If I die young

Imagine a young man committing suicide after struggling with a prolonged mental illness. In the weeks leading up to his tragic death, he reaches out to family and friends with clear warning signs that are overlooked. His death wish: that the contents of his suicide note be made public so that other young men in his position can find the strength to overcome their weakness. And yet, moments after his dead body is found with the suicide note, his family claims the death isn’t a suicide but part of a larger conspiracy to embarrass the family.

Now, imagine a young man going about his everyday life in Pakistan. One fateful day, he finds himself at the receiving end of a major bomb blast, the likes of which make front page headlines every day in Pakistan. The young man’s life is snatched away from him for no fault of his own. His fellow countrymen, instead of standing up for the young man, whose life has been cut short, believe his death is part of a larger conspiracy to destabilise Pakistan and has nothing to do with the arguments made by the militant organisation, which claims responsibility for the bomb blast. A “foreign hand” is responsible, officials argue. Ordinary citizens blame a conspiracy by the “Jewish” lobby to weaken Pakistan. It appears that the only thing more meaningless than living life under the constant threat of violence in Pakistan is the act of dying as a result of that violence.

What if you were to die as a result of one of the many acts of senseless violence in the country? It’s difficult to imagine such a situation because we’re a nation that is not only numb to violence but also celebrates its “resilience” and “macho-ness” by the ability to function normally despite routine violence. But we ignore reality at our own peril. If I were to die young as a result of one of the many acts of senseless violence, I’d be furious if my death was linked to some na maloom conspiracy. If I could pen the equivalent of a suicide note before my premature death, I’d make it clear that the Pakistani people are directly responsible for my blood because of their persistent denial and inability to recognise the warning signs in the run-up to my death. Let me make it clear once again: don’t smear the meaning of my death (an unintentional sacrifice) by conveniently blaming foreigners, Jews or Westerners. It’s the Pakistani people and their state of denial that is directly responsible for my blood.

This isn’t a hypothetical situation. The assassination attempt on Malala Yousufzai is a painful reminder of how our nation fractures instead of uniting after tragedy. As a nation of a 180 million people, our situation is analogous to the family of a young man, which ignores the warning signs on the path to his suicide. Like most premature deaths and suicides, the senseless loss of life of dozens of Pakistanis every week is preventable. Hundreds of citizens (and now, foreign tourists too) die needlessly every month in Pakistan. The way to prevent these deaths is simple: disrupt our everyday routine to come out of our collective state of denial, develop a game plan that recognises our limitations and focus on a disciplined execution of a game plan, enabling us to move to a new national trajectory grounded in an entirely different social contract.

The root cause of most of Pakistan’s problems isn’t misguided policy or poor implementation; it’s outright denial of ground realities. Even if we assume — for the sake of argument — that “foreigners eyeing Pakistan’s natural resources” are to blame for all of Pakistan’s problems, we still have to own the solutions to our problems instead of playing a passive blame game. Perhaps, the only real international conspiracy about Pakistan’s future is that there is no conspiracy.

Pakistan is a country falling apart under the burden of unrelenting pressure from all sides: rising extremism, a crippling energy crisis and economic malaise to name a few. From a distance, it looks like sheer madness. Even if we can’t end the madness overnight, we can bring a method to the madness by overcoming our collective denial. Instead of playing victim, we must take ownership of our problems and swallow the bitter pill of reality. The current cost of our denial is heavy, both in terms of blood and treasure. After all, a nation that blames others for its problems will never find peace, even in the act of death.

Published in The Express Tribune, July 4^th, 2013.

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