Author: Aryn Baker / Lahore
Publication: Time
Date: October 8, 2006
URL: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1543954,00.html
Why Pakistan's university students are embracing
the fundamentalist life
Like many other universities around the world,
Punjab University in Lahore is a tranquil oasis far removed from the rest
of society. But to Westerners, there's little else about Punjab U. that seems
familiar. Walk around the leafy-green 1,800-acre campus, and you will encounter
nothing that resembles frivolous undergraduate behavior. Musical concerts
are banned, and men and women are segregated in the dining halls. Many female
students attend class wearing headscarves that cover everything but their
eyes. This fall, when the university's administrators tried to introduce a
program in musicology and performing arts, the campus erupted in protest.
"Pakistan is an Islamic country, and our institutions must reflect that,"
says Umair Idrees, a master's degree student and secretary-general of Islami
Jamiat-e-Talaba (I.J.T.), the biggest student group on campus. "The formation
of these departments is an attack on Islam and a betrayal of Pakistan. They
should not be part of the university curriculum."
What's most striking about that climate of
conservatism is that it is being driven not by faculty or administrators or
government officials but by students. At Punjab U., I.J.T. is the most powerful
force on campus, shaping not just the mores of student life but also larger
debates over curriculum, course syllabuses, faculty selection and even degree
programs. Nationwide, the group has more than 20,000 members and 40,000 affiliates
active at nearly all of Pakistan's 50 public universities. Students who defy
I.J.T.'s strict moral code risk private reprimands, public denouncements and,
in some cases, even physical violence.
In a country where most politicians cut their
teeth as student activists, the rise of groups like I.J.T. provides clues
to Pakistan's political future. Although the country is officially aligned
with the U.S. in fighting terrorism, it is beset by an internal struggle between
moderate citizens and the fundamentalists who aim to turn the country into
an Islamic state. As the hard-line demands intensify, President Pervez Musharraf
has backed away from some policies sought by the Bush Administration, such
as cracking down on radical religious schools, known as madrasahs, and curbing
Pakistani support for the fundamentalist Taliban across the border in Afghanistan.
Observers say that Musharraf's retreats on contentious issues have only strengthened
the radicals. "The universities reflect what you are seeing in the larger
political landscape," says Samina Ahmed, South Asia director for the
International Crisis Group, a think tank. "The moderate parties have
been deprived of their experienced cadre of potential recruits, but the religious
parties haven't."
College campuses in Pakistan are becoming
prime battlegrounds in the war for the country's soul. Political organizations
have been banned from schools since 1992, when violent clashes between the
student wings of rival political parties led to the deaths of dozens of students.
But by outlawing political activity, the government opened the door to religious
organizations such as I.J.T., which acts as an advocacy group that serves
as a liaison between students and administration. Founded in 1947, I.J.T.
has hundreds of thousands of alumni who provide the group with organizational
and financial support, with the goal of "training the young generation
according to Islam so they can play a role in Pakistan's social and political
life," Idrees says.
A visit to Punjab University reveals what
that means in practice. About 2,400 of the university's 24,000 students belong
to I.J.T. Members are expected to live morally and to abide by the Koran's
injunction to spread good and suppress evil. For many, that involves adopting
an austere lifestyle. Members meet for regular study sessions and must attend
all-night prayer meetings at least once a month. Outside the classroom, complete
segregation of the genders is strictly observed. When asked, many members
are critical of the U.S. and its policies toward the Muslim world; although
the group has no ties to terrorism, it's likely that some members sympathize
with al-Qaeda.
And yet for some, the appeal of I.J.T. has
less to do with ideology than a desire for a platform to voice their grievances.
Rana Naveed, 22, a soft-spoken communications student who sports just the
beginnings of a beard and wears tight, acid-washed jeans, is troubled by some
of I.J.T.'s more extreme pronouncements, especially its stand on the proposed
new music program. But he is excited about the prospect of becoming a full-fledged
member in a few weeks, when he will take an oath of loyalty and then work
to spread his faith and dedicate himself to the welfare of other students.
"There are certain things I don't agree with," says Naveed. "But
as a member, I will have to submit to their way. I.J.T is the only platform
to put forward my proposals to the administration, because they turn a deaf
ear to regular students."
An atmosphere of moral rigidity governs much
of campus life. I.J.T. members have been known to physically assault students
for drinking, flirting or kissing on campus. "We are compelled by our
religion to use force if we witness immoral public behavior," says Naveed.
"If I see someone doing something wrong, I can stop him and the I.J.T.
will support me." Threats of a public reprimand or allegations of immoral
behavior are enough to keep most students toeing the I.J.T. line. There is
no university regulation segregating men from women in the dining halls, but
students know that mingling is taboo. "If I talk to a girl in line at
the canteen, I.J.T. members will tell me to get my food and get out,"
says Rehan Iqbal, 25, an M.B.A. student, who is sitting on the floor of a
hallway with female classmate Malka Ikran, 22. It's a nice autumn day, and
a shady green lawn beckons through an open window, but they dare not sit outside.
It's too public. "There are certain places where I know I can't talk
to my male friends," says Ikran. When asked what would happen if she
talked to a boy at the library, for example, she just shrugs. "I don't
know. I would never try it. I'm too afraid."
It's not just students who feel stifled by
the I.J.T.'s strict moral code. Faculty members at Punjab University say that
if I.J.T. objects to a professor's leanings, or even his syllabus, it can
cause problems. It doesn't take much to raise questions about a teacher's
moral qualifications. "Those who could afford to leave, did so,"
says Hasan Askari Rizvi, a former professor of political science who is now
a political analyst. "Those who stayed learned not to touch controversial
subjects. The role of the university is to advance knowledge, but at P.U.
the quality of education is undermined because one group with a narrow, straitjacketed
worldview controls it."
Groups like I.J.T. are likely to grow more
influential, not less, as its graduates move into the political arena. For
those students aiming to become social activists on campus, and later politicians
on the national stage, involvement in I.J.T. is the only forum available to
learn the necessary skills. I.J.T. groups across the nation have embraced
the opportunity to mold Pakistan's future politicians. In addition to taking
classes on the Koran, members learn how to debate, how to present and defend
their views and how to write persuasive proposals. "I.J.T. trains and
promotes leadership qualities," says Mumtaz Ahmad Salik, president of
the P.U. staff association and a professor of Islamic studies. "When
a national political party catches anyone who has been trained by I.J.T.,
they benefit." Most I.J.T. members who choose to enter politics after
graduation go on to join Jamaat-e-Islami or other fundamentalist political
groups. Some sign up with more centrist parties, although they bring with
them fundamentalist thinking that has contributed to the general turn toward
conservatism in national politics.
For now a future in politics is far from the
minds of most P.U. students, who just want to enjoy their last few years on
campus. "We would love to have a student union," says Iqbal. "Then
we could plan events and activities and take care of the students' problems
ourselves. Right now, only I.J.T. has that kind of power. If the I.J.T. had
competition, that would change. Then you would see what students really think."
But until free elections and campaigning are permitted, the religious groups
will continue to walk large on campus. The same could be said of Pakistan.
