In his novel, Heart of Darkness, Joseph Conrad paints a furious picture of a humanity that cannot escape the inherent evil that resides within the deepest recesses of every individual. The innate wickedness of mankind, he suggests, is masked and curtailed only by the restraints of civilisation. His colonial Africa is described as “one of the darkest places on earth” and a “God-forsaken wilderness”; but the real darkness lurks in the unfathomable human proclivity to commit heinous acts of evil. Yet, perhaps, even Conrad would have been rocked to his core by the savagery of the recent mob killings of three Ahmedis in Indonesia. On February 6, in a small village not too far from the capital of Jakarta, an angry rabble of 1,500 bloodthirsty zealots, many wielding machetes, sticks and rocks, attacked 20 members of the Ahmedi jamaat. The baying crowd lynched three men to death and critically injured six others. The horror played out in full view of the authorities as the police and other law-enforcement officials stood aside and watched the tragedy unfold. Gathered children truculently cheered and clapped as every baleful blow pounded in concert at the last embers of human life and their own disappearing innocence. One of the men who was killed was the husband of a five-month pregnant wife. The couple was expecting their first child after eight years of marriage. To look upon the images of this inexplicable act of barbarity is to gain a chilling glimpse into the depths to which our species can plunge. Even Indonesian television, despite its incredibly high threshold for disturbing material, recoiled from airing footage of the assault as it was considered too graphic. The incident has sparked a national debate with many Indonesians questioning what it even means to be a Muslim anymore. However, many others have endorsed this sinister betrayal of goodness and virtue and have condemned the victims as sinners. It is now the task of Indonesian society itself to curb the spread of ignorance and blind hatred and work towards building a better and more tolerant future. Let us forsake pretence and acknowledge with awful shame that these men were not butchered like animals in retaliation for any hideous misdeed that they themselves had perpetrated, but rather for the simple fact of their religious beliefs. Whither the rule of law and whither humanity when massacres as despicable as these can freely occur on account of doctrinal disagreements. But not only has the attack exposed an ugliness that had been hidden in the shadows of Indonesian society for far too long, it has once again focused the spotlight on the deplorable treatment of Ahmedis in our own country. To recall the May 28 terror attacks in Lahore is to acknowledge that Pakistan is not a land apart; rather it is the vanguard of religious and sectarian violence. As militants butchered Ahmedi worshippers on that fateful day, the main concern of panicked anchormen was not the loss of innocent lives, but instead the comical dilemma of whether to refer to the buildings in which the attacks were taking place as mosques or places of worship. There was no national outcry or an outpouring of sympathy — only muffled whispers of condolence. Commentators and writers condemned the violence but few among them dared to speak up in support of the Ahmedis, while in localities throughout the country sweets were distributed to celebrate the slaughter of ‘infidels’. The one politician who had the decency to visit the sites of the massacre and convey his condolences in person, has since, himself, been gruesomely assassinated. Chillingly, on the very same night as the Lahore incident, another Ahmedi was stabbed to death and his son severely injured in district Narowal. The murderer was unrepentant and even asked the police to allow him to slay one or two more Ahmedis so that he could cleave open the gates of heaven a little further. In 2010, a total of 100 Ahmedis were killed in religiously motivated acts of violence, a record figure since the promulgation of the infamous Ordinance XX by General Ziaul Haq in 1984. Hatred and bigotry have become such entrenched features of our lives that even during last year’s horrific floods, when the need for charity and compassion was at its greatest, the human spirit was subdued. Rather than receive aid and assistance in their hour of need, some 500 Ahmedi families in South Punjab were refused shelter in relief camps as well as rations and other provisions. They were, it seems, too ‘heretical’ even to excite the slightest pangs of compassion and empathy. May 28, 2010 provided us with an opportunity to look deep within ourselves and question the very notions of our being. In 1974, not only were Ahmedis declared non-Muslims, but, with one simple constitutional amendment, a Pandora’s Box of sectarian anarchy and chaos was opened. Not a day goes by when religious hatred and enmity does not tear away at the fabric of our society. But rather than turn towards introspection, it seems that we have all been consumed by the raging flames of this fire to grow in our prejudice and malice. It might be too much to ask that events in Indonesia provoke us to reflect over the despair that has long gripped our own nation, for they belong to a far and distant country — but to look upon them is like glancing at one’s reflection in a mirror. Tragically, the image we are confronted with is too hideous to behold. The writer is a freelance columnist and can be reached at usmanhotspur@gmail.com