Dawn Editorials (with Summary and Vocabulary)

 

DAWN EDITORIALS

February 2, 2024 (Friday)

Day’s Vocabulary

  • Rudimentary.      involving or limited to basic principles
  • Caricature. make or give a comically or grotesquely exaggerated representation of (someone or something)
  • Moorings.  a place where a boat or ship is moored
  • Praxis.         practice, as distinguished from theory
  • Bastion.      an institution, place, or person strongly defending or upholding particular principles, attitudes, or activities
  • Baffled.       totally bewilder or perplex
  • Sundry.       various items not important enough to be mentioned individually
  • Ubiquity.    the fact of appearing everywhere or of being very common
  • Accolades.  an award or privilege granted as a special honor or as an acknowledgment of merit
  • Caveat.        a warning or proviso of specific stipulations, conditions, or limitations
  • Grime.          dirt ingrained on the surface of something
  • Incessant.  (of something regarded as unpleasant) continuing without pause or interruption
  • Despoliation.       the action of despoiling or the condition of being despoiled; plunder
  • Ghettoised.            put in or restrict to an isolated or segregated place, group, or situation

Education and manifestos

Summary

  • Education spending: All major parties promise to increase spending to 4-5% of GDP (currently below 2%), but this seems unrealistic given Pakistan's economic situation.
  • Right to education: Only the PPP explicitly mentions implementing Article 25A, guaranteeing free and compulsory education.
  • Curriculum: The PTI moved away from a single curriculum but JI wants a uniform system with Islamic and Pakistani ideology at the core, raising concerns about further religious influence.
  • Public-private partnerships: All parties except JI see them as a tool for improvement, but there are concerns about potential privatization and avoiding government responsibility.
  • Higher education: Both PTI and PPP promise a university in each district, raising questions about quality over quantity and existing unemployment among graduates.
  • Overall: The manifestos offer little hope for significant improvement in education. Most initiatives mentioned have already been tried with limited success, and key issues like Article 25A implementation are ignored by most parties.

Article

DO party manifestos show intentions? Going by past record, they do not. Hardly ever have parties adhered to manifestos. But manifestos do show what parties want the people to know or think about their intentions.

Should party manifestos be judged on the basis of what is being promised or should there be some assessment of whether or not the promises are realistic and what plans, however rudimentary, have been shared about how promises will be fulfilled?

If we go with promises alone, a party with no intention of fulfilling them can promise the moon in their manifesto. If realism is the test, the more realistic plans will look too modest compared to those promising the moon. The best option seems to be to have some idea of what the promises are, while keeping in mind our current position, and examining the ways parties are suggesting for fulfilling their promises. Since worked-out plans are not shared in manifestos, it remains a bit of a guessing game.

I had the opportunity to look at the education sections of the manifestos of four political parties: the PML-NPTIPPP and the Jamaat-i-Islami (JI).

All four have promised they will raise government expenditure on education to four to five per cent of GDP. Current government expenditure is well below 2pc of GDP. So, all of them are promising at least a 100pc increase in education expenditure. Four per cent of GDP is what is usually recommended as minimum expenditure on education that countries should commit to.

But we have never really gone above 2pc, despite many manifestos promising this in the past as well. When the country raises only about 9-10pc of GDP in taxes, how can education spending reach 4pc? Are all parties just parroting what they are expected to say about education expenditure? Seems to be more than a possibility.

The promise to raise education expenditure to 4-5pc of GDP is an old one.

The PPP seems to be the only one that has given some thought to the implementation of the right to education. The say they will ‘implement Article 25A of the Constitution in letter and spirit’. And they do talk about ensuring that a primary school can be reached within 30 minutes and secondary school within 60 by every child (however, one is not clear if this is the walking distance or distance travelled by other means).

The PML-N manifesto is disappointing. It does not talk of 25A; it just mentions that it will expand a lot of its initiatives from the Punjab 2013-2018 period including scholarship schemes, Daanish schools and public-private partnerships.

It is good to see the PTI move away from its insistence on having a ‘single’ curriculum to a ‘common core’ syllabus. They also mention midday meals and free textbooks. But there is no discussion of 25A.

JI’s manifesto is quite elaborate but the most disturbing as well. They do say they want education to be for all but they also say they will have a uniform system of education for everyone. They do not elaborate on what this means.

They want education to be a federal responsibility and not a provincial subject. They want to put Islamic and Pakistani ideology at the centre of our curriculum and want to ensure that all education is in accordance with the requirements of the Quran and Sunnah. They promise to do away with co-education.

Islamiat and Pakistan Studies are already compulsory subjects. The PTI’s last government added a lot of new content to these subjects. The Single National Curriculum added religious material to the curricula of other subjects such as English and Urdu. Nazara Quranic recitation was made compulsory. For higher grades, the teaching of the Quran with translation was also added.

What more does JI want? How do we make education more Islamic and Pakistani? There are many educationists who say that we have already turned mainstream schools into madressahs.

For higher education, it is all about more universities. The PTI and PPP promise a university in each district. There is, again, no discussion on how this is the best way to serve the cause of higher education. We already have 250-odd universities in the country and a fairly high unemployment rate amongst educated youth. Should improving the quality of existing institutions not be a priority, instead? And if expansions are needed, many of the 250 institutions can expand readily; why are brick-and-mortar commitments so important?

On the whole, the manifestos are a disappointment. The promise to raise education expenditure to 4-5pc of GDP is an old one and has never been implemented. Given our current economic situation, it seems unlikely that any government will be able to do that in the foreseeable future.

All parties, other than JI, mention they will use public-private partnerships more extensively for improving educational access and the quality of provision.

This is one area that requires more attention and we have had some success here (the Punjab Education Foundation, Sindh Education Foundation), but there are also fears that such partnerships might be used by the government to avoid its responsibilities in education provision and/ or to introduce privatisation under the guise of partnership. Parties will need to remain vigilant against these dangers.

There is no real commitment to implementing Article 25A other than by the PPP and JI. The PPP is the only party that makes the commitment explicit. Most of the initiatives mentioned in the manifestos of the PML-N, PTI and PPP are from their respective stints in government. But those initiatives did not do a whole lot for education access or quality improvement even then. How will they do better now?

If these manifestos represent the best thinking of these parties on education issues and proposed solutions, education will remain a neglected area and 26 million children will continue to stay out of schools and the majority of children who are in schools in Pakistan will continue to get poor-quality education.

No longer the periphery

Summary

Shifting Power Dynamics in Pakistan:

  • Marginalized communities: Balochistan and Gilgit-Baltistan, traditionally seen as peripheral regions, are challenging the dominance of the center (Punjab and Islamabad) through protests and activism.
  • Women's leadership: Baloch women, especially, are emerging as vocal leaders demanding justice and accountability for disappearances and other human rights abuses.
  • From margins to mainstream: Local grievances are gaining national attention, disrupting the complacency of the political center.

Examples of Challenges:

  • Balochistan: Protest movements against disappearances, underdevelopment, and lack of economic opportunities.
  • Gilgit-Baltistan: Sit-in against withdrawal of wheat subsidy and imposition of taxes, highlighting marginalization and neglect.

Wider Implications:

  • Redefining center and periphery: Traditional notions of power dynamics are being challenged by voices from the margins.
  • Social and political change: Indigenous ideas and experiences are forcing a re-evaluation of dominant narratives.
  • Growing dissent: The comfortable center is being confronted by demands for justice and equality from oppressed communities.

Article

OVER recent decades, in social and political theory, the notions of ‘core’ or centre, and ‘periphery’ have been challenged and completely upended.

In earlier social science, especially under the hegemony of colonial writings, which morphed into what scholars termed as ‘orientalism’, centre or core, and periphery mattered, primarily to emphasise dominance based largely on racial and religious caricature.

The ‘centre’ was always London or Paris, when it came to British or French imperialism, and the colonies were, literally, the peripheries, inconsequential to how they perceived themselves to be, marginalised. The entire structure of colonialism is based on this lie.

Subsequently, later in social theory, notions of democracy, liberalism, religious and other practices, were also put into a comparative frame of ‘real’ or ‘authentic’ practices (of the West, developed countries), contrasted with more localised, indigenous or evolutionary practices in other parts of the world, away from whatever was considered the core at any particular time. At times, such a core or centre was a physical location, at others an ideology, or a practice or particular way of doing something.

In Pakistan too, this notion of centre/ core and periphery, has had both locational and ideological moorings, the dur-daraz ilaqay, both in terms of where they are and how ‘backward’ they are considered to be. However, the politics of agitation, protest and resistance is reorienting and refocusing such notions completely, overturning outmoded concepts, bringing the periphery right onto the central platform.

Today, both Balochistan and Gilgit-Baltistan, considered to be marginalised, peripheral, ‘out there’, ‘backward’ locations, are rewriting a politics which is taking centre stage and undermining the centre. The periphery speaks truth to power.

The voices of the oppressed people are now increasingly being heard, and the oppressed are finding supporters among those who reside in the locales of power.

Protest movements in both regions, Balochistan and Gilgit-Baltistan, both of a very different nature, in terms of locale as well as demands, are countering the centre from where such concerns originate.

Whether it is the disappeared Baloch or the wilful underdevelopment of both regions, the so-called peripheries are drawing the entire country’s imagination away from their own regions towards the heartland. The Baloch Yakjehti Committee literally walked its way into the heart of Islamabad from supposedly faraway Balochistan and housed itself there for many days, despite the severe cold and the treatment meted out to all those who camped in Islamabad, almost all of them women and children.

Even the cruellest form of inhospitality and violence towards those who gathered did not result in their resistance coming undone. Moreover, a triumphant return to the centre of their homeland, in the form of a massive jalsa in Quetta, seen by thousands live and later, underscores how one cannot ignore the so-called peripheries.

The Gilgit-Baltistan sit-in, too, related to issues which emanate from the centre, Islamabad, such as the withdrawal on wheat subsidy or the imposition of taxes, has lasted a month in temperatures which are often sub-zero. The sit-in has moved towards a complete shutter-down strike and closure, with little public transport and protests all over the region.

As is clear to all, the protest by the people of Gilgit-Baltistan is not simply about the price of flour, but is enveloped in many years of marginalisation and neglect emanating from the centre, including the need to recognise the basic constitutional rights of the people of the region. Also similar to Balochistan is the grievance that locals are denied opportunities for employment or economic growth.

It is not just the Baloch or the people of Gilgit-Baltistan who have come to challenge the hegemony and dominance of the centre, of Punjab and Islamabad; importantly and most noticeably, it has been the women, especially from Balochistan, who have emerged as leaders and spokeswomen asking difficult questions and demanding answers from the powers responsible for those who are being disappeared or silenced.

Balochistan is the least developed province of a country which is fast under-developing and losing its economic and social position amongst comparable countries which have now all moved ahead.

Women in general in Pakistan and especially in Balochistan are considered the least ‘educated’ and most ‘traditional’, marginal to all praxis and politics, yet it is the very same women who have led the cause in Islamabad. The myth of the silent, depoliticised woman has been overturned by the supposedly peripheral and expendable Baloch woman.

At a time when a pale and unexciting general election is taking place in the heartland of Pakistan, it is voices coming from the responses to Dr Mahrang Baloch’s rally in Quetta, which have become the voices of all the people in Pakistan. Even from the periphery’s periphery — Turbat — from where the protest march originated following the extrajudicial killing of Balaach Mola Bakhsh attributed to the Counter-Terrorism Department, the bastion of power and privilege in Pakistan, Islamabad, has been awakened by calls from marchers 1,000 miles away. Demands for justice and retribution spoken softly at first, from the inconsequential margins of power, have become much louder in the bastions of power.

Just as social and political theory has been forced to surrender to the hegemony and dominance of the so-called norm, which was always conceived in an imagined and imperious centre, after being challenged by indigenous ideas from indigenous people, so too, the dominant ideas and practices from the centre in countries are being challenged by those supposedly on the margins. The voices of the marginalised and oppressed people of Pakistan are now increasingly being heard, and the oppressed are finding supporters and sympathisers among those who reside in locales of power.

The complacent, secure and comfortable centre in Pakistan — of politics, privilege and policy — is being overturned by those who have been marginalised, oppressed and underprivileged, from the furthest regions in the furthest peripheries of the country, as their voices now increasingly become mainstream.

Why suffering?

Summary

  • The question of suffering: The article explores the age-old question of why suffering exists, particularly in a world created by a benevolent God.
  • Different perspectives: It examines various perspectives on suffering, including religious explanations (test of faith, consequence of actions), philosophical views (necessary for growth, understanding), and personal reflections.
  • Finding meaning: The author acknowledges the difficulty of finding meaning in suffering while experiencing it but suggests accepting it as part of the human experience and focusing on our response to it.
  • Islamic perspective: The article draws on Islamic teachings, highlighting that everyone faces challenges and our limits are respected during such tests. It emphasizes finding grace and resilience in dealing with suffering.
  • Key point: Ultimately, the article suggests that the question of "why" might not be as important as how we approach and endure suffering in our lives.

Article

A STILLBIRTH. A toddler diagnosed with Down syndrome. A teenage case of leukaemia. A rare blood disorder in the 30s. Cancer with a single-digit survival rate in the 40s. Death at wholesale rate in a territory — as if collective suffering somehow makes it easier to bear the burden than individual loss. We are surrounded and baffled by suffering. And what follows then is the biggest question of them all: why me? And why this hardship?

But the question that has confounded theologians and philosophers since the inception of humanity is even more fundamental: why does suffering even exist in a world designed by a kind and benevolent God?

Christianity sees suffering as a consequence of the ‘disobedience’ of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. Islam and Judaism proclaim suffering to be a test of faith from God. Buddhism declares dukkha, a result of material attachment, while Hinduism’s karma implies one’s current suffering as an aftermath of their actions in previous lives.

Some philosophers argue that suffering is a necessary part of human existence, fostering empathy, personal growth, or moral development. Others opine that suffering is a necessary consequence of free will or that it plays a role in the greater good.

Some say that suffering is a necessary part of human existence.

In Man’s Search for Meaning, psychiatrist Viktor Frankl provides a thoughtful analogy. He asks whether an ape being punctured repeatedly to develop a vaccine would ever be able to grasp the meaning of its suffering. The obvious answer is it would not; with its limited intelligence, it could not enter the world of man — which is the only world in which the meaning of its suffering would be understandable. He then follows up with a rhetorical question about humans. Can we really understand the reason and the meaning of our suffering while being part of this material world? “Is it not conceivable that there is still another dimension; a world in which the question of an ultimate meaning of human suffering would find an answer?”he asks.

Interesting, one thinks, but a grand argument does not ease the pain or dilute my misery. And then comes the backup argument — you are not alone! The list of beings afflicted by grief is led by our prophets. And then there are all and sundry, everyone with a story of their own. The variety and the ubiquity still do not relieve one’s agony, but maybe they make it more digestible on the accord of it being somewhat democratic. Here is how I try to wrap my head around it.

Everyone must get through it (Quran 2:155, 2:214, 29:2). This is just by design, the way this universe is programmed. If we think someone is spared and they have it all good in every sense, it is more our ignorance than the absence of suffering.

Nobody will have it more than one could bear (Quran 2:286). While everyone is unique and our sufferings appear unbearable, in the grand factory of this world, we are not much different than pieces of metal coming out of a foundry stamped with their unique tensile and yield strengths.

The Designer knows our limits, and those limits are respected when we are put under these harsh tests.

Every situation is a test. This world around us is a test. Sometimes, the test is of gratitude, and other times the test is of fortitude (Quran 27:40). We feel the burn of the hard situations, but we do not feel the blush of the good times.

If we think we do not deserve such a burdensome test, that is, perhaps, quite true. The Quran says that “if Allah were to impose blame on the people for what they have ear­n­­ed, He would not le­­ave upon earth any creature” (35:45). We are most likely getting much less than we truly deserve.

Our grace in how we deal with it will get us the accolades we need for the later parts of your story (Quran 2:156-157, 2:177). The sufferings of our prophets all had a good ending. But that exactly is the caveat. They graced their sufferings with perseverance, resilience, and patience, which in turn was rewarded by the Lord.

Now, does this answer all the questions for me? Maybe not. But perhaps these are not the questions we ought to answer. The question for us is to identify what our test is as we breathe the current breath. Is it the security of our four walls and the roof we shelter under, or the guaranteed next meal?

Or is our test the misfortune that is choking our airways, the one that we did not foresee, and that we feel we did not deserve? The short answer is: all of the above. And our attitude in dealing with them will determine if we are truly worthy of these tests.

Grim Islamabad

Summary

Islamabad's problems:

  • Growing inequality: Wealthy elite enjoy prosperity while working class lacks basic necessities like clean water and public transport.
  • Environmental degradation: Uncontrolled development and land grabbing harm the ecosystem, with smog becoming a major concern.
  • Lack of democracy: No strong local government, with elite capturing power and ignoring needs of the majority.
  • Marginalization of migrants: Working-class migrants from other regions face discrimination and harsh living conditions.

Future outlook:

  • Discontent rising: Frustration among Baloch, Pashtun, Sindhi, and young people intensifies, potentially leading to social unrest.
  • Unsustainable development: Current trajectory threatens the well-being of future generations.
  • Need for change: Progressive political movements offer hope for a more just and sustainable Islamabad.

Additional notes:

  • The article criticizes the CDA, the city's administrative body, for prioritizing profit over مردم (common people).
  • The recent killing of a political activist in Bajaur highlights the challenges faced by marginalized groups.
  • The writer emphasizes the need for democratic reforms and inclusive development to prevent further decline.

Article

SIXTY years after it was created, Islamabad is still said to be 10 kilometres from Pakistan proper, an oasis of greenery, prosperity and technocracy insulated from the grime, poverty and chaos of the rest of the country. The city’s administrative and propertied elite alike indulgently call it Islamabad the beautiful.

It certainly is — or perhaps it is more accurate to now say, was — a pretty city. For the past few weeks, the Margalla Hills within which the metropole nests have been barely visible, a low-hanging and thick cloud of smog generating debate amongst the chattering classes whether the capital is now beating Lahore, Karachi and Peshawar in the AQI stakes.

Once known for its trees and quiet, Islamabad is increasingly the site of incessant road and real estate-related construction. The city has expanded at exponential rates, the Capital Development Authority (CDA) making billions from land auctions whilst dispossessing historical villages. Gated housing schemes are all you see for miles in suburban geographies, and purchasing a motor vehicle is the only way to get from one end of the metropolis to the other.

Since the turn of the millennium, Islamabad’s population has tripled from approximately 800,000 to 2.5 million. The majority of those who have migrated into the capital are young and working class. There are low-caste workers from villages in central Punjab and the Seraiki Wasaib, Pakhtuns who have fled their homes due to the ‘war on terror’, and any number of Baloch, Sindhi, Gilgit-Baltistani and other young people who have come to study or find jobs.

There is no democratic institution that exists in the capital.

There is no public transport for them, while health and education are hostage to the dictates of profit. Potable water is drying up. Those who aspire to white-collar lives survive in rented accommodation, while the wretched of the earth can only find shelter in katchi abadis. This working-class majority is not responsible for destroying the ecosystem — that credit goes to property developers, big contractors and the civil-military oligarchy — but it bears the primary costs of environmental despoliation.

Long before this winter’s smog made clear that Islamabad is headed on a similar trajectory to the rest of metropolitan Pakistan, Islamabad’s working people routinely dealt with violent dispossession from homes and livelihoods. The irony is that katchi abadi dwellers, young students and youth as well as daily wage workers and street vendors face the big stick of the CDA and Islamabad administration in the name of ‘legality’.

Forget the land grabbing and other violations of the law by real estate moguls, propertied classes and khaki-led bureaucratic overlords running the city. There is no democratic institution that exists in the capital, with the sole local government poll in 2016 making almost no dent on the city’s bureaucratic temples. There are three National Assembly seats in the capital and most bourgeois parties put up high-profile candidates with little connection to the city’s working masses — and that is if one doesn’t even account for the farcical nature of the coming (s)election.

Islamabad has certainly grown a reputation for hosting protestors from across Pakistan, but the recent treatment of Baloch women who led a long march into the city clarifies how genuinely democratic voices are treated in what is supposed to be the symbol of the federation.

For all of its narcissism and lack of concern for working people, Islamabad’s — and Rawalpindi’s — parasitic ruling class and those who live on its coattails won’t be able to fully insulate itself from the downward spiral over which it is presiding. The disaffection felt by Baloch, Gilgit-Baltistani, Pakhtun, Sindhi, and so many young politically conscious people both in their home regions and as migrants in the capital is intensifying. The dastardly killing of a political youth leader in Bajaur shows how little changes in the peripheries. In the capital itself, katchi abadi dwellers and rehri-wallahs are still being ghettoised.

Islamabad’s environs are wasting away at the altar of profit and power with no care for the needs of future generations. The tyranny of a socioeconomic order in rural peripheries that forces working people to migrate and massive demographic pressures mean that young people looking for livelihood and dignity will continue to stream into the capital. An ossified administrative centre proudly founded by Gens Yahya Khan and Ayub Khan will continue to benefit from the labour of this mass while grimly refusing to shed its dictatorial essence. Progressive political mobilisation will be the countervailing force and our only hope that Islamabad — and the rest of metropolitan Pakistan — does not become a total graveyard for the working people that make it tick.

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