Compassion in crisis

Pakistan is not the only country facing internal strife and economic hardship. I last visited Thailand three years ago and the change I now notice is palpable. The shopping malls are empty and the normally beatific smiles that greeted tourists previously are more subdued. Business has been hit hard — so hard that the change in attitudes of shopkeepers is bordering on listless resignation. And this considerable shift has occurred as a result of a political crisis whose genesis was laid barely three years ago, with the dismissal of an elected government on charges of corruption. Sound familiar? A crisis which culminated last month with a decisive military crackdown on the Red Shirt protests in central Bangkok and a continued state of emergency in the capital as well as other sensitive areas. Compared to Pakistan, which has faced decades of political upheaval, has lurched from crisis to crisis and is plagued by “being in a bad neighbourhood” syndrome, the Thai crisis is child’s play. Yet the impact on the Thai economy, which is dependent to a large extent on tourism, has been swift and significant. Every year there are usually one million visitors from the UK alone. Yet even the most favoured tourist spot in the region has been deserted as soon as trouble hit the headlines. So we in Pakistan should not take it personally when visitors choose other destinations due to the much more long lasting unrest that we
are enduring.

However, it is not the economic or political fallout of the Thai crisis that dominates their press. It is the very real blow to the national consciousness where values of compassion towards all human beings — a cornerstone of Buddhist belief — are sacred. Witnessing bloodshed on the streets of their capital has precipitated editorials across the press, even in the glossy chic magazines, distraught at the deep divisions that have been exposed in Thai society and the ferocity with which they were manifested. What is interesting is that despite the palpable sorrow and anxiety there is a marked absence of vindictive personal attacks on public figures, vitriol and vengeance.

In general the tone of op-eds and articles is at least constructive if not compassionate. And this is what bothers me the most when I compare Thailand with Pakistan. What has remained unscathed in this crisis is their ethos of compassion towards all persons and their unwavering work ethic. People here exude a certain humility and compassion in every interaction. Along with that humility, or perhaps because of it, there is a dedication to hard work across social strata. People lost businesses and work because of the disruption so they are just working harder now. Even the poorest pavement-stall holders who stand in the heat all day, selling freshly-cut fruit and rice omelettes take pride in their work.

In Pakistan there is a paucity of both these qualities. Hard work seems to be a route to be avoided at all costs. And where is compassion? In the way we deal with each other? In families, in public places leave alone politics and the media, how many people exude humility and compassion? The social ills and political crises that have plagued us for decades cannot be resolved with endless policy prescriptions, self-righteous pontifications and personal political vendettas. It is time to realise that this will get us more strife — it’s karma as the Buddhists believe — what you sow is what you reap and we seem to be caught up in a cycle of corruption, revenge and division. Perhaps we need to look at other societies and emulate their values instead of aspiring for superficial markers of success.

In Thailand, displaying compassion in a time of crisis is promoted as a viable public policy. There is a belief that it is the only way forward for lasting peace and stability. Perhaps it is time for Pakistanis to realise that what we suffer from is not political crisis but a crisis of compassion and the only way forward is to address that within ourselves.

Published in The Express Tribune, July 3^rd, 2010