
 
 Malala Yousafzai speaks before the United Nations Youth Assembly at UN headquarters in New York. (Getty Images) 
 
 There was a moment midway through Malala Yousafzai's much-watched interview on "The Daily Show" when host Jon Stewart announced, apparently spontaneously, and in words that seemed to channel how much of the West feels about this young Pakistani woman, "I want to adopt you." The comment captured the growing adoration around Malala, who has become a Western media darling for her heroic work on behalf of girls' education in her country. And it foreshadowed the crushing disappointment felt this morning when the Nobel Peace Prize was awarded to someone else. 
 
 Still, the Nobel Peace Prize committee may have been doing 16-year-old Malala a favor in passing her over, at least for now. More to the organization's purpose, it may have been doing all of us a favor. The young woman's power as a symbol is undeniable. In the past months, though, the Western fawning over Malala has become less about her efforts to improve conditions for girls in Pakistan, or certainly about the struggles of millions of girls in Pakistan, and more about our own desire to make ourselves feel warm and fuzzy with a celebrity and an easy message. It's a way of letting ourselves off the hook, convincing ourselves that it's simple matter of good guys vs. bad guys, that we're on the right side and that everything is okay. 
 
 But everything is not okay, and it's certainly not simple. The West has a lot of hard questions to grapple with, particularly given our own not-insignificant hand in Pakistan's problems and the clear sense that we are not welcome. Awarding Malala the highest honor in peace-making, at the pinnacle of the campaign to remake her into a Western celebrity, would have validated that effort, deliberately or not. It would have reaffirmed that too-common Western habit that, by giving a powerful symbol a greater platform and lots of accolades, we'll have fulfilled our duty. Like a sort of slacktivism writ large, awarding Malala the Nobel would have told us what we wanted to hear: that celebrity and "awareness" can fix even the worst problems. It would have made us less likely to acknowledge the truth, which is that it takes decades of hard work, not to mention a serious examination of our own role in the problem, to effect meaningful change. 
 
 It can sometimes feel as if the entire West were trying to co-opt Malala, as if to tell ourselves: "Look, we're with the good guys, we're on the right side. The problem is over there." Sometimes the heroes we appoint to solve our problems can say as much about us as about them. Malala's answer is courage. Our answer is celebrity. 
 
 None of this is anywhere near Malala's fault, of course. But the Nobel Peace Prize, after all, is not purely about merit; it's also an aspirational prize meant to itself encourage peace by conferring legitimacy and attention on an effort that needs it. 
 
 This year's went to the Organization for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons, a small agency that has overseen the destruction of 80 percent of the world's declared chemical weapons, including the entire South Korean and Indian stockpiles. It is dull and uninteresting and has made the world a significantly and demonstrably better place. It is currently facing enormous challenges in Syria, where it's trying desperately to dismantle vast stockpiles of chemical weapons. This mission is not sexy and it doesn't make people cry on daytime TV, but it's important, has the immediate potential to save large numbers of lives, and could really use the world's support. Given how little interest most people show in Syria's very complicated and messy conflict, much less the humdrum institutions working to make it better, the Nobel might help. 
 
 The OPCW cannot hold a candle to the human appeal of Malala, who is truly and accurately recognized as the personification of many of the qualities we most prize in a human being, who at an impossibly young age has demonstrated more character and strength and courage than most of us will ever know. She is an inspiring young woman and a powerful symbol. She has faced down some of the most daunting problems of one of the world's most troubled countries and not only survived, but come away even more committed to the most cherished ideals of our world. 
 
 Still, as University of North Carolina assistant professor Zeynep Tufekci wrote in a careful and thoughtful piece on the Nobel decision, Malala "is but one courageous person." Tufekci continues: 
 
 Fortunately for the world, there is no shortage of such brave, courageous individuals. In fact, there is an abundance of them, especially in poor, authoritarian countries. If you think Malala is rare, that is probably because you have not spent much time in such countries. Most Malalas, however, go nameless, and are not made into Western celebrities. 
 
 Tufecki also explains why she was uncomfortable with Jon Stewart's declaration that he wanted to adopt Malala: It was "a striking sentiment in which our multi-decade involvement in Pakistan is reduced to finding a young woman we admire that we all want to take home as if to put on a shelf to adore." We've already adopted her, in a metaphorical sense, and in so doing have asked her to implicitly absolve us of any further responsibility. 
 
 The hard truth we don't want to acknowledge is that the world's most difficult and intractable problems, from gender violence in India to civil war in Syria to discrimination against girls in Pakistan, are not camera-ready. They do not cry out to be adopted by Jon Stewart or given a hug by Queen Elizabeth II. The solutions, if they even exist, are not slogans and they don't make you feel warm and fuzzy. If your discussion of how to mitigate some of the world's most challenging problems can make a TV audience say "aww" on command, then you're probably talking around the problem. 
 
 The world is just not that simple, even if we desperately want it to be. Malala has never tried to make her efforts in Pakistan about herself – that's something we've foisted on her. There's little doubt that this amazing young woman has a life of accomplishment ahead of her, one that could bring tremendous and important change on the ground in Pakistan. But what we are trying to make her up to be, by no fault of her own, is something very different: a savior on our behalf, a happy face on an unhappy situation, a way to think about Pakistan that lets us go back to ignoring the problem. 
 
 The point of the Nobel Peace Prize is not to make Western TV viewers feel inspired and comforted, it is to promote peace. By awarding the prize to Malala at this early moment, the Nobel committee would be abetting our effort to turn some of Pakistan's deepest problems into just another Hollywood-ready drama with an easy-to-follow narrative and a happy ending. That's an enormously gratifying and feel-good message, but it's a distortion, and one that ultimately makes it much easier for us to turn away from Pakistan's deeper and more uncomfortable problems, which extend to our involvement there. That in turn makes it less likely that Malala's mission, of helping young girls in Pakistan, will go fulfilled. Helping human beings who are in conflict, not validating our feelings, is the Nobel's mission. 
 
 Ask yourself this: Before Friday morning's Nobel announcement, had you ever heard of the Organization for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons? Did you spend a lot of time thinking about chemical weapons, who has them, how to get rid of them, what practices have worked and what sorts of international support they require? The answer to all of those is probably "no," but Friday's award has a chance at changing that a bit, or at least providing incentives for the world to encourage more of the OPCW's successes. 
 
 In passing her over, the Nobel committee gave Malala a chance to transcend celebrity and symbolism, to be a part of demonstrable change. Decades from now, should she become Pakistani Prime Minister Yousafzai, as she says she hopes to do, the purity of symbolism she represents today would surely be complicated by the hard realities of governing, as even Mahatma Gandhi's was. But when she traveled to Oslo and accept a Nobel Peace Prize, she could point to more than her own life but to schools she'd built, the lives she'd changed and the peace she'd made. ||||| SWAT VALLEY, Pakistan — The question for the class of 10th graders at an all-girls school here in this picturesque mountain valley was a simple one: How many of them, a district official wanted to know, had heard of Malala Yousafzai? 
 
 The students stared at the official, Farrukh Atiq, in silence. Not a single hand was raised. 
 
 “Everyone knows about Malala, but they do not want to affiliate with her,” Mr. Atiq said on Thursday, as speculation grew that Ms. Yousafzai, who was shot in the head by the Taliban a year ago, might win the Nobel Peace Prize. 
 
 In the end, Ms. Yousafzai did not win the Nobel Prize. That went to the Organization for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons. But after a week of intense news coverage, during which she released her memoir and won a prestigious European award for human rights, Ms. Yousafzai’s stature as a symbol of peace and bravery has been established across the world — everywhere, it seems, except at home. 
 
 It is not just that the schoolchildren fear becoming targets, though that is certainly an element in their caution. “I am against Malala,” said Muhammad Ayaz, 22, a trader who runs a small store beside Ms. Yousafzai’s old school in Mingora, the main town in the Swat Valley. “The media has projected Malala as a heroine of the West. But what has she done for Swat?” 
 
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 That sense of smoldering animosity toward Ms. Yousafzai, 16, in the Swat Valley — which she hurriedly left aboard a military helicopter for treatment last year after being shot — seems to be animated in part by the tensions of a rural community still traumatized by conflict. 
 
 Although the Pakistani Army forced the Taliban from Swat during a major military operation in 2009, pockets of militants remain, occasionally striking against soldiers or activists like Ms. Yousafzai. 
 
 Many residents fear the Islamists could one day return to power in the valley, an anxiety that, paradoxically, has stoked simmering hostility toward the militants’ most famous victim. 
 
 “What is her contribution?” asked Khursheed Dada, a worker with the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf party, which governs Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa Province, including Swat. 
 
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 That cynicism was echoed this week across Pakistan, where conspiracy-minded citizens loudly branded Ms. Yousafzai a C.I.A. agent, part of a nebulous Western plot to humiliate their country and pressure their government. 
 
 Muhammad Asim, a student standing outside the gates of Punjab University in the eastern city of Lahore, dismissed the Taliban attack on Ms. Yousafzai as a made-for-TV drama. “How can a girl survive after being shot in the head?” he asked. “It doesn’t make sense.” 
 
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 The reaction seemed to stem from different places: sensitivity at Western hectoring, a confused narrative about the Taliban and a sense of resentment or downright jealousy. 
 
 In Swat, some critics accused Ms. Yousafzai’s father, Ziauddin, of using his precocious daughter to drum up publicity and of maligning Pashtun culture. Others said the intense publicity had cast their district in a negative light, overshadowing the good work of other Pakistanis in education. 
 
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 Dilshad Begum, the district education officer for Swat, said that 14,000 girls and 17,000 boys had recently started school after an intensive door-to-door enrollment campaign led by local teachers. The threat from the Taliban was exaggerated, she added. 
 
 “I have been working for female education for 25 years, and never received a threat,” she said. 
 
 Even fellow students seemed to resent the recognition Ms. Yousafzai has received. At another school, a group of female students, assembled by their headmaster, agreed that Ms. Yousafzai did not deserve a Nobel Prize. 
 
 “Malala is not the only role model for Pakistani girls,” said Kainat Ali, 16, who wore a black burqa. 
 
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 Not all Pakistanis joined in the criticism. Many expressed pride in the bravery of their most famous teenager, who has had tea with Queen Elizabeth II in Buckingham Palace and received a standing ovation at the United Nations. By Friday there was a groundswell of support. Television stations broadcast songs lauding her work, and good luck messages flooded Facebook and Twitter. Students and women, in particular, said they had been inspired by her. 
 
 After the Nobel winner was announced, some openly expressed disappointment. In Swat, Shahid Iqbal, a music and movie store owner, said Ms. Yousafzai had made their district proud. “Malala is our daughter. She should have won the Nobel,” he said. 
 
 Imran Khan, the former cricketer who heads the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf party and has regularly faced criticism for his views on the Taliban, said Ms. Yousafzai represented “the struggle of girls and women everywhere against tyranny and oppression.” 
 
 One of the more poignant scenes unfolded in the port city of Karachi, where Atiya Arshad, an 11-year-old girl who was also shot by militants, waited at her home for news of the Nobel Prize. 
 
 Atiya was shot twice in the stomach in March when people suspected of being Taliban militants armed with guns and grenades attacked her school in Ittehad Town, a poor neighborhood of Karachi. The attack was part of a broader campaign of intimidation this year by the Taliban to assert themselves in Pakistan’s largest city. 
 
 Some students were watching a magic show when the attackers struck, but Atiya was lining up to receive an academic award at a prize ceremony. The school principal, Rasheed Ahmed, and an 11-year-old girl were killed. 
 
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 Atiya is now in a wheelchair, though her doctors are confident that with treatment and therapy she will be able to walk. She recalled how she was inspired to excel by a visit to the school by Ms. Yousafzai a year earlier, as part of the campaign to promote education for girls. 
 
 “I was so happy to see Malala,” she said in an interview. “I don’t know why these people don’t want us to go to school.” 
 
 Her father, a flour mill worker, noted that in contrast with Ms. Yousafzai, no politicians or campaigners had rushed to help after his daughter was shot. “We are arranging her treatment with great difficulty,” he said. 
 
 In interviews this week, Ms. Yousafzai said she was undeterred by the criticism at home, attributing it to the well-founded cynicism many Pakistanis harbor toward their political leaders. Still, she told an audience in New York on Thursday, her goal is to become prime minister of Pakistan one day. 
 
 “I can spend much of the budget on education,” she told Christiane Amanpour of CNN, drawing loud applause. But few think it would be safe for her to return home any time soon. 
 
 Repeated Taliban threats to kill Ms. Yousafzai should she set foot in Swat again were being taken very seriously, said Mr. Atiq, the district official. “More fame brings more danger,” he said. “The threat is greater than ever.” 
 
 Ms. Yousafzai has the consolation of knowing that her message of education for girls now resounds across the world. When the Taliban gunman boarded her bus in October 2012, he called out, “Who is Malala?” Now, as she noted in an interview this week, her voice is heard “in every corner of the world.” 
 
 Yet she insists that, come what may, Pakistan will always be her home. “Even if its people hate me,” she said in one interview, “I will still love it.”
– Sixteen-year-old Malala Yousafzai has been on a whirlwind book tour of the US, winning hearts and minds with her courageous story of sticking up for women's education in her native Pakistan, then surviving being shot in the head by a Taliban assassin last year. Yesterday, Malala met with President Obama, where she says she spoke out against US drone attacks in her country, which she worries are "fueling terrorism," killing "innocent victims," and creating resentment, reports the AP. But despite the hero's welcome, Malala has received in the West, it's a different story at home, reports the New York Times. Many in her hometown in the Swat Valley believe the young girl is a CIA agent, part of a US plot to humiliate Pakistan and influence the government. "The media has projected Malala as a heroine of the West. But what has she done for Swat?" asks one local. "How can a girl survive after being shot in the head?” says another skeptic. "It doesn’t make sense." Meanwhile, amid the Malala-mania here, Washington Post journalist Max Fisher argues that the Nobel committee did her a favor by not awarding her this year's Peace Prize. "Awarding Malala the Nobel would have told us what we wanted to hear:" he writes, "that celebrity and 'awareness' can fix even the worst problems," rather than "a serious examination of our own role in the problem." Click through for the full column.