IT is time to fight and take back at least some space that we have, over the last 30 odd years, ceded to self-proclaimed religious authorities, those who act as bigots and those who use religion or interpretations of religion to oppress others. If this means taking some risks, so be it. After the Peshawar tragedy, we do not have many options left. Either we stand up and be counted or we remain on our knees — and still die. For most people, I hope, the former is the path they choose.

The best way of destroying something for a child is by imposing it: the stricter or stronger the imposition the more the level of destruction. When Islamiat was imposed, as a compulsory subject, the reaction that came from students was exactly that. I did not see a single contemporary who took Islamiat/Pakistan Studies seriously, who spent time trying to ‘understand’ the subject, and who did not resort to rote-learning to ‘get through’ examinations.

Ever since, I have not come across a single student who has shown interest in either subject or who has argued that they learnt about Islam through Islamiat or got the motivation to be better Muslims because of the subject at school. For almost every other subject, which students took voluntarily, I have interacted with many students whose lives were shaped by it. Was this the objective of making Islamiat compulsory?

Is school or college the best place to teach religion? Do children become moral or better human beings by having it as a compulsory subject? I would argue to the contrary. By imposing something, and in an unthinking way, we can only close minds of children to that activity or subject.

Our school allowed us to wear half-sleeved shirts in high school. But one of our Islamiat teachers, instead of talking to school authorities about it, would cane us every time he came to our class and found students in half-sleeves. As one can imagine, he was not a popular teacher and his canings did nothing to create interest in the subject he was teaching.

Do children become better human beings by studying religion as a compulsory subject?

Children learn by emulating adults. If people at home act morally, subscribe to and practise a particular religious belief, and explain the reasoning behind actions well, children are very likely to follow suit. Schools have never been the place for this.

In 2010, we added Article 25-A to the Constitution guaranteeing all five- to 16-year-olds access to compulsory and free quality education. Despite four years having passed, an estimated 25 million children of schoolgoing age are still out of school (having never been to school or having dropped out before matriculation).

We have also allowed hundreds of thousands of five- to 16-year-olds to be enrolled in madressahs. When the promise is for free and compulsory mainstream education how can a state allow hundreds of thousands of its children to be taught in institutions over which the state has little or no control, and where state and society do not know what is being taught and how?

Whether or not terrorism has any links to madressahs, extremism, fundamentalism, lack of tolerance, the politics of division, sect-based politics, and close-mindedness certainly do. Whether it is the students of Jamia Hafsa or students of mainstream seminaries, is there any Pakistani who would feel safe challenging the views of either these students or their teachers?

There have been madressahs in the vicinity of the last couple of residences I have lived in. From Zia’s time onwards, the residents of the neighbourhood have never felt comfortable challenging the madressah people on anything they or their students have done, howsoever illegal or anti-social. Students from these madressahs have imposed their brand of morality on the streets around them, they have often made it uncomfortable for females to go to schools and colleges and/or their places of work.

Their use of loudspeakers has been illegal and quite a nuisance for neighbours: even when there have been sick people in certain homes, nobody has had the gumption to tell madressah administrators to reduce the volume of their loudspeakers. And, at times, when people did try to say something, implicit and sometimes explicit threats of violence kept most of them cowed.

Even when people had the courage to reach out to state institutions for help, there was never any help available. If the aim is to train better Muslims and thought leaders most madressahs have failed in the endeavour miserably. State and society have also failed the children that they have allowed to be enrolled in madressahs.

A crime that has an economic network behind it is an established crime. When the establishment of a crime comes in our vision, the economics behind it must be found. Until the economics behind the crime is addressed, the crime will not go away.

Peshawar was an unprecedented tragedy in the history of a young nation that has seen more than its share of tragedies. We have had more than 50,000 victims of terrorism. But even then we were shocked by the brutality of what happened on Dec 16. There has been a lot of talk since then, by government, politicians and the army leadership that this was a watershed moment. We wait and see.

Will state institutions stand with the people and against any and all forms of bigotry, extremism and lack of tolerance? Will the state help society recover spaces that have been ceded over the last 30 odd years? Will the state correct some of the worst mistakes we have made: imposing faith and certain versions of it on all people including students, allowing madressahs to get away with anything and making society cower in fear whenever the spectre of faith is raised?

The early signs are not of hope: the lack of movement against Abdul Aziz, against Geo and Amir Liaquat, and lack of response to the murder of a citizen of Ahmadi faith. But if we do not move now, more Peshawars will be waiting for us.

The writer is a senior research fellow at the Institute of Development and Economic Alternatives and an associate professor of economics at LUMS, Lahore.

Published in Dawn, January 2nd, 2015