Hostile Allies
Pakistan is our close ally, or so we are told.

By Doug Bandow, senior fellow at the Cato Institute & author of Beyond Good Intentions: A Biblical View of Politics
February 11, 2002 1:30 p.m.

 

eshawar, Pakistan — Pakistan is our close ally, or so we are told. But the stares that greet Westerners are sometimes cold even at the capital's airport. They turn to icy in more distant locations. A burka-clad resident of Peshawar, which lies near the Afghan border, scolded her male relatives for allowing me and two other Westerners to approach their homes. "They are not Muslims, they are bad people," she said.

Pakistan styles itself an "Islamic Republic." Yet the elite pays only lip service to Muslim values: Pakistanis in suits and jeans glide by on the streets and head for overseas for vacations; most workers ignore the call to prayer when it blares across neighborhoods and into businesses. In sharp contrast is the hard face of Islam represented by Osama bin Laden. Women in burkas cross busy streets. Men wear traditional baggy pants and a long shirt; many sport beards and hats.

There are Christians, too, but Pakistan's beleaguered Christian community accounts for barely two percent of the population. Religious persecution has worsened since September 11. Emanuel S. Khokha, the 41-year-old pastor of a small Methodist congregation in Lahore, explains: "They blame us because Christians are linked to America."

"Discrimination is everywhere," the resident of one poor neighborhood told me. Christian children are often ostracized in public school, where, as one twelve-year-old explained, other students "don't want to be friends with Christians." A young bank employee was fired by a Muslim supervisor because of her faith. Jobs and other opportunities are offered to Muslims first.

Muslims restrict charity to Muslims. Aid must therefore come either from within the impoverished Christian community itself or from outside groups, such as Christian Freedom International, with which I traveled.

More serious is pervasive government discrimination. "If a Christian wants a service in a government office, he can't get it," complains Khokha. Moreover, the very poverty of the Pakistani state encourages discrimination. "Our government is also poor, so it doesn't supply Christian people," said one impoverished Christian. One small Christian community in Lahore sits astride electrical transmission lines. Nearby lie well-served Muslim neighborhoods. "We have applied for electricity many times," one resident told me. But the government told the 70 families that connecting would cost $7,000 — an impossible sum.

Some Christian children find themselves barred from school by local officials. "We can't get in," one squatter on government land told me, even though "they provide for the Muslims." Even in school, Christian children must learn and pass the subject "Islamia," which teaches the tenets of Islam. "You can't graduate without it," explains Shagufta Irene Samuel, general manager of the Technical Services Association (TSA), a Christian rehabilitation group.

Pakistan's poor also enjoy little security of land tenure; most at risk are Christians. One community of about 50 families in Lahore has spent 35 years in makeshift homes on army land; some inherited their dwellings from their parents. The government refuses to release the land, and destroyed a small church the locals had built. Yet the Muslim neighborhood next door is also on army property, and its members were allowed to lease their land and construct a mosque. Moreover, access to government employment — sadly the best option in a grossly over-politicized economy — is also limited. "We apply for the jobs," even menial ones, and "we can't get them," one poor resident told me.

The government similarly skews foreign aid, directing the benefits to Muslims. There being so few countervailing private opportunities in a state-dominated economy, the mass of Christians are locked into poverty. Although Christians are largely left alone in their own areas, this is not the case where the faiths mix. "Muslims call if we have a meeting, and we get persecuted," complains Khokha. Even worse is criminal prosecution. For instance, Pervez Masih, a Christian teacher, was imprisoned last year after honestly answering a student's questions about Mohammed's life (his marriage to a young girl, for instance). "A lot of blasphemy cases are brought against Christians," complains TSA's Samuel. Converts in Islamic Pakistan face death; for this reason, Yousaf Masih, a member of Khokha's congregation, has received political asylum in America. Nor is violence limited to apostates. On October 28, gunmen stormed a church in Bahawalpur and slaughtered 15 Christians. According to Khokha, just two days before we arrived in mid-January, Muslims beat a pastor and his family in a village near Lahore. Since September 11 it's been "very tense," said Khokha.

The oppression of Christians is morally offensive. (One poor Christian complained to me: "We are human beings like Muslims.") Such discrimination also hinders the development of a more secular political culture, which would provide a stronger barrier to Islamic fundamentalism. Of course, the Musharraf government is better than a fundamentalist alternative. But he deserves support only if he helps to contain the murderous impulses of a medieval theology hostile to human life and dignity.

 
 

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