Once a wall goes up, it almost never comes down. The wave of terror that has rippled through Pakistan’s school and higher educational system marks a paradigm shift that threatens to forever alter the calibre of our daily existence.
By reordering our lives around security requirements, we have implicitly accepted that terror is a new aspect of the Pakistani reality, and it’s here to stay.
After implementing all the security recommendations put forth by the government and law-enforcement agencies, our educational institutions will resemble prisons or military check posts, rather than airy and orderly spaces where youngsters are meant to learn, play, act, sing and compete in sports. Indeed, the list of security measures institutions are considering is chilling.
If one institution were to implement every government-recommended security measure, it would have eight-foot-high walls, further fortified with loops of barbed wire; electric gates; metal detectors overseen by armed guards at the entrance; CCTV cameras throughout the campus; armed guards patrolling the roofs by day; and searchlights swooping across the premises by night.
The owners of the school or college would carry special arms licences, as would the guards at the gate. Certain teachers would have training on how to behave if a hostage situation arose, others would be serving as security officers. At the college level, students may also be involved in the security apparatus, comprising a volunteer student task force after receiving police training.
Is this the environment in which Pakistanis want the nation’s school-going children and college students to spend their break time?
In the short-term, financial constraints may prevent some schools and colleges from transforming into Alcatraz-like fortresses. Even posh private institutions are complaining that the costs of hiring guards, investing in security equipment such as metal detectors, and even raising walls are hard to bear. But in the coming months, budgets will be reorganised, some government handouts may come through, parents will happily dish out to ensure their children’s safety, and the anti-terror posture of our educational institutions will be permanently enshrined. No doubt, the present circumstances call for heightened security. But before those walls — and scanners and searchlights and snipers — go up, we should take a moment to remember that such trends are rarely reversed. My parents remember a time when the gates to private homes were left open. I grew up with a chowkidar manning the entrance. My cousins’ children are escorted to school by private security guards. According to the All Pakistan Security Agencies Association, there are now 600 security firms in Pakistan, including 200 that supply over 100,000 guards in Karachi alone. The next generation, it seems, will add snipers to this horrifying list.
Our cities, too, will register the change. Roads will resemble obstacle courses, dotted with blockades and pickets. Sniffing dogs will bark at vehicles, and snap checks will interrupt journeys. Terrifyingly, Chinese scanners with the ability to detect explosive materials are also planned as a permanent fixture of our urban landscapes. These scanners, which are not meant for use in cities, emit harmful amounts of radiation and will pose a serious health hazard to urban populations already battling the ill effects of pollution and sanitation-related diseases.
Many reading this column must be thinking, well, if that’s what it takes to stay safe, so be it. But here’s another way of looking at things: instead of taking steps to cope with the reality of living with terror, why not make every effort to eradicate the root cause of the problem?
The fact is, while walls go up and orders for scanners are placed, the civilian government has done little to stem the spread of militancy. Last week, the Ittehad Tanzeemat-i-Madaris Pakistan (ITMP) announced a shocking 40 per cent increase in enrolment of students at madressahs in the 2008-09 academic year. The ITMP comprises five boards that oversee more than 200,000 madressahs.
Earlier this month, Interior Minister Rehman Malik announced that the government and ITMP had agreed to establish a regulatory authority that would oversee the mainstreaming of madressahs. But the ITMP head declared the announcement premature, saying many details had yet to be worked out. Wouldn’t it make more sense if, rather than call for bolstered security at educational institutions, the government expended time and resources to register, regulate and eventually make redundant the thousands of seminaries in this country?
Similarly, the government has made no effort — beyond platitudes about fairness and transparency — to determine the fate of the thousands of suspected militants currently languishing in our jails. These men are due to be tried according to the amended Anti-Terrorism Act, but little headway in ensuring due process has been made. The way these trials are handled, and the sentences awarded to those convicted, will send a clear message about Pakistan’s stance on terrorism and could help discourage innumerable potential recruits in the future.
In addition to regulating madressahs and trying suspected militants, different government agencies could be charged with identifying which foreign exchange accounts are funnelling funds to the Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan, cracking down on drug trade within Pakistan’s borders, facilitating intelligence-sharing between local law-enforcement agencies, and more.
To be fair, some positive initiatives to address the threat posed by terrorists without fully compromising the integrity of our way of life have been considered. The police force in Islamabad, for example, has floated the idea of organising citizens into vigilance committees that could help law-enforcers maintain law and order while simultaneously building the public’s trust in the authorities. Such initiatives are bound to be more productive than raised walls and radioactive scanners.
It is essential that more such measures as well as multi-pronged strategies towards eradicating militancy are pursued alongside the government’s calls to enhance security at educational institutions. Without balancing the immediate need for security with a strong vision of how to make Pakistan militant-free, our authorities are essentially admitting defeat. They are preparing us for lives that will be scarred by terrorism in the long run.
By reordering our lives around security requirements, we have implicitly accepted that terror is a new aspect of the Pakistani reality, and it’s here to stay.
After implementing all the security recommendations put forth by the government and law-enforcement agencies, our educational institutions will resemble prisons or military check posts, rather than airy and orderly spaces where youngsters are meant to learn, play, act, sing and compete in sports. Indeed, the list of security measures institutions are considering is chilling.
If one institution were to implement every government-recommended security measure, it would have eight-foot-high walls, further fortified with loops of barbed wire; electric gates; metal detectors overseen by armed guards at the entrance; CCTV cameras throughout the campus; armed guards patrolling the roofs by day; and searchlights swooping across the premises by night.
The owners of the school or college would carry special arms licences, as would the guards at the gate. Certain teachers would have training on how to behave if a hostage situation arose, others would be serving as security officers. At the college level, students may also be involved in the security apparatus, comprising a volunteer student task force after receiving police training.
Is this the environment in which Pakistanis want the nation’s school-going children and college students to spend their break time?
In the short-term, financial constraints may prevent some schools and colleges from transforming into Alcatraz-like fortresses. Even posh private institutions are complaining that the costs of hiring guards, investing in security equipment such as metal detectors, and even raising walls are hard to bear. But in the coming months, budgets will be reorganised, some government handouts may come through, parents will happily dish out to ensure their children’s safety, and the anti-terror posture of our educational institutions will be permanently enshrined. No doubt, the present circumstances call for heightened security. But before those walls — and scanners and searchlights and snipers — go up, we should take a moment to remember that such trends are rarely reversed. My parents remember a time when the gates to private homes were left open. I grew up with a chowkidar manning the entrance. My cousins’ children are escorted to school by private security guards. According to the All Pakistan Security Agencies Association, there are now 600 security firms in Pakistan, including 200 that supply over 100,000 guards in Karachi alone. The next generation, it seems, will add snipers to this horrifying list.
Our cities, too, will register the change. Roads will resemble obstacle courses, dotted with blockades and pickets. Sniffing dogs will bark at vehicles, and snap checks will interrupt journeys. Terrifyingly, Chinese scanners with the ability to detect explosive materials are also planned as a permanent fixture of our urban landscapes. These scanners, which are not meant for use in cities, emit harmful amounts of radiation and will pose a serious health hazard to urban populations already battling the ill effects of pollution and sanitation-related diseases.
Many reading this column must be thinking, well, if that’s what it takes to stay safe, so be it. But here’s another way of looking at things: instead of taking steps to cope with the reality of living with terror, why not make every effort to eradicate the root cause of the problem?
The fact is, while walls go up and orders for scanners are placed, the civilian government has done little to stem the spread of militancy. Last week, the Ittehad Tanzeemat-i-Madaris Pakistan (ITMP) announced a shocking 40 per cent increase in enrolment of students at madressahs in the 2008-09 academic year. The ITMP comprises five boards that oversee more than 200,000 madressahs.
Earlier this month, Interior Minister Rehman Malik announced that the government and ITMP had agreed to establish a regulatory authority that would oversee the mainstreaming of madressahs. But the ITMP head declared the announcement premature, saying many details had yet to be worked out. Wouldn’t it make more sense if, rather than call for bolstered security at educational institutions, the government expended time and resources to register, regulate and eventually make redundant the thousands of seminaries in this country?
Similarly, the government has made no effort — beyond platitudes about fairness and transparency — to determine the fate of the thousands of suspected militants currently languishing in our jails. These men are due to be tried according to the amended Anti-Terrorism Act, but little headway in ensuring due process has been made. The way these trials are handled, and the sentences awarded to those convicted, will send a clear message about Pakistan’s stance on terrorism and could help discourage innumerable potential recruits in the future.
In addition to regulating madressahs and trying suspected militants, different government agencies could be charged with identifying which foreign exchange accounts are funnelling funds to the Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan, cracking down on drug trade within Pakistan’s borders, facilitating intelligence-sharing between local law-enforcement agencies, and more.
To be fair, some positive initiatives to address the threat posed by terrorists without fully compromising the integrity of our way of life have been considered. The police force in Islamabad, for example, has floated the idea of organising citizens into vigilance committees that could help law-enforcers maintain law and order while simultaneously building the public’s trust in the authorities. Such initiatives are bound to be more productive than raised walls and radioactive scanners.
It is essential that more such measures as well as multi-pronged strategies towards eradicating militancy are pursued alongside the government’s calls to enhance security at educational institutions. Without balancing the immediate need for security with a strong vision of how to make Pakistan militant-free, our authorities are essentially admitting defeat. They are preparing us for lives that will be scarred by terrorism in the long run.
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