Saving Malala

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PGP / News Pictures / ABACA

Children in Karachi hold a vigil for Malala's recovery.

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A Kind of Peace The plight of civilians in this region had the world's attention not long ago. Militants controlled the picturesque Swat Valley, where Malala was born, when she began blogging for the BBC in 2009 about living under Taliban rule. She was one of the few local voices speaking out about the devastating impact of extremism on the lives of women and girls. On Jan. 14, 2009, the day before a Taliban ban on education took effect, Malala wrote, "Since today was the last day of our school, we decided to play in the playground a bit longer."

A few months later, the Pakistani army swept into Swat and the surrounding area in a highly publicized offensive, deploying over 30,000 troops and using air strikes to force the Taliban out of the valley. Some 2 million civilians, including Malala and her family, were displaced, but a kind of peace eventually took hold, and they returned home. Her father Ziauddin became something of a folk hero in Swat, in part because of the girls' school that he built: the Khushal School and College in Mingora, where Malala was his star pupil. A television crew from al-Jazeera visited the area in 2010, and Malala's father spoke chillingly on camera of the continuing threats against those who stand up for girls' education. "We have to make a big sacrifice," he said.

What went wrong? The army's focus on certain areas like Swat has created a vacuum in others, giving the militants who were pushed out of Swat a chance to regroup and return. The Pakistani military's interests have been entangled with those of extremist groups in the region for years, and despite its having some 50,000 troops engaged in counterinsurgency, says Qadir, the retired brigadier, the military is stretched too thin. After the shooting, army Chief General Ashfaq Parvez Kayani visited Malala in the hospital and vowed to fight terrorists "regardless of the cost." Some analysts read his gesture as a sign that the military is ready to get serious against extremism, but with elections looming, it will be tough to secure the needed consensus for another large-scale campaign. Any action targeting extremists can be interpreted as kowtowing to the West, and few leaders are willing to take this political risk. "They're not going to go in under international pressure," says Akram, "and domestically, there is a strong lobby by the religious right that opposes military action in Waziristan."

The solution may not be found in the corridors of power. As her supporters await news from her doctors in the U.K., Malala's face has become part of Pakistan's landscape, splashed across newspaper front pages and on posters attached to trees and lampposts. Her ideas for gender equity and children's rights now seem to be everywhere. In a busy open-air market in Islamabad, 18-year-old Mariam Ghafoor enjoys the cool October air and the scent of hot kebabs on an afternoon out with her family. "This has made each and every one of our generation think about what's happening around our country," she says. Ghafoor has her pick of universities — an unimaginable dream for most girls in the Swat Valley, just 250 km away. If nothing else, the attack on Malala has brought their worlds a little closer together.

—with reporting by Sonia Van Gilder Cooke and Sarah Kneezle / London

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