Molecules of oxygen
The poor’s suffering is the result of people not doing their job but know their privilege protects their incompetence
The writer is a Howard Hughes Medical Institute professor of biomedical engineering, international health and medicine at Boston University. He tweets @mhzaman
In January 2012, Lahore saw one of the worst public health crises of the country. In a matter of about a week, over 200 people died. The epicentre of the crisis was the Punjab Institute of Cardiology (PIC). The cause was contaminated drugs that failed multiple systems of regulation and safety — not just at the company but also designed to protect the public. Not much happened in the aftermath. The privileged ones who had the resources and connections had nothing to worry. The company continued to operate the way it always had, the inspectors didn’t face any serious disciplinary action and the poor waited for the compensation they were promised. The ultimate punishment was a paltry fine, payable to the bereaved over a long period and one that made little difference to those who suffered. As a nation, we are no better off today than we were then.
Fast forward to last week and the same hospital made national and international news. The perpetrators this time were the custodians of the law who came to destroy lives, wearing their dignified professional attire. The tragedy gripped the nation — the video footage was seen by millions. There has been widespread condemnation, except for a number of apologists (including the custodians of democracy and human rights including the former Senate chairman) who used the vulgar “both sides” argument. But this is unlikely to matter for those who lost everything. Who would take up the case of those who want to sue the lawyers? Who would fight for the poor patients who depend on subsidised care? The finger pointing will go on for some time before we move on to the next episode, but the poor who lost their lives or loved ones will continue to face the assault of the privileged.
The two episodes at PIC may be separated by a decade — but they are connected by a single thread. PIC just happens to be part of the story — it could be anywhere in the country. The lesson is that there is little hope for the weak. In the failure of the state or the thuggery of the legal fraternity the weak who have done nothing wrong excepting committing the grave sin of being poor and without any resources.
PIC is no anomaly — and neither is the privilege enjoyed by the legal fraternity. The social network of privilege is abused every day by everyone around us. We hear “don’t you know who I am” perhaps more frequently than any other phrase. Barely a few days after coming to power, an altercation with Khawar Maneka got a senior bureaucrat removed. The DPO’s crime was that he was not deferential to the well-connected Mr Maneka. An exhibition in Karachi about those who lost their lives could not continue because the privileged found it distasteful. The polio debacle has already become yesterday’s news without anyone answering for the lifelong challenges faced by dozens of young beautiful children.
In the poorly stocked public hospitals, the poor’s suffering doesn’t need a grand theory for its explanation. It’s actually quite simple: it’s the result of people not doing their job but know their privilege protects their incompetence, of angry heartless goons who recognise their privilege protects their inhumanity, and ultimately a state that can shred its contract with its most vulnerable citizens well aware of its privilege that the weak don’t matter when the votes get counted.
I think about the patient gasping for air — as the masked is snatched — desperately wanting to inhale a few more molecules of oxygen, preserving with all the energy available, the air that is already in the lungs, only to see it all evaporate by someone else’s privilege.
Published in The Express Tribune, December 17th, 2019.
Fast forward to last week and the same hospital made national and international news. The perpetrators this time were the custodians of the law who came to destroy lives, wearing their dignified professional attire. The tragedy gripped the nation — the video footage was seen by millions. There has been widespread condemnation, except for a number of apologists (including the custodians of democracy and human rights including the former Senate chairman) who used the vulgar “both sides” argument. But this is unlikely to matter for those who lost everything. Who would take up the case of those who want to sue the lawyers? Who would fight for the poor patients who depend on subsidised care? The finger pointing will go on for some time before we move on to the next episode, but the poor who lost their lives or loved ones will continue to face the assault of the privileged.
The two episodes at PIC may be separated by a decade — but they are connected by a single thread. PIC just happens to be part of the story — it could be anywhere in the country. The lesson is that there is little hope for the weak. In the failure of the state or the thuggery of the legal fraternity the weak who have done nothing wrong excepting committing the grave sin of being poor and without any resources.
PIC is no anomaly — and neither is the privilege enjoyed by the legal fraternity. The social network of privilege is abused every day by everyone around us. We hear “don’t you know who I am” perhaps more frequently than any other phrase. Barely a few days after coming to power, an altercation with Khawar Maneka got a senior bureaucrat removed. The DPO’s crime was that he was not deferential to the well-connected Mr Maneka. An exhibition in Karachi about those who lost their lives could not continue because the privileged found it distasteful. The polio debacle has already become yesterday’s news without anyone answering for the lifelong challenges faced by dozens of young beautiful children.
In the poorly stocked public hospitals, the poor’s suffering doesn’t need a grand theory for its explanation. It’s actually quite simple: it’s the result of people not doing their job but know their privilege protects their incompetence, of angry heartless goons who recognise their privilege protects their inhumanity, and ultimately a state that can shred its contract with its most vulnerable citizens well aware of its privilege that the weak don’t matter when the votes get counted.
I think about the patient gasping for air — as the masked is snatched — desperately wanting to inhale a few more molecules of oxygen, preserving with all the energy available, the air that is already in the lungs, only to see it all evaporate by someone else’s privilege.
Published in The Express Tribune, December 17th, 2019.