Clerics despise scepticism. Maybe out of personal fear or as an excuse to avoid tough questions, they designate it as a slippery slope, a path that will drag every believer to the dead end of apostasy and atheism. So even if you do not question the religion itself or doubt its fundamentals but you somehow typify those people who prefer objectivity over emotions and empty rhetoric or those who fall in love with literature regardless of its language, be it English, Urdu or Russian, you still may very well be marked as disloyal. And if that happens, I have got one piece of good news and at least two pieces of bad ones for you.
The good news implies that you probably hold a liberal ideology (Pakistani version), which promotes tolerance and pluralism in society and inspirits a Pakistan that welcomes all faiths and ethnicities. The bad news entails that because of your views you will soon be declared a fascist or an enemy agent. You just need to express in public that the practice of religion should be regarded as a personal matter rather than the state’s affair and insist that the rights of minorities need to be fiercely guarded.
The second bit of bad news can be considered more or less a warning: if you do not conform to the (extreme) vision of the clerics, and your disapproval of their bigotry continues to grow, then sooner or later a religious leader will issue a decree inciting your murder and a zealot, confirming his place in paradise, will take you down. The last one piece of bad news deals with the reaction of the people after your assassination. You think Pakistanis will sympathise with you if something happens to you, right? Wrong. On the contrary, Pakistan will celebrate your death as a day of jubilation instead of observing it as a day of mourning for losing an innocent life.
With that background in mind, you can understand post-Zia Pakistan the same way I do: an increasingly conservative country where bigotry is the most revered virtue. Here, people through their love and admiration, their hatred and condemnation, their attire and outlook and even through their support for peace or appreciation for violence are committed to establish the authenticity of their faith onto others. And it was because of this attitude that the late governor of Punjab, Salmaan Taseer had to lose his life. In 2010, he stood up all alone to protect Aasia Bibi, a poor Christian female wrongfully accused of blasphemy in Sheikhupura, as no one would dare help her. By supporting her, did the governor defy the clerics and religious establishment? Of course he did. And by comforting her did he uphold the core Islamic principles of clemency and compassion? Yes he did. Then what was his crime? Everyone knows Salmaan Taseer did not commit blasphemy in regards to the Prophet (PBUH) and always expressed his indebtedness to the Apostle of God. However, he did blaspheme when he raised his voice against the priests who abuse the law. He did blaspheme when he stood up for the weak and he did blaspheme when he defended hapless minorities. That was his real crime and in Pakistan everyone gets punished for it.
From a social point of view, when his security officer, Mumtaz Qadri, opened fire, the unstable religious fanatic must not have realised that he was opening the gates of hellfire for minorities. Moreover, he was setting a new precedent for all criminals to settle personal scores on religious grounds and was legitimising the culture of crushing business rivalries, avenging tribal conflicts and resolving land disputes in the name of blasphemy. Politically speaking, the cold-blooded murder of Mr Taseer has brought a greater tragedy to the nation than the assassination of the former Prime Minister (PM) of Pakistan, Benazir Bhutto. At least the nation recognised her services for the country and admired her courage to oppose the two martial laws in her lifetime. Despite some criticism on her performance as the PM by the opposition, everyone condemns the suicide attack that resulted in her death and pays tribute to her as a martyr. Simply put, seven years later, she continues to rule the hearts of most Pakistanis.
On the other hand, in case of Governor Taseer, except for some mumblings from moderates, we do not hear a single word of sympathy from anyone, including his own party, the PPP, which claims to hold the rights of minorities at the top of its agenda. After losing two of its most brilliant minds in less than five years, the PPP had, we thought, the moral, ethical and religious responsibility to resist radicalism. However, under its current aloof and ineffective leadership, it preferred to keep quiet, giving in to the extremists. It did not bother to educate people on the difference between blasphemy and the blasphemy law nor did it galvanise civil society in raising awareness about its misuse. What it did was stay focused on the completion of its five-year term and remained involved in as many financial scandals as anyone can in a single tenure, a tragedy that still haunts Pakistan.
Experts think after Benazir Bhutto, the late governor embodied the true spirit of the party, a brave man who could defy the clerics even if it threatened his own life. After him, the party has seized to exist as a left leaning, progressive organisation, the party of Zulifkar Ali Bhutto, if we agree that the party exists altogether. Nowadays, no one can distinguish the PPP from the right leaning Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaaf (PTI) or the PML-N, both of whom allegedly have close ties with local extremist groups. A few years from today, the PPP, if it fails to provide brave and honest leadership, will join many other political parties that exist not on the ground but only on paper as part of history texts.
The writer is a US-based freelance columnist. He tweets at @KaamranHashmi and can be reached at [email protected]