Pakistani society can be Islamic and modern, if it becomes pluralistic and multicultural

Two insurrections pose an existential threat to Pakistan. One is a long-standing guerilla struggle of the Baloch nationalists for their cultural and political rights as well as for the control of the province’s economic resources. The second rebellion is recent in origin but poses a lethal challenge to the Pakistani state. Lead by the Taliban movement known as the Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), its goals are revolutionary: to take over the government and enforce their own version of Islamic Sharia laws. The TTP is intertwined with the Afghan Taliban and has links with Al Qaeda of the global Jihad.

The Taliban have exposed the military’s vulnerability by attacking such high security establishments as the army headquarters, air bases and army garrisons. Their aims extend beyond toppling the government. They have also blown up mosques and shrines of the Islamic sects that do not subscribe to their puritanical beliefs, targeted cinemas, and music stores and girls’ schools to purge ‘corrupt western culture’.

The South Asia Terrorism Portal estimates that 51,585 combatants and non-combatants have been killed since 2003. The military has lost 5,681 soldiers and officers. The injured are in the hundreds of thousands and displaced persons number in the millions. Karachi and Peshawar have suffered particularly from Taliban’s suicide bombs, targeted killings and kidnappings. But other cities have not entirely escaped. Taliban seem to have cells everywhere.

Taliban’s aims extend beyond toppling the government

The state cannot collect taxes from the rich and influential, enforce laws and provide basic services. Electricity outages have crippled industries and made daily life unbearable. Almost one-third of the population lives on less than $1.25 a day. Pakistan has become a country of ‘hollow institutions’ where instruments of a modern state exist in form, but they fail to perform their mandated functions.

The enigma of Pakistan is that its state is imploding but its society is resilient and people entrepreneurial. The society is modernizing fast. Almost 27% of households in the largest province, Punjab, have motorcycles. There are about 100 TV channels and 650 registered newspapers and magazines in Pakistan. About 70 percent of the population has cell phones, filtering down among the poor of this low-income country. The stock exchange has been on a tear, setting new records in prices and trade. Real estate is booming. Cities are choked with traffic.

Fashion shows, literary festivals and music competitions give a cosmopolitan sheen to alistscities of Karachi, Lahore and Islamabad-Rawalpindi. About 12-13 billion dollars are remitted annually by Pakistani expatriates, buoying up the consumer culture. A visitor to Pakistan would be dazzled by the palatial houses and overflowing restaurants. Yet it is a country where death stalks everyday and poverty drives people to suicide. People have become fatalistic in the face of violence and disorder.

Why has Pakistan come to this? Of course there are the usual explanations: political instability, democratic deficit, recurrent military rules, deviation from its ideology, corrupt and poor administration. And then there are theories of blaming others, Indian conspiracies, American perfidy, Jewish hostility, international attempts to neutralize the only Muslim nuclear power and so on. Underlying them are deeper and enduring conditions that have torn Pakistan apart, but are not open to discussion.

Pakistan is besieged by moral and intellectual crises. Its imagined culture is based on ideas and beliefs that offer little guidance for the lived life. Pakistan’s state has continually retreated in the face of the Islamic clergy, thereby yielding to them the authority to forge moral narratives. Pakistan’s ruling elite adopted the strategy of ‘playing along’ with the Mullahs, hoping to appease them politically without facing up to the consequences of their promises. Even the Taliban were initially nurtured by the state as an instrument of Jihad in Indian Kashmir and for maintaining influence in Afghanistan. They are now bringing Jihad home.

Pakistan’s successive constitutions have been documents of contradictory goals. They promise democracy, freedom, equality and social justice, while envisaging bringing laws and social life in line with the requirements of particular interpretations of Islam. Islamic teachings admit of many interpretations, liberal, orthodox, modernist, fundamentalist and sectarian. The authority to interpret Islamic provisions has been conceded to Mullahs and traditionalists. In the contest for the power of agency, the liberal Islam has lost to the fundamentalist certainties of those who have the pulpits.

While the Islamic political parties have repeatedly failed in elections, they captured the universities and shaped the school curriculums in the1960s and 70s. Generations of engineers, doctors, teachers and military men, albeit the educated classes, have grown up on a diet of orthodox Islamic ideas and rituals. The Islamization of personal beliefs stands in contrast with the modernization of lifestyles. Individuals bridge this chasm by rationalizing their own lifestyle as the reflection of the ‘real’ Islam.

The Taliban have grown out of this ideological conundrum. The Islamic political parties and the clergy savor the prospect of the Taliban ushering them to power.

Despite past failed peace agreements, Pakistan’s government is again negotiating with the TTP. Most of the political parties and religious bodies favor peace negotiations. They argue that the Taliban, ‘are our brethren’, why not negotiate with them, as even the US and the Afghan leaders have been courting the Afghan Taliban. The TTP has suddenly become a stakeholder in national affairs. By negotiating with the Taliban, the government has unwittingly changed the political map of Pakistan. Islamic parties and Mullahs have become power brokers by becoming interlocutors for the Taliban.

The state has not protected free speech. Since the 1970s, Islamic student organizations have been allowed to violently repress alternative viewpoints in universities and colleges. Educational curriculums have been turned into indoctrination tools of orthodox religiosity. Over the years Islamic scholars of liberal leanings have been hounded out, while the state stood as a mute witness. General Zia’s regime sanctified these practices. In Pakistan, the state intervenes in religion to support the orthodox narrative.

Presently journalists who express liberal views are attacked. Mullahs issue Fatwas with impunity declaring other sects as apostates liable to be killed. Blasphemy laws have led to mob justice. Christians, Ahmadis, and Hindus as minorities get no protection from the state. The state has surrendered its responsibility to protect people from the zealots’ violence. Self-censorship is the rule for survival.

Pakistani society and state are unsustainable by the extant narratives of the Islamic order. But liberal Islamic ideas and secular narratives have been practically banished. The expediency politics of the ruling classes, both political and military, has suppressed alternative viewpoints.

Pakistan’s society can be Islamic and modern, if it becomes pluralistic and multicultural. To attain that, the state has to forcefully implement the constitutionally promised freedom of thought and expression and provide security for open inquiry. No one should be allowed to threaten others for their views and issue Fatwas of death. Coercive powers should be reserved for the due process of the state.

An article in Friday Times, Pakistan by Prof. Qadeer

Submitted by Sohail Rizvi

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Who Needs God?

An essay by Kenan Malik and shared by Dr. S. Ehtisham.

There are three kinds of arguments that an atheist can make in defence of the insistence that no God exists. First, he or she can argue against the necessity for God. That is, an argument against the claim that God is necessary to explain both the material reality of the world and the values by which we live. Second, he or she can argue against the possibility of God, against the idea that a being such as God is either logically or materially possible. And third, an atheist can argue against the consequences of belief in God. This is the claim that religious belief has pernicious social, political or moral consequences and that the world would be better off without such belief.
Historically, much of the discussion of God has been about the possibility of God. Christian apologetics grew out of the attempt rationally to defend the possibility of God’s existence, while atheists wanted to show that the idea of God made no rational sense. Much of the contemporary debate is about the consequences of religious belief. The so-called New Atheists, in particular, have been scathing in their attack on what they see as the wicked and malevolent social consequences of faith – from the harassment of gays to mass suicide bombings. I, too, am sceptical of the possibilities of God. And, while I do not think, as many do, that faith is, in and of itself, pernicious, I do believe that there are often social and moral problems that arise from religious belief. What I want to concentrate on today, however, is on the first type of argument. And that is because for me, as it is for many other atheists, this is the primary motivation for my atheism – I simply do not see the necessity for God.
There are three kinds of reasons often given for the necessity of God. First, there is the claim that God is necessary to explain Creation and the maintenance of the cosmos. Second, that God is a necessary source of moral values; that without God we would fall into the abyss of moral nihilism. And third, that without belief in God, there can be no purpose or meaning to life.  Let us look at each of these claims in turn.
The Christian idea that God is necessary for the creation and maintenance of the universe can be traced back to pre-Christian, pagan philosophy, to the Greek tradition, and in particular to Aristotle. Aristotle argued for the existence of a First Cause or Uncaused Cause to the universe. The universe, Aristotle argued, is forever in a state of flux.  Behind every change must lie a cause, and indeed a chain of causes, that brings about that change. But such a chain of causes cannot stretch out for ever because it is impossible to have an infinite regress of causes. The first link in the chain, as it were, was what Aristotle called he Unmoved Mover, the prime cause of all change in the cosmos, but which itself was not caused by anything. This Unmoved Mover Aristotle called ‘god’, not as an entity to be worshiped, but as ‘a supreme and eternal living being’, the most powerful, intelligent and beneficent creative force in the cosmos.
This argument, which came into the Christian tradition via the Kalam school of Muslim philosophy, lies at heart of the first three of Thomas Aquinas’ famous ‘Five Ways’ of proving the existence of God. It is often called the cosmological argument, though strictly speaking this  refers only to Aquinas’ third proof, which was so labelled by Kant. The cosmological argument is of this general form:
1 Whatever begins to exist has a cause
2 The universe began to exist
3 Therefore it has a cause
There are many variations of this general argument. For instance, what is often called the contingency argument, states that
1 Whatever exists must have a cause
2 The universe exists
3 Therefore the universe must have a cause

http://kenanmalik.wordpress.com/2012/02/06/who-needs-god/

Ditch the 10,000 hour rule!

 

By  AND 

Obsessive practice isn’t the key to success. Here’s why;

Here’s a study that may surprise you. A group of eight-year-olds practiced tossing beanbags into buckets in gym class. Half of the kids tossed into a bucket three feet away. The other half mixed it up by tossing into buckets two feet and four feet away. After twelve weeks of this they were all tested on tossing into a three-foot bucket. The kids who did the best by far were those who’d practiced on two- and four-foot buckets but never on three-foot buckets.

Why is this? We will come back to the beanbags, but first a little insight into a widely held myth about how we learn.

The Myth of Massed Practice

Most of us believe that learning is better when you go at something with single-minded purpose: the practice-practice-practice that’s supposed to burn a skill into memory. Faith in focused, repetitive practice of one thing at a time until we’ve got it nailed is pervasive among classroom teachers, athletes, corporate trainers, and students. Researchers call this kind of practice “massed,” and our faith rests in large part on the simple fact that when we do it, we can see it making a difference. Nevertheless, despite what our eyes tell us, this faith is misplaced.

If learning can be defined as picking up new knowledge or skills and being able to apply them later, then how quickly you pick something up is only part of the story. Is it still there when you need to use it out in the everyday world? While practicing is vital to learning and memory, studies have shown that practice is far more effective when it’s broken into separate periods of training that are spaced out. The rapid gains produced by massed practice are often evident, but the rapid forgetting that follows is not. Practice that’s spaced out, interleaved with other learning, and varied produces better mastery, longer retention, and more versatility. But these benefits come at a price: when practice is spaced, interleaved, and varied, it requires more effort. You feel the increased effort, but not the benefits the effort produces. Learning feels slower from this kind of practice, and you don’t get the rapid improvements and affirmations you’re accustomed to seeing from massed practice. Even in studies where the participants have shown superior results from spaced learning, they don’t perceive the improvement; they believe they learned better on the material where practice was massed.

Almost everywhere you look, you find examples of massed practice: colleges that offer concentration in a single subject with the promise of fast learning, continuing education seminars for professionals where training is condensed into a single weekend. Cramming for exams is a form of massed practice. It feels like a productive strategy, and it may get you through the next day’s midterm, but most of the material will be long forgotten by the time you sit down for the final. Spacing out your practice feels less productive for the very reason that some forgetting has set in and you’ve got to work harder to recall the concepts. It doesn’t feel like you’re on top of it. What you don’t sense in the moment is that this added effort is making the learning stronger.

Spaced Practice

The benefits of spacing out practice sessions are long established, but for a vivid example consider this study of thirty-eight surgical residents. They took a series of four short lessons in microsurgery: how to reattach tiny vessels. Each lesson included some instruction followed by some practice. Half the docs completed all four lessons in a single day, which is the normal in-service schedule. The others completed the same four lessons but with a week’s interval between them.

Interleaved Practice

Interleaving the practice of two or more subjects or skills is also a more potent alternative to massed practice, and here’s a quick example of that. Two groups of college students were taught how to find the volumes of four obscure geometric solids (wedge, spheroid, spherical cone, and half cone). One group then worked a set of practice problems that were clustered by problem type (practice four problems for computing the volume of a wedge, then four problems for a spheroid, etc.). The other group worked the same practice problems, but the sequence was mixed (interleaved) rather than clustered by type of problem. Given what we’ve already presented, the results may not surprise you. During practice, the students who worked the problems in clusters (that is, massed) averaged 89 percent correct, compared to only 60 percent for those who worked the problems in a mixed sequence. But in the final test a week later, the students who had practiced solving problems clustered by type averaged only 20 percent correct, while the students whose practice was interleaved averaged 63 percent. The mixing of problem types, which boosted final test per for mance by a remarkable 215 percent, actually impeded performance during initial learning.

Varied Practice

Okay, what about the beanbag study where the kids who did best had never practiced the three-foot toss that the other kids had only practiced?

http://www.salon.com/2014/04/20/ditch_the_10000_hour_rule_why_malcolm_gladwells_famous_advice_falls_short/

Does Satisfaction Equals Happiness? By DANIEL M. HAYBRON

What does it mean to be happy?

The answer to this question once seemed obvious to me. To be happy is to be satisfied with your life. If you want to find out how happy someone is, you ask him a question like, “Taking all things together, how satisfied are you with your life as a whole?”

Over the past 30 years or so, as the field of happiness studies has emerged from social psychology, economics and other disciplines, many researchers have had the same thought. Indeed this “life satisfaction” view of happiness lies behind most of the happiness studies you’ve read about. Happiness embodies your judgment about your life, and what matters for your happiness is something for you to decide.

This is an appealing view. But I have come to believe that it is probably wrong. Or at least, it can’t do justice to our everyday concerns about happiness.

I do not mean to suggest that life satisfaction studies can’t give us useful information about how people are doing. But I am suggesting that it is misleading to equate satisfaction with happiness, even if it is perfectly ordinary to talk that way at times.

So how else might we define happiness? There is another approach popular among researchers — one that focuses on feelings. If you feel good, and not bad, you’re happy. Feeling good may not be all that matters, but it certainly sounds like a more suitable candidate for happiness than a judgment that your life is good enough. Evidently, those Egyptians do not feel good, and that has a lot to do with why it seems unnatural to say that they are happy.

But I have come to believe that this approach is also probably wrong. When you look at the way researchers study this kind of happiness, you’ll notice something peculiar: Their questionnaires almost always ask about emotions and mood states, and rarely ask directly about pleasure, pain or suffering. In fact, you might have thought that if happiness researchers were really interested in pleasure and pain, among their queries would be questions aboutpain (“Do you suffer from chronic pain?” and so on). Such pains make a tremendous difference in how pleasant our lives are, yet happiness surveys rarely ask about them

I would suggest that when we talk about happiness, we are actually referring, much of the time, to a complex emotional phenomenon. Call it emotional well-being. Happiness as emotional well-being concerns your emotions and moods, more broadly your emotional condition as a whole. To be happy is to inhabit a favorable emotional state.

On this view, we can think of happiness, loosely, as the opposite of anxiety and depression. Being in good spirits, quick to laugh and slow to anger, at peace and untroubled, confident and comfortable in your own skin, engaged, energetic and full of life. To measure happiness, we might use extended versions of existing questionnaires for anxiety and depression from the mental-health literature. Already, such diagnostics often ask questions about positive states like laughter and cheerfulness, or your ability to enjoy things.

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/04/13/happiness-and-its-discontents/?hp&rref=opinion