PAKISTAN is a bundle of contradictions. We have acquired the latest
technologies in medical fields. But we have failed to keep pace with
these changes. In fact, socially, we have stagnated if not actually
Take the case of organ transplantation, which has made great headway
in the country thanks to the Sindh Institute of Urology and
Transplantation. The institute provides free treatment to nearly 2.6
million patients every year, and performs 350 kidney transplantations
from live-related donors. The SIUT also provides free-of-cost, lifelong
healthcare to the donors as well as the recipients.
Pakistan’s democratic advances and retreats are usually perceived
in terms of a tussle between power-belts: a civilian establishment comprised of
what– post lateral-entry– we may no longer justly call mandarins, enabled by
and facilitating administration and policy for an electorally empowered party
leadership: now called chors and dakkus. (Party activists,
dissidents, and turncoats of lesser stature we could soon be calling raillu
kattas.) In the scales for charge of
the governmental process is the military establishment.
We still term it the khakis.
Notwithstanding the fact that the last military coup was essentially a day-long
airborne drama, those clad in blue and white do not emerge as coup-Caesars.
Perhaps what really matters is what you have on the ground — or the ground
realities of the political field. What
are these and who determines them? Supposedly in the electoral democratic
process the voters. But who enfranchises and disenfranchises?
QAMAR Zaman is the father of an infant boy. He works in Karachi’s
Defence Authority’s Phase 4 Commercial Area. He had just finished his
duty at 6pm on June 10 and had stopped to purchase vegetables for his
wife to cook for dinner, when he was knocked out by a hail of gunshots.
For him everything went black thereafter.
He later learnt that a guard before a mobile shop close by had accidentally pulled the trigger claiming that he did not know that his gun was loaded. He had just received the weapon from his colleague who was going off-duty.
WHY should an official of the US Embassy, representing the Department
of Agriculture, be going overboard to ‘collaborate’ with Pakistan on
projects involving genetically modified maize? This unwanted advice
seems to be seedy business at a time when there is a tug of war taking
place between various lobbies in the agricultural sector.
Even more regrettable is that in the past such dubious overtures by
biotech giants have been extended to too many people whose integrity is
in doubt. Quite a few were elected representatives of the people who
went ahead to change the Seed Act in 2016. The legality of this move has
now been challenged by the farmers in a court of law. The amendments in
the act paved the ground for introducing GM seeds in the country.
Moves are now afoot to win over opinion in the quarters that matter.
This time the target is maize, one of our best food crops next to wheat
and rice. The battleground is in the highest quarters. Pakistan produced
6.1 million tonnes of maize in 2018 showing a yield per hectare of 5MT
(about 2MT per acre). This was 2MT in 2003. The Philippines which
switched over to GM corn in 2003 could increase its yield per hectare
from 2MT to only 3MT in the same period.
battle of tweets we have been witnessing of late, reminds us that we
have certainly come a long way from the style in which diplomacy was
conducted since 1648. That was the year when the Peace of Westphalia
launched the modern secular sovereign state system. It introduced new
guidelines for states in their dealings with one another. They demanded
“accuracy, calm, patience, good temper, modesty” from an ideal diplomat,
as defined by Harold Nicolson, the British diplomat famous for his
books and diaries.
Trump’s twitter page in Washington, DC using a Game of Thrones-styled
montage. In April 2019 the US President tweeted “Game Over” declaring
himself fully vindicated in the investigation into Russian election
meddling and alleged collusion in the 2016 presidential elections.
Asad Ali, a young man in his 20s, has a passion for teaching.
He is a high school graduate and has no teacher’s training degree, but
he has compassion and inborn pedagogic skills that endear him to his
students. His father wanted him to join the army, but Ali preferred his
classroom to the battlefield. If Pakistan had more teachers with his
commitment, the country would be a different place altogether.
Ali would be a failure in the postmodern education system the
Pakistan government is making futile attempts to create for a people
still stuck in the medieval ages. Had Ali managed to adjust to the
prescribed system, his students in Khairo Dero—the village in Sindh
where he lives and works—would be unable to relate to him as they do
THE recently launched report of the National Human Rights
Commission’s Karachi chapter on health as a human right is indeed
timely. The report seeks constitutional changes to make the citizens’
right to health justiciable.
Of great significance is the report’s redefinition of the term
‘healthcare’ which has conventionally been interpreted very narrowly in
Pakistan as providing treatment for the illnesses that afflict people in
the country. Preventive medicine and the social factors leading to
diseases (termed as social determinants of health) are generally ignored
by those managing the health sector. The fact is that healthcare in
Pakistan is dominated by the pharma-driven allopathic medicine.
ADD ‘or commerce?’ to the question in the title. With the examination
season in full swing, to be followed by college admissions a few months
later, this is naturally the question being asked by many young people
aspiring to higher education.
Gone are the days when the choice was more or less evenly spread
across all disciplines, with arts having a slight edge over the others.
Individual aptitude, the job market and the capacity available in
colleges determined the ultimate picture that emerged.
Our ‘education’ — going to school, coming out of home, learning to be
with ‘others’, making and losing friends — might well be the most significant as
well as broadest range of social interaction for an individual in his lifetime.
It prepares and defines the person for non-familial contact and the process of continuous
learning that accompanies life. In that sense education is essentially
KHAIRO Dero, gulan jo sehro/ Sajay dunya jo khair/ Khairo Dero maan
theendo (Khairo Dero, a garland of flowers/ The whole world’s goodness
will/ Start from Khairo Dero. (Nazar Husain Shah)
So sang the devotees of Nazar Husain (fondly called Jabal Shah) when
they performed for me on a hot summer evening in Khairo Dero where I was
on a short visit recently. Nazar Hussain, a Sufi, came to Khairo Dero
from Layyah when he was 14 years old, after he fell into a well and was
rescued. The legend says he received instructions to make Khairo Dero
his home, and his dargah now stands here.