This article is part of a series titled “Is there a way forward for Pakistan?” Read more about the series here.
My vision of Pakistan rests on my vision for human dignity. It is not a mere slogan of all lives being important, or the strange mixture of ideology, incorrect history and political expediency that is taught in our curriculum – one that I was also exposed to during my education in Pakistan. What Pakistan needs is a new social contract that puts human dignity at the core of our values, our policies and our progress. Let me illustrate where we stand with a few examples, and how we ought to change things.
Many households, including the one that I grew up in, employed domestic help. Growing up I thought it was normal that there was no contract formalizing their employment. No discussion of the number of hours that a person would work, no idea of overtime, no boundaries between what is acceptable and what is not, and no rights of the worker against abuse. I never saw any physical abuse at my home, but there were many days when the person working in our kitchen would work from well before sunrise to late at night without any real break.
Their demand for leaves was often treated with disdain. There were other households among our social circle where children were routinely employed. Many households in my neighborhood where I grew up, still have children workers. Not all children who are employed as domestic labor are treated well. We often hear reports of violence against child workers, but these incidents go unnoticed.
I am quite certain that the abuse is much more widespread than what reaches the media. Worse, despite the horrifying stories, little structural changes are implemented. On any given day, in the corner of an elite restaurant, we will find maids who will be looking at all the food they can never have while tending to children of the rich.
We have never really priortized human dignity, and this is why the country finds itself in this economic crisis. How we conduct ourselves at our homes, where we exploit the labor, refuse to give them their rights and disregard human dignity is exactly how policymakers act at the national level. This behavior at the national level is often described as elite capture, rent seeking, or exploitation by the powerful because they can get away with it. Our behavior at the micro level captures a similar situation.
The issue of mistreatment of domestic help is just one of the many examples where human dignity does not matter. Lack of human dignity is visible for everyone in our public hospitals and in our courts, where the poor and the weak are considered sub-human. Just as we see a complete disregard for human dignity at the individual or the household level, we see a similar set of sentiments at the very top of our political leadership.
In the not too distant past we have had the President of the country publicly say that women in Pakistan get raped so they can get a foreign visa. A Prime Minister told a grieving minority community that by asking for investigation for a massacre of the community, they were “blackmailing” him. These statements, in many other parts of the world, would have led to swift resignations, but empathy for the weak and a commitment to human dignity is not a required part of the job for our leaders.
The lack of basic respect, and insurmountable barriers to a dignified life, force many to seek a better life abroad. A recent survey conducted by Pakistan Institute of Development Economics (PIDE) showed that more than a third of the country would like to leave Pakistan if they could. While economic outlook was the first reason why people wanted to leave, the second biggest reason was a chance at a dignified living.
This lack of dignity – or any chance of having one in the near future – forces people to take extraordinary risks. In February 2023, a ship carrying migrants who wanted to reach Europe was met with tragedy near the southern coast of Italy. At least 67 people died, and many are still missing. Among those who died was a Pakistani national hockey player, Shahida Raza. Shahida belonged to the minority Hazara community, a group that has seen consistent violence against them by sectarian militants.
Shahida’s family, while confirming her death, told reporters that she wanted a better life for herself and her disabled son. There was no chance for that in Pakistan. Shahida’s story is heartbreaking, but also a reminder that dignity remains out of reach for even those who represent the nation at the global stage.
While there is no rapid solution to address these issues, I do believe that we can start with a three-pronged approach. These three interconnected and mutually dependent dimensions are based on laws (and implementation of those laws), awareness, and education. I am a strong believer in a systems level approach (as opposed to a reductionist or a siloed approach). And while these approaches may be less likely to succeed in silos, they can be more effective when viewed as a collective.
First, we need stronger legal protection for the rights of the weak and the socio-economically marginalized groups in society. We need laws that put human dignity as the foundation of a fair and inclusive society. That is to say that we need more than mere workshops by the ministry of human rights. We need actual laws that protect and preserve the dignity of every person. This, I realize, is not going to be easy. Efforts in the past on issues such as child marriage, or other human rights bills, have failed miserably for a variety of reasons.
Arguments have been made in the name of ideology, customs or “way of life” to derail legitimate efforts to safeguard the rights of the people. Those who demand representation, or speak up against ending injustice or discrimination are often termed as “westernized” or “traitors” working against the moral fabric of society.
Many activists face the real risk of personal harm to themselves or their loved ones. Imagining a situation where rights of domestic help are protected with contracts, or where we demand a greater representation of all sectors of society in academic and state institutions, is going to be met with stiff resistance. Similarly, there is good reason to worry that even existing laws that provide access to services, or protect against injustice, are rarely implemented fairly. Routinely, the custodians of the law (including legislators, members of judiciary or law enforcement agencies) themselves are the worst offenders.
But failure in the past should not be the reason for inaction in the present. There is no question that the law either does not exist to protect human dignity, or if there is one, it remains out of bounds for many. I would therefore argue that the way to tackle the current status quo is to couple efforts in providing a legal framework with the other two pillars: awareness and education.
Let us first examine the awareness argument. The modern interconnected world has given societies and individuals an opportunity to learn and reflect in light of what may be going on elsewhere. Pakistan is no exception. There is an increased awareness about universal values of justice, equity and human dignity, combined with access to social media. While the overall progress in the country has been slow, we do notice an intergenerational change. Communities that were historically isolated now have more people who have been exposed to ideas beyond their own community.
Pakistan needs a new social contract that puts human dignity at the core of our values, policies and progress. We have never really priortized human dignity, and this is part of the reason why the country finds itself in this economic crisis.
We note that even in parts of the society that have remained disconnected from centers of learning and engagement, some members of the next generation are challenging the older customs and arguing for increased education and basic services. Evils of private jails, torture, harassment, and other forms of injustice that have gone on for generations are being challenged from within the families and communities of the perpetrators as well. With this increased awareness, there is increased pressure that the historic practices can no longer continue. What is therefore needed is the continuation of this movement, and the most robust way of sustaining that momentum is through education.
Much has been written and discussed about curriculum reform at the primary and the secondary level. The debate around the Single National Curriculum (SNC) is charged and polarized. But the core argument in favour of a single national curriculum is not to create a sense of empathy, give rights to those who are systematically denied their rights, or to create a national discourse on human dignity. Instead, it is to create a level playing field for all students. There are, of course, legitimate concerns about the quality of instructors, the physical state of the schools, bringing the bar low, and the interference of groups with strong ideological views.
Provinces, in particular Sindh, have raised objections to the single national curriculum effort and have resisted implementing it. While I strongly believe in improving our curriculum, I do not think that SNC would bring a new social contract. I am not arguing that we should give up on improving our curriculum at the primary and the secondary level, but a more profound impact in the short term will come through changes at the higher education level.
I say this for two reasons: first, our universities (especially public universities), despite their many challenges, are still diverse places with students representing many geographic and socio-economic sectors of the society. Discussion and debate about complex social issues, in these diverse environments – both within and outside the classrooms – can lead to awareness, understanding and action. This is unlikely to happen at secondary or primary schools.
Second, university students simply by virtue of the stage in their lives are more likely to participate in civic action. Yet, for this to happen the university structure and our approach to higher education needs to be reimagined. We need to break the silos of our education model. For one, we need a stronger presence of humanities and social sciences in our higher education core. The notion that our scientists and engineers need to only study technical material along with a poorly taught course on English and insipid courses on Pakistan studies is as naïve as it is dangerous. There is a real danger when our students do not get exposure to ideas that come from exposure to history, philosophy, literature and other areas of humanities and social sciences.
Pakistan’s complex social problems require not just scholars in social sciences and humanities, but also doctors, engineers, scientists, economists and technical experts who understand what it takes to build a just, equitable and kind society. That understanding requires serious self-reflection, an analysis of who we are as a people, and a deeper sense of empathy. No society is perfect, but there are plenty where the poor are not considered sub-human, where victims of violence can seek justice without being told that they are blackmailing the state, and where women can march to seek their rights without having to live in a state of permanent fear. Our students need to be exposed to, and debate, the values that underpin such societies. They need to reflect on their own literature and philosophy, and learn from the ideas from outside. They do not need to import all ideas, but having no exposure to them should not be acceptable.
We also need to make sure that our universities do not shut their doors to those who are socioeconomically disadvantaged. A diverse student body is absolutely essential for the university to play its role in creating a fairer society. A more inclusive university requires rethinking about the structure of fees, and having a tiered system that is based on individual capacity to pay. Those who can afford to pay more, should pay more and for those who are financially stressed, should have the ability to attend university despite their modest means. This is particularly true for our professional engineering and medical universities, where the state subsidizes education for everyone, including those who may be affluent and can pay more. As a result, the universities often remain in a financially precarious state, and are unable to improve their infrastructure or pay their employees.
If we are to recreate our social contract, universities need to recognize both the opportunity they offer and their responsibilities. They need to appreciate that few places in society can shape the future. They also need to recognize that this privilege comes with a huge responsibility. The universities should not be the place to indoctrinate students with one set of ideas or another, but a place where complex and controversial issues can be discussed without fear or serious repercussions.
Our universities, by and large, have failed in this effort. Topics from forced disappearances to the 1971 war have remained out of bounds. Religion, history, ethnic tensions and a robust analysis of corruption within the military and judiciary cannot be discussed without a real risk to the institution. A just society – with human dignity at its core – cannot be created or function with a complete disregard of its history.
Enabling environment in the universities is unlikely to survive on its own – and that is why this aspect of the vision will need support from the other two dimensions, of law that protects both speech and against harassment for those who disagree with the state, and an awareness that demands that societies need discussion, debate and dissent.
Too often, the discussion about the future of society is focused on fiscal policies, imports and exports, physical infrastructure and means of production and consumption. Similarly, many have been talking about who gets the biggest portion of the budget and why. All of that is important and critical – but financial prosperity and reform in various sectors have to be grounded in a view that all human lives are equally important and that human dignity is and must remain at the foundation of our policies.
Just because the GDP of a country rises sharply does not automatically mean that it becomes a place where human dignity is prioritized, or where people can expect fair treatment across the board. My vision for Pakistan is not based on some arbitrary number – where we take pride on whether we are first on a particular list or within the top 10 of another. My vision is based on the simple notion that everyone in the country is treated with equality, dignity and fundamental respect.
The writer is the Director of the Center on Forced Displacement, and a Professor of Biomedical Engineering and Global Health, at Boston University
