VIEW: The framework of hope —Anum Raza Hasan

Motivations and initiatives should not be judged on how much or how little they can do. These remain the single most visible sign of a society that is alive

To seek that desired muse of hope on the crossroads of an inferno, perhaps instigates tendencies bordering on delusion and denial. A cold-blooded massacre targeting scores from a faith-based community isolates victims from its own citizenry and yet draws hesitant condemnation buried under a blanket of cowardly escapism. Eyes remain shut to the backstage drama of a suffering nation, distracted by the seduction of an aristocratic culture spelling extravagant couture-clad social engagements and aggressive power politics. The roadside drama of maimed infants and bearded refugees wilting in the despairing grill of the subcontinental heat is blindsided by the serenity and cold of the insides of tinted SUVs. The hunger and destitution of the less privileged is overcome by the shamelessness of cash dispensed for the consumption of imported green leaves and blue cheese at a high-class eatery. Price hikes of basic food supplies turn people suicidal while power and water supply cuts inundate us as civil society resistance, through sit-ins, strikes and demonstrations, is contained by strict police action and elites complaining of extreme inconvenience.

Baring arms for women at public plazas best be considered forbidden as Taliban recruits could strike, but enter the lavish pantheons of elite wedding festivities and the backless glamour on the dance floor can be blinding. Security threats at plush private clubs are overcome by millions of the taxpayer’s money being spent on elite protection so that insecurity looms large and grey over the uncertain fate of the masses. Corporate telecom billboards and luxury brands arrive at city squares to capture the hearts and minds of impressionable youth amidst scanty advertisements to mobilise support for the millions displaced, returning to the still battling northern zone under Taliban siege.

This is a nation tired and betrayed, plagued by agonising disparity, marred by social schizophrenic mayhem. But people of conscience must pause and reflect. The whining blame game becomes disastrously counterproductive if not used for critical self-reflection. Participating in a Rehbar mentoring programme this spring, teaching life skills to high school girls in remote areas of the city under the Citizen’s Foundation, an empowering streak of pro activism urged me to revise my basic lessons of survival. Volunteers were trained to instil in young girls what was called the “thought to destiny” cycle, where thought-formulated habits built character, translating into action that ultimately moulded your destiny. This cycle was diligently applied in various circumstances of the students’ lives to reinforce the two very symbolic ‘victim-creator’ character differentiations: the victim blaming the course of their life on fate or others, while the creator took responsibility for every course and worked hard to transform it to suit their convictions. Pan cameras to the nation’s mood and unfortunately we have allowed the grimness of our surroundings to incarcerate our hope. We have found it easy to point fingers but also ignored where and whom the rest are directing towards. Yes, this place is distraught but remember it is home. Abandoning or embracing it will both have hefty outcomes.

If the current crisis has brought clarity to anything, it has got to be the insignificance of human life as the last bearing of all considerations. I have moved on from gauging the outcome of a conflict convicting our ruler’s incompetence, the media’s biased silence or government’s impotence. It is pointless to tag hopes to entities on self-vested quests for power.

But I see hope in a journalist daring to support a humanitarian mission against apartheid, oppressive regimes, an editor printing secrets of betrayal hurting national interests, a foreign based professor returning to support the Kissan Movement and critical leftist ideologies, an entrepreneur striving to disseminate the gains of micro-finance to the poorest in the social strata, thriving female over-achievers in professional fields uniting to advocate women’s equality and access to equal opportunities in society, activists openly condemning sectarian barbarism in the face of state threats, police and security officials offering their lives to ensure our security, players in the non-profit sector toiling beyond exhaustion to present breakthroughs for possible development solutions, proactive youth facilitating platforms to share and discuss ideas to foster grassroot initiatives, thriving volunteers facilitating access to meal plans and cash coupons to encourage poverty stricken children to come to school, people still working hard to make us laugh amidst an overdose of reasons to cry and, finally, I seek hope in so many unaccounted deeds that radiate the spirit of a nation, of humanity and of basic goodwill and compassion even when there is so little working for us. And I have realised that hope lies in people who chose to speak up and act, who are still concerned about the human cost of crisis and who still have faith in the good bearings of undoing a wrong with a right and not apathy. Hope lies in you and me and not necessarily the people seated at the top.

These motivations and initiatives should not be judged on how much or how little they can do. These remain the single most visible sign of a society that is alive. These remain the single most influential mechanism of civil society activism. Our hope and aspirations for normalcy and even excellence must be stronger than the aspirations of the insurgents to hurt that spirit. A nation that breathes independence at the cost of the largest displacement in human history must not disrespect an honour it received 62 years ago. A nation that has been bereft of its founding principles must not give in when it stands at the crossroads of a critical juncture. This is called resistance! After all, the history of liberty has been the history of resistance.

Social movements and change we read about in history texts, stem from small initiatives and a sensitive mind, even a small word like “why”. I have modest solutions and I know they will work if organised in a collective voice. A meaningful effort is being made at the TEDx Lahore on July 31, where one must sign up to share intellectual stimulation on “collective genius”. It is time we started celebrating and capitalising on what we have and not what we lack. It devolves upon us to allow insurgents, hegemonic players or naysayers to do little to hurt this sentiment.

I understand it is not easy to be hopeful and optimistic in this environment but on this long and strenuous journey of seeking more deserving lives, collective energies, efforts and inspiration will strike. Now the question remains: how passionately do we want this?

Anum Raza Hasan is a freelance journalist and human rights activist with an academic background in International Development. She can be reached at anum.rhasan@gmail.com