The weakness of power
The writer teaches at the University of Plymouth, UK. He can be reached at zeb.khan@plymouth.ac.uk
It is always tempting to grab unchallengeable power and to enjoy its use. But power has limits which many of us either do not understand or conveniently ignore - leading to unintended harmful consequences.
In Pakistan, the use of force is generally believed to cure every ill and curtail every crime - a kind of panacea! The story of "violence breeds violence" recurs every now and then despite its devastating impact both on state and society.
This story of violence and unwise use of power begins from home. Our homes have turned into a sort of torture cells. The powerful persons resort to intimidation and physical punishment over petty issues and differences of opinion. Children and women, in particular, find very little or no space to breathe in.
Consequently, children unconsciously learn that the 'only way' to get things done or elicit compliance is to use force. Moral authority and logical persuasion are perceived as signs of weakness and are never promoted as more effective tools than coercion.
In some schools and madrassas, using force is a norm; children are subjected to violence for minor violations. Teachers are not trained to discipline students by channeling their energies into some productive activities and projects. Silence in the class is construed as obedience and good conduct which, in reality, is a time bomb, waiting to explode when a fateful moment approaches.
The epidemic of violence spreads from homes and schools into society. Intolerance permeates every walk of life. It becomes visible on faces, speeches and behaviour. Make a little mistake by omission, and then see the disproportionate response! Even a gentle piece of advice is reciprocated with abusive language and a harsh tone. Now the virus of violence is out there to infect everyone.
This overreliance on power and force finds its most dangerous manifestation in state policy. Consider the so-called war on terror. For years, the state believed it could bomb its way to peace. Drone strikes, military operations and sweeping arrests may have yielded some short-term gains, but they also alienated entire communities, destroyed trust and created new grievances.
Terrorism is not just a military problem - it is a political, social and ideological issue. Yet, by reducing it to a battlefield operation, we only saw the monster morphing and adapting. The more we tried to crush it with brute force, the more resilient it became. This is the ultimate irony: power was used to create security but it ended up breeding more insecurity.
The same limits of power are visible in the state's response to the insurgencies in the country. Grievances of people about political marginalisation, economic exploitation and cultural erasure have been met with repression, rather than dialogue. Every time force is used without justice, the wounds of alienation deepen. It creates a vicious cycle - resistance is met with force, which in turn generates more resistance. The result is a perpetual state of unrest where peace becomes a distant dream.
Furthermore, militancy in the region is not just the work of a few miscreants; it is rooted in years of neglect, poverty, radicalisation and weak governance. The use of force alone may clear out militants temporarily, but it cannot rebuild broken communities or restore faith in the state. Schools, hospitals, infrastructure and above all, the sense of dignity - these are the real weapons against militancy. Yet, they are the ones most often forgotten in the pursuit of military success.
True power lies not in the ability to coerce, but in the capacity to inspire, persuade and heal. It lies in moral authority, justice and compassion - the very things our society has come to see as weaknesses. Until we learn to recognise the limits of power and invest in building humane institutions, we will keep fighting battles that cannot be won!