Disaster, destiny and our responsibility

When a tragedy strikes in Pakistan, the most common reaction is: "It was God's will." This simple phrase has profound power and implications. It helps people cope with unbearable grief, cushions them from prolonged trauma, and provides a collective psychological framework in which loss is given meaning. In a society where faith is deeply woven into daily life, belief in destiny is not just theology - it is therapy.

But beneath this comfort lies a danger. By placing disasters solely in the realm of fate, we risk absolving ourselves of responsibility. Fatalism, when misapplied, can slide from a spiritual solace into a culture of complacency. Instead of asking hard questions about preventable causes, we retreat into resignation. Disasters become not moments of accountability but acts of destiny.

Consider floods. It is true that global climate change has placed Pakistan among the most vulnerable nations on the planet. These global forces are outside our immediate control. Yet, the devastation that follows each season of heavy rains is not a simple natural occurrence. It is compounded, amplified, and often manufactured by local realities.

Overpopulation has pushed communities into flood-prone areas, often along riverbanks where survival is precarious. Unplanned urban sprawl has overwhelmed fragile drainage systems. Deforestation in the north has stripped away natural barriers against floods and landslides. Poorly constructed homes collapse at the first touch of water, while weak infrastructure - roads, bridges and embankments - crumbles under pressure. Corruption and short-term politics mean that dams and canals remain mismanaged, and flood-prevention plans gather dust.

The same logic applies to other calamities. Road accidents are too easily accepted as "God's will". But many stem from reckless driving, poorly enforced traffic rules, or vehicles unfit for the road. Factory fires, often deadly, are not acts of destiny but the result of absent safety standards and greed-driven shortcuts. Even terrorism, while politically complex, thrives when security lapses and governance failures create fertile ground. In each case, responsibility disappears behind the shield of fate.

Ironically, this is not what Islam teaches. The Qur'an consistently calls for both reliance on God (tawakkul) and accountability for human action. "Indeed, Allah does not change the condition of a people until they change what is in themselves" (13:11). Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) famously advised a man to tie his camel before trusting in God's protection. The message is clear: trust in divine decree must go hand in hand with human responsibility. To rely on fate without effort is not faith - it is negligence.

The problem in Pakistan is not belief in destiny itself, but its misinterpretation. Instead of a balanced philosophy that combines spiritual acceptance with worldly responsibility, destiny has been reduced to an excuse. It allows individuals, communities and governments to evade accountability. It transforms what should be moments of collective learning into cycles of repeated tragedy.

The way forward requires a shift in mindset. Disasters must be understood not only as divine tests but as opportunities for reform. When floods strike, the question should not only be, "Why us?" but also, "What must we change?" When accidents occur, the response should not end at grief but extend to improving safety and enforcing laws. When violence erupts, society must hold accountable not only the perpetrators but also the structures that allowed it.

Pakistan cannot afford to treat destiny as a shield against responsibility. The Qur'anic vision of humans as khalifa - stewards of the earth - places upon us a duty of care. This stewardship means planting trees instead of cutting them, enforcing safety standards instead of ignoring them, building resilient infrastructure instead of cheap structures, and investing in disaster preparedness rather than leaving everything to chance.

Disasters will always come. Climate change will make them more frequent, urbanisation will make them more complex, and global politics will make them more unpredictable. But whether they destroy us or strengthen us will depend less on destiny and more on the choices we make.