Death and dishonour

There is supposed to be no loss like that of your own child. But if that tragedy can be fastened with even greater pathos, it’s probably when the grieving are affixed with expectation of how they should mourn. When a child is murdered, there can be no justice. The only recompense is to bring the child back from the indifferent dust of their burial ground. But that wish is tempered by the harsh mendacity of life to make peace with loss, even if there is no acceptance. There is a life to live, the remainder of one’s family to take care of.

Shahzeb Khan’s murder has been resolved, if one can say that without a grimace. And the resolution has been to make the family victims twice over, the first when they lost Shahzeb and the second in the eyes of the public after they forgave the accused. It is a sad reminder that though Pakistan has fundamentally changed with the upsurge in news channels and social media, the results are that scrutiny has increased but outcomes remain as they were in the past, stubbornly so. Technology has moved forward relentlessly, but the past continues to hold us back unyieldingly.

Shahzeb was killed with impunity, the confidence of the killers rooted in privilege. The state took action, roused from its apathy and withering remit through the only real incentive it recognises now, media interest and the scent of a fermenting public opinion. The problem though, is the state takes action but cannot follow through, in part because both the media and the public don’t follow through. When the outrage becomes a passing novelty, the law works as it mostly does, with lethargy.

Who knows what the parents of Shahzeb faced when the people, the media and the state moved on to the newest sideshow? What kind of arithmetic entered their minds when they were choosing between justice for what was done in the past and the safety of the present? To criticise them now for their choice is cruel. Whether or not they took blood money under the Diyat law is beside the point. Everyone wants the rule of law, but to harness our hopes on one family is cowardice. They alone cannot turn the tide. If reports are to be believed, they are leaving the country. Good luck to them, I hope they are going where such choices are not possible.

Taking umbrage at Shahzeb’s family is scapegoating to avoid the difficult topic. Not only do we have a lot to do in making our justice system effective, but we need to ensure that the Diyat law does not become a get-out-of-jail card for the rich and powerful. Few can deny that it has turned out that way. This discussion is, of course, fraught with danger. The words of the Holy Quran can be invoked but the spirit ignored. When Raymond Davis was freed under similar circumstances, it seemed the religious right also wanted a debate, albeit briefly. Our discussions on such matters are in permanent stasis.

On “Aaj Kamran Khan Ke Saath”, both Mufti Muneeb and Javed Ghamdi were discussing the use of the Diyat law; it was by all measures a polite conversation — but both could have, for all intents and purposes, been speaking different languages. Mufti Muneeb did not answer the gist of Kamran Khan’s question, why can’t the poor get away with murder? He deflected the question, whereas Ghamdi believed the law could not just follow the decision of the bereaved, but had to have state opinion as well. But Ghamdi is a man who can no longer live safely in this country and it is Mufti Muneeb who calls the shots to decide when it’s Eid. Who sounded compassionate and moral in that discussion is easy to decipher, but easier still to asses which one of the two religious scholars will disappointingly hold more sway.

I do sympathise with the youth who protested against Shahrukh Jatoi and who now feel let down by the family. There is palpable fear amongst those youth that there will be retribution of some kind to those who may have been prominent in the protests — whether this is unfounded, I cannot say. But this unease must be nothing compared with what the family of Shahzeb would have felt post the death sentence verdict, pressure they would have borne alone. So yes, cut some slack to the family of Shahzeb.

The youth’s emergence in politics and activism may have suffered a setback, but if they can meaningfully ask for legal reform, they will be better placed to ensure that the Diyat laws are no longer abused as they have been. Murder victims may be individuals, but the crime is also committed against society. A parent shouldn’t be allowed to be the only arbiter of the fate of murderers.

Published in The Express Tribune, September 12^th, 2013.

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