The premeditated and brutal murder of Salmaan Taseer, governor of the Punjab, by one of his own bodyguards raises some frightening questions. How, for example, did a soldier with a known affiliation to an ideologically extreme – albeit allegedly non-violent – organisation ever get recruited to an "elite" force that protects prominent politicians? How did he get himself assigned to security duty for one of the country's most progressive politicians soon after the latter had made a forceful intervention in the case of Asia Bibi, the Christian farm-worker accused of blasphemy against the prophet of Islam?
Even more disturbing is the welcome given to the murder and the self-confessed murderer, not only by the religious parties (sadly, one has come to expect this) but even by groups of professionals such as the lawyers who have offered to defend him free of charge. Also glaringly visible is the government's failure to act against those clerics who have been offering rewards for the extrajudicial killing of Asia Bibi and the governor himself. Such an inability to act has all the hallmarks of a failing, if not a failed, state.
It is now clear to many commentators, both within and outside Pakistan, that this is not just a matter of combating a relatively few radicalised groups and their adherents. A very deep change seems to have occurred in the psyche of the nation itself. The country was founded by nationalist Muslims who wanted a tolerant, modern state where Muslims and non-Muslims could live peacefully together. The ultra-conservative religious parties opposed its creation for this and other reasons. Now, regardless of which party is in power, they seem to have taken over and to have replaced the narrative of Pakistan's founders with another, alien narrative. As a devout Muslim woman said to me: "We do not know what kind of new religion this is." The new narrative has been sold to new generations of Pakistanis through the teaching of hate in textbooks, not only about religion but in history, geography, the social sciences and much else. It is being taught in numerous madrasas up and down the country and in sermons and devotionals in many mosques. In other words, it is pervasive and is creating a mind-set which is narrow, sectarian and intolerant.
It is this wide dissemination of a narrow ideology which needs tackling first of all. This should involve an urgent review of syllabuses and textbooks, as well as the writing of new ones. A root-and-branch reform of the madrasas must now be a priority for the government, and firm action should be taken on the use of pulpits and minarets to incite violence against non-Muslims and even Muslims of a different persuasion. I have been told again and again not only by Ahmadis but by Shias as to how vulnerable they feel, let alone Christians, Hindus, Sikhs and others. The citizens of a country cannot be at war among themselves. If the steps outlined above are not taken, there may be not one but a number of civil wars – political, religious and ethnic – for the nation to face.
Finally, the government must not give in to blackmail about reforming the blasphemy laws. It may be that a country like Pakistan needs laws against incitement to religious hatred which leads to violence or discrimination but, first, these laws must protect all citizens and communities and, second, the penalties must be commensurate with the crime and not draconian as at present. Moderate Muslim scholars can show the way and government and civil society should do all they can to promote it rather than capitulating to extremist pressure.