The last nationalist maulana

Maulana Khanzeb’s was a courageous voice. He sounded like an organic leader

By Khan Zaman Kakar
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July 27, 2025


T

hough the two were separated by centuries and historical complexities make comparison difficult, the struggle, spirit and sacrifice of Maulana Khanzeb of Bajaur, recently martyred in the course of his daring struggle, reminds me of Sufi Shah Inayatullah of Jhok – whose story I first encountered in my high school days, when I had just begun to explore peoples’ histories.

Nearly three hundred years ago, Shah Inayat stood out as a striking exception among inward-looking mystics, choosing resistance over transcendence, grounding his spirituality in the suffering of the people and leading a revolt by poor peasants – faqirs – against the jagirdari system in lower Sindh.

Like Shah, Khanzeb, a prominent religious scholar, distinguished himself from the largely conservative clergy by choosing progressive non-violent politics for collective emancipation. As a leading figure in Awami National Party, he bravely championed the cause of people’s ownership of the land and its resources, seeing in it the foundation of dignified freedom.

Shah Inayat had a vision of egalitarian justice, starting with collective farming on his own land, uniting the poor for collective ownership and eventually organising them against the landed elites. Khanzeb followed a nationalist ideology and led an unarmed resistance against both structural and overt violence against his people. What united the Sufi and the Maulana was their love for their people expressed through action and sacrifice.

The intervening centuries have failed to change the cruelty of those in power The tradition of sacrifice has endured. Both Shah and Khanzeb were martyred in the course of their struggle.

I first came into contact with Maulana Khanzeb’s family in the years following 9/11. I was seeking unofficial and unfiltered accounts of what was happening in the Federally Administered Tribal Areas. Amid growing silence and distortion, I found his elder brother, Sheikh Jahanzada Bajaurai, among a handful of courageous people willing to share accurate information with some Pashto magazines and radio broadcasts on how terrorism and counter-terrorism had become two engines of destruction in a region where, for over a century, colonial law had prevailed in its most brutal form.

As hidden truths surfaced –revealing how lives, livelihoods and lands were thrust into brutal violence and how the region’s natural wealth was being targeted for unchecked exploitation – Maulana Khanzeb emerged as a bold voice of resistance. As a public intellectual with a dynamic religious persona, he fearlessly challenged the extremist interpretations of Islam.

In this context, Maulana Khanzeb’s scholarship and activism carried deep historical significance. During the colonial era, several prominent religious figures such as Maulana Fazal Mehmood Makhfi, Maulana Shakir Ullah, Mualana Muhammad Israel, Maulana Ghulam Qadir, Maulana Ghulam Habib, Maulana Ghuncha Gul and Maulana Inayat Ullah had stood alongside Bacha Khan and the Khudai Khidmatgars. But the Afghan war in the 1980s radically altered the madrasa landscape and the role of the clergy in Pakhtunkhwa. With massive funding from the US-led capitalist bloc, the madrasa network was inflated to provide both ideological cover and recruits for the war in Afghanistan. The so-called War on Terror further complicated the scene.

His tireless efforts for peace and resource sovereignty across diverse social and political spaces – from mosques to hujras, campuses to seminar halls, and jirgas to jalsas – were unmatched and exceptionally substantial. He has left a legacy of enlightenment.

Seeing his people bleed, Maulana Khanzeb strongly condemned the silence and indifference of religious leaders. He cursed and shamed those who tried to justify, carry out or ignore the bloodshed. He sought to delegitimise ‘religious’ militancy.

His tireless efforts for peace and resource sovereignty across diverse social and political spaces – from mosques to hujras, campuses to seminar halls and jirgas to jalsas – were unmatched and exceptionally substantial. He has left a legacy of enlightenment. His bestselling book, Shtamana Pashtunkhwa (The Resourceful Pashtunkhwa), offered a nationalist critique, backed by facts, on the exploitation of natural resources in the Pashtun region.

When news of the proposed Mines and Minerals Act, 2025, broke, Khanzeb mobilised the public to raise awareness against attempts to roll back the 18th Amendment.

He was one of the key organisers of recent peace marches. It was while mobilising for one such march that he was assassinated in broad daylight.

The march went ahead three days after his martyrdom. I too joined it to honour the dream of a cherished comrade: a lasting peace. Thousands of people expressed their outrage. Some of them blamed the state for the sufferings of the Pashtun people. Among the crowd was a young nephew of Khanzeb’s. With tears in his eyes, he said, ‘’see how someone worth two annas can kill a person worth billions.’’

The condolence meeting with his three sons was heartbreaking. As we looked into each other’s eyes, their tears flowed faster than their words. Even in their grief, they were clear-eyed about the state’s role in the circumstances surrounding their father’s murder. His elder brothers, Sheikh Jahanzada and Sheikh Gul Badshah, spoke with quiet dignity of a loss they saw not as just personal, but also national.

Gul Badshah told the participants of the march that Khanzeb had received a threatening phone call, warning him to either quit the Awami National Party or leave the region. He refused the advice, and embraced the familiar fate of those who hold their people and principles above their lives.

Khanzeb’s tragic departure has deprived the poor Pashtuns of a courageous voice. He was an organic leader. The youth and students have lost a truly enlightened mentor, the mainstay of several study circles. The ANP has lost yet another stalwart to the violence that has long haunted its ranks. Bajaur, already brutalized, stands orphaned. I have lost the most selfless comrade in our shared struggle.

During that visit, Bajaur felt like the most unsafe place in Pashtunkhwa. By early evening, it was considered unwise to travel, even along the main highway. Terrorist outfits were in full public view.

Maulana Khanzeb’s martyrdom is not just a loss – it is a warning as well.


The writer is a political worker, cultural critic and Pashto poet. Follow him on X: khanzamankakar.