Every society develops its share of habits that quietly corrode its foundations. In Kashmir, one of the most deep-rooted and destructive is psychofancy—the culture of exaggerated praise, flattery, and sycophancy directed at those in authority. It is found in our offices, organizations, community groups, and even within civil society itself.
At first glance, psychofancy seems harmless—clapping at the right time, showering verbal praise, or posting long WhatsApp tributes to superiors. But behind this façade lies a corrosive disease: the loss of sincerity, the suffocation of merit, and the elevation of mediocrity over integrity.
The question Kashmir must ask itself, urgently, is: When will psychofancy go from our midst?
The problem is not new. From the Mughal courts to colonial administrations, flattery was a tool of survival. The eloquent flatterer prospered; the honest speaker was punished or sidelined. Over centuries, this conditioning seeped deep into our social and administrative DNA.
Today, it reappears in modern avatars. In politics, leaders are surrounded by “yes-men” who never challenge wrong decisions. In offices, promotions often depend more on how well one pleases the superior than how well one performs. Even NGOs and civil organizations have not escaped this contagion—many have turned into fan clubs rather than forums of service and accountability.
What emerges is a vicious cycle: leaders come to believe they are wiser than they are; subordinates learn that silence and sugar-coated praise are safer than honesty; and the citizen suffers from shallow governance and poor leadership.
Anyone walking into a government office can witness this theatre. The peon bows too low, the clerk sings the officer’s virtues, and the officer plays the benevolent master. Reports overflow with adjectives, achievements are inflated, and failures are buried. Files move upward with half-truths until decisions are taken in ignorance.
This malaise has infected civil society too. Many NGOs and professional bodies spend more energy organizing self-congratulatory ceremonies than asking tough questions. Those who dare to demand transparency are branded as troublemakers. In such a climate, accountability dies and hypocrisy thrives.
The damage is immense. Merit is sidelined, competence is replaced by compliance, and truth is silenced. Corruption finds cover behind compliments. Leaders are trapped in echo chambers, hearing only what they want to hear. Talented youth lose hope and leave, while the opportunistic rise to the top.
Civil society, which should act as a watchdog, often becomes a chorus of praise. The result is cynicism—people begin to believe that sincerity has no place in public life. Once that belief takes root, decline becomes inevitable.
Islam—the moral compass for most Kashmiris—is unequivocal about false praise. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) warned: “When you see those who excessively praise others, throw dust in their faces.” He also said: “Do not flatter me as the Christians flattered the son of Mary.”
The Qur’an commands: “And do not mix truth with falsehood or conceal the truth while you know it.”
Yet, in our practice, flattery has become a “soft skill”—a means of survival. Those who refuse to indulge are dismissed as “arrogant” or “unadjustable.” In reality, they are the last custodians of integrity.
The roots run deep. Fear of authority makes people cautious; weak institutions encourage survival through personal connections rather than fairness. Cultural conditioning trains us to obey, not to question. And personal ambition finds flattery an easier road to success than hard work.
Until these structural and moral causes are addressed, the disease will continue to spread—quietly, efficiently, destructively.
The cure begins with personal integrity. Every individual must resolve not to engage in false praise and to speak truth with respect. Institutions should enforce transparency through open meetings, performance audits, and published decisions. Leaders must surround themselves with critics as well as admirers—because a leader without dissenters is merely a ruler.
Cultural reform is essential. Our schools, universities, and mosques must teach that disagreement is not disrespect. And media and citizens alike must call out flattery when they see it.
Civil society must lead by example. The measure of a good NGO or association should be its impact—not the length of its press release or the size of its garland. Real leadership lies in creating spaces where uncomfortable truths can be spoken and acted upon.
Having worked across hospitals, NGOs, and professional forums, I have seen psychofancy up close. Brilliant ideas have been buried because they came from the “wrong” person, while mediocrity has been celebrated because it pleased the right ego. This is not merely frustrating—it is tragic. For a society already battered by decades of conflict and corruption, to also suffer from moral cowardice is to invite slow death.
“When will psychofancy go from Kashmir?” It will go the day we collectively decide that respect does not mean silence, that loyalty does not mean blind praise, and that leadership means service, not worship.
Kashmir’s history is rich with saints who spoke truth to power and poets who challenged tyrants. We owe it to them—and to ourselves—to reclaim that spirit.
Psychofancy is a chain around our collective neck. To break it, we must rediscover the courage of truth, the dignity of dissent, and the power of sincerity. Only then can our offices, institutions, and organizations rise above mediocrity and become engines of genuine change.
(Dr. Fiaz Maqbool Fazili is a senior consultant surgeon, healthcare policy planner, and columnist on ethics, quality, and civic reform. He can be reached at drfiazfazili@gmail.com.)
