Enemies of the state

A shockwave has swept through Pakistan after the massacre of 45 Ismailis in Karachi, reminding us both about the complexity of the situation and our disinclination to deal with the threat. The incident happened just a few blocks away from a police station, which, despite its proximity, stayed unaware of the tragedy, a pattern that we witness in every crime, so much so that it seems the police relies on television cameras to update its information much more than their own assessment on the ground.
But wait a minute, is it not true that a paramilitary operation has already been going on in Karachi for the last two years? And the police have been asked to stand on high alert all the time? We hear about its success on the media every day, we see senior officials appearing on television claiming how Indian spy agencies have infiltrated the political parties and how the law enforcing agencies (LEAS), in turn, have exposed their plans. We read about it in the newspapers too in headlines embellished with tall claims: “Rangers raided and captured (x) number of terrorist suspects in Karachi.” And, of course, we get iterations from the Director General (DG) of Inter-Services Public Relations (ISPR), General Asim Bajwa, through his twitter account: “Pak Army and LEAs will continue to execute ops as assigned to them.”
Who is that action against then? As far as I remember, all the political parties, in September 2013, just three months after the current administration was sworn into power, joined up and put their trust on the paramilitary forces to bring peace back to the city. The signatories included everyone: the MQM, PPP, ANP and PTI, along with the federal government of the PML-N. The only concern was that the operation had to be kept impartial and above ethnic lines without targeting a particular party or racial group. Did it stay that way or did it lose its track?
Their deviation from the original plan notwithstanding, the question is: what was our assessment to begin with? How much did we think the unrest in Karachi was coming from the banned outfits and what was the contribution of the political parties, including their violent criminal wings, in it? What steps did we take against each one of them?
From day one, we believed we had to contain the political parties responsible for the situation in the city and, to be honest, not all political parties, just one. Should we have focused all our attention on its activities, taking our eyes off the real monster lurking in the shadows waiting for its turn to pounce? Could we afford to ignore that in the presence of an ongoing operation in North Waziristan? We do not have answers to these questions nor will we ever have them. What we have are the dead bodies of innocent people on our hands, people who lost their lives not only because of their faith but also because of the incredulity of state institutions. And, as a result of their failure, the families of the victims will mourn for as long as they live, their hearts pounding, their eyes burning, while the state will sit on it, confused, indecisive and lost in the debauchery of political gimmicks.
Not too long ago, when the military launched Operation Zarb-e-Azb in North Waziristan, the majority of writers and intellectuals applauded its decision. Concerned about the strikes being too little too late, they urged the army to expand its assault on banned sectarian organisations as well. That was the only way, they reckoned, to ensure long-term peace in society. After the Peshawar massacre in January, even right wing political parties like the PTI, which had taken a firm stance against military strikes, also softened up and supported a strong undertaking against all violent elements. So, what happened after that? Tall claims followed by zero action! I even watched the interview of an extremist leader being broadcast on television, a man who had publicly called Shias non-Muslims. Afraid to interrupt him with a tough follow-up question or to cross-examine him with a counter-narrative, the host gave him the opportunity to explain his position from every angle. When asked why, the host said he wanted to expose the fallacy in the approach and the contradiction in the speech of that leader. Great! Is it not?
Sure, some blame of the massacre can be laid upon the current ineffective and incompetent administration of the PPP in Sindh, led by Qaim Ali Shah, a Chief Minister (CM) with no powers and absolutely no interest in governing the province. However, criticising politicians is the easiest thing to do, a fashionable job that makes you a better Pakistani than the rest. They can be accused, ridiculed, dehumanised and mocked in all possible ways without any fear of retribution, although a very different parameter holds true for other state institutions even if their lack of competence results in a catastrophic failure. The inefficiency of politicians aside, do you think the PPP is running the show in Karachi?
In the end, I cannot let this incident be dismissed as a law and order issue, because it is not. Anytime a Pakistani dies because of his/her religious beliefs or political views, it should be considered an act of treason, a declaration of war against the state, not simply an act of violence (and, yes, I have added political beliefs in the list as well after the death of Sabeen Mahmud). The perpetrators, therefore, should be dealt with accordingly, not like ordinary criminals and for sure not like fellow Muslims. Instead, their faith should be denounced at every level: in the mosques, seminaries, schools, universities and media. They should be dealt with in the same manner the US treats suspects related to 9/11: as enemies of the state.

The writer is a US-based freelance columnist. He tweets at @KaamranHashmi and can be reached at skamranhashmi@gmail.com