The day we were robbed thrice
In a strange way, Edhi robbery serves to highlight what ails Pakistan — all pretences of governance have broken down
Karachi is not a city for the faint-hearted; life itself — it seems — hardly gets a chance to catch its breath in the unpredictable mix of challenges, opportunities, disasters and triumphs that are thrown its way here every day. And yet, strangely enough, for more than half a century now, Karachi has lived with one undeniable certainty: whenever the city faces a challenge, the Edhi Foundation will be there. Whenever terror strikes the city, the Edhi ambulances will be there to ferry the injured. When natural disasters pay an unwelcome visit, Edhi volunteers will be there to help people rebuild their lives. When families split, Edhi shelters will provide safe havens for the women and children affected.
In return, for years, the people of Karachi have showered Edhi sahib and the foundation that carries his name, with respect, deference, admiration and gratitude. We might fume in anger at road blockades for VIP movement, but we stop ungrudgingly at the sight of an Edhi ambulance. We opened our hearts and wallets to support his foundation and the remarkable work that it did. In a country bereft of role models for civic leadership, public service and selfless devotion to the people, Edhi sahib stood out. If Pakistan had someone like Edhi, it was said, it must surely be a sign that Allah had not given up on us — yet.
That is probably why the news that Edhi sahib was robbed at gunpoint came as a shock to many. As many asked, have we stooped so low as a society that one of us could rob a saint? After all, even thugs and hoodlums have some morals, don’t they?
Angry, hurt and disappointed as we may be, can we, however, pause for a moment to reflect? One cannot condemn the robbery enough, but are the perpetrators the only ones responsible for what happened? After all, every country across the world has ‘criminal elements’, but society entrusts the responsibility of protecting its lives, families and properties from them in the hands of its government. While we express fury at the depravity of the robbers, can we reserve some of our outrage for the law enforcers who have completely failed us? Why are we not indignant at the complete breakdown of the civil administration in which such crimes have become a regular occurrence? Why are we not livid at the police that allows — through their incompetence and callousness — a sense of lawlessness to continue unchecked and unpunished?
Remember that Edhi sahib’s work, and his organisation itself, emerged to fill a vacuum left by the inability of the government to provide basic services to its citizens in times of need. The ambulances they run, the hospices they manage, the shelters they run, the services they provide are constant reminders of a state that has failed its people. The Edhi Foundation is the closest to a social security net that a poor man in Pakistan has. That safety net has been broken, while our government has stood by — a silent, pathetic and useless spectator.
On the day that the robbers entered Edhi sahib’s residence, we, as a nation, were robbed thrice. The first time when our taxes (present, past or future) paid for the salaries of an entire crowd of civil administrators, the police included, who obviously are not doing their jobs; the second time when the robbers snatched the money that you, I and hundreds of others, had donated to the Edhi Foundation to provide the very same humanitarian services that we found the civil administration unable and unwilling to perform; and finally, the third time will be the day when (I suspect) the civil administration — to publicly and visibly compensate the foundation for the loss it suffered — will announce reimbursement, from our own taxes, the monies lost. Such compensation must come, I agree, but why should it not come by firing the abundant government officials, police officers and ministers who are obviously not performing their duties.
Organisations like the Edhi Foundation can try to fill the vacuum left by our governments, but even they need some basic level of governance to exist for them to carry out their functions. Where is the sense of accountability that goes hand in hand with the power that we have vested in our administration?
In a strange way, the incident serves to highlight what ails Pakistan — all pretences of governance have broken down, and the response elicited is nothing but apathy. The government took the incident in its stride — notching it proudly next to the many other badges of incompetence it shamelessly wears, and we, the governed, shrugged our collective shoulders with indifference.
A wise man once said that what you allow is what will continue. Can we muster the courage to put an end to this apathy? Can the affront to Edhi sahib and his work be the inspiration for more demanding civic engagement on our part, where we begin to hold our government’s feet to the fire? Can we do that — not only for Edhi sahib’s sake, but for the sake of our future generations? If yes, there may yet be a silver lining to what transpired. Maybe in the strange ways that divine intervention works, that could be the ultimate and definitive gift from Edhi sahib to the Pakistan that he clearly and dearly loves.
Published in The Express Tribune, November 4th, 2014.
In return, for years, the people of Karachi have showered Edhi sahib and the foundation that carries his name, with respect, deference, admiration and gratitude. We might fume in anger at road blockades for VIP movement, but we stop ungrudgingly at the sight of an Edhi ambulance. We opened our hearts and wallets to support his foundation and the remarkable work that it did. In a country bereft of role models for civic leadership, public service and selfless devotion to the people, Edhi sahib stood out. If Pakistan had someone like Edhi, it was said, it must surely be a sign that Allah had not given up on us — yet.
That is probably why the news that Edhi sahib was robbed at gunpoint came as a shock to many. As many asked, have we stooped so low as a society that one of us could rob a saint? After all, even thugs and hoodlums have some morals, don’t they?
Angry, hurt and disappointed as we may be, can we, however, pause for a moment to reflect? One cannot condemn the robbery enough, but are the perpetrators the only ones responsible for what happened? After all, every country across the world has ‘criminal elements’, but society entrusts the responsibility of protecting its lives, families and properties from them in the hands of its government. While we express fury at the depravity of the robbers, can we reserve some of our outrage for the law enforcers who have completely failed us? Why are we not indignant at the complete breakdown of the civil administration in which such crimes have become a regular occurrence? Why are we not livid at the police that allows — through their incompetence and callousness — a sense of lawlessness to continue unchecked and unpunished?
Remember that Edhi sahib’s work, and his organisation itself, emerged to fill a vacuum left by the inability of the government to provide basic services to its citizens in times of need. The ambulances they run, the hospices they manage, the shelters they run, the services they provide are constant reminders of a state that has failed its people. The Edhi Foundation is the closest to a social security net that a poor man in Pakistan has. That safety net has been broken, while our government has stood by — a silent, pathetic and useless spectator.
On the day that the robbers entered Edhi sahib’s residence, we, as a nation, were robbed thrice. The first time when our taxes (present, past or future) paid for the salaries of an entire crowd of civil administrators, the police included, who obviously are not doing their jobs; the second time when the robbers snatched the money that you, I and hundreds of others, had donated to the Edhi Foundation to provide the very same humanitarian services that we found the civil administration unable and unwilling to perform; and finally, the third time will be the day when (I suspect) the civil administration — to publicly and visibly compensate the foundation for the loss it suffered — will announce reimbursement, from our own taxes, the monies lost. Such compensation must come, I agree, but why should it not come by firing the abundant government officials, police officers and ministers who are obviously not performing their duties.
Organisations like the Edhi Foundation can try to fill the vacuum left by our governments, but even they need some basic level of governance to exist for them to carry out their functions. Where is the sense of accountability that goes hand in hand with the power that we have vested in our administration?
In a strange way, the incident serves to highlight what ails Pakistan — all pretences of governance have broken down, and the response elicited is nothing but apathy. The government took the incident in its stride — notching it proudly next to the many other badges of incompetence it shamelessly wears, and we, the governed, shrugged our collective shoulders with indifference.
A wise man once said that what you allow is what will continue. Can we muster the courage to put an end to this apathy? Can the affront to Edhi sahib and his work be the inspiration for more demanding civic engagement on our part, where we begin to hold our government’s feet to the fire? Can we do that — not only for Edhi sahib’s sake, but for the sake of our future generations? If yes, there may yet be a silver lining to what transpired. Maybe in the strange ways that divine intervention works, that could be the ultimate and definitive gift from Edhi sahib to the Pakistan that he clearly and dearly loves.
Published in The Express Tribune, November 4th, 2014.