Community as a safety net

The excitement around Arshad Nadeem's success is a testament to how eager we all were for some good news. The euphoria about the Olympic record and the gold medal, the endless conversation in our own circles and the inspiring stories shared by WhatsApp (some true and some without any factual basis), all indicated how difficult the last few years have been, and how a change in fortunes, no matter how unexpected, has brought rays of hope at a time when hope itself had become a rare commodity.

Much is being said about the lack of government support, the apathy of the sports authorities, the near exclusive interest in cricket by sponsoring bodies and the dismal state of facilities for those who do not enjoy the state patronage (aka cricket). Despite all of these barriers, Arshad demonstrated talent, perseverance and extraordinary skill to compete at the highest possible level. All of these are important conversations and we need to have them today and for many years to come if we are to cultivate real talent in not just sports but many other domains.

There is, however, another part of the story that is just as important and needs to be remembered. That story is about the role of a community. When the government could not care less, and the path to training had all but disappeared, it was largely the family, friends and local community members who pooled in the resources to help the promising athlete. From the local businessman to the family members who had very modest resources - there were real people, who were there for Arshad when those who were in charge of identifying and cultivating talent were not.

The story of community support is not just limited to athletics or creative arts. It is also not about winning some championship at a global stage. It is about taking care of those around you and being there for them. When the state fails to provide adequate healthcare, it is the community that is often the only resource that is available to dying patients in need of a dialysis, medicines or surgery. This is not just a phenomenon in Pakistan, but all over the world. We see this in rural communities in Zimbabwe - forgotten long ago by the state - where the family, friends or the tribe serves as an informal insurance scheme to tap into when a calamity hits and urgent funds are needed. We see this in Lebanon when the state all but collapses under the burden of its own corruption, and family and community provide a safety net for essential medicines or resources to cover a stay at a private hospital that would otherwise be unaffordable.

There are communities all over the country today that are taking care of their own because the state is too busy taking care of only the few it cares about. While speaking against the corruption of the elite, we should also recognize that these communities need our support, individually and collectively. We need to empower these communities and provide them with the platform so that they can tell their stories. This does not mean that we should endorse some bizarre form of tribalism or nativism that otherizes people - or that we should not stand up against community practices that are vile, sexist or racist. On the contrary, we should recognize the social fabric and the support system as a tapestry where individual pieces bring their richness, and need to be strong, but they should also be part of the whole where individual units must be attached to other units.

We cannot give up on the idea that the state - at the top - must be held accountable. But we must not either wait until the message penetrates through. I am certain that there are a lot of Arshads out there - just at the cusp of inspiring us all.