A life’s constant fear

By Zehra Abid

Published: February 27, 2015

The writer is a freelance journalist and an editorial consultant for The Express Tribune

My first memory of sectarian violence is from February 1995. At the Mehfil-e-Murtaza Imambargah in Karachi, 16 people had been lined up and shot dead as they were preparing for a funeral. Sipah-e-Sahaba gunmen had stormed in and killed them point blank. The imambargah was one that I had a particularly close association with. It was our place to go every Ashura. There was a fixed pattern on the 10^th of Muharram for us. We would attend amajlis early morning at Nishtar Park, watch the juloos start its course and then go to Mehfil-e-Murtaza in the afternoon. There were times when we didn’t make it to the majlis in the morning, but the afternoon plan was never missed — Mehfil-e-Murtaza had the best haleemthat would only be served on the 10^th.

I have a faint recollection of when the news of the attack came in. One of the dead was a family friend. There was a lot of crying, a lot of shock and a lot more panic. I don’t remember exactly all that followed. I was eight then. The details are murky, the feelings, however, are not. We went to the imambargah the day after for the soyem. I remember most vividly the leftover spots of blood on the white walls next to the azakhana, where the alams and taziyaswould be placed. The stench of blood was still there. Maybe I was too young for memory to be trusted. But for me, that smell of blood and spots on the wall are most real.

At that age there was no understanding of sectarian differences. All I knew about sects was how much I dreaded the question ‘Are you Sunni or Shia?’ some kid in class would inevitably ask at the beginning of the school year. I hated the look of shock that followed and desperately wished I was more like the rest. Over the years, sectarianism has meant different things. It has meant more attacks, four in the first two months of this year now, of relatives dying in the Ashura blast in December 2008, of family and friends shot dead over their last name. It has meant going to the Muharram juloos not for religious or cultural ties but only so if something happens, I am with my mother, so in case it’s the last time, we are in it together. It has meant reducing hope to outliving my parents, reducing hope to not ever having to identify the body of someone I love; to never have to be identified by the birthmarks on my body.

I have now become part of the people many feel morally obligated to sympathise with. It was easier empathising with the Baloch, the Ahmadis, the Hazaras and the Shias of Parachinar and Gilgit-Baltistan. But now I am on the side, where friends, some directly, others between the lines, try to tell you it’s time to go. They tell you that you are now added to the number of people Pakistan does not have space for. Every time a sectarian attack happens, whether it kills three or 60, it takes my home away from me. “There is going to be a time when they will come into our homes and kill us,” my father says. He believes it will happen. He insists we should leave the country before it’s too late. Each time such an attack happens, some friend texts to suggest immigration to Australia, another suggests going to the US. My brother messages me to say I should leave the country, I tell him it’s time he should leave. Strange kind of love this is when you want people you love most to be far away from you. Our love is now hinged on separation.

This impending parting, this partition, is a consistently piercing part of everyday existence. I do not yet have the courage to accept that my city, my land, may only become a place of memories. But every attack, from Shikarpur to Hayatabad and Rawalpindi, is a reminder that it may just be memories that we are forced to live with. It’s a harsh realisation that keeps reasserting itself that one must go before it is our blood that stains the walls. But to leave your country for better opportunities is bearable; to leave because the doors to your home are closing in on you is wretched. Some kinds of love are irreplaceable — love for the land is one of them. With every attack, I fearfully imagine that soon I may be mourning a lost love, and searching for the sights and smells of the beloved in alien places.

Published in The Express Tribune, February 27^th,  2015.

Madrassas and militancy

By Mumtaz Ahmad

Published: February 15, 2015

The writer is the Executive Director of Iqbal International Institute for Research & Dialogue at the International Islamic University, Islamabad

The tragedy of Peshawar that resulted in the death of students of the Army Public School has once again brought the issue of madrassa reforms into sharp focus. The National Action Plan, announced by the prime minister to combat extremism and terrorism in the country, makes two points about madrassas: to register and regulate them and to introduce curriculum reform. While very few people will disagree with the first point — the imperative need for the registration of madrassas and transparency of their funding sources — we are not quite sure about the causal relationships between madrassa curriculum on the one hand and extremism and terrorism, on the other.

The debate on madrassa curriculum before the 9/11 attacks focused mainly on issues of pedagogy — its intellectual orientation; the structure of its content; methodology of teaching; and the relevance of the madrassa curriculum to the educational needs of a modern Muslim society. Most critics of madrassa education contended that madrassa curriculum was outdated, narrowly focused on issues of fiqh and its most literalist interpretations, and based on religio-intellectual formulations and controversies that are no longer relevant.

In the context of South Asian Islam, the debate on the continued relevance and efficacy of madrassa education became more intense in the wake of the introduction of modern institutions of secondary and post-secondary education by the British. Muslim reformers and modernists, starting from Sir Syed Ahmad Khan, found madrassa curriculum doctrinally rigid, intellectually superficial, organisationally archaic and socially cliquish. They considered the entire curriculum as retrogressive, reactionary and antithetical to the needs of modern times.

While the earlier critiques of madrassa curriculum focused on its out-datedness, its lack of socio-political concerns and its failure to provide religio-intellectual leadership for Islamic revival, the primary emphasis of the post-9/11 debate has been on its alleged relationship with the rise of extremism and militancy. It has become conventional wisdom among a circle of scholars, journalists and policymakers to believe that there is an inherent relationship between madrassa curriculum and religious extremism, militancy, Talibanisation and terrorism.

The core curriculum taught in madrassas of the South Asian subcontinent, known as Dars-e-Nizami, consists of about 80 books in 20 subject areas, broadly divided into: 1) “received” or revealed knowledge (the Quranic exegesis, Hadith, and Fiqh); and 2) rational sciences (Arabic language and literature, grammar, prosody, rhetoric logic, philosophy, dialectical theology, mathematics and medicine). It is important to note that out of the 20 subject areas of the Dars-e-Nizami curriculum, only eight can be considered as solely ‘religious’. The remaining subjects are otherwise ‘secular’ subjects intended as aids to the understanding of religious texts.

A close scrutiny of madrassa curriculum does not, in any way, indicate anything that can even remotely be considered as inciting to, or inculcating, violence and militancy in students. However, like all curricula in religious seminaries — whether Christian or Jewish — madrassa curriculum remains exclusivist and does not entertain the possibility of any doubt in the truthfulness of its theological claims. It is in this sense, at the most, that one can describe madrassa curriculum as ‘extremist’, that is, its emphatic and absolute affirmation of the truth of its own claims. To expect madrassas to subscribe to the ideas of ‘pluralism’ or ‘relativism’ in the context of the belief in the essential truth of Islam would be a sheer anathema to the ulema. What we can expect — and demand — from the ulema is to inculcate a spirit of tolerance for other faiths and different interpretations of religious texts among their students.

In many respects, the current debate on the relationship between madrassa curriculum and militancy is reminiscent of a similar debate among Middle Eastern scholars on what caused the Islamic Revolution in Iran in 1979. At the time, it was argued by a number of scholars that the root cause of the revolution was Shia theology and the political theory that inculcated among the ulema and the faithful the spirit of revolution and the desire for martyrdom. But, as Leonard Binder has argued, it was the same Shia theology and political theory that existed in “good times and bad times”. The important question that needed to be addressed was: why and how a particular theological system that sustains political quietism at one time becomes a source of revolutionary upheaval at another?

It is precisely this question that needs to be raised with regard to the role of madrassas and their curriculum in radical politics and militancy. Our contention here is that it was the constellation of several domestic, regional and international political developments that created conditions that became conducive for the radicalisation of the religious sector in Pakistan which, in turn, employed all of its normative (religious texts) and institutional (mosques and madrassas) resources to advance its religio-political goals. It was in this context that a politically pacifist and religiously conservative madrassa curriculum was pressed into the service of radical political goals. In other words, militancy did not emerge from within the madrassa tradition; it was brought into madrassas by extraneous forces, especially the Afghan Jihad of the 1980s.

It is true that the exclusivist religious discourse in madrassa education draws clear boundaries between what is the truth and what is falsehood. But in ‘ordinary’ times, this exclusivist orientation remains quiescent and is invoked only in scholarly disputations. However, given the ‘right’ configuration of political circumstances, this exclusivist orientation may lead to sectarian violence and hostility towards the followers of other faiths. Scholarly discourses in the exclusionary tradition, therefore, may translate, in certain specific circumstances, into much more sinister religious and political choices by interested actors.

It is also important to note that madrassas belonging to different schools of thought inhabit the same theological-legal space as defined by the Dars-e-Nizami curriculum, and yet madrassas belonging to one particular school of thought have rarely, if ever, been involved in extremist politics, militancy and what has come to be known as jihadi activism. If it is the curriculum and pedagogy of the madrassas alone that produce religio-political extremism, militancy and anti-Western attitudes, then the ‘exceptionalism’ of madrassas belonging to this particular school of thought becomes problematic.

Published in The Express Tribune, February 16^th,  2015.

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Islam and the politics of Pakistan

Here is a brief take on my version of the role of Islam in our polity. First, I would like to mention a book on governance and violence in Pakistan by Dr Sagheer Hussain, of Bahauddin University, in which he also deals with this subject. Simplifying what he states and thereby no doubt doing great injustice to the learned doctor’s treatise, his contention is that before partition, our institutions (judiciary, police, bureaucracy and army) received considerable exposure to rational democratic discourse under the British. But here there is a dichotomy since basically these institutions were inculcated with and believed in an authoritarian system of governance, as also was the case with feudal politicians.

Another aspect of this perspective is that ours is a hybrid society, in the sense that the population is attuned to democratic discourse at various levels but basically we are a traditional society and have not completely assimilated or accepted democratic norms and values. Modern research has shown that such societies are most prone to violence. Furthermore, Dr Sagheer maintains that before partition the Muslims of the non-majority Muslim provinces of northern India felt much more threatened by Hindu domination than the Muslim majority western provinces. Thus the former created the All India Muslim League (AIML), claimed that the Muslims were one integrated block and had to have separate arrangements than to be with the Hindus after the British left. They propagated an Islamic national discourse to strengthen their stand. This discourse continued after partition. I would like to add here that it was not only the Mohajirs who introduced the Islamic discourse, but in the election campaign in Punjab in 1946, pirs and religious elements flocked to the AIML and considerably overshadowed the more secular supporters. They adopted as their own Allama Iqbal’s dream and the concept of a separate Muslim state, which they envisaged as an idealistic religious state. It was in this campaign that the slogan started: Pakistan ka matlaab kya? La ilaha Ill-Allah.

I would like to make a digression here. The Islamic aspect of this discourse is based on the doctrinaire interpretations of religion that came about with the Islamic revival in the subcontinent in northern India in the beginning of the last century — Barelvi, Deobandi and other sects. However, if you compare it to the Islam of the Golden Age and Ottomans you will find many differences. The latter was much more tolerant, understood statecraft and dealt with provinces in a fair manner. Because of this, our current stratum of religious belief was redefined at a time of colonial domination. There is greater emphasis on identification, preservation of culture and an assertive show of religion; also there is greater intolerance of other religions and sects, and rejection of anything considered western.

When the Mohajirs migrated to Pakistan, they enjoyed a privileged position because of their political representation in the Muslim League (although their politicians had lost their electorates) and the officer cadre in the state institutions, by which they built a strong position for themselves in commerce as well. Thus they were very much part of the power structure and the mainstream.

Digressing a bit, again referring to Dr Saghir Hussain, regarding the controversy on whether the Quaid was an Islamist or parliamentarian, obviously he was very much exposed to democratic rational discourse, but we see the tactics he adopted in the 1946 elections in Punjab, in which success was the only consideration and he espoused all the convenient slogans of socialism, student mobilisation, democracy and majorly Islam. He almost single-handedly created this country and thereafter was governor general.

The Mohajirs continued to propagate the Islamic national discourse to maintain their privileged position. The institutions were very secular. However, they too used the Islamic national discourse to suppress and discourage dissension in the provinces of East Pakistan, Sindh and Balochistan. However, in those days there was no assertive proselytising of any manner and the minorities were treated with respect and felt secure. Karachi was a harmonious multicultural society. It should be noted that in Ghulam Muhammad’s constitution of 1956, the operative part of the Objectives Resolution was done away with though it was voted back by the Assembly. And Ayub Khan’s 1962 Constitution did away with the resolution altogether. Ayub Khan can by all accounts be deemed a secularist.

Here is the most important digression of all. After partition, the mainstream, through the institutions, decided it was the custodian of this country and relegated the politicians (and the East Pakistan majority population) to secondary status, keeping them only to give legitimacy to the various governments (and martial law). They ruled in an autocratic manner from the west wing and treated the provinces in a criminal manner, suppressing regional culture, factionalising their elite, exploiting East Pakistan and Balochistan atrociously; in short, treating them like a colony without the impressive pomp and circumstance, the artful finesse and condescending beneficence of the British. The tragedy is that we did not learn a lesson from the secession of the east wing nor from the prolonged insurgency in Balochistan nor Sindh.

The mainstream political parties kowtow to a popular simplistic belief to support anything that claims to be religious

• By Imran Kureshi
• February 17, 2015
• Be First To Comment

   

After the capital shifted to Islamabad and, over the years, there was an influx of Punjabis and Pathans into all levels of institutions, especially the lower levels, the Mohajirs found that the Islamic national discourse was not serving to maintain their position. Also, after the MQM was formed, it found that its politicians had electorates. Altaf Hussain is an advocate of the Mohajir perspective. Thus now (always being one step ahead of the Punjabis), they have adopted a secular discourse. Furthermore, they have wilfully left the mainstream but retained their foothold in the power structure and relationship with the army. Also, despite their brinkmanship and bargaining tactics with the PPP, they still have some sort of equation of a tacit personalised rapport between Mr Zardari and Mr Altaf.

Moreover, up to the East Pakistan debacle, the army was secular. Mr Bhutto was a case of someone outside the mainstream gaining control of the power structure; thus he faced a lot of criticism and was executed for his temerity. Then came Ziaul Haq with his Islamisation of the country and army. Zia’s policies had numerous long-term detrimental effects like supporting the mujahideen that promoted the Kalashnikov culture and drug trafficking, which later evolved into the Taliban, the start of terrorism, sectarianism and violent student unions, and the ISI manipulating politics. All of this resulted in sham democracy, political injustices and declining professionalism in the army. Islamisation gave a further evangelist mission to the Islamic discourse.

At this juncture it is important to mention the role of Islamic parties through partition till today. Being out of tune with modern trends and the times (which is both their strong point and their weak one) they took the wrong side before partition. To their credit it must be said that they, especially the Ahrars, actively canvassed and made efforts to stop the bloodshed that erupted in Punjab after partition, which conversely Muslim League politicians (except Liaquat Ali, Mian Iftikharuddin and a very few others), along with lower level government officials were cruelly promoting. Reciprocal atrocities were also being committed on the other side by the Sikh Nawabs, Patels, Akalis and, to a lesser degree, Hindu extremist parties. However, despite the setback religious parties received with partition, because of the religious aspect of the new national discourse, they were able to establish a nook for themselves in the population again.

They took their cue from Allama Mashriqi and the Khaksars and took over his politics after him. Allama Mashriqi was the pioneer of the concepts of using tribal mujahideen to fight a proxy war, encouraging uprisings in Indian-held Kashmir, arranging a long march and staging dharnas (sit-ins), and practically all the tactics our Islamic parties have employed thereafter. During this period these religious parties have served to keep the concept of Islam in the national discourse, pristine and free of any western associations. Also they have spread obscurantist thinking and anti-west prejudices. By this method they have always built a core of avid, active supporters. This factor, aided by the students from their seminaries and the charitable institutions they control, has enabled them to wield street power though not electoral power. They reached an apex of effectiveness in the movement to overthrow Bhutto and then they propagated a more definite religious discourse (Nizam-e-Mustafa), but they were co-opted by Ziaul Haq, who tried to shortcircuit the rational democratic discourse, which resulted in this discourse becoming misdirected with institutional efforts to manipulate it for partisan ends. The attitudes thus engendered continue to foster a mentality out of tune with the modern age.

Whereas certain interests tried to continue to maintain this direction for the national democratic discourse, the army was conscious of the institutional damage it was suffering and loss of professionalism. Three Chiefs of Army Staff (COASs) after Aslam Beg — Generals Janjua, Kakar and Karamat — tried to divest the army of too deep an involvement in politics and obscurantism. Eventually, the army has steered itself back to balanced professionalism and has dissociated itself almost entirely from politics and unnecessary evangelical ascriptions. With good economic and social points and bad political and ethical points, General Musharraf defined moderate Islam and perhaps reluctantly realigned the rational democratic discourse. During his tenure, General Kayani assiduously refused to depose the Zardari government, though on three occasions mainstream lobbies pressurised him to do so: the minus one formula, after the floods and lastly the ridiculous Memogate affair.

Thus, in effect, with regards to the problem of the Taliban and terrorism, the army and politicians have reversed positions. The army that had initially created the Taliban and protected them, thereafter progressively realised the limitations and the dreadful threat that developed from these earlier policies of theirs and slowly moved towards trying to counteract them. The mainstream political parties kowtow to a popular simplistic belief to support anything that claims to be religious (and the more secular parties also are hesitant to oppose this tendency without some definite reason, except the MQM). Thus the mainstream political parties (PML-N, PTI and some religious parties) continue to espouse religious slogans tacitly favouring terrorism and non-state actors (there is also financial and other forms of support). The true state of affairs became clear when the army conducted an eminently successful anti-terrorist campaign in Swat that was hailed by the people, which just goes to show how misleading the religious propaganda of the mainstream parties was. Our tendency for hypocrisy and a religious blind spot are probably our greatest handicaps and, unfortunately, the mainstream political structure continues to actively propagate negative aspects of the religious discourse on the one hand and behave as if they were the champions of restoring law and order on the other.

Genuine power, gas and other manufactured crises gripped the five years of the PPP government and its secular allies. Now, with a much less intrusive role by the army as an institution, the new mainstream power structure has played on the increasing unpopularity of the more secular parties because of the crisis to divest itself of them and try to once more get its theories on strategic depth, military assets, proxy wars and Islamic militancy into order. Saudi influence increased again. Then came the most abysmally rigged elections, umpired by the Taliban, to prevent the more secular parties from campaigning or setting up any election structure. This was pre-election rigging, which no one can gainsay. Thereafter, with the PPP relegated to Sindh, the two mainstream parties (PML-N, PTI) repeatedly acted as apologists for the Taliban, negotiated with them and tried to delay army action against them for as long as possible. Of course, when the army began their operation in Waziristan, these parties once again quickly became steadfast supporters of the army action. Sadly, it took all too many tragic terrorist attacks and finally the Peshawar school attack to finally bring about universal condemnation of terrorism and the Taliban.

Many Muslim immigrants have amassed vast fortunes and now there are greater resources that can be channelled by individuals and institutions towards religion

• By Imran Kureshi
• February 18, 2015
• Be First To Comment

   

At last, with genuine dents being made in terrorism potential by army action, on our part we must be patient and realise that this is still going to take a long time. Extreme poverty in the southern Seraiki belt and tribal areas continues to provide recruits for organisations of religious violence.

On the other hand, in Punjab and parts of Khyber Pakhtunkwa, the shrinking mainstream (which now basically consists of the Punjabi urban middle to upper class with its influence into the rural areas and fragmented like-minded elements in the Seraiki belt and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa) is facing a grave identity crisis. The level of their failures — economic, security and terrorism oriented — and obvious mistakes have become too high to be conscionable even by themselves. In their disillusionment they are trying to bolster Nawaz on one side and are running after ‘rainmakers’ like Imran Khan on the other. The cliché infested media that caters only to the mainstream and has become the primary tool of a right wing, authoritarian discourse, keeps up a façade to cover up the complete mental bankruptcy of the mainstream. Another task of the ‘free’ media is to give visibility only to this mainstream. In this pathetic manner this mainstream still tries to sweep the criminal and utterly stupid way it has treated the provinces under the carpet.

Consequently, in reaction to what is perceived as hostile circumstances leading to unequivocal failure, many younger people and those in early middle age are trying to adopt a steadfast, ‘this is what is right’ panacea of stricter doctrinaire Islamic values and to make a greater outward show of their belief. On one hand, we have more milaads, darses, tableeghi jamaats (religious gatherings) and other religious functions. On the other hand, we now often see upper middle-class families flaunting Saudian appurtenances with religious associations. These and several other signs around us are indicative of the influence of increased international Muslim consciousness and activity over the world and, also, huge sums are being poured in from outside sources to promote religion. Though these funds no doubt are donated with virtuous intentions, from some sources they are directed towards seditious and sometimes violent purposes or utilised as such (also there are funds from hostile sensitive agencies that are completely ill-intentioned). This amorphous international Muslim quasi-movement is a reaction to Israeli aggression and supposedly perceived US/Israeli/western imperialism’s efforts against the religion, and also fears of western cultural hegemony.

Furthermore, over the years now, many Muslim immigrants have amassed vast fortunes and now there are greater resources that can be channelled by individuals and institutions towards religion. Apart from all else, there is Saudi Arabian/Middle Eastern/Iranian financing. In Pakistan, this is developing a sort of parallel strata in the mainstream as its normal discourse (Islamic Republic, the constitution preferably with Islamic amendments, legislative assemblies, democracy, etc.) becomes overall more meaningless in a hybrid situation, especially in view of all the regretted failures. Fortunately, with the artificial environment of the mainstream, sloganeering has an unlimited shelf life and thus this discourse can last for as long as the mainstream can keep mustering itself; the PPP, ANP and MQM supports this facade and, most important, the army does not interfere.

Now, in this essay, I do not intend to hold up a more secular system of government against a religious one; I just want to make two points. First, it is clear that our national, religious discourse has failed and become counterproductive. Therefore, it needs rethinking, quickly. I feel we should look more towards Turkey as a religious state model. First, the current government is giving great emphasis to religion (there is nothing wrong with that as long as intolerance is not encouraged). Secondly, the first clause of Erdogan’s constitution is “Turkey is a secular state.” Thereafter the minorities are guaranteed all rights of security and even spreading their religion. Furthermore, there are no blasphemy and hadood laws or anything like articles 62 A and 63 A of our Constitution. Egalitarianism and haqooqul ibad (rights of man) are ensured. If we can strive towards the miraculous progress Turkey has made over the last 10 years it will be a dream come true for our lebensraum. The second point is that this dream can be achieved! Already it is reported that considerable work has been done.

We have huge gas reserves (also copper and gold deposits) in Balochistan, foreign exploration companies say that Sindh is practically floating on oil and there is oil in northern Punjab also. These are known reserves. However, our relations with our fellow provincial countrymen have deteriorated so much and become so tenuous (if indeed in some cases there is still any sort of relationship at all), we have not been able to avail ourselves of these benefits that God has given us and that are lying under our feet. For instance, Kohlu gas field (estimated to be larger than Sui) has been pending since before 2007. So, it is very, very important that apart from taking whatever executive decisions we have to, we must at all costs evolve a new, less insular, more tolerant and inclusive national discourse, institute some confidence building measures and, most important, change our attitude towards the provinces. The Baloch, Brauhis, Sindhis, Gilgitis, Kashmiris, Hazaras and Mohajirs are all our brothers and fellow countrymen. They have every right to take advantage of whatever natural resources lie in their territory and the government should deal fairly with them. There is no harm in accepting the short end of the stick for a change as long as our beloved country and we become more prosperous. The only way forward is hand in hand.

(Concluded)

The author is a freelance columnist

Colours revealed

Colours revealed

Daily Express News Story

Daily Express News Story

Child rights: A neglected priority in Punjab

Child rights: A neglected priority in Punjab

When did religion become a tool for violence?

By Rohan Emmanuel Published: February 2, 2015

A few days ago, a story popped up on international media:

“Three Muslims were burnt alive in Bihar, India, and their village was ransacked by a mob of 5,000 people.”

Somehow, the news seemed like déjà vu. Oh wait! We did the same to Christians living in Pakistan a few years ago, when a large mob of Muslims burnt the Gojra Village down to ashes.

A major question that came up after the incident in India was, do Pakistanis really have the right to defend the three Muslims burnt alive?

The Hindu community defended its act by pleading that the dead body of their boy was found seven days after he went missing. And this boy was allegedly in a relation with a Muslim girl. The blame of the boy’s murder was put on the Muslim community, which led to this tragedy.

It wasn’t long before Pakistani social media crusaders started raising voice against this barbaric act. There were angry Facebook pages posting vitriol against Indians and one could even see sponsored stories on Facebook’s home page against the attack. However, in all their rage, I realised that people had completely forgotten what we did to our minorities just a few years back; in fact, recent incidents like that of the Joseph Colony and the tragedy with Shahbaz and Shama are still fresh in my mind.

And it’s not just with the Christians. Ahmadis and Shia Muslims have faced the same fate in Pakistan. Going as far back as the start of this millennium, we can see that oppression has been a common theme here, regardless of religion. It’s more like a phenomenon, a mental state, where the sense of “I am right” gives a certain group of people an open license to destroy humanity.

It is not astonishing that this mind set is present among certain groups, who take it for granted that any disapproval with their beliefs shall result in immediate death of the counterpart. My question to everyone reading this article, regardless of any religious or sectarian affiliation, is: what have we made of our religions?

Maybe in the war of “my religion is right” and “my sect is the true form of religion”, we have lost the true meaning of religion. Between blurred lines of the true meaning of belief, we have forgotten that its love which drives us and this world. I wonder if Moses, Jesus, Muhammad (pbuh) or even Krishna ever killed anyone in their name. They didn’t – all of them preached love.

Religion, that is supposed to bring peace and tranquillity amongst humans, has become more of a tool to exploit differences. And it’s not just different religions fighting each other. We have sects and sub-sects as well, which are hell-bent on eliminating each other.

Where have we buried the true meaning of religion? Maybe we believe that following clerics blindly and giving money in the name of religion frees us of all the pain of afterlife. And this selfish attitude has brought humanity to a level where killing people assures us of a comfortable afterlife.

Let religion be a source of peace for humanity. Let it be yours and everyone else’s personal affair.

Live and let live.

Rohan Emmanuel

An enthusiast and a volunteer who would go beyond conventions to make things work.Rohan tweets @RohanD87

for original post:

http://blogs.tribune.com.pk/story/25980/when-did-religion-become-a-tool-for-violence/

Grave matters: A bazaar atop a graveyard

Sharmeen Obaid Chinoy Updated 

"One day, the grave is there and the next day someone has built a shop over the grave," says Waseem.—AFP/file

A cobbler began mending shoes by the edge of a Christian graveyard in Kot Addu in Muzaffargarh. Since he was making an honest living, most people did not mind his little setup near the five-kanal graveyard which had rows and rows of crosses, marking graves from the local community. Every Sunday, families including that of Waseem Shakir would make their way to pay their respects to the elders who had passed away before them.

The cobbler slowly set up a permanent shop and a vegetable seller joined him. Overnight, it seemed to the community, their graveyard was turning into a local market. By 1999, over 50 shops had been constructed over graves. The crosses were replaced with the tea and milk shops and even small houses.

“Imagine, someone’s bathroom now sits on top of my ancestral graves,” Waseem Shakir tells us as he walks through the area, pointing to shops.

Also read: Graves laden with sweets

Everyone knows about it, but no one would act

Waseem has been waging this war for well over a decade. The Christian community is poor and at times scared to raise their voice.

“Everyone recognises that there exists a Christian graveyard, which is no longer functioning as a graveyard for the Christian community, but rather land grabbers have taken hold of the land,” he says. “Everyone knows this, all the public bodies as well as the people who have the power and the jurisdiction to do something about it, yet no one has actually done anything to help the situation.”

Every week, Waseem surveys the area to see how much more encroachment has taken place.

“It was very hard to show to people, because one day, the grave is there and the next day someone has built a shop over the grave. The only solution that we have is that we can excavate the graves and then give them new sites for their bodies to be laid to rest. That is the only proof that we can muster”, he tells us dejectedly.

Also see: Christians protest occupation of graveyard land

Eight years ago, Waseem won a small victory. The land revenue department acknowledged that a portion of the graveyard has been seized by a third party and that it needs to be vacated.

But that order remains only on paper.

Abducted, threatened, poor...but not losing faith

Waseem was kidnapped a few years ago and threatened several times by men associated with the land mafia, but that has not deterred him.

“Our community is not financially strong, so they don’t have the resources to fight against such people. I am also not financially strong, but I am a part of a unit and we collect funds through which we have employed a lawyer to fight on our behalf,” he says.

The Christian community across the region is facing similar intimidation and harassment. Whether it is false blasphemy accusations or encroachment upon their lands, they know they cannot speak up because the odds are stacked against them and those who do come to their rescue do so at their own peril.

For over 500 graves, the future hangs in the balance. Occasionally, families come to the shops and stand outside to pay their respects to those they know are buried under them.

“What should we tell these families,” questions Waseem, “that their ancestors are not worth it?”

Also read: Here lies nobody ...

In recent years, he along with a few others have freed three other graveyards from a similar situation, so he knows that it can be done.

“We just want the DCO Muzaffargarh to register all the Christian graveyards in the area, so that they can be properly monitored and they are safe from a legal perspective,” he says.

Two years ago, Waseem challenged the local police and authorities.

“I challenged the administration to allow us to demolish two shops, and if the shops were not built upon the graves, then I myself will rebuild the same shops. And when the shops were demolished, we saw that they had been built over two graves. The land was illegal in the first place, and the presence of graves confirmed that.”

A series of such events have not moved the local authorities to take on the land mafia, but Waseem is determined to change that.

“Lose your life, but don’t lose your faith,” says the Bible and that’s the motto he has adopted.

Published in Dawn, Sunday Magazine, February 1st, 2015