As the Soviet Union disintegrated in front of his very eyes, its last leader Mikhail Gorbachev uttered quite possibly the most prescient words of his entire political life: the demise of global communism would deprive the United States of its most visible enemy, the artefact justifying its imperialist adventures around the world. Gorbachev understood that Washington would have to devise a new ideological ‘other’ to retain a mandate to intervene whenever and wherever it wanted.

Aasim Sajjad Akhtar

We Pakistanis were part of the anti-communist bandwagon then, just like we are part of the anti-terrorist bandwagon now. The irony of history is that at least some of the same proxies that we cultivated to wage holy war against the Soviet Union metamorphosed into terrorists that we want to hunt down now.

‘Terrorism’ is one of the vaguest terms of our time.

Which begs the question: what is ‘terrorism’? Given how ubiquitous the word has become in our daily lives, one would expect a great deal of clarity in our collective understanding of it. In fact, it is one of the vaguest terms of our time. On the surface it can be equated with the use of egregious violence to achieve political ends. But by this definition the state is by far the biggest terrorist force in history.

Cue Max Weber, who defines the state as an entity that enjoys a monopoly over legitimate violence. The implication is that the state is authorised to employ violent means against those it ostensibly serves. Non-state actors who resort to violence to achieve political ends have no claim to legitimacy whatsoever. In theory, the state either uses violence in avowed wars with other states, or against non-state actors that are challenging the state’s monopoly over coercion.

All of this is well and good, but things become more complicated when one reads between the lines. The US president Dwight D. Eisenhower openly admitted the collusion of his country’s military with the munitions industry in his farewell address of 1961, thus acknowledging the possibility that what he called the military-industrial complex could wage endless war as a means of securing endless profits.

You might argue that the notional citizen is now too informed to support mindless violence just because it serves the interests of businessmen, generals and other elites. But in recent decades we have seen time and again just how the powers-that-be, to borrow Noam Chomsky’s words, ‘manufacture consent’ for wars and the like that are based on exaggerated threats to civilisation that do not actually exist.

Take, for instance, the notorious ‘weapons of mass destruction’ drama that precipitated the invasion and occupation of Iraq. Or the various interventions undertaken by Washington and other Western powers in other Arab states like Libya and Syria. Are these countries rid of the ‘terrorist’ menace that these barely disguised imperialist adventures promised to eliminate? No matter how many ‘victories’ are won, ‘terrorism’ is never defeated.

Closer to home, it has now been 15 years since the Pakistani state initiated its own ‘war on terror’, and it is debatable whether any substantive gains have been made in weakening the material and ideological infrastructure that sustains right-wing militancy. Until a few weeks ago, the mood was relatively self-congratulatory, statements emanating from all quarters about the breaking of the terrorists’ proverbial backs.

The gruesome eve¬nts of recent days have, however, confirmed again that the so-called ‘existential war’ will continue for some time yet, now under its latest guise of Operation Raddul Fasaad. Military courts are likely to be revived and more defence equipment bought. Media anchors, the pro-establishment intelligentsia and notable elements within political parties will continue to manufacture consent. And the show will go on.

What was once an endless war against communism did one day end, but that end was signalled by the demise of a state system with the USSR at its forefront. The bogeyman that is ‘terrorism’ is likely to last for much longer, precisely because it is so nebulous.

There is little doubt that right-wing militancy is amongst the biggest threats of our time, and there is an urgent need to think deeply about its causes and manifestations. But then that is what some of us were saying back in the day when today’s terrorists were defenders of the faith fighting with the rest of the ‘free world’ against communism.

As it was then, so now it is the blank slate that we provide to the state in the name of security that is as big a threat to our humanity as anything else that we confront.

The writer teaches at Quaid-i-Azam University, Islamabad.
Published in Dawn, February 24th, 2017

This story was originally published by Dawn, Pakistan

He world is dominated by men. It has not always been this way — throughout recorded history there have been societies in which women have exercised significant power over both their own lives and those of men. In the modern world, however, patriarchy is very much the rule. While it is possible to identify pockets in which men and women are relatively more equal, they remain the exceptions which make the rule.

Aasim Sajjad Akhtar

The fact that more and more is said about the status of women and girls in this country speaks for some kind of change, however nominal. Public discussions about male domination are the first step towards addressing what is a deep, structural problem. Having said this, the ‘debate’ is limited to a very small cross section of society. It often feels like those talking about patriarchy and the need to challenge it are speaking amongst themselves.

Certainly, it would be impossible to suddenly involve those who are deeply hostile to even the idea that women and men are equally human. The sway exercised by mullahs and so-called ‘tradition’ over a large majority of people in this society means that many of us actually believe that women are born inferior to men and that they are fated to have certain social roles — indeed, reactions to women who transgress established boundaries suggest that we also feel entitled to undertake punitive actions in the name of maintaining moral order.

Public debate on male domination is limited to a small circle.

It is indicative of just how deeply patriarchal norms are internalised within us that many women are active agents of male domination both vis-à-vis their understanding of the world and their actions within it. This deep internalisation is reflected in how women interact with one another as well as in their deference to men, and this is why those who challenge patriarchy assert the need to ‘liberate’ women from their mental chains, so as to be able to stand up to the everyday oppression that they encounter.

Those who are suspicious of the feminist cause — men and women alike — tend to see it as an attempt to turn all women against men, a characterisation which is both ridiculous and inaccurate. It is precisely the fact that we are all products of patriarchal structures that there is no question of propagating a simple, no-holds-barred war between men and women. It is the task of conscious men and women both to understand and challenge the structure — which, in turn, is upheld by men and women both.

Yet there is little question that the primary beneficiaries and defenders of male domination are men. And this is why men are likely to react negatively to the cause of women’s liberation, to one extent or the other. After all, relinquishing a position of privilege — especially that which is seen as ordained — is far from easy.

There are, of course, some men who consider themselves enlightened, who take up the cause of women (sometimes despite their suspicions of ‘feminism’). Many husbands and fathers accord relative freedom to women and girls in the home which then translates into longer-term gains. At a more general level, progressive men are active participants in various political and social movements challenging patriarchy.

I would count myself as one of the latter. But I still feel hesitant in calling myself a ‘liberated man’. Having been politically active for many years, I can safely say that my understanding of and commitment to the feminist cause has evolved considerably over time, and is likely to do so further. I am increasingly aware of just how deeply I have internalised patriarchal ways of being. To be ‘liberated’ is not a discrete event, but a process that unfolds over an extended period of time.

Indeed, there is a danger that men who see themselves as liberated can overlook the most obvious transgressions. Unfortunately many progressives can talk, think, and act in ways that are not always consistent with their overt commitments. We may believe that we are enlightened because we don’t engage in the barbaric practices of unbridled misogynists; that we fight for women’s causes in public; that we sensitise other men to the feminist cause. But the fight does not end there. In fact the most important part of the fight is in our daily engagements, in our everyday conversations, in reining in our convictions that our opinions matter more.

Since the ‘debate’ is still largely amongst ourselves, it is worth remembering that patriarchy begins at home, and liberation does too.

The writer teaches at Quaid-i-Azam University, Islamabad.
Published in Dawn, September 9th, 2016

This story was originally published by Dawn, Pakistan

By Aasim Sajjad Akhtar
Feb 27 2016 (Dawn, Pakistan)

IT has been almost two weeks since the beginning of a protest movement of students, teachers and the wider democratic community in and around Delhi`s famed Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU) that represents arguably the biggest challenge that Narendra Modi`s BJP government has faced since coming to power. Perhaps unsurprisingly, we in this country have scarcely paid attention to the whole af fair, even though it tells us much about India, its politics, and, indeed, just how similar our two countries are.

The story begins with the head of the JNU student union publicly denouncing the secretive manner in which Kashmiri militant Afzal Guru a convicted `terrorist` was executed three years ago. Twenty-eight-year old Kanhaiya Kumar is doing a doctorate in African Studies at JNU, and is associated with the All-India Students Federation, the student wing of the Communist Party of India (CPI). Needless to say, Kumar does not harbour any ideological sympathies for Guru, but he nevertheless is entitled, like all principled opponents of organised power, to ask questions about the state`s `counterterrorism` juggernaut.

History teaches us that it is precisely these types of principled questions that most threaten established structures of power because they expose the ideological foundations of domination. On cue, Kumar was arrested on sedition charges and sent to jail, with other student leaders put on a blacklist amidst a widespread propaganda drive denouncing Kumar and his associates as `enemies of India`.

The arrests and vilification campaign were met with outrage, and thousands of students mobilised at JNU as well as numerous other campuses across the country against the Modi regime. Indeed, students were already up in arms following the suicide of Hyderabad University PhD student Rohith Vemula a few weeks earlier in protest against the discrimination meted out to him by the university administration on account of his Dalit activism. Kumar`s arrest only confirmed that the BJP government is hell-bent on reinforcing India`s worst traditions of Brahmin supremacism and state authoritarianism.

And herein lies the rub. For all of the insistence ofstateideologues on bothsides of the border, India and Pakistan are far more similar than they are different. And here I am not referring to our shared cultural traits and dispositions but to the legacy of colonial rule that continues to shape how our states think and act.

The decision to accuse Kumar of fanning `anti-state` sentiments is hardly an anomaly.

The Indian state has not hesitated to lodge sedition charges against dissidents in the past, and its propensity to do so is unlikely to be diminished by the current episode.NationalistsinKashmir,AssamandNagaland, caste activists, leaders of ecological movements all have suffered the state`s wrath, their only crime being their willingness to speak up for their legitimate rights.

The Pakistani state is of the same ilk. It could even be argued thatit has outdone its Indian counterpart over the years inasmuch as anti-state charges are bandied about even more liberally in this country than next door.

Yet it matters little which state is better at criminalising dissent because both do it well enough to be considered virtually indistinguishable.

Of course there are also stark differences in our respective political contexts. The very fact that educated young people have carried on a mass protest against Rohith`s suicide and Kanhaiya`s arrest confirms the fruits of democracy students in Pakistani varsities have not even had the right to elect their own representatives for more than 30 years sinceZiaul Haq banned unions in 1984.

In this country the army remains a sacred cow which guards the `ideological frontiers` of the state a power that is unmatched by any institution in India.

Indeed, one could not countenance the creation of military courts through a con-stitutional amendment in Delhi as happened in Islamabad in January 2015.

So while we in Pakistan feel outrage at the nationalist jingoism currently on show in India, we are also a little bit envious at the democratic means available to those who function as the conscience of Indian society to resist state power. There is little doubt that democratic forces in India face a pushback from right-wing zealots today unlike anything they have ever faced before the fact that a party espousing `Hindutva` as its guiding ideology is running the government at the centre indicates just how far the religious right has come. But progressive traditions in India run deep, and it is these traditions that inspire radicals on this side of the border in our evolving struggle against the establishment and the forces of reaction.

In the final analysis, Indians and Pakistanis share the same future, just as we share the same past. If this future is to be a democratic, plural and egalitarian one, it will be in spite of rather than because of the states that we have inherited.

The writer teaches at Quaid-i-Azam University, Islamabad.

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