Journalist
On August 16, 2021, the Taliban captured Kabul just a day prior. The last stage of the US military's withdrawal was still in progress. At Hamid Karzai International Airport, events transpired that day which appeared to challenge any straightforward characterization of disorder.
The world is deeply unsettled. Everywhere, the drums of war are beating, the balance of power is shifting, and old maps are being redrawn. Maps, too, have a silent language. In times of peace, a desert, a mountain range or a landlocked region may appear to be little more than coloured patches on a page. But when war breaks out, their value is reassessed. A port is no longer merely a port; a railway becomes a strategic asset; a strait becomes a vital artery for global energy supplies; and a neighbouring country can suddenly become a market, a corridor or a security buffer.
Vast in size but calm by nature. Seen from afar, the Indian Ocean may appear that way. Blue waters. Long maritime routes. Rows of commercial vessels. But over the past decade, the picture has changed. Major construction projects have begun across the ocean. Deep-sea ports in some places. Long runways in others. Military bases elsewhere.
In the official narrative of Pakistan, the term "peace" is associated with a troubling history. Elections occur, parliament convenes, and prime ministers are sworn in; however, alongside political authority looms an unseen presence—the military chief of the country, whose sway often surpasses that of the elected prime minister. When political ties between the central government and a peripheral region deteriorate, the discourse of dialogue is swiftly supplanted by the discourse of security.
A state possesses firearms, which is a natural occurrence. These firearms are accompanied by regulations, uniforms, a hierarchy of command, and, ideally, a system of accountability. Police conduct can be scrutinized for misconduct, military actions can be subject to discussion, and a government's security strategies can be contested in legislative bodies or judicial courts.
The desert burned beneath a blazing mid-summer sun. It hung overhead like an enormous ball of fire, as though it could scorch everything in sight into ashes. In every direction stretched endless grey sand, shimmering under the relentless heat. There were no trees, no shade, no homes—nothing to suggest that life had ever existed there. Far ahead, a glimmer on the horizon promised water. But the closer one walked, the clearer it became that it was nothing more than another trick of the desert, another ribbon of sand masquerading as hope.