Lessons from a broken chair

A Geneva monument reiterates the need for inclusive societies

Trips—overseas or domestic, business or pleasure—are invariably filled with flavours of fun and frolic. They feel incomplete if most tourist spots are not visited. But it is the magnetic pull of certain places that ensures they are never left out—like the Taj Mahal, Buckingham Palace, the White House, the Eiffel Tower, and so on.

The Broken Chair, at the heart of the city of Geneva, stands tall with that same magnetic presence. Made of more than five tons of wood and rising to a gigantic height of 12 metres, it commands attention. For the many political and diplomatic entourages that frequent this city, the installation serves as a reminder of how peace, once shattered, demands a humongous effort to restore.

Commissioned in 1997 by the NGO Handicap International as a symbolic representation of its opposition to landmines and cluster bombs, the sculpture highlights their dangers to society and the harm inflicted on the fragile fabric of peace in nations. One leg of the chair is splintered and jagged, representing the victims. Yet the chair defies gravity and stands tall. 

Geneva is often called a ‘Peace Capital’ and serves as a diplomatic centre of the world. It hosts several international organisations such as the UNHCR, the ILO, the WHO, the WTO, the UNCTAD, the International Committee of the Red Cross, and many others. Each plays a different role in advancing the upliftment of nations through inclusive growth.

My work brought me to Geneva frequently almost a decade ago. Commuting in a bus—if not walking—was how I got around. My IT project teams worked at three of the offices mentioned above. I would spend the pre-lunch hours at one office and then, braving the cold, enjoy the picturesque walk to the other two. A three-minute walk from the UNHCR office, I would often pause in front of this monument and ruminate on what catastrophic damage the explosion may have caused—deaths, injuries, and some lives permanently altered, with some victims rendered disabled. It was, if you will, a rude awakening to the harsh realities unfolding around the world.

Back home, it was customary to discuss the nuances of a business trip with my family. As I explained to them the significance of this chair, my uncle suddenly interjected: “Listen to this. Last week at a marriage hall, I fell off a plastic chair with slightly unstable legs. I have never approved of them as dependable chairs, especially when the person seated has the habit of rocking on its hind legs. These chairs come cheap, but the damage from a fall can prove costly.” 

I was momentarily waylaid in my narration—a cluster bomb of sorts that handicapped my train of thoughts.

Yet the larger point remains. Many countries have done their best to build inclusive societies for persons with disabilities. We, in India, still have much more to do if we are to achieve true social progress and take lessons from a broken chair—that peace is the ultimate tranquil existence.

(Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.)