Friday Times, July 21-27, 2006
Enlightened moderation and extremist threat
Pervez Hoodbhoy Musharraf and his corps commanders well know that they cannot afford to sleep too well. It is in the lower ranks that the Islamists are busily establishing bases
The centrepiece of Pakistan’s relationship with the West since 9/11 has been dubbed “enlightened moderation” by General Pervez Musharraf. He claims Pakistan has rejected orthodox, militant, violent Islam in favour of a more moderate Islam. But after almost five years, it seems there is more continuity than change. It is difficult to see how the policy of “enlightened moderation” can hope to stem the tide of religious radicalism in Pakistan.
There have been some changes for the good. There is a perceptible shift in institutional practices and inclinations. Heads of government organisations are no longer required to lead noon prayers as in the 1980s; female announcers with undraped heads freely appear on Pakistan Television; thickly bearded stewards are disappearing from PIA flights; the first women fighter pilots have been inducted into the Pakistan Air Force. More importantly, the government has taken a vastly overdue, but nevertheless welcome action, by releasing hundreds of women prisoners arrested under the Hudood Ordinance. Many had spent years awaiting their trial.
But these pluses still cannot outweigh the minuses. Banned extremist groups continue to operate, though not quite as freely. After the October earthquake, they seized the opportunity of relief work to fully re-establish and expand their presence in Azad Kashmir. They openly flaunted their banners and weapons in all major towns. Some obtained relief materials from government stocks to pass off as their own, and used heavy vehicles that could only have been provided by the authorities. Only recently have they moved out of full public view into more sheltered places.
Other Pakistani leaders send similar messages. When Prime Minister Shaukat Aziz called for nationwide prayers for rain in a year of drought, it seemed odd for a man from Citibank. Then, at an education conference in Islamabad, he proposed that Islamic religious education must start as soon as children enter school. This came in response to a suggestion by the moderate Islamic scholar, Javed Ahmed Ghamdi, that only school children in their fifth year and above should be given formal Islamic education or they would stand in danger of becoming rigid and doctrinaire. The government’s 2006 education policy now requires Islamic studies to begin in the third year of school, a year earlier than in the previous policy.
The Saudi-isation of a once-vibrant Pakistani culture continues at a relentless pace. Total separation of the sexes is a central goal of the Islamists, the consequences of which have been catastrophic. On April 9, 2006, when 21 women and 8 children were crushed to death, and scores injured, in a stampede inside a three-storey madrassa in Karachi, male rescuers were prevented from moving injured women to hospitals.
Soon after the October 2005 earthquake, as I walked through the destroyed city of Balakot, a student of the Frontier Medical College told me how he and his male colleagues were stopped by religious elders from digging out injured girl students from under the rubble of their school building. The action of these elders was similar to that of Saudi Arabia’s ubiquitous religious policemen who, in March 2002, had stopped schoolgirls from leaving a blazing building because they were not wearing their abayas . In rare criticism, Saudi newspapers had blamed the mutaween for letting 15 girls burn to death.
The drive to segregate is increasing among educated women. Two decades ago the fully veiled student was a rarity on Pakistani university campuses. Now she outnumbers those who still dare show their faces. This has further enhanced passivity and unquestioning obedience to the teacher, and decreased the self-confidence of female students.
As religious fanaticism grips the population there is a curious, almost fatalistic, disconnection with the real world which suggests that fellow Muslims don’t matter any more, only Faith does. Even specifically Muslim causes – like US actions against Iraq, Palestine, or Iran – rarely bring more than a few protesters to the streets. Nevertheless large numbers of Pakistanis are driven to fury and violence when their faith is maligned. Mobs set on fire the Punjab Assembly, as well as shops and cars in Lahore, for an act of blasphemy committed in Denmark.
Sectarianism flows from fanaticism. Suicide attacks have become popular. The murder of Allama Hasan Turabi in Karachi last week is the latest incident. There have been scores of other incidents across the country leaving hundreds dead and injured.
Unable to combat the toxic mix of religion with tribalism, the Pakistani government is rapidly losing what little authority it ever had in the tribal parts. No one accepts the convenient fiction that the army is merely combating “foreign militants” from the Arab and Central Asian countries. The local Taliban, as well as Al Qaeda, are popular; the army is not.
According to the Pew Global Survey (2006), the percentage of Pakistanis who expressed confidence in Osama bin Laden as a world leader grew from 45% in 2003 to 51% in 2005. This 6-point increase must be compared against responses to an identical questionnaire in Morocco, Turkey, and Lebanon, where bin Laden’s popularity has sharply dropped by as much as 20 points.
It is worth asking what has changed Pakistan so much and what makes it so different from other Muslim countries?
At the heart of Pakistan’s problems lies a truth – one etched in stone – that when a state proclaims a religious identity and mission, it is bound to privilege those who organise religious life and interpret religious text. This truth, for all its simplicity, has escaped the attention of several generations of soldiers, politicians, and citizens of Pakistan.
It is true that there has been some learning – Musharraf’s call for “enlightened moderation” is a tacit (and welcome) admission that a theocratic Pakistan cannot work. But his call conflicts with his other, more important, responsibility as chief of the Pakistan army. Pakistan is what it is because its army finds greater benefit in the status quo. Today the army’s first priority is to protect its enormous corporate interests that sprawl across real estate, manufacturing, and service sectors.
Today, the relationship between the army and religious radicals is no longer as simple as it was in the 1980s. To maintain a positive image in the West, the Pakistani establishment must continue to decry Islamic radicalism, and display elements of liberalism that are deeply disliked by the orthodox. But hard actions will be taken only if the Islamists threaten the army’s corporate and political interests, or if senior army commanders are targeted for assassination. The Islamists for their part hope for, and seek to incite, action by zealous officers to bring back the glory days of the military-mullah alliance led by General Zia ul Haq.
Musharraf and his corps commanders well know that they cannot afford to sleep too well. It is in the lower ranks that the Islamists are busily establishing bases. A mass of junior officers and low-ranking soldiers – whose world view is similar to that of the Taliban in most respects – feels resentful of being used as cannon fodder for fighting America’s war. So far, army discipline has successfully squelched dissent and forced it underground. But this sleeping giant can – if and when it wakes up – tear asunder the army. That would shake the Pakistani state from its very foundations.
The author teaches at Quaid-e-Azam University, Islamabad. Comments may be directed to: pervezhoodbhoy@yahoo.com
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