The fear factor

The writer is a freelance columnist and former newspaper editor.

The day Mumtaz Qadri was hanged for killing the late Punjab governor Salmaan Taseer in January 2011, fear immediately spread like a heavy mist across the country, with children collected from schools in most major cities and some shops bringing down their shutters.

Violent, disruptive protests by members of the religious right, who see Qadri as a martyr, were anticipated. Yes, there were protests and Qadri’s funeral brought out millions, but the violence – fortunately – was limited. Lahore, for example, barely saw a few hours of unrest, Rawalpindi saw a little more, despite the efforts made by his family and supporters to gain as much mileage as they could from his execution – delaying the burial for well over a day and encouraging mosque imams to persuade people to join in the final rites of a man who chose to kill the person he was put on duty to protect.

Social media messages and images also made it clear that there was, indeed, widespread support for Qadri, some coming from the most unlikely quarters, in a country that is deeply confused over matters of ideological belief and the interpretation of religion. As some pointed out in response to the divergent posts, there were also multiple candle light vigils for Taseer, each year to mark his death anniversary. In some ways, it is impossible to calculate how the numbers add up and how many strands are woven into each carpet of belief – given that there are carpets with many different patterns in our divided nation.

It is also an established fact that the religious groups have a significant ability to bring people out onto the streets and at funeral processions, when this is what they choose to do. There are seminary students who can be brought out by a single call, as well as tier after tier of disciplined cadres belonging to the highly organised parties that represent religion as well as politics. But it is also true that through history, this street power has not transformed into votes. Despite the discourse that has dominated the past few decades, the representation of religious parties in the assemblies remains minimal. What people believe and what they want is not easy to determine. Clearly, they do not seem to seek a government led by or dominated by religious groups. This is a pattern that has persisted since the earliest days of democracy in Pakistan.

It is also true that there is a huge silent majority – a majority that attends neither vigils nor street protests; a majority that only rarely speaks out or puts forward its opinions. But while it may not be taking an open stand on either side of the fence, it is important to try and understand what these people want. There is quite obviously a great degree of confusion. It is this confusion that has led women, young people and members of the educated elite to line up with groups like the Islamic State. But of course only a tiny minority does so.

There are others who openly stand with the liberals, but they are few in number. Fear is a factor in this. Because of the threat presented by extremists, a smaller and smaller number are willing to say what they feel or say what they believe to be the truth. Those who have done so, have in too many cases been forced to leave the country or killed, because we have allowed hatred and violence to grow at an alarming rate. Those who have fled include writers, social activists and religious scholars.

Given that the extremist groups operating in our country have guns and bullets, as well as armies of suicide bombers and others willing to kill, there is every reason to fear. But should we really be so afraid? The Qadri protests really amounted to very little in the overall scheme of things. This has been true on previous occasions as well.

Good security measures may have helped in the aftermath of the execution of Mumtaz Qadri, but it is also true that not many attempted to take to the streets. In fact, since the riots of 2006 in Lahore and Rawalpindi, when we saw mobs break shop windows and attack vehicles as a response to the blasphemous cartoons published in Denmark, there have been limited occasions when the clerics have proved to be quite as powerful as we perceive them to be. Even in 2006, the violence was peculiar and, in some cases, it did not represent religious feeling but the general frustration of young people deprived of jobs, opportunity or hope. It was a kind of senseless rage.

Perhaps the time has come to challenge the religious forces. They hold an unseen stick over us because we fear that they can strike at any time. We need to speak out against them more openly and put forward other opinions to balance out the generally held discussions and views. When clerics appear on television and insist on violence, we need to contest these voices and put forward more rational opinions.

Despite the increasing shift towards the Right, there is still some indication that large numbers of people are not in favour of frenzied violence or the increasingly extreme interpretations of religion that come from specific groups. The legacy and tradition of the sufis, who introduced Islam to the country, still lives on in many places.

Before it is too late, we need to build on this base. Random polls conducted by students in towns and in villages showed that many believed, at least when speaking anonymously, that the blasphemy law and others had been misused again and again. This is encouraging. People have not been blinded completely, despite the efforts to drive them into darkness.

There is every reason to try and light up our minds and lives, so that these ideas can be brought forward more widely. The two go together; improving the quality of life empowers people and gives them the strength to put forward opinions and voice them more openly. At the moment, many do not do so in public places because they know they could be challenged and this could lead to an unpleasant squabble – or worse.

A more open environment has to be created. In many ways, this environment already exists in social media. But those forums are limited to only those with access to the internet and computers and those who understand the English language, which offers a far wider view of the world than Urdu does, as far as access to ideas and thoughts is concerned.

It is unfortunate that our mainstream electronic media has made no effort to develop a broader school of ideas. The fact that it did not publicise the Qadri protests or create hype over them was reportedly largely because of the warnings issued formally by Pemra and less formally by other powerful institutions within the country. But beyond these warnings, those who have access to the platforms that mould public opinion must think about how they can use this power and what they can do for a country badly in need of a collective goal.

Email: kamilahyat@hotmail.com