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The
common belief in Pakistan is that Islamic radicalism is a problem
only in FATA, and that madrassas are the only institutions serving
as jihad factories. This is a serious misconception. Extremism
is breeding at a ferocious rate in public and private schools
within Pakistan’s towns and cities. Left unchallenged,
this education will produce a generation incapable of co-existing
with anyone except strictly their own kind. The mindset it creates
may eventually lead to Pakistan’s demise as a nation state.
For
20 years or more, a few of us have been desperately sending
out SOS messages, warning of terrible times to come. In fact,
I am surprised at how rapidly these dire predictions have come
true.
A
full-scale war is being fought in FATA, Swat and other “wild”
areas of Pakistan, resulting in thousands of deaths. It is only
a matter of time before this fighting shifts to Peshawar and
Islamabad (which has already been a witness to the Lal Masjid
episode) and engulfs Lahore and Karachi as well. The suicide
bomber and the masked abductor have crippled Pakistan’s
urban life and shattered its national economy.
Soldiers,
policemen, factory and hospital workers, mourners at funerals
and ordinary people praying in mosques have all been reduced
to globs of flesh and fragments of bones. But, perhaps paradoxically,
in spite of the fact that the dead bodies and shattered lives
are almost all Muslim ones, few Pakistanis speak out against
these atrocities. Nor do they approve of the army operation
against the cruel perpetrators of these acts because they believe
that they are Islamic warriors fighting for Islam and against
American occupation. Political leaders like Nawaz Sharif and
Imran Khan have no words of solace for those who have suffered
at the hands of Islamic extremists. Their tears are reserved
exclusively for the victims of Predator drones, even if they
are those who committed grave crimes against their own people.
Terrorism, by definition, is an act only the Americans can commit.
What
explains Pakistan’s collective masochism? To understand
this, one needs to study the drastic social and cultural transformations
that have rendered this country so completely different from
what it was in earlier times.
For
three decades, deep tectonic forces have been silently tearing
Pakistan away from the Indian subcontinent and driving it towards
the Arabian peninsula. This continental drift is not physical
but cultural, driven by a belief that Pakistan must exchange
its South Asian identity for an Arab-Muslim one. Grain by grain,
the desert sands of Saudi Arabia are replacing the rich soil
that had nurtured a magnificent Muslim culture in India for
a thousand years. This culture produced Mughul architecture,
the Taj Mahal, the poetry of Asadullah Khan Ghalib, and much
more. Now a stern, unyielding version of Islam (Wahhabism) is
replacing the kinder, gentler Islam of the Sufis and saints
who had walked on this land for hundreds of years.
This
change is by design. Twenty-five years ago, the Pakistani state
used Islam as an instrument of state policy. Prayers in government
departments were deemed compulsory, floggings were carried out
publicly, punishments were meted out to those who did not fast
in Ramadan, selection for academic posts in universities required
that the candidate demonstrate a knowledge of Islamic teachings
and jihad was declared essential for every Muslim. Today, government
intervention is no longer needed because of a spontaneous groundswell
of Islamic zeal. The notion of an Islamic state – still
in an amorphous and diffused form – is more popular now
than ever before as people look desperately for miracles to
rescue a failing state.
Villages
have changed drastically; this transformation has been driven,
in part, by Pakistani workers returning from Arab countries.
Many village mosques are now giant madrassas that propagate
hard-line Salafi and Deobandi beliefs through oversized loudspeakers.
They are bitterly opposed to Barelvis, Shias and other sects,
who they do not regard as Muslims. The Punjabis, who were far
more liberal towards women than the Pukhtuns, are now beginning
to take a line resembling that of the Taliban. Hanafi law has
begun to prevail over tradition and civil law, as is evident
from the recent decisions of the Lahore High Court.
In Pakistan’s lower-middle and middle classes lurks a
grim and humourless Saudi-inspired revivalist movement that
frowns on any and every expression of joy and pleasure. Lacking
any positive connection to culture and knowledge, it seeks to
eliminate “corruption” by regulating cultural life
and seizing control of the education system.
“Classical music is on its last legs in Pakistan; the
sarangi and vichitraveena are completely dead,” laments
Mohammad Shehzad, a music aficionado. Indeed, teaching music
in public universities is violently opposed by students of the
Islami Jamaat-e-Talaba at Punjab University. So the university
has been forced to hold its music classes elsewhere. Religious
fundamentalists consider music haram or un-Islamic. Kathak dancing,
once popular with the Muslim elite of India, has few teachers
left. Pakistan produces no feature films of any consequence.
Nevertheless, the Pakistani elite, disconnected from the rest
of the population, live their lives in comfort through their
vicarious proximity to the West. Alcoholism is a chronic problem
of the super rich of Lahore – a curious irony for this
deeply religious country.
Islamisation
of the state and the polity was supposed to have been in the
interest of the ruling class – a classic strategy for
preserving it from the wrath of the working class. But the amazing
success of the state is turning out to be its own undoing. Today,
it is under attack from religious militants, and rival Islamic
groups battle each other with heavy weapons. Ironically, the
same army – whose men were recruited under the banner
of jihad, and which saw itself as the fighting arm of Islam
– today stands accused of betrayal and is almost daily
targeted by Islamist suicide bombers.
Pakistan’s
self-inflicted suffering comes from an education system that,
like Saudi Arabia’s system, provides an ideological foundation
for violence and future jihadists. It demands that Islam be
understood as a complete code of life, and creates in the mind
of a school-going child a sense of siege and embattlement by
stressing that Islam is under threat everywhere.
On
the previous page, the reader can view the government-approved
curriculum. This is the basic road map for transmitting values
and knowledge to the young. By an act of parliament passed in
1976, all government and private schools (except for O-level
schools) are required to follow this curriculum. It was prepared
by the curriculum wing of the federal ministry of education,
government of Pakistan. It sounds like a blueprint for a religious
fascist state.
Alongside
are scanned pictures from an illustrated primer for the Urdu
alphabet. The masthead states that it has been prepared by Iqra
Publishers, Rawalpindi, along “Islamic lines.” Although
not an officially approved textbook, it is being used currently
by some regular schools, as well as madrassas associated with
the Jamiat Ulema-e-Islam (JUI), an Islamic political party that
had allied itself with General Musharraf. These picture scans
have been taken from a child’s book, hence the scribbles.
The
world of the Pakistani schoolchild remained largely unchanged,
even after September 11, 2001, the event that led to Pakistan’s
timely desertion of the Taliban and the slackening of the Kashmir
jihad. Indeed, for all his hypocritical talk of “enlightened
moderation,” General Musharraf’s educational curriculum
was far from enlightening. It was a slightly toned down version
of the curriculum that existed under Nawaz Sharif which, in
turn, was identical to that under Benazir Bhutto who had inherited
it from General Zia-ul-Haq. Fearful of taking on the powerful
religious forces, every incumbent government has refused to
take a position on the curriculum and thus quietly allowed young
minds to be moulded by fanatics. What may happen a generation
later has always been a secondary issue for a government challenged
on so many fronts.
The
promotion of militarism in Pakistan’s so-called “secular”
public schools, colleges and universities had a profound effect
upon young minds. Militant jihad became part of the culture
on college and university campuses. Armed groups flourished,
they invited students for jihad in Kashmir and Afghanistan,
set up offices throughout the country, collected funds at Friday
prayers and declared a war which knew no borders. Pre-9/11,
my university was ablaze with posters inviting students to participate
in the Kashmir jihad. Post-2001, this ceased to be done openly.
Still,
the primary vehicle for Saudi-ising Pakistan’s education
has been the madrassa. In earlier times, these had turned out
the occasional Islamic scholar, using a curriculum that essentially
dates back to the 11th century, with only minor subsequent revisions.
But their principal function had been to produce imams and muezzins
for mosques, and those who eked out an existence as ‘maulvi
sahibs’ teaching children to read the Quran.
The
Afghan jihad changed everything. During the war against the
Soviet occupation of Afghanistan, madrassas provided the US-Saudi-Pakistani
alliance the cannon fodder they needed to fight a holy war.
The Americans and Saudis, helped by a more-than-willing General
Zia, funded new madrassas across the length and breadth of Pakistan.
A detailed picture of the current situation is not available.
But according to the national education census, which the ministry
of education released in 2006, Punjab has 5,459 madrassas followed
by the NWFP with 2,843; Sindh has 1,935; the Federally Administrated
Northern Areas (FANA), 1,193; Balochistan, 769; Azad Jammu and
Kashmir (AJK), 586; the Federally Administrated Tribal Areas
(FATA), 135; and the Islamabad capital territory, 77. The ministry
estimates that 1.5 million students are acquiring religious
education in the 13,000 madrassas.
These
figures appear to be way off the mark. Commonly quoted figures
range between 18,000 and 22,000 madrassas. The number of students
could be correspondingly larger. The free boarding and lodging
plus provision of books to the students, is a key part of their
appeal. Additionally, parents across the country desire that
their children be “disciplined” and given a thorough
Islamic education. The madrassas serve this purpose, too, exceedingly
well.
Madrassas
have deeply impacted the urban environment. Until a few years
ago, Islamabad was a quiet, orderly, modern city different from
the rest of Pakistan. Also, it had largely been the abode of
Pakistan’s elite and foreign diplomats. But the rapid
transformation of its demography brought with it hundreds of
mosques with multi-barrelled audio-cannons mounted on minarets,
as well as scores of madrassas illegally constructed in what
used to be public parks and green areas. Now, tens of thousands
of their students, sporting little prayer caps, dutifully chant
the Quran all day. In the evenings they swarm the city, making
women minus the hijab increasingly nervous.
Total
segregation of the sexes is a central goal of the Islamists,
the consequences of which have been catastrophic. For example,
on April 9, 2006, 21 women and eight children were crushed to
death and scores injured in a stampede inside a three-storey
madrassa in Karachi, where a large number of women were attending
a weekly congregation. Male rescuers, who arrived in ambulances,
were prevented from moving the injured women to hospitals.
One
cannot dismiss this incident as being just one of a kind. In
fact, soon after the October 2005 earthquake, as I walked through
the destroyed city of Balakot, a student of the Frontier Medical
College described to 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. This action
was similar to that of Saudi Arabia’s ubiquitous religious
‘mutaween’ (police) who, in March 2002, had stopped
school girls from leaving a blazing building because they were
not wearing their abayas – a long robe worn in Saudi Arabia.
In a rare departure from the norm, Saudi newspapers had blamed
and criticised the mutaween for letting 15 girls burn to death.
The
Saudi-isation of a once-vibrant Pakistani culture continues
at a relentless pace. The drive to segregate is now also being
found among educated women. Vigorous proselytisers carrying
this message, such as Mrs Farhat Hashmi, have been catapulted
to the heights of fame and fortune. Their success is evident.
Two decades back, the fully veiled student was a rarity on Pakistani
university and college campuses. The abaya was an unknown word
in Urdu. Today, some shops across the country specialise in
abayas. At colleges and universities across Pakistan, the female
student is seeking the anonymity of the burqa. And in some parts
of the country she seems to outnumber her sisters who still
“dare” to show their faces.
I
have observed the veil profoundly affect habits and attitudes.
Many of my veiled female students have largely become silent
note-takers, are increasingly timid and seem less inclined to
ask questions or take part in discussions. They lack the confidence
of a young university student.
While
social conservatism does not necessarily lead to violent extremism,
it does shorten the distance. The socially conservative are
more easily convinced that Muslims are being demonised by the
rest of the world. The real problem, they say, is the plight
of the Palestinians, the decadent and discriminatory West, the
Jews, the Christians, the Hindus, the Kashmir issue, the Bush
doctrine – the list runs on. They vehemently deny that
those committing terrorist acts are Muslims, and if presented
with incontrovertible evidence, say it is a mere reaction to
oppression.
The
immediate future does not appear hopeful: increasing numbers
of mullahs are creating cults around themselves and seizing
control of the minds of worshippers. In the tribal areas, a
string of new Islamist leaders have suddenly emerged: Baitullah
Mehsud, Maulana Fazlullah and Mangal Bagh. Poverty, deprivation,
lack of justice and extreme differences of wealth provide the
perfect environment for these demagogues to recruit people to
their cause. Their gruesome acts of terror are still being perceived
by large numbers of Pakistanis merely as a war against imperialist
America. This could not be further from the truth.
In
the long term, we will have to see how the larger political
battle works out between those Pakistanis who want an Islamic
theocratic state and those who want a modern Islamic republic.
It may yet be possible to roll back those Islamist laws and
institutions that have corroded Pakistani society for over 30
years and to defeat its hate-driven holy warriors. There is
no chance of instant success; perhaps things may have to get
worse before they get better. But, in the long term, I am convinced
that the forces of irrationality will cancel themselves out
because they act at random whereas reason pulls only in one
direction. History leads us to believe that reason will triumph
over unreason, and the evolution of the humans into a higher
and better species will continue. Using ways that we cannot
currently anticipate, they will somehow overcome their primal
impulses of territoriality, tribalism, religiosity and nationalism.
But, for now, this must be just a matter of faith.
The
author teaches physics at Quaid-e-Azam University, Islamabad.

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