Between Patriotism and Opportunism… How Do We Tell the Difference?
Dr. Amer Bani Amer
A question has increasingly begun to recur in Jordan’s public scene: How do we distinguish between the patriot and the opportunist? Between the person who raises their voice out of genuine concern for the country, and the one who raises it because their voice has become a pathway to a position? Between the person who criticizes because they want to reform the state, and the one who only discovered its flaws after leaving their position within it? And between an opposition that seeks to offer an alternative, and another that knows that capitalizing on public anger is the fastest route to reaching the public?
I do not have the answer, nor do I claim to know anyone’s intentions. But we have the right to ask questions. When we read a former official fiercely criticizing the state’s shortcomings today, we may ask: Were these shortcomings present when the decision-making power was in their hands? If so, what did they do about them? And was their voice equally clear at the time? When we hear a politician attack a public policy, we may ask: Would they have said the same thing if they were part of the government today?
And when a political movement chooses the issues that are most likely to stir the public, raising the ceiling of its rhetoric whenever public anger rises, we may ask: Where does national opposition end and populism begin? Where does oversight end and political exploitation of public anger begin? But the question must not be directed in only one direction. When an official or politician defends every decision and finds justifications for every mistake, we also have the right to ask: Is this a defense of the state, or a defense of their position and ambitions?
The problem, then, is not with criticism or defense; the problem lies in the standard that changes when its holder’s position changes. We defend institutions while we are inside them, then discover their shortcomings after we leave them. We reject populism when our opponents use it, then borrow its tools when they become our shortest path to the public. We demand that others take responsibility, then find excuses for ourselves when responsibility becomes ours.
So, has the state changed—or has our position within it changed? Perhaps there is one word that captures the entire issue: consistency. To say while in office what you say outside it; to demand of yourself what you demand of your opponent; and to hold on to your principles when they serve you, as well as when standing by them comes at a cost.
For this reason, the question that deserves to follow every official, MP, political party, opposition figure, and aspiring public official is: Would you say the same thing if you were sitting today in the chair of the person you are criticizing? And the opposite question: Would you defend the same decision if you were outside that chair?
This brings us to political parties and movements. To begin with, I believe that every movement has the right to oppose the government, use parliament to hold it accountable, and mobilize public opinion. That is politics. But Jordanians also have the right to ask: What comes after the rhetoric? Where is the alternative? Are we facing a political project that knows what it would do if it reached decision-making power, or are we facing rhetoric that knows very well how to oppose, but has not yet told us how it would act if it occupied the chair?
But what about everyone else? Why did you leave the field open to others and then complain about their expansion, whether they are a political movement or an individual? Where is your message? Where is your organization? Where is your presence among the people? Politics and public work do not wait for those who are absent, and the public does not remain waiting for those who fail to reach it. Whoever leaves the people and the field to others cannot later blame them for advancing. It is not enough to describe a discourse as populist; what is required is a better discourse. It is not enough to warn about the rise of a movement; what is required is to build a movement capable of competing with it.
The danger does not lie in opposition; it begins when political one-upmanship becomes a substitute for politics, or when applause becomes a substitute for criticism. Not everyone who attacks is a hero, not everyone who defends is a patriot, not every critic is an opponent, and not every former official is an opportunist.
The standard is simpler—and more difficult—at the same time: What did you say when you were in office? And what did you say when you left it? What did you say when the position served you? And what did you say when standing by it came at a cost?
Perhaps that is why the most important question is no longer: Who is the patriot? The harder question is: When were they patriotic? Before the position or after it? When the decision was in their hands, or when they became its critic?
And when the answer changes depending on the chair, we have the right to ask, without accusing anyone: Did the homeland change—or did our position within it change?
