I prefer my holy wars to be honest and straightforward, delivered as a press release, informing us why it is being waged and against whom.

In the middle of our workday, an unannounced jihad crept up: Komal Rizvi had apparently sinned, there was a holy war against her on social media, and she wasn’t even being hunted by regular Shia-hunting folk. It was normal, ordinary people who were baying for blood.

It was the educated middle-class that sought to fix this problem — a hero had been wronged, because people believe that Abdul Sattar Edhi had a gun held to his head when agreeing to be part of Komal Rizvi’s selfie.

How could she do that to him?

Thus began the ire, the mindless moralising, and all the gushing aspirations for “revenge” — she was India, Israel and the Taliban all rolled up into one big smile.

Also read: Bad timing? Social media slams Komal Rizvi's selfie with Edhi

When Komal Rizvi first updated her Facebook status, I was grateful. It had been some time since I had enquired about Edhi saheb’s health from colleagues who keep a keener eye out. Nor had health reporters said anything about it; perhaps there was nothing to say, since all is as well as it can be.

There was much to be grateful about Komal’s selfie with Edhi saheb, the least of which is knowing, with pictorial evidence, that the great man is alive and kicking, and that he had a good time with the guests who had come to enquire about his health.

As with other great campaigners, the Edhis were savvy enough to enlist the support of another celebrity for their events — sometimes, the cause is great enough for anyone to say yes without a second thought.

Somehow, the outrage at Komal found news value and not the idea that the Edhis had secured another celebrity endorsement.

Outrage is not news, it is a reaction

Outrage has little news value, unless threats for physical or sexual harm are issued, or unless it is channelled into a protest demonstration of sorts. Outrage over something that does not concern you is simply psychosis, reflective of one’s inner anxieties and inadequacies but not of reality.

In the real world, Komal Rizvi is a campaigner for the Edhis, while many of us are not.

Outrage cannot be the default national imagination either, neither socially nor politically — how long before we find turning our social media outrage inwards, at ourselves and our loved ones? Outrage finds space in the media because it is an associated peril of constant connectivity – to react is very human, but so is to err.

Nor can outrage define the moral fibre of a people: the reaction to Komal’s selfie is not normal, in part because it just did not concern us. It was someone else’s moment of pride and euphoria. It did not matter what anyone else thought, because Komal Rizvi did not seek our validation either.

Growing up, having a picture taken with Javed Miandad at an event or meeting Wasim Akram at a wedding were always stories to tell in school. These were our heroes, those we looked up to for national pride and personal inspiration.

Those were the times of landlines – even if you knew Wasim Akram’s residential number, you wouldn’t always be able to reach him. There was a healthy distance between the celebrity and the fan. Not anymore.

This is perhaps also why public figures inevitably find the need to be conservative in what they put out, in fear of being judged harshly or even misquoted.

If you don’t speak, what will people criticise you for?

If nobody is around to police your thoughts or tone, what harm can they possibly bring?

If nobody knows what you are up to, how will they threaten you?

In the age of social media, being a celebrity must be a curse simply because the distance between a celebrity and their fan has decreased, and there are no filters to keep the conversation civil.

It is these attitudes that are sending our superstars, particularly the women in our showbiz industry, into silence.

Komal’s response to the selfie was to warn her followers that she’d be blocking them — more power to her for standing up for what she believes in, and for speaking her mind. But, what if a lesser star were to face the same prospect?

What if someone complained of sexual harassment at the workplace, would we be kind enough to give them their space or would we let our morbid curiosity take over?

In the aftermath, some introspection is in order:

Was the Komal Rizvi issue real or constructed?

Were our reactions angry because fasting in the summers can be very testing?

Is it simply passion bubbling over, misused and misdirected as it might be?

Or, have we just become an angry, bitter people, chomping at the chance to tear down anyone deemed out of line?

On the flip side, how about helping the Edhis improve what already exists?

We can only ask these questions if our vision for national debate moves beyond the person of celebrities, men or women. A photo captured by one celebrity of another, an image of a man still alive and kicking, is not cause for national ire.

But in our country, even perceived blunder gets “revenge” threats, disagreement gets death threats, and blasphemy allegations get death.

This moral crusade is not televised, but it is already affecting us in very savage ways. Hate is a very strong word and a stronger sentiment; use it with caution before it consumes you.