Bring the missing activists home

We have come a long way from the horrors of the worst year of terror-related violence in Pakistan in 2009, when over 11,700 lives were taken. In 2017, Pakistan can legitimately claim unprecedented gains against terrorists, given that the year 2016 saw less than a fifth of the death toll that was imposed on us in 2009.

There is nothing for Pakistanis to celebrate yet, but if there is such a thing as beating terrorism in the modern era, Pakistan offers a robust and intriguing case study. This is part of the reason why, at the World Economic Forum annual meeting this week in Davos, Pakistan will be doing something it has rarely done at these fora: it will strut about with a certain confidence.

Our prime minister will be having multiple discussions about how investment in Pakistan is a solid bet, and our retired army chief, General Raheel Sharif will be explaining how Pakistan challenged, hunted down and killed violent extremists that had spread bloodshed across our homeland. To top off this Pakistani moment at Davos, our Oscar-winning Sharmeen Obaid Chinoy will be co-chairing the entire annual meeting, the first time that an artist has been selected for the honour. 

As a proud nationalist Pakistani that gets weak-kneed at the sight of the flag, and the sound of Ali Azmat belting out pop anthems, it is appealing for me to indulge a feeling of gratitude and satisfaction. Pakistan has been at the wrong end of too many conversations at too many events in too many places. I have spent a large chunk of my adult life trying to explain our faults and our shortcomings at security conferences, diplomatic conferences, development conferences, education conferences, governance and reform and economic conferences. At Davos this week, it feels like we may really be turning the corner.

All of this is what makes the next sentence in this column more difficult than it would be ordinarily. What kind of emerging regional economic and political power gets intimidated by low-follower, low TRP, low appeal narratives on social media? What kind of fortress of Islam takes anonymous Twitter accounts so seriously as to want to muffle their voice? What kind of blanket of national security gets worried about the holes in it, based on poems and Facebook pages?

Four online ‘activists’, including poet and academic, Salman Haider, have been reported missing. The speculation about their whereabouts? That these activists were taken away by ‘state actors’. If there is any suspicion of illegal activity on the part of these activists, this would have been perfectly understandable. This is where the controversy begins. There is no information report (FIR), there is no arrest warrant, there are no judges, no policemen, no prison wardens, and no explanation. There is no due process. There is just the unexplained and unexplainable disappearance of four activists.

I know a couple of things about malign online actors, especially anonymous ones. I have been subjected to every kind of abuse by both random and passionate supporters of causes that I don’t adopt, and by paid agents, whose job is to contaminate the digital reputations of people. I don’t mind it very much because unlike a lot of friends who believe their reputations are in the hands of individuals, or institutions, I believe reputations — online and offline — are products of our conduct, our work, and our intentions. Allah is most kind, and His mercy is infinite.

I also have some exposure to the specific work of the activists that have disappeared. At least one of the activists that has disappeared has taken part in promoting negative narratives about my work in education. I am a little more sensitive about Alif Ailaan, because the work we have tried to do is not about entitled and privileged people who have already gotten decent educations. It is about the millions of children that are not getting, and may not ever get a decent education. Yet even on this, I strongly believe that our work at Alif Ailaan is driven by the goodwill of thousands of activists, writers, reporters, editors, anchors, commentators, government officials and politicians. A few disparaging tweets, or disgruntled partisans are welcome, because often they may help us pay attention to weaknesses in our approach.

Finally, I am an orthodox Muslim, who aspires to be a much more practising Muslim than I am. This means that I am incredibly sensitive to aggressive language about the faith. I am easily offended by any irreverent reference to the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh), to the Ummul Momineen, to the Ahlul Bayt, or to any of the Ashaaratul Mubashireen.

I share these personal reflections because they are intimately related to how we react to the disappearance of controversial or even malign online activists. The entire basis for celebrating the magic of the digital age is that it empowers those that would otherwise have no voice. Anonymous accounts can be used for evil, as I feel they are when someone is having a rip-roaring go at me. But my feelings are not really that important. I am in the business of trying to construct a better society, a better state, a better country, and a better world. A bruised ego isn’t such a high price to pay for the privilege of having a voice, and to go to work every day with a real chance at making a difference.

More importantly, just as anonymous accounts can be used for evil, anonymous accounts might be used for good. And tomorrow, one of us, you or me, or our siblings, or our children, may be living in circumstances that require them to speak without fear of persecution. And when that day, or that place comes, we need to think about how we react to the disappearance of social media activists that we many not necessarily be fans of today.

Pakistan’s stock market had its best year in a decade, beating expectations, and setting itself up for its entry into emerging market status later this year, with among the highest performing indexes in the world. The country’s foreign exchange reserves have never enjoyed the liquidity they do today, and barring major shocks to the system, economists expect Pakistan not only to remain solvent in the short run, but in fact, to thrive. Part of this buoyancy is rooted in the successful prosecution of our war against violent extremists — both genuinely ideological ones, and paid agents of enemy states.

There will always be challengers to this narrative of a new, a better, a brighter Pakistan. I want to live in a Pakistan in which we not only allow dissenting voices, but in which we find ways to win over these challengers. With love, with mercy, with infrastructure, with justice, with jobs, but most of all, with certainty of equal treatment before the law. We need to find Salman Haider and the other missing activists, and reunite them with their families, not because we endorse anything they may have said, but because we are all Pakistanis deserving of the same privileges and rights under the sovereignty afforded to us by God, as stated in our constitution.

Real victory is not when we stand menacingly above the bodies of those we have vanquished, but when we stand guard outside their homes, educating their children, and converting their coming generations to becoming believers in a new, a better, a brighter Pakistan. We won’t be able to do it if we can’t guarantee freedom and due process to those that we disagree with. We must bring Salman Haider and all other missing activists home. Our pride as Pakistanis must continue to remain wounded as long as they remain missing.

The writer is an analyst and commentator.