The last couple of weeks have been extremely fateful. The preemptive arrest of Tehreek-i-Labbaik Pakistan’s (TLP) chief set into motion a chain of events that jolted the nation and put a question mark on the state’s capacity to save itself, let alone protect the lives and property of the public.

In hindsight, the state’s approach to tackling the TLP has been full of contradictions. The recent problems are rooted in the French president’s support of Charlie Hebdo magazine to republish blasphemous caricatures of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him). The TLP had demanded that the French ambassador be expelled from Pakistan to show the state’s disapproval of the French president’s position.

Having promised the TLP that it would move a resolution in the National Assembly to expel the French ambassador, the government arrested the TLP’s chief on April 12 to preempt street protests on April 20. For some time thereafter the government watched in suspended animation the TLP workers’ assault on police officers and public property.

According to various reports, almost 1,000 policemen were injured in the TLP attacks. Finally, the government sprang into action and slapped a ban on TLP under anti-terrorism legislation and ordered a media blackout of the TLP. Protesters in support of the TLP were removed from all road pickets save the one at Lahore’s Yateem Khana chowk.

Soon afterwards, an unexpected change of heart occurred and a conciliatory dialogue was started. A resolution was also tabled in the National Assembly by a PTI member. The deal between the government and the TLP justifiably upset the police authorities.

According to a police officer, the deal between the TLP and the state “disgraced the sacrifices of the force”. What the government ultimately did could have been done without sacrificing the lives of law-enforcement personnel and some TLP workers and disruption of life in general.

National debate on the mainstream and social media was not focused on how best to appraise the leadership and public in the West that blasphemy against the Holy Prophet (peace be upon him) was unacceptable under any circumstances. Instead, the immediate concern was to stop the TLP workers from taking the law into their hands and convince the government that use of indiscriminate force against protesters was no solution to a sensitive problem.

Would one be justified in thinking that there would be a negotiated settlement? One would guess that the way blasphemy is framed in Pakistan will continue to generate problems. From the way the things look now, there is some reason to believe some watered-down version of the resolution moved in the National Assembly may be passed. It might stop short of the expulsion of the French ambassador, but will likely involve a categorical censure of the French president and the resulting Islamophobia in the West. Will it guarantee that there will be no more TLP violence in the future?

Much has been said and written in the recent weeks on the genesis of the TLP and about who propped up the party and how it was used in the past for political purposes, and how it has spiralled out of control. It may surprise very few in Pakistan that religiously referenced activism and politics routinely overlap here. The two have been routinely brought together to achieve ends that are neither noble accordingly to any religion nor good for the body politic.

A cursory look at Pakistan’s political record shows that the religious parties have been routinely instrumental in upsetting the democratically elected governments. In 1977, the nine-member Pakistan National Alliance (PNA), raised the slogan of Nizam-i-Mustafa. Led by several religious leaders, besides others, the movement against Bhutto ultimately led to the coup staged by Gen Zia. Jamaat-i-Islami chief, Qazi Hussain Ahmad, announced a long march against Benazir Bhutto for the alleged corruption of her regime in October 1996. In November 1996, President Leghari sent the government packing.

The Tehreek-i-Taliban Pakistan, now banned, was the main accused in the assassination of Benazir Bhutto. By the end of PPP’s term in 2013 elections, there were a string of attacks on PPP leaders, allegedly by Taliban. Tahirul Qadri then led a long march against the PPP government in January 2013, and a 126-days in 2014 against the PML-N government.

The TLP paralysed life in the federal capital for 22 days in November 2017 in a demonstration against the Nawaz Sharif government. It is hard not to see a sinister pattern in all this. A similar pattern may be visible in the creation and support of other minor parties. The loose political parties often have very little representation in the parliament but routinely prove decisive in the power game.

The question is why have the religious parties been the weapon of choice in toppling democratically elected governments. It may be in part because these parties have large carders of students who are highly charged and easily motivated. One of the defining characteristics of the seminary students is that they hold unwavering allegiance to their teachers and leaders. When these students are needed on the street, they are just a call away.

This is no trivial quality in a context where the only real value is the nuisance value. There may be many reasons behind such behaviour. The seminary students live their lives in binary terms. They consider their leadership and sect as the embodiment of all virtue; the rest are tolerated.

A critique of the religious principles is unimaginable in the seminaries. Differing with the opinion of the teacher is unthinkable. In popular opinion, challenging the teacher’s authority is considered a sign of disrespect, which supposedly brings bad luck. However, it would be a huge mistake to believe that the situation is much better in conventional educational institutions.

Another reason why religious parties have been the choicest instrument to straitjacket the functioning of democratically elected governments is that the religious leaders have the oratorial firepower to sway public opinion. The problem is that ordinary people are rarely trained to develop critical and analytical faculties to distinguish the good from the bad.

It may be worth investigating why people are always willing to respond to the call of religious authority. It may perhaps be condescending to say that Pakistan has an abysmally low literacy rate. The real reason may be that real education has eluded Pakistan. Real education develops critical and analytical skills in its beneficiaries. Sadly, in Pakistan, people are indoctrinated in the name of education. In the conventional education system, rote learning is confused with critical analysis.

Other ingredients of the indoctrination agenda are stop-gap measures, such as introducing the Arabic language in the curriculum and visibly phony promise of uniform education that can give all types of political dividends, except quality education. It is no surprise that an educational system where people can ask tricky questions is a nightmare for the state. A few weeks back, an event related to the secession of East Pakistan scheduled at a private university in Lahore was mysteriously cancelled. The deaths of scores of journalists in the past and the disturbing frequency of attacks on journalists show that disagreement is a punishable offence.

The onus of responsibility is on the people in public office. They must always be on their guard and see that their beliefs, hopes and cherished dreams are not exploited by vested interests.

The writer is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Economics at COMSATS    University Islamabad, Lahore Campus