Adil Najam
I blog from Islamabad airport.
My flight to Karachi has been delayed, which means that my first meeting of the day will have to be canceled. But that is not what weighs heavy on my mind. What worries me today is all the talk of violence of one kind or another that seems to be all I have been hearing around me. My blood pressure seems to always sit on edge, but all the more so when all anyone can seem to talk about is violence.
The latest, of course, is the carefully leaked story about the attempted assassination plot of Gen. Musharraf by Sheikh Omar, the killer of journalist Daniel Pearl. Beyond relief that the plot was a failure, I do not wish to comment on this story. I have no reason to believe that the story is false, but it smells – no, stinks – so much of a planted leak that I would rather not give much more satisfaction to the “planters” than I already have.
Much more than that I worry about all the jingoism and and chest-beating I have been dished out on the “war clouds” with India.
Was is a horrible thing. And war with India would be very horrible, indeed. But I worry less about that because I do not think there will be war. This hype seems manufactured by TV talk show hosts on both sides of the border who seem to be having great fun (yes, I use the word advisedly) with their chest beating and naara baazi. What does worry me, however, is the fact that we are all so worked up about a war that is not happening and unlikely to happen, but so very content with the wars that are real, ongoing and killing Pakistanis every day. Everyone seems ready to thump their chests in hollow patriotism about the the tensions with India on the Eastern front, while the drones continue to pound our Western flank. Even more than that the Taliban’s war against Pakistan rages strong as ever. Nearly 2000 Pakistanis have been killed in in real war against Paksitan already, andonly this year. Why, I wonder why, are the real deaths of real Pakistanis ignored while foretold threats of the future amuse our sensibilities?
But this, too, has become routine. Denial it may be, but we can learn to tune out the noise.
What I cannot tune out right now is the noise around me earlier today as I entered the airport here in Islamabad. Its Hajj season so the place was teeming with people as the ‘welcoming delegations’ descended on the airport along with the returning Hajis. As I rushed in, a person a few feet from me brushed into another. Before one knew what had happened, they were exchanging punches. Not only them, but now three others were involved in what seemed to be a growing fistfight over nothing with most of the punches hitting the bystanders.
Naive that I am, I tried to break the fighting parties apart and ask for calm. In the process I got a few punches on myself, but more importantly I realized that everyone – including the growing throng of spectators – was now more mad at me for trying to break up the fight than at any of the fighters! And I thought that such reaction to those talking of peace happens only on blogs!
As I picked up by bags (and now aching shoulder) I wondered if maybe this ‘small’ and ‘individual’ violence in society is therapeutic. Maybe it is a way to deal with the larger insecurities and institutional violence around us. Or, maybe just maybe, it is systemic – an emblem of the larger violence within all of us. I certainly hope it is not the later. My faith in the goodness of ordinary people remains firm. But I wonder what all the violence and talk of violence around us is doing to us!
And, so, I sit here at the departure lounge. They just announced that my plane that had earlier been delayed two hours, is now delayed another two hours. The guy next to me announces that he is fried! So are the meetings that I was going to Karachi for. But that is not what gives me heartache right now. Yes, my shoulder still hurts from the punches I got. But what hurts much more and much more deeply in my head as well as my heart is the reminder that the violence we live with is not just in the headlines. The violence is all around us. Maybe, even within us.
Dr Najam, your response to violence is the right one and I am sorry to say Mr. Zuberi’s is the wrong one. When we see violence we should do what you did, respond to it in peace even if that means getting whacked on the shoulder. Unfortunately too many people run away from violence or ignore it. That is no solution. Well done Sir. I hope more people do the same.
Dear Dr. Najam, I am also hoping to listen to you at T2F tonight. I do hope you will make it finally despite these delays and I look forward to your presentation.
Adil, I was planning on listening to you at the T2F this evening. That is beginning to look doubtful.
Bilal, things aren’t as bad in Pakistan or Karachi as you may think living overseas. Yes law and order has deteriorated and the economy is in bad shape but asking your parents to see you in Dubai rather than your coming to see them seems a bit extreme
your heartfelt and sincere words speak for all decent Pakistanis. If we do not speak against violence then who will?
Adil: It truly hurts to realize how violent our society has become, and how at odds with decency our own behavior has become as a nation. Have we really lost our bearing? I also only hear of violence and fear when I talk to Pakistanis. There is anger, fear, and a hysteria brewing within the society that is decaying creativity and enthusiasm for life. How will our Iqbals and Jinnahs of the future grow up in such circumstances?
I have decided not to visit Pakistan this December. Instead I am headed to Dubai, and have asked my parents to come meet me there. My reasons are few: I am scared to take my 6 week old baby to Karachi. Is she safe on the streets where cellphones are being snatched at gunpoint? Is she safe in hotels that are being blown up? Is she safe at home when several houses in my neighborhood have been subject to dacoities in just the past few months?
Yes, maybe I could create a cocoon around her for a few days in some secluded, rich part of the city, but that is not the life I lived, and that is not the life I want my daughter to see and live. I hope my feelings are transient and so are the current troubles of my city and my country. But it is becoming difficult to see light at the end of the tunnel.
Hope your shoulder feels better.