Hawkers park their carts next to the latest-model cars of business tycoons as thousands of men rush into the Madni mosque in Karachi.
Inside, the atmosphere is electrifying: prayers, redemption, and celebrity sightings, as commoners get transformed into global Islamic preachers – all in the name of ‘Muslim victories’.
A crowd of some 40,000 worshippers is instructed by the mosque’s cleric to “spread the message among Muslims in every street, in every city.”
This is the weekly congregation of the Tablighi Jamaat. The religious movement of proselytisers is an offshoot of the Deobandi sect, which takes a literal approach to Islam.
The use of the hijab (veil), the act of growing beards, and the wearing of ankle-length trousers – all symbols of conservative Islam – are increasingly the norm here.
Boutiques have mushroomed for fashionable veils, and Islamic-only bookshops are flourishing in posh neighbourhoods.
All of this would be fine, say analysts, but Pakistanis who choose not to follow such strict requirements feel suffocated, and many believe that the trend of converting more and more Islamic preachers will only further push society into radicalism – and ultimately lead to more silent support of militant groups.
Since 9/11, Pakistan’s militant groups have been under scrutiny internationally. However, it’s the accelerating social and religious conservatism that is more socially corrosive, providing the gateway to radicalisation, say some observers.
“Especially after 9/11, there is increasing extremism in terrorism-hit Pakistan. These preachers, by radicalising various layers of the society, will ignite it – so these groups and their activities should be put under the counterterrorism [microscope] rather than ignoring them as non-political and non-militant preachers,” said Arif Jamal, author of ‘Shadow War: The Untold Story of Jihad in Kashmir’.
All ages participate – men with long beards or short beards, caps or turbans, shoulder bags or backpacks. Teenage boys, eyes wide, listen to the narrations of experienced preachers of their mission travels to America, England, and Africa.
In July, Interior Minister Rehman Malik reportedly called the missionary centre of Raiwind – the headquarters of the Tablighi Jamaat near Lahore, the “breeding ground of extremism” and terrorism in Pakistan – and said it had a major role in brainwashing Pakistanis.
According to police reports, he said, many terrorists under arrest in Pakistan had attended the congregations with the Tablighi Jamaat.
The statement triggered sharp criticism from top politicians, including former caretaker prime minister Chaudhry Shujaat and current Punjab Chief Minister Shahbaz Sharif. Malik later played down his statement by saying it was distorted, but many analysts say it rang true.
“The continuous indoctrination of [the] orthodox version of religion at the Tablighi missions [events] turns a large number of people into Islamists and jihadists. Even when they do not take part in violent jihad, its loose organisational structure helps militants conceal their identity, and they provide it popular support,” said Jamal.
Tablighis, however, shrug off these allegations as conspiracies. “We are non-political and only focus on spreading the message of Islam, which is of peace and love, across the world,” said Syed Imran, an imam and member of the Tablighi Jamaat religious movement for almost a decade.
“Not on a single occasion has any local or international investigating agency found the faintest of evidence of militancy in our movement,” he said.
“[The] jihadis challenge us for not waging war and call us passive Islamists. We tell them ‘we are engaged in greater jihad by purifying Muslims and bring them on the right path’,” agrees Muhammad Javed, who is actively involved in missions.
While Tablighis belong to the Deobandi sect, another group, the Dawat-e-Islami of Barelvi, has a similar proselytising campaign in Karachi, where their international headquarters is situated.
Known as Faizan-e-Madina, the sprawling headquarters has followers across Norway, Australia, America, Canada, and England. It also has centres in Texas, Chicago, and California. The followers usually wear a green turban, as green is associated with Prophet Muhammad (PBUH).
Then there is Hizbut Tahrir (Liberation Party), another non-militant but highly political organisation. It is working for the re-establishment of a caliphate, or Islamic state in the Muslim world, and is dismissive of the idea of democracy.
CONTRIBUTING TO RADICALISATION? Many analysts believe that these groups are not perceived as a serious threat because they are not armed.
Yet the views of all three of these groups are contributing to the radicalisation of Pakistanis across all classes, they say.
“[The groups] insist that people’s only valid identity is their religion, and they thrive on a narrative that Muslims all over the world are the victims of conspiracies,” said Nadeem Farooq Paracha, a cultural critic and columnist for a leading English-language newspaper. “They are shrinking secular spaces in the public sphere,” he said.
“While they seem non-political, what they propagate ultimately provides ideological ground to militant outfits. Because they are not armed does not mean they are tolerant of other views,” added leading rights activist Farzana Bari.
Early this year, progressive groups campaigned to abolish the controversial blasphemy law, which bans insulting the Prophet (PBUH). Islamists, including green-turbaned preachers, castigated them as “infidels”.
It was amid that charged atmosphere that Punjab Governor Salmaan Taseer was killed by his own guard because he supported its abolition.
In 2006, after a stampede in the women’s congregation of Dawat-e-Islami left several severely injured, the followers did not let male medical workers help the injured women because they considered it “un-Islamic for strangers to touch women”. Several women died because of the delay in providing medical assistance.
“It has a trickle-down effect. These men use private patriarchy for compliance of their female family members and children so the radicalisation process multiplies. They are pushing for more religious and conservative society by shoving them in centuries-old Arab world,” said Bari.
While Taliban militants use guns and bombs, the preachers use non-violent tactics, such as securing support of world-class cricket players and pop stars, which Paracha terms as “poster boys” for attracting millions of youths who idealise them.
POPULAR APPEAL: Famous former Pakistani cricket captains like Yousaf Youhana, now named Muhammad Yousaf, converted to Islam and now preaches and travels for missions.
Saeed Anwar and Inzamamul Haq now run halal meat businesses. Pakistan cricket sensation Shahid Afridi has joined the Tableeghi Jamaat.
All of them visit colleges and universities to preach. Their videos carrying message of Islam on YouTube attract hundreds of thousands of hits.
Junaid Sheikh, once a pop singer, now looks after the Dawat-e-Islami’s television channel. The former business graduate is now pursuing eight-year studies to become a chief cleric.
“My life has changed completely,” said Sheikh. “I used to sing Summer of ’69. My ideal was Bryan Adams. Now I have thrown the guitar in a storeroom and soon there will be a breaking ceremony of it,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“Their tentacles are spreading among politicians, bureaucrats, and law enforcement agencies. From poor to filthy rich, their claim of being peaceful helps them attract [the] Muslim diaspora, especially those who live in kind of a social guilt of living in a Western society,” argues Paracha.
“They are creating a new urban culture. Since General Zia’s rule of the ’80s and the first Afghan war, our traditional tolerant culture has been assaulted by all sides, whereas the best way to defeat extremism is to promote culture and education in our society,” said Ahmed Shah, who heads the National Arts Council in Karachi.
“The battle is going on between the radicals and us. It is a battle over who gets to define Pakistan,” he said.
