Pakistan_ A Hard Country - Anatol Lieven [52]
This is in part because ideas of honour (izzat or ghairat) and dishonour are fundamental to the culture of most parts of Pakistan. A man, or a family, who fails to avenge certain types of insult or injury by violence will be dishonoured in the eyes of their community and themselves, and nothing can be worse than that. Dishonour means lack of prestige, and lack of prestige means that the family’s prospects will be diminished in every way.
A British colonial judge, Sir Cecil Walsh, described ‘that great and fateful word izzat’ as follows, in terms which also imply its direct link to violence:
Every Indian, from the highest to the lowest, has his izzat, or name to keep. After his son, it is his most cherished possession, and if it is injured, he is an unhappy man. And in such a sensitive race there is nothing easier to injure than the izzat. The injury may be purely imaginary, but it is no less keenly felt ... He will neither forget it nor forgive the man who did it.6
In the evocative local phrase, a worthy and respected man ‘does good izzat’ – accha izzat karna – or in the Pathan territories, ‘does pashto’; that is to say ‘follows the path of honour’. This is not just a matter of individual actions and decisions, but a whole way of living one’s life; just as a woman is expected to ‘do ghairat’ in her dress, mode of behaviour and above all, of course, sexual conduct.
Walsh speaks of izzat as an individual matter, but it is equally important to families, extended families and clans. Indeed, most crimes committed in defence of izzat (and for that matter, most crimes in general) are collective crimes, as other family members join in to help or avenge their injured kinsman in battle, to threaten witnesses, to bribe policemen and judges, or at the very least to perjure themselves in court giving evidence on behalf of relatives. This is not seen as immoral, or even in a deeper sense illegal. On the contrary, it takes place in accordance with an overriding moral imperative and ancient moral ‘law’, that of loyalty to kin.
As Walsh himself recognized:
In England, a very large proportion of crime is committed single-handed, and the average number of offenders per crime must be under two. The average number per crime in the United Provinces must be nearer ten than two ...7
Violence is not frequent, or Pakistan would be in chaos; but it is fair to say that the possibility of it is often present somewhere in the background. Muhammad Azam Chaudhary writes that:
The decision to go to the police/courts involves a risk of blemishing the izzat. You often hear ‘if you are a man, brave and strong, come forward and fight directly. Why do you go to uncle police’, and that the real badla [revenge] could only be inflicted directly or by close relatives and not by the police or courts. But, on the other hand, if going to the police is only for the purpose of harassing the opponent and impoverishing him, it could become a source of adding to one’s izzat, especially by winning a court case against one’s rival. This competition of winning the cases in the courts between rivals leads to ... ‘addiction to litigation’.8
During a visit to Sindh in 1990, a member of a great local landowning and political family in Shikarpur told me:
If neighbouring landowners see that you are weakening, there are always a lot of people to take your place, and they will hit your interests in various ways, like bringing lawsuits to seize your land or your water. If you can’t protect yourself, your followers and tenants will ask how you can protect them. A semblance of strength must be maintained, or you’re finished. The trick is to show your armed strength without getting involved in endless blood-feuds ... Such rivalries between families and clans are also conducted in the law courts, but the ultimate decision always lies with physical force ...
In the countryside here in Sindh, a man from a strong tribe can go about unarmed, when no one else can. This will only change