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02/12/2000
THE PHILOSOPHICAL QUEST – A DIRECTION FOR THE NEW MILLENIUM
Speech for the Tenth DR C. A. QADIR MEMORIAL LECTURE, 2 DECEMBER 2000, AL-HAMRA ARTS COUNCIL, LAHORE.

When Dr Ghazala Irfan approached me some months ago and requested me to deliver the tenth Dr C.A. Qadir Memorial lecture, I could think of a number of more qualified persons, who are sitting out there at the moment in the audience instead of standing here at this podium.
My reluctance stemmed from three apprehensions. The first was that I never knew Dr Qadir. I was therefore denied a familiarity with him that might have enabled me to provide those personal insights that speakers at such memorial lectures can give to their audiences about the subject, his life and his life’s work. The second was my sense of inadequacy when I noticed the list of previous Qadir Memorial lecturers – names such as Professor Karrar Hussain, Retired Chief Justice Dr Nasim Hasan Shah, Mr Agha Shahi, and Dr Eqbal Ahmed. The third, and perhaps the most discouraging of all, was I know next to nothing about Philosophy, except that it is regarded as being located in the vast field of human knowledge as somewhere between Science and Theology. Science, according to Bertrand Russell, being what includes all definite knowledge, and Theology all dogma that surpasses definite knowledge.
Ghazala’s determined insistence, though, that I should be the Speaker today as you can see overcame my reluctance. That is why I stand before you this morning. I would agree with her on one thing, though. No man ought to be the judge of his own shortcomings. Let his audience and history decide.
Dr C.A. Qadir’s life, his remarkable career and his prolific intellectual output are now the quarry for us historians. I have rummaged amongst his writings for information about him. From a piece he wrote on himself, and published in an offering of essays presented to him by the Pakistan Philosophical Congress to commemorate half a century of his absorption with the study of philosophy, I noticed that Dr Qadir began his philosophical quest in his early youth, in the unlikely surroundings of Pasrur (District Sialkot).
He described Pasrur as `a small town, passing through a religious crisis. There were Arya Samajists, Christians, Ahmaidis and of course Moslems, all trying to defend their own creed.’ Assailed by questions such as `Why was I born?’ or `Where did I come from?’ he had to wait until he joined the Murray College at Sialkot, before he could begin what became a lifelong pursuit to discover the answers. At the Murray College, he was introduced to the subject of Philosophy, and to a teacher – Professor William Lillie – whose influence on him was nothing short of inspirational. Dr Qadir referred to him later with the reverence a disciple might his guru, as ` being a religious divine besides being a philosopher’.
Had Dr Qadir been born a Buddhist, he would have served a shorter apprenticeship than he needed to before experiencing his own form of enlightenment. Whereas Siddartha Gautama had spent six years in the wilderness before he became Buddha, Qadir had to endure a period of self-deprivation twice that length. He spent twelve long years in the intellectual barrenness of Rohtak (now in Indian Punjab), before he achieved a sort of nirvana by getting a job in the metropolis of Lahore.
Dr Qadir joined Government College Lahore after Independence, and in 1952 became the Professor of Philosophy, remaining there until 1963. For an interregnum of a year, he acted as Principal, Government Training College at Faisalabad (then Lyallpur). In 1964 Dr Qadir returned to his first love – Philosophy – teaching it at the University of the Punjab, as the Iqbal Professor and as the Head of the University’s Department of Philosophy until his retirement in 1970.
His extensive writings confirm that throughout his long and prolific life, he remained a querist, always a learner. Through the numerous lectures he gave at the University, and equally readily at various institutions during his retirement, he remained a dependable guide, always the revered teacher.
The humbleness of Dr Qadir’s origins reminds one of that other great Pakistani – our only Nobel Prize Winner, the late Dr Abdus Salam – who received his early education at Jhang. I had written once that while a genius can be born anywhere in the world, it takes true genius to be born in Maghiana Jhang. A certain lady politician who comes from an equally obscure village close to Jhang took umbrage upon reading that sentence, and I can understand why. Natural talent, she maintained, does not need a classroom in which to flower.
The emergence of persons like Dr Salam and Dr Qadir from such rustic crucibles as Maghiana Jhang and Pasrur, though, was not a measure of the quality of education provided in rural areas in those far off days – neither then, and even less so now. Intellectuals like them achieved prominence not because of their early education but despite it. One wonders how many other nascent Salams and Qadirs lie smothered in such schools out there today.
Towards the end of his life, Dr Qadir veered towards the idea of a Universal religion, a World Philosophy. He explained what he meant by that idea: `In the twentieth century when due to the quick, easy and cheap means of communication and transport, cultural isolation came to an end and people came to know one another more intimately, it was realized that just as no nation has been without a religion or a prophet, so has no nation been without a philosophy of some sort and philosophers of some worth.[…] Hence a need arose to synthesize the flashes of insight as exhibited by the inhabitants of the various parts of the globe.’ [EXTRACT]
The full text has been published in THE BARK OF A PEN. An extract was published in THE TIMES OF INDIA, 11 Dec. 2000.]
 
02 December 2000
 
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