Once again Karachi is bleeding. The country’s largest – and most economically significant – city is once again finding itself bathed in the blood of innocent Karachiites, as a continuing and seemingly growing wave of gruesome killings continues to spiral out of control. The statistics are too depressing and too abstract to bear repeating – in the week from Independence Day to August 21st alone at least 106 people were murdered.

While these numbers are crucial, they too often distort the real horror and humanity of the victims, victims like Yumna and Laiba, two girls aged 13 and 6 who through an accident of fate happened to live on opposite sides of one of Qasba Colony’s main roads – one of the new frontlines in the war over Karachi. Both were shot by snipers in separate incidents, with the teenage Yumna now confined to her bed and 6-year old Laiba added as another tally in the growing death toll. Beyond the human cost – if one can ever move past such inhumanity – is the economic cost to the entire nation as the City of Lights periodically plunges into darkness with residents and businesses barricading themselves for strike after strike.

Unfortunately as this violence continues unabated, to many the response from the institutions of state has done little to encourage confidence. Beyond politics – since murder should not be a partisan issue – regardless of which party has been in charge, violence in some form or another has been an all too familiar part of life in Karachi for my generation. No party and no administration – whether a local government or commissionerate system, a military regime or a democratic one – has managed to tackle the root causes of violence in Karachi. Indeed, the growing cache of unregistered and freely available arms, contentious politics and ethnic relations and the plethora of armed mafia (whether they deal in land, drugs or transport) are issues crucial to peace in the city that no institution or party has put forth or enacted a comprehensive plan to deal with.

In the face of these issues, the institutions of state and politics instead seem to be involved in a perennial and pointless game of point scoring. From late night tirades, to a provincial government that resembles a game of musical chairs to accusations – often bordering on incitements – of violence too many Karachiites are losing faith in their state and political parties as a result of their inability to address the violence raging across the metropolitan. Indeed, according to reports, even amongst the ruling PPP the special meeting of the Sindh cabinet called by the Prime Minister was marred by infighting and arguments. Unfortunately, this focus on politics and partisanship instead of partnership and peace is hurting not only the people of Karachi, but the very institutions that are engaged in them – the provincial and federal governments and political parties.

Increasingly to the people of Karachi the answer to the security situation – or lack thereof – threatening citizens seems to lie in the private sphere and not with the government. With the government seemingly unable to ensure the life and liberty of the people of Karachi, the answer is seeming to lie more and more in the private sector and the citizenry is taking the need for security into their own hands, in a move that is both dangerous and counter-productive in the long-run. As with the growing disillusionment with the government, this too is not a recent phenomenon, when kidnappings and robberies spiked in Karachi more and more people began to take matters into their own hands. While the rich were able to afford guards from security companies – men with guns, a uniform and hopefully some training – others were forced to rely on private militias and gangs – men with guns sans uniforms and those most vulnerable were forced to rely on what has all too often become their own security – luck and prayers. Though this may have provided a semblance of security, in the long-term this may be even more detrimental to peace in Karachi. This has commodifed, leaving those able to afford it safe behind high walls – now complete with barbed wire and watched over by security cameras – those unable to afford protection have been forced to go without it.

Additionally, regardless of whose hands they may be in today, more private security means more private, unregulated weapons flowing into Karachi. The more lasting and potentially most devastating effect of this has been the change in our collective psyche that has stemmed both from the ever-present violence throughout the city and the need for a private response to the violence. Karachi has become a city where law and order themselves have become divorced from the state and part of the private sphere.

After attacks on communities – whether terrorist attacks like in the last few years or ethnic violence like the last few months – the citizenry no longer believes they can turn to the government and seek justice. Instead, justice has become a personal matter and comes through taking revenge or rioting in protest. While this appears to be the only answer to the growing frustration and sense of vulnerability triggered by attacks, “returning violence for violence only multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars”.

Unfortunately for all those Karachiites living in fear, as well as the countless parents like Yumna and Laiba’s, violence and security are not abstractions and the need for security cannot be minimised. The privatisation of security may fuel a host of long-term problems and contribute to increasing cycles of violence across the city, when faced with the choice of protecting your family and children or standing up for nonviolence, the choice is a simple one and unfortunately one Karachiites have had to make far too often.

*This is the first half of a two-part article; the second half will examine the possible role of the army in solving Karachi's problem.