Daily Times

A few days ago, when I arrived in the UK for my viva examination, I was detained at the airport under the Terrorism Act of 2000. I was handed over to two police officers for what turned out to be a 3 hour long interrogation. When I asked if I was being considered a terror suspect, one of the police officers replied with a terse “yes”.

My laptop and mobile phone were also taken into custody for “further examination”. At first the idea of handing over my electronic devices infuriated me, but then I calmed myself, hoping that they would go through some of the books on my laptop, and perhaps, learn a thing or two about the world. I also had to give intensive hand prints (since it will be unfair to call it “finger prints”, as the process involved scanning my hands from every possible angle), in addition to a cheek swab as a DNA sample.

What followed after this thorough invasion of my privacy was a long “chat” about my views ranging from the Middle East to my home country of Pakistan to the Manchester bombing. Since I had no reason to hide my views, I told them how I detested any acts of terror and that my country has suffered some of the worst consequences of extremist ideology. I also criticized Western involvement in the Muslim world, particularly the nauseating support by the US and the UK governments for Saudi Arabia, the primary funder of the global extremist infrastructure. Particularly annoying, however, were questions regarding my faith and my personal life. After I told the officers that I was a student at Cambridge, they kept mentioning how “wonderful” the night life was in Cambridge and how the beers in Cambridge are “world class”. Naturally, I was expected to act as a “good” Westernised Muslim, who could keep his faith yet drink alcohol, and that was satisfaction I was unwilling to give to my interrogators, so I simply smiled and said “yes, I’ve heard that as well”.

After about 2 hours, the conversation took a dramatic turn when we began discussing Manchester. I asked the officers about domestic politics (particularly the funding controversy regarding police budgets), and they started criticizing Theresa May’s government for the funding cuts to the police force and for turning the Home Office into chaos central. They stated that due to the shortage of staff, most police officers were underpaid and over-worked. Considering how poorly managed the Home Office is today, they both were of the opinion that Brexit will be a bureaucratic nightmare, one that Britain is in no way prepared for.

After 2 hours of feeling deep contempt for the whole interrogation process, I began having some sympathy for the interrogators. They looked tired and defeated. For a country that has elevated security to its number 1 priority for the past many years, the hopelessness evident in the words and body language of these officers demonstrated the spectacular failure of the Tories on the security front.

Three points are worth mentioning regarding my experience. First, it was clear that I was detained for no particular reason other than the fact that I had a Muslim name and a Pakistani passport. Even if we keep aside the arguments on prejudice and racism, the policy of profiling people makes very little sense from a security perspective. To say anyone coming from a particular region can be a suspect is exactly opposite of what good intelligence is supposed to do, i.e. give more precision to the target. It was clear that the officers had not so much as Googled me or my work, or else they would have spared the questions over my religiosity and my views regarding “terror”. 3 hours wasted due to bad intelligence is bad on any day, but with a heightened security threat and an under-funded security force, such negligence is absolutely criminal!

Second, cutting funding for those at the forefront of confronting any emergency situation (fire-fighters, nurses, doctors, police officers, etc.) is the sign of a shit government. They need to be given all the resources necessary to ensure that citizens can feel safe and cared for in these turbulent times. Yet, Theresa May prefers giving tax breaks to the richest corporations while telling workers in the public sector that there is “no magic money tree”. Notwithstanding her tough talk, May’s policies make the UK, and consequently the entire world, much less safe.

Finally, there is a growing divide between communities, with people making sweeping generalizations about “Muslims” and “immigrants” and, from the other side, “white people”. Such rhetoric makes the world more insular and magnifies our differences. Thus, we lose sight of the common, existential situation many ordinary people find themselves in.

For example, despite my general (and natural) contempt for interrogations at the airport, I could not help but identify with the situation of my tormentors. When the older officer lowered his voice and began talking about how the world seems to be heading toward a disaster, and that living standards are declining across the UK, I could detect a melancholy common in the voice of so many Pakistanis, whether in the diaspora or within Pakistan. Similarly, the younger officer’s face turned red when he stated that young people, including officers, seemed to have no future. How many times had I heard this sentiment from the young people I teach in Pakistan, complaining about the theft of their future by the powerful.

Listening to these officers, I almost forgot that I was there not to discuss the greed and stupidity of those in charge of the world, but as a terror suspect. Suddenly, another officer entered the room and informed us that I was good to go. I got up and shook hands with the officers as they told me how much of a learning experience our encounter had been for them, and I told them how I appreciated their efforts at bringing peace to the city. As I wished them the best of luck, one of them told me how he hoped this would be the last time I would meet him or any other police officer at the port of entry. Despite this difficult situation, it seemed like we built a relationship of mutual respect.

That remains the key task in today’s insular, and communitarian world. In our search for identitarian purity, we have lost our ability to connect with people who seem in excess of who we think we are. Yet, such a limited view prevents us from connecting to others who are intimately tied to us, both in the material sense (remember, production and exchange are not regional but global phenomenon today) but also at the existential realm, on how seemingly disparate and different people experience the same feelings of despair and happiness as we do.

The world today forbids experiencing the sufferings and hopes of others as our own. As a response, we must proclaim that in these infinite differences, there is a profound sameness of the human experience, based on the time we share on this planet, with all its chaos, anxieties, hopes and joys. To see humanity in those who appear different, or even opposed to us, is the most difficult, yet most essential element of being human. On the political front, it means rejecting the limitations on our imaginations by those in power, and open ourselves to authentic, and supposedly “impossible”, encounters. Politics, then, must change from being “the art of the possible” to “the art of the impossible”.

This is perhaps the primary reason so many people in the UK and around the world are so excited about Jeremy Corbyn’s campaign. He has consistently stood up for the rights of ordinary people irrespective of race, religion and country. His opposition to nuclear weapons, his refusal to divide communities in the aftermath of the terror attacks, his vociferous support for social care and his lifelong struggle for equality make him a symbol of hope. As Bernie Sanders recently stated, “The age we now live in is crying out for a Jeremy Corbyn”.

So I hope Corbyn does well, for the sake of peace, security and prosperity, and for the sake of those officers who, behind the mask of machismo, were nothing more than broken souls we are all familiar with.

The writer is a doctoral candidate at the University of Cambridge and a lecturer at the Government College University, Lahore.