Intellectual Distancing

            Several years ago, I taught in an undergraduate engineering college where the curriculum included, besides the engineering discipline, public-speaking classes. In these classes, the teachers assigned various public-speaking tasks to the students such as extempore or prepared speeches, debate sessions, and computer-based presentations. During one such lecture, I announced for the next meeting a few debate topics each of which could be chosen by two groups, one to speak for and the other against it. One of the topics I wrote on the whiteboard was: The Blasphemy Law of Pakistan. As I turned to face the students, I could sense an unease on most of the faces and an almost palpable discomfort – something I expected.  I decided not to talk about it though – let them express their unease if they want to, I thought.

            After the lecture was over, a few students from that class came to see me in my office. They were not there to discuss something mundane, I could discern from their stern faces as they stood in a small huddle outside my open door. Nor did I fail to notice that four of the five who had come to see me were bearded. They humbly requested me with sheepish looks on their faces to withdraw the topic on Blasphemy law.

What for? I asked, politely.

They said they did not want to talk on the issue, which they considered sensitive and sacred; without sufficient knowledge about it, they might utter something blasphemous about it inadvertently. 

Though disappointed, I knew I could neither be bossy nor preachy. I told them I would talk to the whole class next time we meet.

            In the next public-speaking session, I decided to explain my point of view to the students. I told them that when I suggested a debate on the Blasphemy Law, I meant to hold a scholarly discussion on its various aspects; that such a discussion was important to understand the controversies surrounding the numerous cases in which people had been charged with blasphemy and the law had been ostensibly misused; that discussing or criticizing Blasphemy Law did not amount to an advocacy of blasphemy; and that in my opinion there were serious flaws with an apparently hastily drafted Blasphemy law. I told them that the law made no allowance if the accused is a minor or insane (good discussions can be found here: https://www.amnesty.org/en/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/asa330081994en.pdf, https://www.dawn.com/news/1215304/blasphemy-and-the-death-penalty-misconceptions-explaine, and  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blasphemy_in_Pakistan).  

No one spoke in reply. Did they understand my arguments? I was not sure. I concluded by saying that if they decide not to talk about the topic, even after listening to my arguments, I would not force anyone. I decided to drop the topic.

            “With all the outrageous topics you are making the students talk about, the next suicide bomb attack will be at your doorstep,” a fellow teacher, and a good friend, said with a laughter a few days later when we met in the tea-bar.

“How did you know about it?”  I asked him.

He explained, “News travel quite fast in this institute. Some of your students who also happen to sit in one of my classes told me.”

While he meant his remarks as a joke, my wife showed more concern when I talked to her about it. “Your students are wiser than you are,” she said. “They know what not to talk about in this country.”

            But I was adamant. I floated the topic again six months later to the next batch of students. There was a similar reaction in that class too. But to my surprise and delight, a group of students from that class met me in my office the following day and said that they wanted a debate on the Blasphemy Law. Consequently, in the next public-speaking session, we held the debate between two groups of three students each, one speaking for and the other against the soundness of Section 295. Although the debate did not generate as much enthusiasm as I had hoped, I was quite satisfied to have opened some minds.

I mentioned my success to my friend the same day.

            “I know the students who picked that topic,” he said.

            “Are you spying on me?” I laughed. “But what about them?”

            “You have been lamenting the misuse of Section 295. So, your case is one more example. I am sure the students do not share your enthusiasm about the issue; they picked the topic just to win your approval.”

He was probably right. This issue, which is centered on deep love and devotion, is more about misuse and fear. Whenever I have talked about Section 295, I have found that people are scared of talking about it. I have heard this argument often: You are right, Sohail, but people are killed because of it; so shh! There is the risk of blaspheming; there is the fear of offending someone’s so-called religious sentiments; and then there is the fear of being found out by the militant groups. All these factors have generated a fear so strong it has become an epidemic. It travels from one person to the other. It has permeated our society and our hearts and minds insidiously. And this fear grants  some people impunity to level false blasphemy accusations on others.

How can we defeat this epidemic? Just like we do with every epidemic – that is, distancing. But the distancing required in this case is intellectual. We need to isolate our minds from each other’s and start thinking objectively.