The republic of yes sir

IN Pakistan, merit is a beautiful thing. Like punctual government offices or smooth traffic on Murree Road, everyone talks about it, but sightings remain rare. We are a nation deeply committed to excellence, provided excellence knows how to flatter the boss. From ministries to universities, hospitals to boardrooms, our unofficial national curriculum has perfected a single survival skill: strategic praise. Why solve problems when you can simply compliment the chairman’s “visionary leadership” before the meeting even starts? Sycophancy here is not just behavior; it is an ecosystem. Governments change, party flags change, uniforms change, but somewhere in every office sits a man nodding passionately at nonsense, ensuring the tradition survives another generation. And honestly, sycophancy is efficient. Meritocracy is hard work. It demands competence, transparency, accountability and measurable outcomes. Flattery only requires timing and a flexible spine. Why spend years developing expertise when one can master the art of saying, “Sir, brilliant idea,” moments before the institution catches fire Naturally, the cycle reproduces itself. The person who climbs upward through flattery eventually expects the same devotion from those below. This creates a perfect pyramid of obedience where everyone worships upward and bullies downward. In such systems, honesty becomes risky, while mediocrity becomes strangely comfortable. This culture quietly destroys innovation. Competent people stop speaking because speaking carries consequences. Meetings become theatre productions where the ending is already known: the senior-most person is correct, the statistics will be adjusted accordingly and tea will follow afterward. Then we wonder why institutions struggle. When promotions depend more on proximity to power than performance, corruption becomes inevitable. Sycophancy and corruption are close cousins. One protects incompetence; the other profits from it. Transparency becomes dangerous be