“His worst fault is, that he is given to prayer” — (Shakespeare)

IN times of a pandemic, it is hard to imagine that a prayer can dominate the national conversation but it was a prayer telecast live by all channels direct, from an event led by the prime minister. It was meant to be watched and it was. And boy, was it heard. And then dissected.

Motivational speakers, televangelists and our charismatic clerics stand out for their oratory. They can move people and whip up emotion and in the process, they can get carried away too. As did the maulvi sahib who couldn’t hold back his horror at all that is wrong with the society and world around him, including a media that lies instead of telling the truth and those ‘shameless’ women. The latter are so terrible a breed that it led to the pandemic.

The media he apologised to but women, so far, have got nothing.

People think this is because he depends on the media, and women are a section of society with less clout. After all, if his face is now a familiar one, it is largely due to the channels which made him a regular during Ramazan transmissions. Or perhaps it was because he was cornered by some of those who were present during the telethon. But women don’t seem to have been considered worthy of an apology. They are too weak a segment of society. Also, the reality is that misogyny is widely prevalent in Pakistan and no one bats an eyelid when women are the target.

Just consider the sexist swear words used widely by us as a people. It is hard to discourage their use by arguing that they are insulting to half the Pakistani population — for the users, this is simply not reason enough.

Earlier, religiosity was rarely accompanied by a constant effort to ensure its correct interpretation.

But there is more to it as well. This constant obsession with women and their behaviour has to be seen in the context of the change in society, including the increasing religiosity and the shape it has taken.

The rise of a certain class of clergy is directly linked to the emergence of an urban class, which appears to be in need of ‘religious guidance’ to become better ‘believers’; and in this quest, they are constantly worried about the dilution of religion and tradition. This has allowed clerics and scholars to gain importance as they provide the ‘correct’ interpretation of how to behave, dress and pray, for example.

This was not the case earlier. Earlier, religiosity was rarely accompanied by a constant effort to ensure its correct interpretation; people were also more comfortable with rituals that were more rooted in local culture and folklore than script. The tombs of Sufi saints and many of the traditions associated with them reflect this. The position of the maulvi in traditional society was also less reverent if one considers the jokes revolving around them.

My grandmother once told a story of a woman from her village who had a conversation with her about the Day of Judgement. On being told that God would question people on the day (hisaab ho gaa), the woman said: “He will ask you then for He didn’t give us all that much to question us about it.”

A short sentence but so much food for thought. But what needs to be highlighted for now is that an illiterate, rural woman was not scared of using her own logic to interpret one of the basic tenets of Islam. This was how religion was viewed and practised in rural areas — with a generous pinch of common sense.

Urbanisation and education have changed this, along with the Islamisation imposed by rulers such as Ziaul Haq. Now we look for those who have read the Quran and its translation and the hadith; for only they can tell us what ‘real’ religion means. And the proliferation of television has given us celebrity clerics.

In order to be a celebrity cleric, good oratory is essential — it wins over the followers and the television audience. But their overall importance in society comes from the need of many to ensure that they are in a (comfortable) position for the questioning promised in the Hereafter. And this is easier to accomplish through personal piety and traditionalism than by emphasising economic or social responsibilities or ethical behaviour.

And traditionalism is easier to pursue through control over women, in a fast-changing society where education and economics are empowering them in different ways.

The maulvi sahib knows this. So, he will voice concerns about society lying in general and corrupt rulers but perhaps not point out the need to pay taxes instead of giving to charity. And he will hold forth on the scourge of the ‘modern’ woman, for she is easy to target and view as a symbol of a changing society.

(Many have expressed horror at how such clerics can see women’s behaviour as a problem and miss out on the prevalence of rape, honour, killings or child abuse. Perhaps, this is because they see these as crimes — which like murder are punishable under law — but women behaving ‘untraditionally’ is becoming a part of society.)

In a clip being shared on social media by those supporting him, he is exhorting men to treat their wives better; protect them from unfair criticism from the in-laws and even house them separately (if the husband can so afford) because the wife is someone’s daughter and deserves to be happy. His audience will understand this, for traditionally, it is acceptable to reduce a woman’s identity to being a wife, daughter or sister, with little agency. Her happiness, according to that clip, is dependent on men treating her well.

For that is the traditional — and hence acceptable — role of a woman. Anything beyond is not palatable and un-Islamic, in this worldview. The problem lies with this worldview and not just a maulvi who panders to this in order to become relevant.

The writer is a journalist.

Published in Dawn, April 28th, 2020