PAKISTAN has an overwhelmingly young population — one of three people you meet randomly will be under 15, and two of three will be under 33. So why are the young conspicuously absent from the current Pakistani discourse on the coronavirus pandemic? Not on nightly shows laced with reports of online education frustration, but somewhere behind the screen which broadcasts TeleSchool are at least 33 per cent of our citizens whose voices seem less important than the sugar crisis and congregational prayer grievances.

Pakistan ratified the Convention on the Rights of the Child in 1990. We benefit from multilateral programmes and agencies such as Unicef that advocate a child-centred programme design. But even our simplest indicators do not echo such commitments. We have millions of malnourished children and constantly underinvest in education — 2.5pc of an already modest GDP, the lowest percentage in South Asia.

By 2030, about 83 million of us will still be very young, and if all goes well, about 70m Pakistanis aged 10 or above will be going to /coming out of school and university to step into the job market or preparing to assume civic and public responsibilities. These numbers may be mathematical symbols, but behind the math is a generation of human beings.

Are we ready to help them be OK, particularly given how rapidly our world seems to be transforming during persisting Covid-19 shutdowns?

The young are exceptional in gauging sincerity.

‘Are you OK?’ is not a question we are accustomed to asking children in Pakistan. Perhaps this is because this is not a question we are accustomed to asking anyone, typically preferring ‘what’s wrong with you’, and that too, when we care to ask anything at all. Although the two questions sound the same, there is an important and subtle difference. They initiate different types of conversations, and even signal whether we are seeking a genuine conversation.

The young are exceptional at gauging sincerity. Much of this stems from reciprocity. Children want to be good to others, speak the truth, and share. They expect as much in return from those around them. But if the adults in Pakistan continue to behave as though the children neither have relevant thoughts nor are processing all the bickering and fear-mongering going on around them, we will be in for a shock. Our children will grow up with varying levels of post-traumatic stress and dysfunctional ideas about civic behaviour.

The ways in which we engage right now with our children, each other, the law, science, and even ourselves are an opportunity to set the right tone for how the youngest members of our society remember this time as they get older. Our choice to practise or disregard kindness, respect the law, show empathy and have a calm conversation will inform their assumptions about human interaction in their adult lives.

So in 2030, how do we want 130m young Pakistanis to interact? This is the debate that gets missed every single day as issues pertaining to children and the youth remain poorly investigated across Pakistan, whether by the state or others. Confining educational discussions to government offices or belittling the lack of social distancing by the country’s most impoverished segments does not help the average Pakistani child learn anything.

We know the routine process of our decision-making hasn’t been especially respectful of, or generous towards, the child. This might explain the stumped look on the face of a key policymaker from a provincial curriculum and textbook body when I responded “have you tried asking the students why?” to his statement “I am confounded by how many times our textbooks have failed to have any impact on student learning”.

But these are not routine times.

There is a reason why New Zealand, a leader in empathetic policymaking, dedicated an entire press conference to children as far back as mid-March, followed by a series of easy science videos explaining the coronavirus and the benefits of hand-washing. In a recent coronavirus briefing by the UK government, for the first time since the Second World War, the government spoke directly to the country’s children and youth.

In Pakistan, the only dedicated public advisory regarding children targets their parents. Issued by the FIA, it warns against a heightened possibility of cybercrime. Undoubtedly important, this is not enough for a population of our size with multiple socioeconomic, linguistic and literacy requirements.

If during one of the most bizarre events of contemporary history, we cannot find it in our adult privilege to make time to speak to the children of this country, we risk letting them know that their thoughts aren’t very important. But if we want them to grow into caring, democratic citizens of tomorrow’s Pakistan, we might start by listening to how they are making sense of it today.

The writer is an education researcher.

Twitter: @soufiasiddiqi

Published in Dawn, April 29th, 2020