Suppression of critical voices through the instrumentalisation of religious fanaticism in university systems remains a powerful tool for maintaining the status quo, writes Sadaf Shabbir.
Throughout my four-year bachelor’s program, International Relations was taught predominantly through the lens of Realism or realpolitik, reinforcing hypermasculinity in both theory and pedagogy. Alternative theories were dismissed as inadequate, while religious ideologies were deeply embedded in classroom discussions. Criticism of radicalisation and extremism in Pakistan was often silenced, creating an environment where dissent was not just discouraged but dangerous. As a female student in a male-dominated space, expressing opinions that challenged theocratic narratives or questioned the weaponisation of religion against minorities and women often led to hostility, fear, and personal risk.
During a class discussion, a debate arose regarding the nature of the nation-state—specifically, whether it should be secular or theocratic. As Pakistan is a theocratic state, I expressed my opinion that the state should separate itself from religious affairs, considering how religion has historically been weaponised against gender and religious minority groups in the country. My opinion was met with disgust, and the atmosphere in the room turned hostile. With the class composed predominantly of male students (only 8% were female, who were seldom seen or heard in discussions), I was directly questioned about my religious beliefs. The question was loud enough to draw the attention of the entire class. This was not an ordinary situation; in Pakistan, such false portrayal can be life-threatening.
In 2021, Priyantha Kumara, a migrant, Sri Lankan factory manager working in Sialkot, a city in the Punjab province of Pakistan, was set ablaze by a mob after being accused of removing a poster with religious content from a wall. Most of the men responsible for his murder were staunch supporters of the notorious Tehreek-e-Labbaik Pakistan, a militant group that exemplifies the growing infestation of religious parasites in the country. Such incidents cannot be viewed in isolation. Blasphemy in Pakistan operates as an institution, where each heinous act serves as a warning to the rest of society. This vicious cycle of fear politics continues with impunity, often tacitly endorsed by the state. What makes it even more repulsive is how it is now infiltrating higher education institutions in Pakistan.
Two crimes during my undergraduate years left me both petrified and resilient. The first was the lynching of Mashaal Khan, a student accused of blasphemy. The second was the killing of Hayat Baloch, who was a victim of military aggression. The uproar following these killings ignited a sense of unity and hope but also revealed how the suppression of critical voices through the instrumentalisation of religious fanaticism remains a powerful tool for maintaining the status quo.
Not only does a mob mentality exist among the masses, but law enforcement institutions are also complicit in such crimes. Dr. Shahnawaz Kunbhar, a doctor from Umerkot, was falsely accused of blasphemy and killed in a staged encounter by the police in September, 2024. This crime lays bare the fact that religious extremism in Pakistan is not only shielded by law enforcement but also operates structurally within such institutions.
In Pakistan, misogyny and religious superiority go hand in hand. Just as democracy is intertwined with capitalism, toxic masculinity is deeply connected to hyper-religiosity. Many in my country feel entitled to speak out against injustices in other parts of the world without addressing the deep-seated issues deteriorating the social fabric of their own society. Since my childhood, I have repeatedly heard slogans calling for violence to protect the sanctity of religion. This zealousness is particularly ironic when one considers the behaviour of many “saviours of religion” who are apologists for rape, perpetrators of domestic abuse, and justifiers of child and forced marriages. These individuals often blame victims of sexual assault, openly catcall women, hurl derogatory religious and sexual slurs, and vilify gender minorities who speak out against injustices, labelling them as “prostitutes” or “whores.”
I remember one lecture in a course on human rights that led to an accidental discussion on gender equality in Pakistan—a topic often fetishised by misogynists, especially when the professor embodies sexism. While discussing what women truly mean when they chant “freedom from patriarchy” during the Aurat March on International Women’s Day, the professor cited the example of Qandeel Baloch, a social media content creator who asserted her sexuality in a deeply regressive patriarchal society. In this society, women’s presence in public spaces and on digital platforms is often perceived as a direct threat to the “family structure” and “religious values.”
The professor claimed, or rather manipulated, the discussion by stating that “while everyone focuses on how her brother killed her in an honor killing, no one talks about the type of content she posted on her social media accounts.” The majority of the class nodded in agreement, reflecting how a teacher—whose role is to educate students about issues like gender-based violence—justified her murder as something she supposedly “called for” and “deserved.”
Feminism as a theory in International Relations was always cautiously discussed in class. At a public-sector university, where right-wing student political parties actively suppress progressive student unions, criminalise discussions on enforced disappearances, and distribute free scarves in the name of modesty on Valentine’s Day, one could expect worse scenarios. These groups also monitor students of different sexes sitting together on campus, harassing them by accusing them of immorality.
Religion has been painstakingly ingrained in Pakistan. As a highly multicultural and multi religious society, managing such diversity can prove challenging, especially when the military-industrial complex calls the shots and suppresses dissenting voices in the political spectrum. Religion is used as a centre of command and control in Pakistan. Whether countering protests from gender minority groups or suppressing demonstrations such as Baloch Raji Machi against terrorism and resource plundering in the name of international development projects in Balochistan, religion has consistently been deployed as a tool. It is often used to declare dissenters as infidels or enemies of religion, accusing them of seeking to obliterate Pakistan’s existence and jeopardising the religious fabric of society.
The Minority Rights March was organised on August 11, 2024, to commemorate National Minorities Day and to demand an end to relentless violence and escalating religious intolerance in Pakistan. People from diverse walks of life participated in this resilient gathering, exercising their democratic right to hold peaceful sit-ins. However, as had been threatened by religious right-wing militant groups, the march was disrupted—particularly by Tehreek-e-Labbaik Pakistan (TLP) and Jamiat Ulema-e-Islam (JUI-F), led by Fazal-ur-Rehman. These same political-cum-militant groups have been advocating for the approval of a controversial seminary bill which, if passed, would overhaul the seminaries’ registration process, granting them greater autonomy by removing their oversight from the Ministry of Education. If implemented, the lack of regulation over what curriculum is taught and what ideologies are instilled in young pupils under the guise of religion could mark yet another dark chapter in Pakistan’s history.
Sadaf Shabbir
Sadaf Shabbir (she/her) is a researcher and an academic writer. She holds a Master’s degree in International Relations with distinction from University of Karachi, Pakistan. Sadaf has been affiliated with the Youth Center for Research (YCR) since 2021, in the capacity of a Young Researcher, and later in 2022 as the Resident Research Fellow. Sadaf has worked as one of the top 500 United People Global Sustainability Leaders, designing an inclusive education project for climate-vulnerable areas, reducing gender violence. Sadaf, through her research, navigates the intersection of Gender and International Relations, with a particular focus on Public Policy, Human Rights and International Law. Sadaf aims to gender sensitise public policy by advancing gender analysis in global affairs. Sadaf is from Pakistan.