, or debate them. Panic, by contrast, is the reflex of power that no longer trusts its own story.
The reaction suggests an establishment that senses its narrative authority weakening. For decades, control in Pakistan rested not only on institutions but on the ability to define reality—what counted as patriotism, dissent, and national interest. That control is now under strain. When a piece of writing provokes anxiety rather than argument, it signals fear of resonance: the realization that the words articulate what many already feel but had not seen so plainly expressed.
Instead of persuasion, the instinct appears to be suppression. This shift is revealing. Strong narratives invite scrutiny because they expect to survive it. Weak narratives avoid scrutiny because exposure risks collapse. By reacting defensively, the establishment inadvertently confirms the critique it seeks to silence: that it relies increasingly on coercion rather than conviction.
Ironically, such responses often amplify the message. In the digital age, suppression validates dissent. It tells the public that something here is dangerous not because it is false, but because it rings true. Every attempt to silence reinforces the perception of insecurity.
This is not an admission of defeat, but it is an admission of doubt. The establishment may still control the state, but moments like this suggest it is losing confidence in its ability to control belief. And when power begins to fear words, it is usually because the story it tells no longer explains the reality people are living.
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