TWENTY-SEVEN. That’s the number of bullets a police guard fired into my father before surrendering himself with a sinister smile to the policemen around him. Salmaan Taseer, governor of Punjab, Pakistan’s most populous province, was assassinated on Tuesday — my brother Shehryar’s 25th birthday — outside a market near our family home in Islamabad.
That is the opening paragraph of this New York Times op ed with the same title as this diary (minus the quotes). It was written by Shehrbano Taseer,who is a journalist withNewsweek Pakistan and is the son of the assassinated Governor.
It is powerful. It tells of a man of courage.
It was posted yesterday evening, perhaps ironic given the events in our country. It got my attention, and hence this diary, which applies some of the ideas of the op ed to our situation.
As much as we worry about the political violence and the violent rhetoric in our own nation, compared to others we have been remarkably lucky. The kind of violence that is a regular part of politics in some nations has been sufficiently rare enough that events such as the shooting of Rep. Giffords still have the power to shock.
We try to comfort ourselves that those who perpetrate the horrible acts are unbalanced. While we do not yet, as I write this in the 90 minutes before midnight on Saturday, know the motivations of the accused shooter in Tucson, on the surface he seems more than a little mentally/emotionally disturbed, as was John Hinckley.
But too often that is too easy an explanation. Other acts of violence have been by those who viewed themselves as true believers, carrying out actions justified by their interpretation of religion. The deaths of Bernard Slepian and George Tiller are but the first two examples that come to my mind.
In Pakistan, as the op ed points out, there is an a strict blasphemy law that has been used as justification by some to offer violence to those of minority religious viewpoints - after all, the government itself by having such a law seemingly justifies taking action against the blasphemers. The assassin who killed the writers father was seemingly motivated by that law, even though, as Sherhbano Taseer notes, the founder of Pakistan, Mohammad Jinnah, had a vision of a secular nation.
Perhaps that should serve as one caution to us. Our Founders likewise founded a secular nation, clearly indicated by the "no religious test" provision in Article VI of the original constitution. At one point in Pakistan the voices advocating for a purely Islamic government were in the minority. They were considered extreme. We should recognize that we have similar voices in our own nation. The danger is not merely the heated rhetoric of radio talk show hosts and TV "entertainers" who like to use shocking imagery as does Glenn Beck. It is also those who preach a religious interpretation of our society and government that would exclude or suppress those of a different view. For if someone believes they are acting in fulfillment of a divine command, that person does not have to categorized as schizophrenic or paranoid or any other category found in DSM-IV to be a danger. We may think a Muslim on what Islamic scholars would categorize as the Lesser Jihad is dangerous, but what of the self-described Christian on a Crusade to purify a land, whether it be the Holy Land upon whose soil Jesus walked or the soil of the New Jerusalem, shaped by distortions of American Exceptionalism, watered by extremist rhetoric and empowered by ready access to firearms and explosives?
In his special comment, Keith Olbermann warned about the violent imagery of our political rhetoric, apologizing for his own, and saying that we have to draw the line at such rhetoric.
That is true of politics.
Should it not also be true of religion?
Yes, we have a First Amendment, which protects even hateful speech. The government cannot and should not seek to suppress it.
But those who seek political and moral leadership, and those who already exercise it, do they not have a responsibility to speak as forcefully as did long-time Sheriff Clarence Dubnik of Pima County?
We pride ourselves that we are not like other nations. But is that true if we will not draw the line someplace before the rhetoric of hate and violence becomes the actions of hate and violence? Does it really matter whether the motivations are political, religious, or merely the product of damaged minds and souls? Is not the damage to all of us the same?
Are we not damaged even before the rhetoric is transformed into action, by our remaining silent? Is not our silence a form of complicity?
In reading Jotter's post for the diaries of January 7 I was reminded that on that date in 2009 I posted this diary in which I reflected upon a speech by Martin Luther King Jr., from which I would like to quote the following key words:
On some positions, cowardice asks the question, is it expedient? And then expedience comes along and asks the question, is it politic? Vanity asks the question, is it popular? Conscience asks the question, is it right?
There comes a time when one must take the position that is neither safe nor politic nor popular, but he must do it because conscience tells him it is right.
I think it is time to remind as many as possible of the wisdom of those words, including those in the media whose coverage WITHOUT CONDEMNATION of the extreme statements that have contributed to the perilous times in which we now find ourselves.
Keith Olbermann noted the horrible implications of Sheriff Dubnik saying he did not know a politician who was not receiving threats.
Some have pondered whether, in light of the shootings in Tucson, whether we need to provide more security for public officials. Here the penultimate paragraph from the op ed which led to this diary are relevant:
To say that there was a security lapse on Tuesday is an understatement. My father was brutally gunned down by a man hired to protect him. Juvenal once asked, "Who will guard the guards themselves?" It is a question all Pakistanis should ask themselves today: If the extremists could get to the governor of the largest province, is anyone safe?
If we allow the heated rhetoric to continue without appropriate condemnation, might not we reach a point where we, too will have to as, is anyone safe?
At the same time, there will be risk for those who speak out, They may too be subject to attack.
The op ed concludes with this paragraph:
It may sound odd, but I can’t imagine my father dying in any other way. Everything he had, he invested in Pakistan, giving livelihoods to tens of thousands, improving the economy. My father believed in our country’s potential. He lived and died for Pakistan. To honor his memory, those who share that belief in Pakistan’s future must not stay silent about injustice. We must never be afraid of our enemies. We must never let them win.
We must never be afraid of our enemies. Anyone who who advocates or even intimates the acceptability of violence is our enemy, the enemy of all of us, the enemy of democracy itself. There should be no doubt about that.
We must never let them win. They can only win if we do not speak out, if we do not, RIGHT NOW, condemn all violence of rhetoric in our political and civil discourse.
The author of the op ed titled it My Father Died for Pakistan.
Whose father will similarly die for America? Whose mother, sister, brother, daughter? How about an aide to the Congresswoman? How about a 9 year old girl who was born on September 11, 2001?
This time it was 6 who died. Next time how many?
And I find I must return to the words of King, regardless of what we may fear could happen if we speak out, because what WILL happen if we don't is far worse. It is already happening. We have to stop it now.
There comes a time when one must take the position that is neither safe nor politic nor popular, but he must do it because conscience tells him it is right.
Only then, when we ALL take those words to heart, when we all speak out against ANY violence of rhetoric, any demonizing of those with whom one disagrees, will we be able to hope for my final word:
Peace.