By Junaid Qaiser
December 16 isn’t just another day on Pakistan’s calendar; it’s a wound that never quite heals. The Army Public School massacre in Peshawar stands as one of the darkest moments in the country’s history, a time that shattered any illusions that terrorism could be managed, negotiated with, or selectively condemned. Eleven years later, the messages from President Asif Ali Zardari and Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif remind us that the red line drawn in the blood of APS’s children must remain strong and clear.
President Zardari’s statement on this anniversary sends a clear message: there can be no dialogue with those who take up arms against the state or target innocent lives, especially children. This isn’t just a political stance; it’s a lesson learned at an unbearable cost. The memory of the APS martyrs isn’t merely symbolic—it serves as a constant reminder against complacency, rationalization, or the temptation to soften the state’s position under political or ideological pressure. When the president warns apologists and facilitators, no matter how they disguise themselves, he’s addressing a deep-seated issue in Pakistan’s ongoing debate about security.
Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif’s comments echo this same moral clarity. His commitment to a zero-tolerance policy comes at a time when Pakistan is once again facing a surge in terrorist attacks, particularly in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Balochistan. The APS tragedy once united the nation and led to decisive actions through military operations and the National Action Plan. The recent rise in violence serves as a stark reminder that terrorism evolves when our resolve weakens, and that remembering without taking sustained action is little more than a ritual.
The tragedy of APS brings up some tough questions about justice. The candlelight vigils, somber observances, and quiet marches held by the victims’ families show both dignity and a deep sense of frustration. Even after eleven long years, their calls for transparency, accountability, and the release of judicial findings have yet to be answered. If the state truly wants to honor APS, it needs to go beyond mere tributes and address the gaps that still exist between promises made and actions taken.
What adds weight to Pakistan’s current stance is its reach beyond its own borders. The strong condemnations from President Zardari and Prime Minister Sharif regarding the recent Bondi Beach attack in Australia, which targeted a Jewish community gathering during Hanukkah, highlight a principled position: terrorism is unacceptable, no matter where it happens or who it affects. Pakistan’s show of solidarity isn’t just for mere statements; it comes from a nation that understands the heavy toll of terror all too well.
This consistency is crucial. When a moral stance against terrorism is applied selectively, it loses its credibility. By denouncing violence both at home and abroad—whether it’s in a school in Peshawar or on a beach in Sydney—Pakistan strengthens the argument that civilian lives should never be treated as collateral damage in any ideological struggle. This clarity also enhances the country’s voice on the global stage, where selective outrage often undermines the fight against extremism.
From APS to Bondi, the message remains clear: terrorism flourishes in environments where moral ambiguity is permitted to linger. Pakistan’s leaders have reiterated the right principles.
The real challenge now is to make sure those principles evolve into consistent policies, steadfast accountability, and unwavering determination. We owe it to the memory of the APS children and all victims of terror to demand nothing less.
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