Hope for our survival
I suggest an alternative vision where one is not forced to accept the current situation as an only option.
Imagine this: A newspaper headline in magnified font and bold script announcing the terror attack on a navy airbase in Karachi on May 22, supported by a picture of the event in which all you can see is fire and black smoke clouds. And now, try and tear your eyes away from this image, and imagine an invitation bearing a non descript logo common to all government organisations, announcing a national conference organised by the Higher Education Commission (HEC) titled Setting Standards for 21st Century Pakistan, to be held later this week.
Need I ask which of these two images is more compelling? Which remains longer and more vividly in the mind’s eye, surreptitiously creeping into all your waking (and perhaps even sleeping) moments no matter what you do to distract yourself? The answer, whilst evident is tragic at many levels: It is a reminder of the lives lost and assets destroyed, of our vulnerability as citizens of a country beleaguered by a war that we did not choose for ourselves. Most of all, it is evidence of the fact that our hearts and minds have become numb to other, equally real, and perhaps even more poignant issues presently faced by our society — education being merely one of them.
These, then, were the two images I encountered at my desk yesterday. Predictably, the first image was more overwhelming whilst the second seemed almost inconsequential in comparison with the fundamental issue of our survival. After many agonising moments, however, I asked myself, what I meant by ‘survival’. If survival merely means breathing, eating and sleeping then, yes, it is only right that all my attention should be focused on the terror attack because there is no knowing when I might find myself in the range of the next one. However, if I believe that survival means more than bodily or even my personal, individual survival, then it is imperative that I channel at least some of my energies away from thoughts of death and destruction and towards the possibility of peace and prosperity.
As I thought more about survival, I was reminded of accounts of Holocaust survivors. Despite their diverse backgrounds and conditions of incarceration, they shared a common attitude: Each retained a belief in his or her survival, a unique sense of purpose and a vision of a free and peaceful future. By holding this attitude consistently, these men and women survived the annihilation planned for them, not only physically but to a large extent, also emotionally and psychologically. Consequently, they lived not only to tell the story but also to contribute to the creation of a world in which they would not again be persecuted for their religion.
Whatever our perception of Jews or their politics, there is a great lesson to be learnt from this: That we as Pakistanis — and perhaps as Muslims — cannot allow ourselves to become hostage to the despair that surrounds us. In particular, we cannot allow the next generation of Pakistanis to become replicas of our own diminished, afraid and desolate selves. We must actively shelter these children from the surrounding harshness.
Am I suggesting a path of cowardice or apathy? No. In fact, I am suggesting actively providing the next generation an alternative vision of the future so that it is not forced to accept our current situation as the only option. Doing this in the face of the odds that presently surround us takes not only tremendous courage but also a seismic shift in our own perception of reality. Before we can guide and support anyone else, we, too, must learn to believe in a Pakistan beyond its present predicament. Our test will be when next we are faced with the two images we started off with. If our minds reject terrorism and are that excited, instead, by the image, which presents an opportunity of forging a better future for ourselves we can say we have passed. For unless we are so excited, we will be nothing more than dead souls, begetting more dead souls, even if we are fortunate enough to physically survive terror attacks.
Published in The Express Tribune, May 26th, 2011.
Need I ask which of these two images is more compelling? Which remains longer and more vividly in the mind’s eye, surreptitiously creeping into all your waking (and perhaps even sleeping) moments no matter what you do to distract yourself? The answer, whilst evident is tragic at many levels: It is a reminder of the lives lost and assets destroyed, of our vulnerability as citizens of a country beleaguered by a war that we did not choose for ourselves. Most of all, it is evidence of the fact that our hearts and minds have become numb to other, equally real, and perhaps even more poignant issues presently faced by our society — education being merely one of them.
These, then, were the two images I encountered at my desk yesterday. Predictably, the first image was more overwhelming whilst the second seemed almost inconsequential in comparison with the fundamental issue of our survival. After many agonising moments, however, I asked myself, what I meant by ‘survival’. If survival merely means breathing, eating and sleeping then, yes, it is only right that all my attention should be focused on the terror attack because there is no knowing when I might find myself in the range of the next one. However, if I believe that survival means more than bodily or even my personal, individual survival, then it is imperative that I channel at least some of my energies away from thoughts of death and destruction and towards the possibility of peace and prosperity.
As I thought more about survival, I was reminded of accounts of Holocaust survivors. Despite their diverse backgrounds and conditions of incarceration, they shared a common attitude: Each retained a belief in his or her survival, a unique sense of purpose and a vision of a free and peaceful future. By holding this attitude consistently, these men and women survived the annihilation planned for them, not only physically but to a large extent, also emotionally and psychologically. Consequently, they lived not only to tell the story but also to contribute to the creation of a world in which they would not again be persecuted for their religion.
Whatever our perception of Jews or their politics, there is a great lesson to be learnt from this: That we as Pakistanis — and perhaps as Muslims — cannot allow ourselves to become hostage to the despair that surrounds us. In particular, we cannot allow the next generation of Pakistanis to become replicas of our own diminished, afraid and desolate selves. We must actively shelter these children from the surrounding harshness.
Am I suggesting a path of cowardice or apathy? No. In fact, I am suggesting actively providing the next generation an alternative vision of the future so that it is not forced to accept our current situation as the only option. Doing this in the face of the odds that presently surround us takes not only tremendous courage but also a seismic shift in our own perception of reality. Before we can guide and support anyone else, we, too, must learn to believe in a Pakistan beyond its present predicament. Our test will be when next we are faced with the two images we started off with. If our minds reject terrorism and are that excited, instead, by the image, which presents an opportunity of forging a better future for ourselves we can say we have passed. For unless we are so excited, we will be nothing more than dead souls, begetting more dead souls, even if we are fortunate enough to physically survive terror attacks.
Published in The Express Tribune, May 26th, 2011.