TO be a political worker on the left of the spectrum in Pakistan is a genuinely thankless task.

One has to contend not only with the steady shift in political discourse and practice to the right — both within Pakistan and globally — but also with the growing cynicism and power of money in activist circles that threaten to turn the ideologically committed and volunteer political worker into a relic of the past.

And all of this is aside from the fact that political workers in this country are constantly grappling with crises. Too much time is spent by those committed to radical social change, of the leftist variety, reacting to one or the other such crisis.

The pattern goes something like this: the media decides that a particular injustice constitutes a genuine public interest issue and activists dutifully organise a plethora of protest meetings, rallies, demonstrations etc.

While the upsurge in what is often called “civil society activism” — on which I have commented on these pages before — is laudable on many counts, it is nevertheless true that there are serious questions of both a political and sociological nature that must be posed to help understand the nature and impact of this activism.

Many progressives have been on the streets at some point or the other over the past few weeks to protest the alarming attacks against Quetta’s Hazara community, Shias in Karachi and Christians in Lahore. Amidst the carnage it can be argued that there is a silver lining i.e. a growing number of ordinary Pakistanis raising their voices against millenarian violence reflects a growing consensus — which includes the media, government and other political players — that we collectively need to buck the trend.

While there are encouraging signs, there are also very worrying ones that must be acknowledged. The aftermath of the Badami Bagh episode in particular is, in my opinion, an eye-opener precisely because of just how significant a public response there has been.

It is indubitable that Christians in Punjab are amongst the most subjugated people in Pakistan. Yet it is telling that the public concern with this particular group is limited only to spectacular incidences. As deplorable as the burning down of almost 200 poor Christians’ homes is, one cannot help but ask why it is only through the lens of a Shantinagar, Gojra or Badami Bagh that the problem is viewed.

In other words, what we need to think deeply about is what exactly the “problem” is. All too often activists with all the right intentions are found reacting to symptoms rather than addressing causes.

I am not suggesting that a majority of folks whose conscience implores them to act against such glaring injustices have not thought about the historical causes of millenarian violence. What I am nevertheless pointing to is that the immediate reactions to the spectacular episodes such as Badami Bagh betray a lack of understanding of highly complex political dynamics.

For instance, is it not worth asking why it is that poor people’s homes being burnt down in Lahore garners front-page coverage whereas similar — if not worse —– incidents that take place in the war-torn Baloch and Pakhtun areas of the country on an almost daily basis are never reported (let alone responded to by gracious chief ministers)? And if we move beyond the complicity of the police, how do we reconcile the modernising tendencies of the political — and often military — leadership of Punjab with the pervasive and persistent evidence of its hobnobbing with the radical right?

To reiterate: it is possible, and indeed quite likely, that progressives privately do ask these and similar questions, but the sad reality is that it is precisely such questions that are not part of public discourse, and that the consensus over “terrorism” that we so desperately want will only emerge once we separate, in a manner of speaking, the cat from the pigeons.

This brings me back to the “traditional” political worker of the left, and the nature and impact of civil society activism. I think the reactive tendencies of progressives to which I have alluded here are to a great extent explained by their unwillingness to commit themselves to a coherent political philosophy and, by extension, a political party. To take up every “human rights” issue under the sun is all good and well, but ultimately such a modus operandi means appealing to, or at best making demands of, the very political parties and state institutions that benefit from keeping the incumbent, oppressive structures intact. If the objective is not simply to react to a large-scale episode of violence every other day, then a much more thought-out long-term response is required to dismantle these very structures. Such a response begins with the articulation of a coherent agenda for change and extends to mobilising constituents at the grassroots level that can make change happen, through the ballot box and/or mass agitation. This is what a political party does, whatever its ideological content.

Joining or building a political party, and a long-term agenda for change, is not, unfortunately, what a majority of otherwise well-intentioned activists are doing in today’s Pakistan. Many of the issues that activists take up are undoubtedly real and pressing, but the way these issues are situated, and the demands that activists articulate only reflect the weaknesses of those on the streets.

It is thus that right-wingers in the media, legal fraternity, mainstream political parties, and most significantly, state institutions themselves, continue to do the right’s bidding, while the left remains something that progressives talk about but are unwilling to actually resurrect. Running around like a headless chicken might help placate our own conscience but it will not prevent more Badami Baghs from coming to pass.

The writer teaches at Quaid-i-Azam University, Islamabad.