As a citizen of Pakistan, I’ve witnessed firsthand the chilling effect of not just the existence of blasphemy laws on free expression and interfaith harmony, but also the danger posed by a pervasive self-righteousness—an individual’s belief in their complete understanding of religion, which puts even a mere researcher at risk. Bilal’s book is a necessary exploration of how these laws have become instruments of persecution, manipulated by the few, often by Muslims against non-Muslim minorities, fueled by cultural anxieties and the complicity of both the state and individuals. And this is not a detached observation; it is a mirror reflecting the complex and often contradictory soul of Pakistan, as has been highlighted in its history even before its inception.
Beyond the Law: Living Blasphemy in Pakistan, much like the title suggests, moves beyond an academic inquiry into the phenomenon of blasphemy. Instead, it offers a searing analysis of how colonial-era laws, layered with entrenched cultural attitudes, have created a permissive environment for mob lynchings and extrajudicial killings—acts conveniently justified in the name of religion. Bilal begins his study with a sharp diagnosis of Pakistan’s Islamic identity, drawing on voices from his fieldwork in Rawalpindi and Islamabad. One respondent strikingly notes:
“Muslim women and men from Pakistan are akin to doctors who hold medical degrees but do not practice their profession. The prevalence of prostitution, gay culture, sexual liberalism, a growing dating culture, blunt media productions, and open mocking of Islamic ideals exposes the claim of Pakistan’s Islamic character.”
An Ethnography of the Mundane
Bilal’s strength lies in his ethnographic approach, a concept of anthropology wherein cultural phenomena are studied from the point of view of the subject of the study. He doesn’t dissect legal codes or theological debates; instead, he immerses himself in the lives of ordinary Pakistanis, picking at ideas and behaviors from the grassroots level. His efforts in studying the entire culture of religious sentiments are clear in his years of fieldwork, which capture the raw emotions, unspoken fears, and ingrained prejudices that shape the landscape of what constitutes blasphemy. In the words of Akmal, an accountant from Rawalpindi, whose quote opens the book:
“We take instantaneous and ruthless vengeance on anyone who makes contumelious comments about our families… Why should we wait for courts when it comes to the Prophet?”
This sentiment is endorsed by many of Bilal’s interviewees and captures the essence of the general understanding of extrajudicial measures against blasphemy and reveals that blasphemy is not merely a legal transgression but a deeply personal affront, an existential crisis that demands immediate, often violent, retribution. Bilal masterfully portrays the mundane violence of everyday life, where accusations can be weaponized, rumors can spread like wildfire, and entire communities can be consumed by religious fervor.
Challenging Dominant Narratives
Bilal challenges the conventional wisdom surrounding the issue of blasphemy in Pakistan. He criticizes both the legalistic approach, which calls for the laws to be repealed, and the religious approach, which emphasizes the reinterpretation of religious ideas. As an alternative, he vouches for an “ethnography of the mundane,” one that examines the cultural logics bleeding into everyday practices that sustain the blasphemy regime.
Bilal exposes the limits of legal remedies and theological arguments by demonstrating that the problem is rooted in deeper social, cultural, and political dynamics by highlighting social issues like honor killings and acid attacks, to name a few.
The Digital Wildfire
As one interviewee chillingly notes:
“A single screenshot can ruin a life… We’ve become judges, jurors, and executioners with smartphones.”
In one of the book’s most captivating sections, the author explores the role of social media in fueling blasphemy-related violence. He documents how platforms like WhatsApp, Facebook, and TikTok have become echo chambers for hate speech and misinformation, and any wrong move, as declared by the majority, leads to one being ‘cancelled.’ His study highlights how social media has not democratized debate but has instead amplified the dangers of surveillance, rumor, and collective outrage multifold.
Critique:
Beyond the Law is a significant contribution, yet it lacks some specifics.
1. The Religious Paradox: The book needs a more thorough examination of Quranic teachings on blasphemy. Many Islamic scholars argue that the Quran itself doesn’t prescribe earthly punishments for blasphemy and that the death penalty for insulting the Prophet is based on later interpretations and hadith.[i] Ignoring this internal debate within Islamic jurisprudence weakens the book’s critique. Perhaps the author could turn this into a series of books. The book is otherwise very comprehensive.
2. Colonial Echoes: Bilal’s analysis would benefit from a deeper exploration of the colonial roots of blasphemy laws. He should highlight the fact that these laws were initially used to suppress inter-religious tensions, not to protect religious sensibilities. It needs to be discovered how these laws became the tools for the majority in a post-partition Pakistan; events need to be connected rather than presented in isolation.
3. Patriarchal Foundations: Bilal overlooks the deeply patriarchal nature of blasphemy violence. The language of honor, vengeance, and public spectacle is closely linked to the control of women and the enforcement of traditional gender roles. The author needs to incorporate a psychological lens to further explore the reasons behind such violent ideas, as no religions permit violence. It can also help in understanding, as the author has mentioned, some cases where it was exploited against non-Muslims—why does a majority have to turn to such petty, asymmetric, and unfair tactics to undermine a religious minority?
4. Case Studies Over Generalization: While Bilal includes powerful individual narratives, he often implies broader societal trends extracted from relatively small samples (Islamabad and Rawalpindi, a more well-off sample in terms of finances and literacy). While it is understandable given research constraints, this risks overgeneralization. A more cautious framing, or acknowledgment of the regional and class variations in blasphemy dynamics across Pakistan (for example, in rural Sindh versus Karachi, or North Punjab versus South Punjab), would have strengthened the book’s empirical rigor and would also have highlighted the role of development in religious tolerance and understanding of blasphemy.
Suggestions by the Author
The author calls for “secular readings” and grassroots dialogue to foster tolerance and understanding. He implies that the solution lies not in legal reforms alone but in transforming cultural attitudes and challenging the underlying anxieties and prejudices that fuel blasphemy-related violence.
[i] In Islamic Shariah, there is no death penalty for blasphemy against the Prophet (PBUH) unless the issue reaches a level where a society is in danger of being thrown into disorder. In that case, such criminals will be subjected to capital punishments based on Surah Maidah (5) verse 33. https://uiuk.org/what-is-the-punishment-for-blasphemy-in-islam/
