The Buddhist figures towered over the Bamiyan valley in the heart of Afghanistan – their hooded eyes long since sheered from their faces and precious stones long since plundered from their antique beauty. Yet, there they stood, seemingly eternal. The Buddhist statues were once representations of a by-gone era harkening to the days of the Silk Road, but by early 2001 they were offensive representations of sin. By March of 2001, they were representations of western contempt. As the Taliban regime announced the plan to destroy the images, the international community responded through the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization’s fundraising. This was perceived as an offer that attempted to capitalize on Afghanistan’s depressed economy – ironically exacerbated by the imposition of United Nations sanctions.[1] As the Taliban Ambassador to Pakistan, Mullah Abdul Salaam Zaeef, recounts in his memoir, “the issue of the statues became more than just a religious matter.”[2] It was a matter of international meddling, and daring a culture that is obliged to accept any challenge. The west had changed the symbol of the Buddhas for the Pashtun Taliban, altering it from a benign historical artifact into a malignant solicitation from the western world. Had they accepted money to spare the statues, they would have been little more than prostitutes in the Pashtun culture. Or worse, they would be daus – a man so devoid of honor and so powerless he allows other men to sleep with his wife. It is the utter state of honor bankruptcy. In response to insult, the world watched as the ancient relics disappeared in plumes of black smoke and shouts of “God Is Great.”
In 2009, the world began carving a new statue in the feminine form. She was built from the raw materials of the Pashtun heartland, and forged in Swat Valley of Pakistan’s lawless Northwest Frontier Province. It took four years of international attention, awards and prestige to refine her into a western symbol, but only one fateful moment and a single bullet to take it away. Though the Tehrik Taliban in Pakistan (TTP) physically squeezed the trigger, it was unscrupulous self interest that oriented the barrel, and ultimately, it was the culturally-misguided and media-sensationalized western influence that directed the bullet into fourteen year old school activist, Malala Yousefzai.
Swat has always been as conflicted as it is beautiful. The snow capped peaks lurching toward the heavens above landscapes shrouded by waterfalls and evergreen forests have cradled “northern savages impelled by fanaticism” long before Sir Winston Churchill denounced them. In his 1897 dispatches from the front as a war correspondent for The Telegraph, Churchill chronicled the northwestern uprising led by the Mad Fakir of Swat and a handful of teenage boys.[3] The Mad Fakir convinced the local population that he was in the company of divine hosts and possession of heavenly powers. In fact, he only had to throw a stone into the Swat River which would produce the effect of a bullet on a British soldier – a feat as proven as Schrodinger’s Cat. Far be it from the villagers to challenge faith in the power of divinity: by the time he advanced on the British outpost in Chakdara, the Mullah’s rhetoric had swollen his ranks to thousands of Pashtun tribesmen armed with primitive flintlocks and swords. A four day siege of the garrison followed but was quelled with the arrival of British reinforcements; however, no sooner had the Chakdara insurrection been quelled than an Afghan Saint, the Mullah of Hadda, declared jihad in the Mohmand territory just west of Swat.[4] Each jihad was led by popular Sufi Mystics; however, they were jihad in name only. Each had little to do with religion other than pretext and everything to do with defense of the Pashtun way of life. Pashtuns are often identified by the Pashtun Wali, the ancient code outlining their tribal ethics; however, defiance is one of their greatest virtues to never grace its tenets. Only God and a Pashtun’s father may tell him what to do. In the cases of the early uprisings against British colonialism to present-day rages against encroaching westernism, the natural fears of change are easily flared by Holy rhetoric demanding a way of life that coincides with the traditional Pashtun culture. Just as the Mullah of Hadda was actually indignant of the Hindu control of the Shankarghar bazaar, the Mad Fakir was likely reviled by officers of the Royal Crown settling tribal disputes among the local Pashtuns.[5] These were changes in the traditional power dynamics and influence within strict tribal societies – notions easily capitalized on by holy men with proclamations that the usurpers of power were un-Islamic.
The relevance of the historical context is similar to the events preceding the attempted assassination of Malala Yousefzai which, like the Buddhist statues, had very little to do with radical Islam. Though the TTP of Swat did issue an edict closing schools for girls in the valley, it was an act not sanctioned by the leadership of the movement. While leaders of the TTP attempted to distance themselves from the proclamation, Mullah Omar, the uncontested leader of the Afghan Taliban, issued the statement, “We do not agree with the ban on education in Swat…We are in contact with Maulana Fazlullah and we hope an announcement to withdraw the decision will be made soon on his FM radio.”[6] This pertinent statement came from a man whose response to international pleas for the protection of millennia old Buddhist statues came in the form of rocket-propelled grenades, dynamite and the statement: “On the Day of Judgment all of these mountains will turn into sand and fly into the air. And what if these statues in this shape go before Allah? What face, then, will Mullah Omar show to God?”[7]
Mullah Omar has never been known to compromise his honor or perceived piety at the behest of international scrutiny, which certainly lends to the authenticity of his opposition to the edict put forth by the local band of Swat Taliban. Had this opposition been properly harnessed, the situation might have been resolved before it ever began by working through an established power structure and possibly bridging the gap between Islamabad, the Afghan Taliban, and the TTP in what could have been the grassroots of a peace process. Unfortunately the mass media largely ignored Omar’s response in favor of a different way to perpetuate the story.
Mirza Waheed was the editor of BBC’s Urdu website at the time who was seeking an “ordinary person” to report about life under Taliban rule when his reporter, Abdul Hai Kakkar approached him with an idea.[8] Kakkar felt that Pakistani reporting had become “cliché” and wanted to give it a new edge by utilizing a school girl to journal her experiences for publication. Malala’s father, Ziauddin, was a school principal in Swat when he was approached by Kakkar, and offered his own eleven-year-old daughter. Though Ziauddin was open to Malala using her own name, BBC had the foresight to demand a pseudonym for her protection.[9] Ziauddin, ever the promoter, tentatively agreed, though the previous year he prompted her to give a speech entitled “How dare the Taliban Take Away My Basic Right to Education” to a crowd in Peshawar (Cooke). Perhaps she was foreshadowing the winter break of 2009, but more likely she was parroting the party line for her father’s transcendence into politics. Ziauddin had already brokered a deal with the New York Times to simultaneously film a documentary.[10]
From January to March, BBC capitalized on the eleven-year-old’s perception of the TTP’s school closure which coincided with the customary winter break, and published her entries over a ten-week period on their Urdu blog under the name Gul Makai. For some thirty-two entries, the simple school girl would transform into the young heroine and the “voice of Swat” as she pined for school over the break and speculated pessimistically about the possibility of it reopening.[11] However, as the winter break came to an end and regular school started again, secondary school-aged girls were not initially allowed to attend until two weeks later.[12] Following the school re-opening, the TTP brokered a peace deal with the Pakistani government which received international disdain with some western nations, namely the United States, criticizing the move as proof of Pakistan’s “very fragile” government.[13] With no nation ever benefitting from being viewed as weak, particularly one with a nuclear enemy living next door, Pakistan rebutted the claim with the second Swat offensive at the slightest transgression of the two month old peace accord.
During the second offensive, Adam Ellick’s NewYork Times documentary Class Dismissed showcased not just closure of schools in Swat, but the closure of Swat in general as an estimated one million villagers fled the Pakistani Army’s artillery and maneuvers for safer cities and camps for the internally displaced.[14] The New York Times and Ziauddin did their best to package the exodus as escape from the TTP, but other evidence was clearly captured in the film. The cameras rolled as schools were converted into hasty fortifications for Pakistani soldiers, buildings exploded with the impact of their artillery, and four hundred suspected insurgents were tortured, killed, and displayed.[15] However, toward the end of the film, Malala sits with President Obama’s Special Representative to Pakistan and Afghanistan asking for American assistance with education.[16] The impact of the scene is meant to capture Malala’s determination and reinforce the notion that the education system is under Taliban threat, though an attentive viewer could note that Ziauddin complains early in the documentary that only a third of his students paid tuition to his private school that month,[17] and he would gain most from foreign investment in the area’s education, just as he would have gained a hundred thousand Euros had Malala actually won the International Children’s Peace Award.[18]
Though 2009 was a prolific year for Malala Yousefzai, by its end, her father was only getting started. Malala appeared on Pakistani television shows and interviewed for the Toronto Star where she was portrayed by Ziauddin as the little girl who highlighted rights abuses with her blog and stood in defiance of the Taliban.[19] The Institute for War and Peace Reporting, who groomed Malala throughout the blogging endeavor, capitalized on her sudden rush of fame and packaged her for the public as an inspirational tool to stimulate similar responses through their Open Minds project.[20] Malala’s image was growing and taking a shape of its own. She was becoming the magnitude of a stone relic carved in a mountainside, and the wrong people were beginning to notice while the people responsible for her wellbeing continued to sell the tickets to her spectacle. By late 2011, international and national nominations for awards began to roll in and cemented her visage in the Pakistani public.[21] The TTP watched in 2012 as people began to worship her with schools renamed in her honor, meetings with politicians, and claims of starting her own political party.[22] Despite what many may consider exploitation, Bene Sheppard of Human Rights Watch claims that it would not be “fair to say that she had been pushed forward in a dangerous way. No one really expected this would happen.”[23] The possibility that danger was also the basis of BBC’s demand that she use a pseudonym, but more importantly to deny danger is to deny the entire basis of her bravery, and the fiery courage that endeared her to the world—because the gun was always there, but the finger was beginning to curl around the trigger.
Brilliant piece.
Thank you!
Mr. Snow,
I agree, to some extent, with your assertion of the West’s complicity in what happened to Malala Yousafzai. However, I disagree with your characterization of Ziauddin, Malala’s father.
I had the privilege of spending a few days with the Yousafzai family in their home in Mingora, Swat in April 2012.
During my stay, I observed the closeness and respect all family members showed each other. I also noted the strong bond between the father and daughter. But Malala also demonstrated her independence and strong will. Nothing in Malala’s demeanor showed that she followed her father blindly. She had a mind of her own and knew how to use it. I conversed several times with Malala during my stay and also visited her classroom at the Khushal School.
I have known the family since the Taliban’s invasion of Swat in spring 2009. I had been invited to visit them when I spoke with Ziauddin and Malala for an op-ed I wrote for the paper in my hometown, Anchorage.
Yes, Malala is a symbol, for both the world and for Pakistanis–even those Pakistanis those who have no idea how the Western world operates. When I met Malala I saw in her the same fire I had when I was a child in Pakistan. I was fortunate I grew up in a time when girls, at least among the educated urban class, could aspire to get a good education and have careers.
Malala is a living, breathing person not a mere symbol. She has hopes, dreams, and aspiration to study, work, and live a meaningful life. Knowing her, I have no doubt that she’ll achieve her goals. Your article does Malala a disservice. She at least had the courage to speak out against the injustice that denied little girls the righ to an education
And your portrayal of her father as a publicity-seeking person is insulting. During my visit, I saw Ziauddin move tirelessly between his schools, talking with the teachers and encouraging the students. This man, whom you portray as “ever the promoter” walked everywhere. He had no car, not even a motorcycle. He is selfless and his only fault is that he wants to see the children of Swat educated, be they girls or boys.
Why are you questioning those who dared to speak out, even when they knew the risks? I asked Malala if she was afraid of the Taliban’s threats to her life. “No. I feel no fear because life and death are in Allah’s hand.”
Shehla,
I’m sorry you didn’t like the version of Ziauddin that’s seen when rhetoric is stripped away. I never said that he didn’t love his daughter or that she didn’t love him. People are complex creatures, and that complexity seems compounded when thrown into the mores of tribal life such as any of the traditionally living Pathans. I’ve lived around many different tribes and sub-tribes and have never been less than amazed at the layers of paradox that can cram into one valley. However, how can you say he wasn’t a promoter or publicity hound with the same breath that you claim he invited you, as a journalist, to his home to cover the story? You should obviously know first hand. And yes, you are just as complicit. Malala telling you that her fate was in Allah’s hands doesn’t strike you as odd? It doesn’t strike you as wrong? I’ve heard the same remark from child jihadists – but are they simply convicted in their belief or pawns of older manipulators? Whatever the case, in the global sense, its true. For the believer, fate is in Allah’s hands – but there should be some rungs in the ladder of protective custody between Malala and Allah – unfortunately, they were certainly missing. Rather, others had borrowed them for their ladders of success.
So, the West is to blame, as always. The shallowness of that attitude, which negates any responsibility for terror or obscurantism on the part of Muslims, is a major source of confusion. The Saidian, post-colonialist approach is effete and racist, in its inability to recognize that non-Western cultures, for all their strengths have weaknesses that often trump human rights and common decency. I see no reason why Malala should not be what she seems to be. The role of the West in the matter has been, for the most part, to provide exposure of a very worthwhile cause and to insist on the rights of women in cultures that despise them. We should be glad the West is here in the first place.
Dr. MacEoin,
I’m sorry that you didn’t agree, or even read the article. I am glad the west is here, just as I am glad that Swat is here. I believe there should be a place where one can get a jumbo jack, a brand new car, and charter a fishing boat all in one day – just as much as I believe there ought to be a place where a guy can wake up, secure his food and water for the day, and pray five times that God may take care of the rest. What I don’t agree with is irresponsible reporting for personal gain, exploitation of children, and dangerous encouragement of children. I think its every bit as profane as Bacha Bazi. I’m sorry you don’t.
Although i cannot speak to the character of all members of this story. As an old friend of the author and western observer, i can say thank you for this piece. Your words have taken flight.
Excellent piece of writing.
Well, whatever happens to her is brutal and heinous.
It would have been ideal if at least his father would have returned to Pakistan to run his Kushhaal School in Swat, as a change agent. Please also write what is the next agenda of the westerners? To win her a Nobel Prize. every month she is in news…….its a shame that how media has made her god and a voice for humanity…..what is her contribution in swat and in pakistan…..and after few years she will be launched in pakistan politics……by the westerners…..
Huma –
I’m glad you enjoyed the article – thanks so much! It is truly a tragic affair from beginning to end, and I’m afraid we haven’t yet seen its final conclusion. Thanks!
Cordially,
M. Snow
Matthew,
Thank you for this! I am (almost) a cultural anthropologist, and an international development grad student researching Pakistani educational policy. I have been writing similar ideas all year… without support from my colleagues. Thanks for sharing; it is refreshing to not feel alone in the endeavor. It is a great piece, by the way. If you have any other thoughts on this, please share :)
Eliza –
Thank you very much! I’m glad I wasn’t alone when the flag went up, haha. I write pretty consistently on this region, so definitely stay tuned. I haven’t been approached about featuring this anywhere else. I wrote it with specifically FPJ in mind, so I don’t think it would fit anywhere as well as it has among the readership here. Good luck to you, and hope to hear your feedback on future articles!
Cordially,
M. Snow
Also, will this be published anywhere else?
very well written! no other columnist or blogger has written keeping in mind this perspective.. The media has glorified the victim in a very exaggerated style. As a Pakistani I would have felt better about Malala if she would have returned to Pakistan and continue her education; alright if not in Swat due to threats then at least she could settle in Islamabad with tough security provided to her. Her father is accepting diplomatic posts and privileges, what is the meaning of all this? Aren’t they needed more in Pakistan!! We have many bigger heroes who live and work in Pakistan despite receiving threats from many sources.. What about kianat who was also injured with Malala, she hasn’t gone to school since december, received her education at home, receiving death threats, cannot move out of Swat because of her financial condition.. What about the teacher shot dead few days ago in Jamrood, was her contribution less than Malala? why isn’t she glorified? There are countless other example.. Malala’s nomination for nobel peace prize is based on emothions rather than rationality! It is so sad that we glorify victims more than the contribution!!
Natasha –
Thanks! It’s really galvanizing to see so many Pakistani women embracing this article. I agree, there are no shortage of heroes in Pakistan, but the others named didn’t have the media machinery set forth before the tragedy so they’ll likely never receive the dues for their courage.
Dear Mr. Snow, Thank you for this great analytical article. I sympathized for what happened to Malala. However, watching the international media and the “world leaders” putting all emphasize on her, thus moving away from the cause itself made me sad and mad. I asked the same question that “there are so many other girls who have been shot dead or injured just like Malala and no body cares about them. So what’s so special about her?” I feel sorry that i didn’t seek the answer sooner. Today, on her birthday my facebook home page has been flooded with her pictures, and it made seek the answer of the question. Thanks for clarifying so many issues i have been wondering about since Malala craze began.