Yes, it is appropriate to say that child raping monsters have better support systems than the Qandeel Balochs of our society
As a general point and as a way of figuring out just how fundamentally screwed we are, let’s point to the fact that when those hundreds of children in Kasur were getting raped, many in that area were buying CDs that contained videos of them getting raped, for Rs50 each, thus adding further monetary motivation for the crime
There is a concept called ‘deus ex machina’ in literature. It essentially means an outside agency, an unexpected power that writers sometimes use in a play or a novel to save a hopeless situation. Its use as a plot device is frowned upon because it indicates the lack of creativity of the writer who uses it to reach a forced ending. The death of Qandeel Baloch at the hand of her brother ‘for honour’ seems too much like the (rightly maligned) ‘forced ending’ of a deus ex machina.
From the start, we struggled to figure out who Qandeel Baloch was. She was publicity hungry. Sure. She would do anything to get as many eyeballs on her as she could including making a promise to strip naked if the cricket team won against India. She was manipulative. God, she could chew up a Mufti Qavi in an afternoon. She was media savvy. Despite having so many bad things to say about her, the media could not look away. She had humble education and no apparent skills and yet she had already managed to gain not just a fringe but a mainstream presence.
But at the same time, there was also a sense her actions had more than just pragmatic motivations behind them. That she was working from a playbook. There was an ideological element that she pointed to as her compass but very few really believed her. She was a liberal, she said. She wanted to rid the women of oppression and society of narrowmindedness. Conservatives said she was a woman of loose morals and so it was appropriate she would spew forth liberal agenda. Liberals said she was paying lip service to liberal values but eventually was only out for herself. In media, her profile pieces — even the more sympathetic ones — had to list all her flaws and be generally snooty towards her even while talking about her positive points.
Her brother, who killed her, said his sister’s controversial videos and scandals had become unbearable for him.
But the shame that motivates honour killing does not merely come from within. Qandeel’s brother, a recovering addict — and reportedly, she helped him get recovered, which is ironic because maybe if his drug-addled mind hadn’t been cleared he wouldn’t have killed her — wore the hands of the shame that everyone in the society shares, supports and triggers in everyone else. Think about it. Her brother had known about her activities for a while. The explanation for why he killed her now can’t simply be that it took him this long to work up the courage. When he took his hands to her, it was also an indication of a lack of support system for anyone considering murdering a close relation on such a pretext. Instead, there is evidence of the opposite, that he had been instigated and indeed helped by others in killing his sister — at least two accomplices, both relatives, have already been revealed. So, the answer to the question: Who killed Qandeel Baloch? Well, her brother did. But we didn’t help.
As a general point and as a way of figuring out just how fundamentally screwed we are, let’s point to the fact that when those hundreds of children in Kasur were getting raped, many in that area were buying CDs that contained videos of them getting raped, for Rs50 each, thus adding further monetary motivation for the crime. Yes, it is appropriate to say that child raping monsters have better support systems than the Qandeel Balochs of our society.
But as soon as Qandeel Baloch died, you could see the media had no idea what to say about it. Those who leered her every antic were suddenly dumbfounded. They decided that honour killing was the story and then used all the cliches at their disposal to convince the people what a horrible crime it was. The coverage of her death was virtually indistinguishable from the coverage of the death of any other victim of honour killing. Within 24 hours, the media managed to make the outrageous Qandeel Baloch, the unstoppable Qandeel Baloch, a two dimensional figure. And then we proceeded to fold her up neatly and put her away in a box, never to be opened again.
The media essentially acted as though she had never entered the public consciousness at all. As though she did not deserve a tear for her own sake.
Qandeel Baloch’s death wasn’t the deus ex machina of the story. Her life was. We have no idea what we did to deserve it and she was an incredible, almost un-believable plot twist that could have been the answer to so much that ails us as a society
But it makes sense right? To have personal sympathy with a person, you need at least a grudging respect for what they stand for. But we, at this point, are not even ready to acknowledge the existence of her morality let alone have any respect for her as a person, and that is very, very unfortunate.
Qandeel Baloch was not here to send us to heaven, but she was here very much for our redemption. Can you imagine that we, in a society like ours, will ask a Maulvi to explain his actions (and then pay no heed to his excuses) because a woman was leveling outrageous allegations against her.
Every time there is a scandal involving a religious leader, we are told that ‘Ulema-e-Karaam ki izzat krna hamara farz hai’ (it is incumbent upon us to respect religious scholars). Nobody ever points out that the term ‘scholar’ is being used loosely. Most of them practice religion like most of the lawyers practice law — it’s a trade, like a carpenter or a mechanic.
In Mufti Qavi’s case too, we were told that ‘Ulema-e-Karam ki izzat krna hamara farz hai’. But fortunately, we didn’t listen.
Mufti Abdul Qavi was ridiculed mercilessly. He even lost his spot on the Moon Sighting Committee. Has Hafiz Hamdullah of the JUI-F, who threatened violence (and removal of Shalwar) to a woman on national TV, been forced to face such consequences? Hell no! In fact, Hafiz Hamdullah, whose own supporters had stressed the need to show respect to Ulema when he was being criticised for threatening Marvi Sirmad, has himself been cracking jokes at the expense of Mufti Qavi. One of the headlines following the Mufti-Qandeel-hotel episode read: Mufti Abdul Qavi sights moon every day in form of Qandeel Baloch, says Hafiz Hamdullah.
That was the power of Qandeel Baloch and the power of her methods. ‘How can a brother-in-beard and a leering lowlife be on the same page when it comes to making fun of me?’ Mufti Qavi must have wondered.
Qandeel Baloch was never going to be the person to devote her life and work one day at a time to reform the society, a la Malala. But she was going to slap around Maulvis, call them liars and then dirty-dance her way to a better society. Yes, it is possible, and indeed, desirable for change to come through application and sound arguments but that is not the only way a society changes. If you’re trying to dislodge dogma and extremism from the dominant position that it occupies in our society, yes, we need to engage our opponents and hopefully prevail upon them that dissent does not deserve death. But here is what I would like you to answer truthfully: How easy is it to engage an extremist in a constructive dialogue?
The general temperature in our society has risen so much that you have to constantly self-censor because one wrong word, and someone will probably try to kill you. Perhaps, there are societies where you can be an activist without putting your life at risk, but, here, you’re putting your life in danger just by being a polio worker.
Constructive dialogue can hardly take place with one side occupying a pedestal, an unassailable position in the society.
And so, we come to the crux of the point: Qandeel Baloch’s death wasn’t the deus ex machina of the story. Her life was. We have no idea what we did to deserve it and she was an incredible, almost un-believable plot twist that could have been the answer to so much that ails us as a society. Her death, on the other hand, was completely believable. It was a highly likely outcome in the shame-based society that we have been building here for generations.
But whatever she was, and even though we know there won’t be another one like Qandeel Baloch — why not? Because that would be bad storeytelling, my friend — her death certainly isn’t the end of hope. We are already blessed to have what we had of her. But her death is certainly a reminder that forces of violence and extremism are still as deeply entrenched in our society as ever, that the battle against bad ideas has barely begun.
But for now, we say goodbye to Qandeel Baloch — that outrageous, detestable, mindboggling, crazy and fragile, oh too fragile, creature that never will be again.
