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During the Subcontinent’s independence movement, Mahatma Gandhi and his non-violent philosophy of Satyagraha (truth-force) and Ahimsa (non-violence) played a crucial role. The British Empire employed typical colonial tactics to suppress dissent, used harsh laws, mass arrests, imprisonment, martial law, and physical force. Yet, none of this broke Gandhi’s resolve. His followers continued with non-violent protests, most notably the Salt March of 1930. These sustained peaceful agitations drew both international attention and condemnation of British atrocities in the Subcontinent, eventually contributing to the independence of both India and Pakistan.

This movement demonstrated that sustained non-violent resistance, even when met with aggression, can achieve meaningful and lasting political change. In a similar spirit, this is what Talha Anjum attempted. His peaceful gesture — raising an Indian flag handed to him by a fan at a concert in Nepal — signified that art and culture transcend borders. It also reflected the deep socio-cultural bonds between the people of Pakistan and India, despite the rhetoric from extremist political groups such as the BJP. True to his character, Anjum stood against the odds and made a principled statement.

Importantly, his gesture aligned with Pakistan’s own state policy. The return of Indian pilot Abhinandan, the establishment of the Kartarpur Corridor, and Pakistan’s willingness to cooperate in the Pahalgam investigation were all measures rooted in a consistent approach: responding to hostility with gestures of peace. This reflects Pakistan’s stance of seeking permanent peace in South Asia for collective human development.

The criticism directed at Anjum — particularly the aggressive reaction of a certain TV host — was misplaced. Nadia Khan hurled unnecessary accusations at the celebrated young singer on her show Rise and Shine and barely allowed him to speak. To make matters worse, she, along with her co-host, repeatedly pushed for an “unconditional” apology from him for allegedly hurting “public sentiments” (read: her own interpretation of patriotism). Paradoxically, it was Anjum – the comparatively less “senior” celebrity – who displayed composure and restraint thoughout the segment.

My critique of the television host is deliberate. Her episode seemed less about personal opinion and more about provoking unnecessary outrage, inciting hostility against the artist, and exploiting patriotism for attention and ratings. Pakistanis are exhausted from such superficial displays of nationalism — weaponised patriotism for personal or commercial gain. If extremism in Pakistan concerns the liberal sensibilities of such commentators, then this shallow and performative display of patriotism should concern them equally.

Have we learned nothing of the consequences of such rhetoric across the border?

And more importantly: what distinguishes Pakistan from India if Pakistanis also resort to the same performative outrage and hostility? As argued at the start of this article, aggression cannot be defeated with more aggression. Only principled peace leads to a positive outcome.

Anjum’s gesture was not a threat to Pakistan’s identity but a reminder of our shared humanity with those across the border. In a region where nationalism is too often weaponised and dialogue discouraged, such symbolic acts matter. They challenge entrenched hostility and reclaim space for cultural connection — a space South Asia desperately needs if it is ever to move beyond cycles of suspicion and rivalry.

At the same time, we must ask ourselves why any hint of goodwill triggers disproportionate outrage. Perhaps the real issue is not why Anjum held the Indian flag, but why we are so eager to condemn anything that questions our performative patriotism. If we continue answering hate with hate, we risk becoming reflections of the very extremism we criticise across the border.

Anjum’s act was, ultimately, an invitation: to think, to reflect, and to choose empathy over hostility. Pakistan should not fear such gestures; it should embrace them. And above all, we must remember — we do not need Arnab Goswamis in Pakistan, aggressive, hyper-nationalist and engaging in shouting matches designed to fuel public outrage rather than informed discussion.