Tracing the origins and consequences of the Blasphemy Law in the context of the Aasia case
“It has got nothing to do with Islam. It is the Law of Pakistan.”
- Prosecuting Lawyer to CNN
“We know Asiya is innocent so she should be let go. But had she offended the Prophet we would have shot her ourselves.”
- Villager, Itanwali
“The Law has declared Asiya guilty. If the government pardons her, we will need to produce more Ilam Din’s.”
- Press Release, Tahafuz-e-Namoos-e-Risalat
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Our inquest into the Blasphemy Laws has only just started.
There have been blood curling cries from both sides. The debate on the television media has begun to take shape – producing many sensible and many senseless moments.
It is the narrative of Aasia, the first woman in Pakistan to be sentenced to death under Section 295-C, the protection of the Prophet Muhammad law, that has brought out these emotions.
A woman was put to trial by women who called her ‘filthy’ for her religious choice and asked her to convert to Islam.
There is no greater contradiction on offer.
From this incident in the fields the matter became a village spectacle. The cleric at one of Itanwali’s three mosques was involved. The lambardar of the village was involved. The cleric invited clerics from other villages to enter the field, too. A crowd gathered. And the State, too, in the form of the police, was also present on the scene.
The scene was at Aasia’s home. She was alone, with her children, when the crowd descended on her and asked her to come out. Actors with the crowd then accused her of committing blasphemy against the Prophet Muhammad (‘Tauheen I Risalat’) and asked her to admit. Witnesses in the village claim Aasia was pressured to produce a confession. Once she did confess, villagers claim, police are said to have asked her to convert to Islam and marry a Muslim if she was to be forgiven.
In this first interaction she is presented no grounds for redressal – nor is there a recognition that she is human.
Aasia is taken to Nankana where the local media leaps up the case. The magistrate is said to have repeat the convert and re-marry proposition which Aasia declines. Almost a year and a half later, after four witnesses testify against her, two of them not present at the original event, she is convicted by the District Court, Nankana Sahib on November 8th 2010 and put on death row at the Sialkot Central District Jail.
This is the moment where she enters the general public’s conscious.
The Aasia bibi case has a peculiarity to it. But before speaking of its’ peculiarity we must speak of its’ similarity: it is similar to every other blasphemy case (and by that I include cases against ‘fellow’ Muslims) in terms of the discourse that has formed around it.
Its’ specificity is: it is the first time a female has been sentenced to death under the Law.
Maybe it is the panache we have for becoming defenders of the female and motherhood that has drawn us in – but it is better being drawn in now than never.
The male though we have no sympathy for. Only one week ago was one shot dead after being granted bail in another blasphemy case. We do not even remember his name.
Aasia we do remember (I myself even met her). This memory must be made to count.
Her entry into the public’s conscious is accentuated by the much spoken of Salmaan Taseer visit to her in jail. At that moment, this writer was in Aasia’s village Itanwali. The reaction at Itanwali is diverse. Those at the mosque condemn the rulers of Pakistan for their hypocrisy. Those that I enter conversation with tell me that the charges are framed and that Aasia should be released. Moreover there are those that say, if Aasia had asked for forgive-ness in the village, then, the case should never have been brought forward.
Her entry into our consciousness – for those that support the law and those that oppose the law (like myself) should not now be rendered meaningless.
It is this moment that is the spur that produces a new wave of discourse seeking to lobby either the upholding or the repeal of the sets of laws in question.
Becoming part of the imagination:
The year 1985 is less marked than the year 1929 in terms of the spread of the notion of tauheen-e-risalat (offence against the Prophet)and the popularisation of the vigilante who kills the blasphemer.
The Blasphemy Law itself is a manifestation of a prior conflict and a sentiment within the sociology of the Punjab. Where does one locate the origins of this consciousness?
In an event that could have quite easily have been forgotten if not for certain historical accidents: Ilam Din’s murder of Rajpal.
The 1920’s was is a crucial period in the history of Punjab with respect to the entry of the notion of tauheen-e-risalat into the imagination of its’ residents. When the sentence of the publisher of the pamphlet Rangila Rasul was repealed by the Lahore High Court in 1927 due the lack of an adequate law, did a mass movement against him began. It was a movement much in the spirit of the current street protests and press releases condemning Aasia.
The charge for the Rangila Rasul publisher was more serious, a certain form of intent could potentially be attributed. With respect to Aasia it is only changes in the legal structure that have made her equal to Rajpal in the public consciousness – and organisations such as the TNSH warn of an Ilam Din incumbent.
And while Aasia is being imagined Rajpal’s equal, the religious imagination is fathoming another troubled and jailed female: Aafia. If indeed Aasia finds asylum in the United States the parallels made on the streets will be even starker.
Returning to the Ilam Din incident and its’ imagination, Ilam Din was accused of killing Rajpal. Post the kill he was sentenced to death, a sentence appealed (for those liberals who have forgotten) by none other than Jinnah. The sentence nonetheless was upheld in the Lahore High Court and then the Queen’s council. Ilam Din was subsequently executed and became a hero. He was etched into Punjab’s publics consciousness by the then Muslim print media.
Ilam Din’s memory is referred to in their discourse by religious groups, by the Urdu press and by the lay man in the village. It is represented as a powerful memory and a powerful metaphor for the ‘love of the Prophet’ in their imagination.
Section 295C comes in 1985 to only reinforce and legitimate this social imagination.
One must recognise a law is only important in so far as it forms the social imagination of a people.
The affect of the blasphemy laws should be read in this context.
The case for a future without ‘blasphemy’:
Should there be a future for a mob producing law? Should there be a future for a law that incites violence? Should there be a future for a law that presumes the accused guilty? Should there be a future for a law whose own ground is uncertain, conflicted and without sense?
These questions are all valuable – and must necessarily be asked by those looking for legal legislation. The current debate has exposed the weak foundational grounds for any such law. But what of us who continue to exist in society? What is our answer?
Well it is to recognise that, one, there is no rational way of one being able to stop someone else for uttering something that offends us. We ourselves offend many of our own sensibilities – let alone someone else do that for us. Has none of us ever degraded a Prophet (if not by words in terms of action)? Clearly if acts in the world can be categorised in terms of sin and virtue then sin has manifested itself in each of us. What then is the ground for our self-assurity one must ask himself? Why must we turn to judge others when our own self is the contradication that must first be resolved.
And then secondly there is one other things. Is it not better, if someone offends us, that we render that offence meaningless we ignore it. In Aasia’s case we are not even certain that the offence was made – but it is only by reacting that we give event’s such as Rushdie or the Danish cartoons or Facebook meaning.
And for some reason the reaction in Pakistan remains unique and most self destructive.
Ignoring a comment, silence on it – means denying the comment an audience. It is a subtle subversion that the formulators and proponents of the Blasphemy Law must consider seriously before returning to the discussion table on the value of these laws.
But is there something for the liberals to learn?
Of course. They must query the particular sense in which religion is imbibed amongst a significant number of people.
Is there something for the religious to learn?
There are three questions that they need to answer. One: does the Blasphemy law represent deep love of the Prophet? Two: does killing an individual who offends their Prophet represent the Prophet’s love? Three: Did Ilam Din’s act represent the love of the Prophet (and I have done some research that suggests otherwise)?
According to data compiled by NCJP, the Blasphemy Law has tried 1058 individuals to date. Amongst these the majority are Ahmadis (456) and Muslims (449). The law law has often been used as a pretext for personal attacks or vendettas as well as extra-judicial murders. Overall, 33 people had died this way at the hands of ‘vigilantes’ or ‘mobs’ at the end of 2009.
What is surprising therefore today is that it is not affected Muslims themselves that are arguing for a repeal of the Law.
The disconnect between those arguing for its repeal and those arguing for keeping it in the PPC needs to be removed if any true social change is to be seen. And it is in that respect that this article takes leave by asking the two essential questions:
1) How does the blasphemy accuser see the blasphemer as human?
2) How do we see the blasphemy accuser as human?
And well there is one more question to ask as we take leave:
How can a law on questioning belief apply to those who do not believe in that belief?
While it appears that the Rangila Rasul case opened up the fissure that brought in the first formal ‘outraging religious feelings’ law, the hope is that the Asiya Bibi case will resolve the infected wound that no one felt was worth giving an antibiotic.
- The article was printed in The Review in Pakistan Today on 28 November, 2010.
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