Will the return of Tunisia’s Islamists help or hinder the national democratic project? An-Nahda’s return will test its leader’s commitment to free expression and free association. Rohan Jayasekera reports
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Salmaan Taseer’s assassination is the result of years of political uses of Pakistan’s blasphemy laws, says Salil Tripathi
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The dark forces of religious extremism have once again struck in Pakistan, with the assassination of Punjab governor Salmaan Taseer.
Taseer was apparently killed by a guard, Malik Mumtaz Hussain Qadri. As is inevitable these days, a Facebook page has now been set up in support of the alleged assassin, stating: “We Support the action of Malik Mumtaz Hussain Qadri and want that Supreme Court of Pakistan take immediate action against his arrest and order to free him.”
Qadri is reported to have said he was motivated by Taseer’s stance against Pakistan’s rigid blasphemy laws. Blasphemy can carry the death sentence in Pakistan, though no one has yet been executed under the law.
The Washington Post’s Greg Linch has compiled several of Taseer’s anti-blasphemy law tweets here. Taseer also pledged support to Punjabi Christian woman Aasia Bibi, who was convicted of blasphemy late last year.
In an interview with Pakistan’s Newsline in December, Taseer was asked if he was worried about fatwas issued against him. He replied:
People also issued fatwas against Benazir Bhutto and Zulfikar Ali Bhutto. They issued fatwas against basant. These are a bunch of self-appointed maulvis who no one takes seriously. The thing I find disturbing is that if you examine the cases of the hundreds tried under this law, you have to ask how many of them are well-to-do? How many businessmen? Why is it that only the poor and defenceless are targeted? How come over 50% of them are Christians when they form less than 2% of the country’s population. This points clearly to the fact that the law is misused to target minorities.
Mourning means different things to different people. Even within one culture. But the month of Moharram, (7 December–4 January) the first month of the Islamic Calendar with its decrees and limitations is interpreted beyond the letter in Iran. To many citizens it typifies a period of imposed, false uniformity bereft of self expression and an even stricter call for abstinence from any of life’s simpler pleasures. In fact the word Moharram means inviolable. The inviolable code of conduct includes the requirement that people of all ages refrain from wearing coloured garments of any description, and do not listen to music other than the ceremonial religious strains played on the radio to mark the period. The tone extends to modern television; amazingly cartoon serials are re-modelled, their jittery soundtracks replaced with more appropriately sombre sotto voce pieces.
This September marked the launch of director Mehran Modiri’s brilliant and hugely entertaining made-for-television –– and immediately barred from television — Ghahveye Talkh (Bitter Coffee), a historical satire set in the Iranian calendar year 1200. I for one am hooked, and was all set to watch episode 23 when the series was as quickly as it had come online, taken offline. Indeed the month of Moharram — clearly now observed online too — was underway, demanding that fans abstain from their Bitter Coffee wherever in the world they may be, regardless of their religious conviction. In Iran the series, sold weekly in three-episode sets, will not again be available until the end of this month of mourning during which laughter is haram or forbidden.
This observance extends to far and wide, the chief of Tehran’s transport police has outlawed any kind of expression through ones car. No writing, banners, dice or other suspended memorabilia is tolerated on the road, “primarily for safety reasons” he said, “but to be especially observed during the month of mourning”. Last year’s Ashura, (the 10th day of Moharram, marking the day that Imam Hossein was killed in the Battle of Karbala), ended in fresh bloodshed as post-election protestors adopted what had traditionally been the ceremonial green of Hossein and Ashura. No doubt the chief of police was preempting the adornment of cars with green banners.
In the Battle of Karbala one side was made up of the supporters of Hossein, the Prophet Mohammad’s grandson. On the other side was a military detachment from the forces of Yazid, the Umayyad caliph. This year on the eve of Ashura, defeated presidential candidate Mehdi Karroubi referred to the Battle saying “We’re not Yazid and you [the leadership] Hossein, nor are we Hossein, and you Yazid. We need to open dialogue to establish who was right. He who conducted himself honourably [in the elections] is Hossein and he who conducted himself badly is Yazid. And that is the only way forward, to open dialogue and see who stood against the rights of the people in a “Yazidi” method.”
The acclaimed photographer Reza went one step further in his analogy to underline the hypocrisy of Iran’s leadership by creating a Taziyeh featuring the now familiar faces of the martyrs of the post-election brutality –– Neda, Sohrab and Taraneh – instead of the martyrs of Karbala, their names depicted in full alongside other fallen citizens in the classical Persian calligraphy of the genre. Taziehs, a genre of plays and poems commemorating the Battle of Karbala became popular after the adoption of the Shi’a faith in Iran. The religious value of these works is profound. Reza’s satirical version was made in 2009 fresh from the aftermath, but was again resonant on activist sites this week.