EVEN when they have violated every tenet of humanity, purveyors of hate and obscurantism have long remained virtually unchallenged in Pakistan. Their triumphalist ideology has been the bedrock upon which the justification of every atrocity has been based.
Even at a seminal moment such as now, in the aftermath of the Peshawar school attack, the collective outpouring of grief found no resonance with Maulana Abdul Aziz, chief cleric of Lal Masjid in Islamabad.
Asked for his reaction, he refused to condemn the massacre of students and teachers, seeking instead to explain it away on the grounds of “wrong decisions” taken by the state. His prevarication was greeted with revulsion across society, and on Thursday night an unprecedented protest took place outside Lal Masjid, with participants chanting slogans against Maulana Aziz and lighting candles in memory of the victims.
A member of the mosque administration warned them that no further chanting would be tolerated, while police, anticipating a clash, asked the crowd to disperse. An FIR was filed against the participants for violating Section 144. The police also accused them of using “hate speech” against the mosque administration.
But why should we be surprised at this grotesque inversion of culpability? After all, let alone the right wing, even extremists are above the law in this country, able to openly promote their views from the pulpit, from television screens, in the political forum, with utter and complete immunity.
Banned organisations have been allowed to resurrect themselves under new names and continue to spew their noxious rhetoric. The state has not merely tolerated these individuals; it has patronised and employed them as a means to further its strategic objectives and shape the national discourse.
They are a handy means of fomenting agitation against perceived external threats as and when needed, and for negotiating with terrorists who pose an existential threat to Pakistan.
As a result, they have become emboldened enough to sometimes adopt a stance completely at variance with that of the state that has given them succour. A glance at Maulana Aziz’s own recent record is proof of this: he has named the library in his seminary after Osama bin Laden, and voiced his support for the self-styled Islamic State.
As the right wing — represented by the likes of Maulana Aziz — gradually intimidated society into submission, several progressive voices — represented by the likes of Rashid Rehman — were silenced through violence.
Now that the state finds itself scrambling to construct a befitting response to the tide of extremism that has begun to devour its own, it should take a cue from those who came to Lal Masjid to demand that apologists for extremism be held to account. In fact, it is imperative for the state to seize the moment and craft a counter narrative, one that abjures links with any shade of extremism, politically expedient or otherwise.
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