The Hypocrisy of Black Lives Matter in South Asia

 Over the last few days, one could not have escaped the incredible #BlackLIvesMatter (BLM) movement spreading across the US and parts of the world.

BLM is a campaign around shining a light on the injustices that Afro Carribeans and members of the Black community have faced in America over the last few decades. Despite the advances of the Civil Rights Movement from the 1960s, people of black colour are more likely to be stopped and searched by police; are more likely to be incarcerated and if not arrested, to be shot. The number of stories of innocent Black people being shot by police or others has become more prominent because of the proliferation of social media highlighting a problem that has been there since the Rodney King incident of the nineties. The BLM movement is really about campaigning for the rights of Black people to be treated with dignity, justice and equality and also about safety: stopping the unlawful and unnecessary killing of Black people. Unfortunately it has also come to symbolise where people of colour have been seen to be suspicious or more likely treated roughly by law enforcement.

South Asia has been no stranger to this affinity and shows of support. The movement has gathered its supporters with many Bollywood celebrities also endorsing the campaign and recently in Sri Lanka, pro BLM protestors being arrested (for violating Covid-19 regulations) and many declaring support on social media.

Yet what is really interesting in these declarations of support largely from an English speaking middle and upper class, supported by celebrities, is its hypocrisy. In declaring an affinity with BLM, there is strangely a glossing over of internal filters of racism and discrimination within these communities.

Many Bollywood celebrities who have expressed their public support have been rightly called out for their endorsement of whitening creams that are deemed to make people fairer. The mere fact that there is a market in India, Sri Lanka and other parts of South Asia for such products depicts an unhealthy obsession with being fair or against those who have dark skin. The litmus test for this is when it comes to seeking arrangements for marriage as is common in South Asia where often advertisements in papers seek ‘fair’ partners. In some cases, those with a darker complexion often are from different ethnicities / minorities or from different castes / socio economic statuses which compounds the discrimination. This desire to be ‘fair’, a reverse type of ‘cultural’ appropriation in my opinion, remains one of the hangovers from the colonial period where our colonised psyche has become ingrained with the image that the ‘white man’ is somehow more superior and better, whereas the image of the ‘blackface’ is one of ridicule and horror. Many South Asian countries have their own ‘black’ communities who are either descendants of the indigenous communities that originally inhabited the land or remnants of the colonial slave trade who somehow ended up in these countries destined to be forgotten and turned into some folklore that is trotted out at national days or for tourists as a superficial ‘celebration’ of the diversity we have in South Asia. Rest of the time they are reduced to the shadows of society with no representation and agency.

Our South Asian psyche has somehow become wired to the fact that ‘dark skinned’ are bad and that the ‘fair skinned’ are to be trusted. We cannot help it. My best friend’s mother, a sweet unassuming woman, once told me that “if she saw a black man driving a Mercedes Benz, he must be a drug dealer. There’s no way that he could have earned that legitimately”. This is not the opinion of some nationalist bigot but of someone who is mainstream, educated and tolerant (as far as I know her), yet capable of holding such a view.

This is a paradox. If history is to be understood and learnt from, it was actually the fair skinned colonial invaders who were not to be trusted, stealing the resources and manipulating the internal politics of the countries they invaded. The litmus test once again is marriage, that most sacred of personal institutions within South Asian culture, religion and traditions. Contrast the backlash that would come if a South Asian brought home a Caucasian partner as opposed to someone from the Afro Caribbean community as their prospective marriage partner!

The irony is that there would be as much if not more backlash if someone brought home a partner from the same country but of a different caste / socio economic status / ethnicity / religion. This is the second part of the hypocrisy of those supporting BLM from South Asia.

World over, BLM has become a poster child for the indignity and mistreatment that members of minority communities feel in their own countries. For many minorities, they identify with the BLM movement because in their countries they are the ‘black’ community in terms of how they are treated and perceived. Currently, South Asia has been rocked by violence and xenophobic rhetoric against minorities at a level that has largely been unprecedented. For example, in countries like India and Sri Lanka the rhetoric and violence, often with state complicity, against the Muslim community over the last year has been well documented. COVID-19 added another layer of complexity where mainstream media was used to blame a community for its spread. As such, the rise in Islamophobia in these two countries is at an all-time high. Yet what has been deafening has been the silence of those celebrities and other BLM supporters who either are complicit in their support for what has happened at their doorsteps or are not bothered because it is not trendy. The same has to be said in Pakistan and Bangladesh for the treatment of their Hindu and Christian minorities.

This hypocrisy needs to be called out: if you support BLM because of the injustice faced by the black community in Europe and North America, then you need to speak out against what is happening to the Muslim and other minority communities in your own countries. That is the message and the lesson of BLM--not to appear on social media with a statement. That hypocrisy will be called out.

Seventy plus years after ‘independence’ in South Asia we are somehow still in need of decolonisation of our minds, away from the attraction of the ‘white’ skin and mind. This decolonisation of the mind posits the notion that diversity in our countries is a fact. We have always had them and they have always strengthened us, despite what our colonial masters taught us. If diversity is a fact, then inclusion is an act. This is ultimately what BLM stands for. This is what, if we are sincere about it, we need to push for in South Asia.

This originally appeared here on New World Order

Unpacking ‘Who do You think You are?” and “Where do You Come From?”

 I must admit to being initially being apprehensive about answering the questions posed because it always is a tough one for me.

How do you define yourself? Do you talk about where you were born, your family background, your faith?

In recent weeks that question of who do you think you are has resonated widely in many parts of the world. As people of colour have questioned the role of key icons within their countries in promoting racism, slavery and others, they have been questioned as to their allegiances and asked to go back to where they came from. This us and them attitude has meant in many countries like the UK and USA, people of colour are still not seen equally as rightful people of the land. I have hated having that question thrown to me.

When people ask where do you come from? I Say British. But this isn’t enough. Where do you come from? I come from Kent, the garden of England. No that’s not good enough. Where do you really come from? Then I get it, I can’t be British because I am not white and my name is Arabic sounding.

But that doesn’t take away who I am or where I come from: I am British but I have Sri Lankan heritage as my parents are Sri Lankan; I was born in Nigeria and grew up in Ethiopia so I embrace my East and West African Influence. I currently live in Switzerland so have come to accept the Swiss nuances. I am also proudly Muslim in my spirituality, my code of conduct, my outlook on life.

Identity in my opinion and experience has became a conglomerate of 5 things: defining where you came from, who you are, what makes you tick; what makes you do what you do & why you do all that you do

These 5 components mean that identity is not fixed or static and in fact is very dynamic and evolving. One can have multiple identities which are not limiting in their nature. Nobel Laureate Professor Amartya Sen’s premise in his book ‘Identity and Violence’ is that the key to good citizenship and social cohesion is the encouragement and retention of multiple identities. People have several enriching identities: nationality, gender, disability, age and parental background, religious or professional affiliation. They identify with different ethnic groups and races, towns or villages they call home, sometimes football teams; they speak different languages, which they hope their children will retain, and love different parts of their countries. It is the recognition of this plurality and the searching for commonalities within this pluralism that will lead to greater respect and ultimately understanding and acceptance.

Thus ‘who do you think you are?’ or ‘where do you come from’ ultimately is about having and recognizing these multiple identities which allows us to to live together as the global tribe we have become. Hence for me it is not about who I am per se but what I do with who I am? If we were born with some privilege (whether it is education, wealth, colour, gender, ability, age, health), then how did we use that benefit to be able to help those who did not share the same opportunities as us?

This is what we will ultimately be judged on now and in the Hereafter!!

This originally appeared on Medium

Remembering the Easter Sunday Victims in the Shadow of COVID-19

 Nearly one year has passed since the Easter Sunday attacks in Sri Lanka, and in the midst of a lockdown due to the coronavirus pandemic, the anniversary was marked under somber circumstances. The trauma of these terrorist attacks — which occurred when an Islamic extremist group bombed churches and hotels on April 21, 2019 — cannot be understated.

On the one hand, it is extremely painful to think that innocent people were killed in the safest and most sacred of places on a holy day when worshipping in the house of God. While this is not the first time that terrorists had targeted places of worship in Sri Lanka — mosques were attacked by Tamil Tiger militants in 1990 — this was the first major incident since the end of civil war in 2009.

On the other hand, soon after the 2019 attacks, Muslim communities were targeted and assaulted and countless youth were arrested. The acts of hate speech and incitement to violence that followed were reprehensible because they spoke to the same source of ignorance and intolerance that led to the Easter Sunday attacks.

Twelve months later, that same feeling is responsible for feeding an anti-Muslim narrative to falsely explain how the novel coronavirus known as COVID-19 has spread in Sri Lanka. This has been pushed by national media and supported by some politicians, leading to a feeling of déjà vu in terms of Islamophobia. This has not been helped by a recent government order to cremate the corpses of those who have died from COVID-19, which conflicts with guidance from the World Health Organization. For the Muslim minority in Sri Lanka, burning the bodies of the deceased goes against the teachings of Islam.

There is now a crisis of confidence in not only the government, but also the majority community in Sri Lanka as to how the country moves forward and where minorities fit in.

Looking Back on Easter Sunday

In reflecting on the Easter Sunday bombings, there needs to be a collective introspection and accountability that we must undergo as a society and country. We need to find out why more was not done to prevent the attacks, who was complicit in allowing the mob violence and anti-hate speech to take place after the incident, and why that anti-Muslim narrative lives on today.

These questions are necessary if we are to tackle the conditions that allow for some people to display such hate. The past is a testimony to the fact that that young men and women in Sri Lanka have been both the victim and perpetrator of mindless acts of violence. History keeps repeating itself and lessons are not being learned. Young people and the public are being used to incite violence in the name of ethnicity and religion for selfish political gain.

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In this sense, those who engaged in mob violence were no different from those who bombed the churches. Both sets of people were seduced by ideologies that share a similar hatred of unity in diversity. Likewise, those peddling the racist narrative of Muslims being responsible for the spread of COVID-19 in Sri Lanka — despite no evidence for the claims— are under no illusion that what they are pushing for is a country that is not diverse or tolerant.

Since Sri Lanka postponed its parliamentary elections, which were originally scheduled for April, the question of diversity and who makes up its citizenry has been important. Over the past few weeks, my social media timeline has been inundated by Sri Lankans — mainly Muslims — packing dry rations and working with the government and army to ensure that families affected by the lockdown are cared for.

The charity Muslim Aid Sri Lanka has provided food for about 5,000 people, whilst a Muslim philanthropist donated 50 million Sri Lankan rupees ($262,000) to the government for its response to the pandemic. This is symptomatic of what happened after the Easter Sunday attacks when Muslims came out in droves to “prove” their allegiance to the country by issuing statements of reflection or holding national unity events. 

Band-Aids on Deep Wounds

Yet there is an Orwellian-like tragedy to this current scenario. On the one side, there are pictures and stories of the Muslim community donating food to support those suffering from the nationwide lockdown. On the other side, national media have pushed the message that Muslims are somehow responsible for spreading the virus.

The result has once again pointed to the belief that Muslims are the “problem,” a hangover from the Easter Sunday attacks. The philanthropic and community interventions of the Muslim community, no doubt sincere, will end up being band-aids on the deep, festering wound of racial and ethnic politics unless the reasons for social divisions are addressed. As the Muslim minority have found regarding the forced cremation of bodies, no matter what engagement they show toward the country, the government — in order to win the hearts and minds of the majority — will not consider these sacred and religious rites. Ultimately, the feeling is that Muslims as an indigenous ethnic and religious group are not welcome in Sri Lanka.

After the 2004 tsunami, Sri Lankans did away with the differences that separated them and concentrated more on what could unite them. They have now forgotten that sense altogether. For just a brief period 16 years ago, regardless of which faith you followed and or the ethnic group you belonged to, what mattered most was that you were Sri Lankan.

Now, one year on from the Easter Sunday attacks and in the face of a pandemic, there is a need to rethink how the seeds are sown for these types of hatred. The COVID-19 crisis is a reminder from Mother Earth, which, like the tsunami, is trying to remind us of the value, vulnerability and connectivity of life. Mother Earth teaches us that we should not discriminate because natural disasters are a great social leveler — that everyone is in it together and that the diversity of humanity should be cherished. 

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The Muslim community — and I write this as a Muslim of Sri Lankan heritage — is going through this introspection and accountability. We are hurting, scared and thinking that we didn’t do enough to remove those weeds of hate and that we need to do more. This will forever live with us as a badge of guilt.

But the calls for reflection cannot be one-sided. It needs to be done collectively as a nation because there are mistakes that have been made by all communities in the name of racial politics.   If we want to avoid the radicalization of another generation of youth who are angry at the injustice and inequality they are faced with, then we need to be humane and just in how we deal with those who have suffered as well as those who might be a suspect of a crime. We can’t ask one section of society to reflect without asking the other to do the same. 

Extending Our Hand

Unfortunately, the tragedy of the COVID-19 pandemic is that we have not learned or we refuse to learn. We did not build the relationships that we once cultivated in those dark times, nor did we go out of our way to forge new ones. We have retreated into our silos, which was made worse by the Easter Sunday attacks and now abused as a result of COVID-19. Consequently, Sri Lankans remain not only as polarized as ever, but minorities feel disenfranchised and disempowered too.

We cannot shirk away from our personal responsibilities in allowing the state of affairs to arrive at the point they are in today’s Sri Lanka. Our relationships with those from different communities have much to say about how we value life and how we value diversity. The amount of hate against minority communities that has been spewed out over the last few months is a sign that something is going wrong.

If we have to learn from the Easter Sunday attacks and its aftermath, we need to do so individually and collectively as a society to break out of our silos. We need to fight for justice, even if that is against people with whom we align. That journey starts with knowing each other, understanding each other and respecting each other and also recognizing that, in our diversity, we have many commonalities that unite us as Sri Lankans. It just requires one person to stand up and walk across with their hand extended.

This is the hope we offer to those who were killed on Easter Sunday — that we will not allow their deaths to be used to justify exactly what the terrorists wanted. We will not allow divisive forces to break us. Those of us still alive have a responsibility to not allow their deaths to be in vain. This is the legacy we owe them.

And this is the legacy we owe the victims of COVID-19 when racial politics once again threaten to distract us from what is needed most. In these times, there is a need for people to step up and shine a light on that darkness as Martin Luther King Jr. said: “The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”

This originally appeared on Fair Observer

MLK: Do We Still Dare to Dream?

As we once again remember Martin Luther King (MLK), we pause and reflect on what he would make of a world that appears to be retreating back to the isolationism and racism that was common in the time he lived. Cut short in his prime, King’s legacy must be discussed with “what if” scenarios. This is especially in light of his famous “I Have a Dream” speech in 1963 on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC.

King’s speech is recognized as one of the greatest of perhaps the last two centuries. It is a credit to the oratory charisma of the man that whilst this was not the speech that was originally prepared, it would turn out to be the one that sent him into the annals of history.

Yet the tragedy of the speech is that decades later, it is still relevant for a world that MLK did not live to see. Whether or not the US has lived up to the dream of Dr. King or if we have learned from history is up for debate. Apart from a few sound bites, do we actually remember what Dr. King’s dream was? In particular, what significance do those of us non-Americans attribute to the speech especially in the current day and age? What would King say if he was alive today and saw the numerous injustices taking place around the world? As a man of faith, how would he hold accountable those people of faith in what they are or are not doing?

Injustice and Nonviolence

My reflection is that the significance of his speech is in remembering the actions of the man who stood against injustice — even though this eventually cost him popularity and perhaps condemned him to the obscurity he didn’t deserve — be it the Vietnam War or even the Poor People’s Campaign. King’s speech is a prophetic manifesto against injustice that calls out for a spiritual response through nonviolence. I have been thinking about this concept recently in light of what is happening worldwide as we see the globalization of fragility.  

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King’s speech has to be heard, read and understood in light of nonviolence beyond the idealistic notion that we have of the Gandhian act of an old man resisting violence. Rather, we should look at the words of Dr. King as an act of moral resistance that brings to the forefront the fight against poverty, humiliation and underdevelopment.

Successful nonviolent efforts require great strength of character, perseverance and discipline. Nonviolence is a means of awakening a sense of injustice and moral shame in the supporters of a power structure, showing them that they have more to gain by ending injustice and oppression than by maintaining the status quo.

Ultimately, nonviolence is about communicating a moral priority. No one communicated this more than King who, despite losing his supporter base, would shift attention from the civil rights movement to economic injustice and the Vietnam War in 1965, which have been erased from the cultural narrative of his life and legacy.

Where We Stand

MLK used this as an invocation of moral shame that would damage or diminish American injustice. In his 1963 letter from a Birmingham jail, he drew inspiration from the gospel and biblical teachings in order to justify his fight against injustice.

As he wrote, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” MLK mentioned just and unjust law and offered insight into how not only the church but also other faith leaders and communities should act in the face of injustice. For King, they had to be a “thermostat” that transformed the mores of society. In his own words: “If the church of today does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early church, it will lose its authentic ring, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club with no meaning.”

This is the challenge that MLK sets for us today — people of faith and no faith — to see where we stand during challenging times. Will we rise above the narrow confines of our individualistic concerns to the broader issues facing all of humanity? This is why the dream is still alive and needs to be kept alive to ensure that Martin Luther King’s vision is not confined to the annals of a whitewashed history.

this originally appeared on Fair Observer

15 years reflection of the Tsunami

Its been 15 years since that fateful boxing day in 2004, when Sri Lankans were introduced to the concept of the tsunami.  Once not part of the lexicon, the tsunami is engrained as one of the darkest periods in Sri Lankan history and sadly part of many dark histories of Sri Lanka.

Sri Lanka was the second country next to Aceh in Indonesia to be severely destroyed by the tsunami and like Indonesia was in the midst of a floundering peace process. In the lead up to the 15 year anniversary there should be much to reflect on.  However sadly, much has happened in Sri Lanka since then that now the tsunami reflections are confined to a minute of silence (at best) which is sad given that the event was a turning point for the country.

Following the bloody end of the conflict in 2009 and the devastating Easter Sunday bomb attacks earlier on this year, Sri Lanka and its citizens are  facing an upheaval in terms of an identity crisis amidst the resurgence of religio-ethno nationalist forces threatening coexistence with minorities.  It is now more than ever that a sombre reflection on the true lessons from 15 years ago needs to be understood or argued.  In the wake of polarisation of communities based on ethnicity and faith, what is needed is for Sri Lanka to rediscover that spirit and ethos that guided the initial post tsunami response.

That spirit and ethos was represented by the outpouring of grief and support for the victims and survivors of the tsunami in the immediate aftermath of the tsunami before the government and international institutions started their response. For a brief moment, people forgot the divisions that separated them and concentrated more on what could unite them. For a brief period, regardless of what faith and ethnicity you were, what mattered most was that you were Sri Lankan. The post tsunami response before responsibility was abrogated to the government and the international community represents the single most opportune moment that Sri Lankans (of all ethnicities and faith) came together to help one another in the rebuilding.

This for me represents the single most vital lesson of the tsunami. We were shown the value and vulnerability of life. Mother Earth taught us that we should not discriminate because natural disasters are a great social leveller.  No matter whether you were rich or poor or Muslim, Christian, Buddhist or Hindu, the wall of water did not pause and ask  your affiliation.  In that brief respite of a couple of days after the tsunami, people also didn't ask.  They just responded and buried people as they found them giving them the same burial rights as they understood, not knowing who they were burying.

Yet the tragedy of this lesson, is that we quickly forgot this and did not capitalise on it. We did not build the relationships that we once cultivated in those dark times, nor did we go out of the way to forge new ones. As quickly as we responded, we have retreated into our silos made worse by the Easter Sunday attacks.  Consequently Sri Lankans remain not only as polarised as ever, the minorities feel disenfranchised and disempowered as ever, but I dare ask whether we would see the same compassionate response today that we saw 15 years ago?  I would like to think so but I remain sceptical.

Whilst many will blame the political context and will of the day (which of course has a lot to answer for in setting the context), we can not shirk away from our personal responsibilities in allowing the state of affairs to arrive to the crunch that they are in Sri Lanka. Our personal relationships with and between each other from  different communities has much to say for how we value life as taught to us by the tsunami.  The amount of hate against minority communities that has been spewed out over the last few months is testimony to something going wrong.

Hypocrates once said that "healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity". Thus in tragedy there should be an opportunity to heal. In an ideal world a 15 year reflection on the tsunami in Sri Lanka would reflect on how far communities have come.Much would be written as to how the doors that were opened between faith and ethnic communities in the first few days after the tsunami had become opportunities to forge peace.

15 years on, there is a missed opportunity to reflect on from the tsunami which is the missed opportunity for people to build relationships with each other that could transcend political and religious biases. If 15 years on we are still trying to find that magic formula to build relationships and co exist despite the powerful reminder that Mother Earth gave us, then those that lost their lives in that terrible natural disaster and since then, would have lost it in vain.

How Do We Understand Non-Violence?

October 2 has been designated as the International Day of Non-Violence to coincide with the birthday of Mahatma Gandhi.

Non-violence is often misinterpreted as something passive, but it is a set of attitudes, actions or behaviors intended to persuade the other side to change its opinions, perceptions and actions. The narrative of violence is often seen as a mechanism of false consciousness that obscures and conceals the real sources of poverty, humiliation and underdevelopment. 

In this sense, non-violence is not passive but requires great strength of character, perseverance and discipline. It is a means of awakening a sense of injustice and moral shame in the supporters of a power structure, showing them that they have more to gain by ending injustice and oppression than by maintaining them. Non-violence is also about exposing the unjust means of a power structure and changing the narrative that can be used for justification.

For Gandhi, non-violent resistance meant direct action, including boycotts and acts of civil disobedience. His strategic use of non-violence resisted the power structure of the day, provoking it in order to expose its unjust means and illegitimacy. This is ultimately the long-term focus to let the community acquire the necessary knowledge and skills to advance in society and challenge the status quo of the power structure.

No one communicated this moral priority apart from Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. Despite losing his supporter base, King would shift attention in 1965 from the civil rights movement to economic injustice and the Vietnam War, which have unfortunately been erased from the cultural narrative of his life and legacy.

In his 1963 letter from a Birmingham jail, King drew inspiration from the gospel and biblical teachings in order to justify his fight against injustice. For King, injustice anywhere was a threat to justice everywhere. He mentioned just and unjust law and offers insight into how not only the church but other faith leaders and communities should act in the face of injustice. In King’s words, it is about being a thermostat that transforms the morals of society.

King wrote: “If today’s church does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early church, it will lose its authenticity, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club with no meaning. This is the challenge that King sets for us — people of faith and no faith — to see where we stand during times of challenge and controversy, rising above the narrow confines of our individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity.

There is much being talked about a culture of peace and non-violence, but with very little being done to understand what that means. Such a culture to be promoted is about providing an enabling environment for dialogue and discussion to find solutions to problems and tensions through a process where everyone is valued and able to participate. Such a culture promotes the respect of human beings, their wellbeing and dignity, and it honors diversity, inclusiveness, mutual understanding and dialogue. It creates an environment where people can live in safety, make a decent living and fully participate in society. It motivates members of a community to take responsibility and care for each other, confront crises with innovative solutions and to be resilient to bounce back from calamity.

Such conversations need deeper reflections and understandings, and this is what needs to be put into action.

This orginally appeared on Fair Observer

Peace Day 2019: Its time to be climate smart

World Peace Day, which is marked every year on September 21, has just passed. The chance to do some soul-searching with regards to the state of peace on our planet is as important as ever before.

For all the relative calmness and progress of the second half of the 20th century and the early years of the 21st, we still see a world that is hurting due to increased fragility that is spreading at the pace of our fast-evolving planet. The battlefields of today are everywhere — they are not defined by geography. The battlefields of today are on our streets, in our hospitals, in our schools, in our places of worship. There may not be a new world war, but we are still a world at war. Just a cursory glance at the headlines shows us that we are in a slightly poorer state than the year before.

So, on top of the protracted crises in places like Syria and Yemen, we have seen new signs for violent conflict surfacing. From Sri Lanka and the Middle East oil crisis to the situation in Kashmir, it is clear that conflict remains and the propensity for violence is particularly acute as tensions manifest themselves into deep sociopolitical cleavages.

In addition, there are new risks and challenges that will make violent conflict more inevitable. For example, a newly-released report by the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies (IFRC) points to the growing threat of climate change to vulnerable communities and its humanitarian consequences. In reading this report, it is clear that the implications for climate change will affect the drivers of violent conflict, and that the future of peace is tied in with being climate-smart and working on climate adaptation that prioritizes the poorest and most vulnerable.

Striking for the Climate

In this context, World Peace Day 2019 came at an opportune moment, buttressing the international climate strikes that took place before the Global Climate Summit on September 21-23. Ironically, World Peace Day appears as an intergenerational bridge between the youth and the elderly in this debate, and perhaps this is where a revamp of the day should be.

Globally, the number of young people is on the rise. We cannot ignore the fact that, in many parts of the world, the majority of people are under 30. The youth are not just the future as the cliché goes, they are the present. This means they need to be included and embedded in processes taking place now, not as token representations but with agency and influence. And it’s not like they don’t want that engagement. The movement on climate change is a testimony to this.

Despite the rise of populist movements that focus on differences, the climate change movement paints young people as wanting to bridge differences — particularly with young people having a greater commitment to doing something to contribute to their societies and their world. There is anger among our youth, impatient with the lack of progress being made on tackling this and also frustrated by being shut out.

So, there is much to reflect on around reigniting young people who are passionate about climate change to rediscover the spark that has been lost in the world: of empathy, sympathy and compassion.

As a bridge between the climate strikes and the climate summit, the annual World Peace Day must shine a light on how the youth are part of and can take the lead in building peace in our societies. Young people are agents for peace, engaged in transforming the structures and institutions that hinder the socioeconomic and political well-being of those living in fragile and conflict-affected communities.

Engaging Young People

So, we need to do more to invest and engage with them, but this requires a holistic approach. First, though, we need to remove the prejudice that many of us have when it comes to engaging young people. We must stop thinking they are apolitical and more interested in following the latest installment of a reality-TV show than in engaging with the serious questions of the world around them. We should channel their enthusiasm to express and get involved.

Yet, at the same time, we must be honest about this approach. We need to give young people the space to be innovative and shape or rethink new models for the communities and societies in which they live — perhaps outside the globalized economic and “social” system they will inherit from other generations. In doing this, we have to answer some hard questions about whether we are ready for that and what it will take for each of us to work together toward a fairer world for everyone. In short, we have to be prepared for a hard shift in how we work and engage.

The youth can no longer be “represented.” They have to be mainstreamed, included, nurtured, listened to, consulted and worked in partnership with. It is about understanding how young people can build peace; how they build an environment where people can pursue conflicts without violence and harm to themselves or others; and how they promote the values of equity, fairness, inclusion and respect for human dignity — and with that the importance of a relationship with Mother Earth.

In the face of the current global challenges with the multitude of conflicts we are facing, this year’s World Peace Day must lead to new solutions and new agents that challenge exclusion based on difference.

True inclusivity can only be obtained when we carefully position all elements to create a compelling, cosmopolitan mosaic. There is a need to remain committed to engineering the software needed to work effectively in a range of situations. This will never be easy, but it remains vitally important. To quote Kwame Anthony Appiah, it will involve creating the very “ideas and institutions that will allow us to live together as the global tribe we have become.”

This originally appeared on Fair Observer