"Where is the entrance?" he asked me, pointing towards the Parliament House gate near the Presidential Palace. "I feel like going inside and tearing everything apart." (He desired the same fate that later befell the Ghani government in Afghanistan, Hasina in Dhaka, and Bashar al-Assad in Damascus). His rage was intense, yet I couldn’t look into his eyes. He had entered Islamabad with the dream of dismantling the system. He had come from a village in Punjab. It was not the first time that young men like him had been brought to Pakistan’s capital, Islamabad—sometimes as 'Muftis' and sometimes as 'Khakis'—to keep governments of the time "in their place."
What is the concept of the state in the mind of an ordinary villager? What is a state? What are its responsibilities? Can it do, and what can’t it overstep to do? He is completely oblivious to these questions. If a well-dressed Bureaucrat, spoiling his joggers on a muddy path, reaches a remote village in Badin and asks a farmer with a hoe on his shoulder these same questions, the villager will first stare at him with a cold, puzzled smile. The yellow teeth visible between his lips might bore the Bureaucrat. "I don’t understand what you’re saying?" he will respond, unaware of the difference between "you" and "sir," and unfamiliar with the luxury of words.
Whether it is the village landlord or the chieftain, their ‘Kamdaar’ herds them like cattle onto tractor trolleys, sometimes taking them to political rallies and polling stations. Each time, the slogans at the rallies and the marks on the ballot papers are different. They follow instructions blindly. What else is there for them in life? Unaware of this question, they merely seek a plate of beef pulao. If they find this blessing anywhere, they rejoice. For bureaucrat living in big cities, the pictures of this helpless generation may seem captivating, but in reality, their existence remains confined to speeches about their miseries.
He, too, had come from such a village. He had been told that the life he was living was the fault of the Presidential Palace—the very place he had pointed to while asking me the question. This was during the days when the late Mamnoon Hussain, a harmless, powerless, and soft-spoken President, resided in the palace. Imran Khan and Tahir-ul-Qadri had taken over Constitution Avenue. He had reached Islamabad while listening to speeches during the state-backed long march from Lahore to the capital, forming his own opinions. The prolonged sit-in had allowed him to experience Islamabad for the first time.
A defiant generation transforms into a helpless one, becoming fuel for deception, re-emerging repeatedly in new disguises to serve the dominant generation
With unwavering conviction, he declared, "I will not return from D-Chowk without changing this system." But a few days later, when Tahir-ul-Qadri announced that he was heading back to Lahore, he and dozens of other villagers were left bewildered. They had even offered Eid prayers at D-Chowk, worn shrouds, and dug symbolic graves. They were simple folks, earning a daily wage. The game ended; they boarded buses and returned to their villages. Life remained where they had left it—the same sickle, the same village, and the same wait to climb onto a new tractor trolley. His desire to shatter the presidential palace had now vanished from his thoughts.
This is, in reality, the story of powerless generations who fall into the trap of dream merchants in the hope of Defiant. Like many regions in the world, such generations are born in Pakistan, revolve within a cycle, grow old, and die, but they never become defiant. Because the history of betrayal by leaders is older than the leaders themselves. They merely follow in the footsteps of their predecessors, bow before power, and use simple people to safeguard their interests—sometimes turning them into suicide bombers, sometimes into murderers, and sometimes into the murdered. A dfiant generation transforms into a helpless one, becoming fuel for deception, re-emerging repeatedly in new disguises to serve the "dominant generation."
In 1930, American writer Gertrude Stein coined the term "Lost Generation," which later became famous due to Ernest Hemingway’s novel The Sun Also Rises. Since then, different generations have been assigned different names: those born between 1901 and 1927 were called "The Greatest Generation," between 1928 and 1945 "The Silent Generation," post-World War generations "Baby Boomers," between 1981 and 1996 "Generation X," between 1997 and 2012 "Generation Z," and between 2013 and 2025 "Generation Alpha."
The generation that the western world termed "The Greatest Generation" was, for the people of the subcontinent, the "Sacrificial Generation." They were the ones who became the fuel for wars, their sacrifices serving imperialist interests. Those who survived the world wars put up the strongest resistance against these very imperialist powers—evident in movements like the "Quit India Movement" and the "Royal Indian Navy Mutiny." The 20th century marked the decline of colonialism and the rise of independent nations, yet Western intellectuals could not label the victims of the Jallianwala Bagh massacre, the Bengal famine, and the partition riots as "The Combat Generation" because their perspective remained confined to the West.
Those common soldiers who survived the wars found no recognition in British India. The West only glorified its own soldiers, while the loyal class in the subcontinent was gifted nations, earning the status of a "Dominant Generation."
The names assigned by the West to different generations do not necessarily hold relevance for us. If we examine the political history of the subcontinent in the 20th century, we realise how its generations were sacrificed, and those who survived endured relentless struggles.
Knowledge is only what the clergy dictates; livelihood and progress are mere strokes of fate
From the First World War to the partition of the subcontinent, spanning 33 years, the people of the region were exploited for British interests. As partition approached, they were once again forced to wade through rivers of blood. How, then, can they be called "The Silent Generation"?
During the First World War, 1.3 million Indians were recruited into the British army, disrupting local economies, causing food shortages, and increasing unemployment. In the Second World War, 2.5 million Indians were conscripted, with 80,000 to 100,000 killed by its end. Meanwhile, the Bengal famine struck, killing 3 million people. British Prime Minister Winston Churchill was responsible for this disaster, hoarding Bengal’s grain for Allied forces while the locals starved. His infamous remark, "If there is famine in Bengal, why is Gandhi still alive?" epitomised the unspoken policy of genocide.
Four years later, the subcontinent witnessed the bloodiest migration in history. As Bengal had suffered the greatest famine, the partition led to the largest displacement, with 15 million uprooted and over a million killed. The religious bloodshed of 1947 repeated itself in Bangladesh 25 years later—with the same death toll, the same brutalities against women. Religion was the dividing line in 1947, but this time, Muslims stood against Muslims—it was a war between traitors and patriots!
For the past 150 years, the generations of this region have been on a journey of sacrifices, struggles, and failed defiance. From partition to today, they have been manipulated in the name of religion, killing those with whom they once shared hearth and home. Even now, minorities in India and Pakistan remain vulnerable to the whims of religious leaders.
The greatest advantage of the business of religion is that it eliminates the possibility of questioning. Knowledge is only what the clergy dictates; livelihood and progress are mere strokes of fate. This is all part of the "Dominant generation” agenda—because if the helpless realise that their miserable lives are not dictated by fate but by the state, they will begin to demand change. If they rebel, the sacred palaces will crumble. Thus, priests, monks, mullahs, and rabbis continually remind them that those who get nothing in this world will receive everything in the afterlife, ensuring that they blame fate rather than the state. Because the survival of the "Dominant generation" is paramount.
The world is once again rushing towards religious extremism. Forty percent of the global population lives under authoritarian rule. How, then, can the powerless transform into Defiant? How can they unite against inequality, especially when religious forces safeguard the "Dominant generation" by instilling fear and faith in these helpless minds?
What must be done to turn a powerless generation into a defiant one to confront the "Dominant generation "? I leave that question to you!