Three dimensions

We are unwilling to ask the most fundamental question: why are we failing our own people?

If dozens of affluent Pakistanis died in a plane crash and several dozen more went missing, there would be a greater sense of anxiety among the government, media and the public. There would be touching stories about those who we lost and prayers for those who were still missing. A similar fate suffered by the poor people from small towns and villages deep in the country does not seem to perturb us much. Some are shrugging their shoulders and moving on. Others are questioning the sanity and life choices of the deceased. This morally reprehensible apathy is, at least, three-dimensional.

At the government level, there is little self-reflection. It is true that unlike previous tragedies, when there was zero movement from the government, at least this time there is a supposed high-level inquiry (at least on paper) about human smuggling. We all should hope that the inquiry is rigorous, transparent and shared with the public. We should also ensure that anyone involved in human smuggling — whether a government official, a local politician, a law enforcement agent or a well-connected individual — is brought to justice. But inquiries about human smuggling alone are not the only thing we should think about. We should also ask: why do people want to leave? Why have our policies failed to the extent that people are willing to engage with human smugglers, sell all their possessions, mortgage everything that they have, get insane loans and risk their lives? Why are people being forced to make these choices? On that front, the government and its institutions are silent. And before someone tries to take a particular partisan position, let it be clear that Pakistani migrants are not a post April 2022 phenomenon. I myself have met Pakistani migrants in camps all across Europe over the years. As I have written before in these pages, Pakistanis make up a significant number of migrants trying to reach Europe through these difficult and life-threatening routes. It is quite telling that other nationalities who make up significant numbers are from conflict affected countries including Afghanistan and Syria. We should ask the government that if there is no civil war or active conflict, why so many Pakistanis are risking everything. This question should be posed not just to the current government, but also to those who were occupying the high offices in years past.

The second dimension of apathy is in the media. First, this is not seen as a national tragedy — perhaps because few care about those who are on the lowest end of the socio-economic ladder. Second, few original stories about those who lost their lives have come to the fore. The same faces who serve as anchor on one channel and analyst on other (often in just the space of a couple of hours) are still more interested in spinning their yarn about palace intrigue.

We the people represent the third dimension of apathy. On social media and in conversations, those who lost their lives are viewed as foolish, not resilient enough, looking for an easy way out, gullible and even unpatriotic. We seem to be bankrupt when it comes to empathy. Some are asking “why did they not start a business?” or “since so and so was able to succeed, why couldn’t these people?” or “these people should have known better”. Others are saying things that are much worse. Few seem to be concerned about an evil system of privilege that we have created and which we fertilise every day through our actions. A system that is shutting out an ever greater number of people every day.

In all three dimensions we are unwilling to see ourselves in the mirror and ask the most fundamental question: why are we — at all levels — failing our own people?

Published in The Express Tribune, June 20^th, 2023.

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