Few questions could be more relevant to Pakistan's history than those grappling with religion's role in public life. Indeed, they speak to the very heart of the justification for the modern state of Pakistan, as seen in the chapter in A Secular Age beyond the West on Pakistan by political scientist Christophe Jaffrelot, who suggests that Pakistan presents a case of “secularity without secularism” (“Secularity without Secularism in Pakistan: The Politics of Islam from Sir Syed to Zia,” 152–84).

Most commentaries and scholarship on Pakistan analyze the Islamic Republic from either the lens of Muslim nationalism or religious fundamentalism—with a general presumption that the country has swung from “secularist” to “extremist” impulses in fits and starts. But the use of terms matters—and what one may colloquially understand to be “secular” or “fundamentalist” may be ill-fitted to reflect the deeper and wider realities of a polity, especially among the societies of South Asia.

Drawing on the insights of Charles Taylor in A Secular Age,Footnote ¹ Jaffrelot keenly engages with the terms of the debate, and in so doing, posits a novel (albeit, as yet unchallenged) thesis seldom explored in the case of Pakistan: a nation preoccupied with religious identity—and thereby seemingly reflecting a type of religious fundamentalism—may, in fact, be grappling with a form of secularity that may never lead to secularism. In extending Taylor's construct of secularism, Jaffrelot gets much correct for what he cogently chronicles as the “politics of Islam” in Pakistan, but, ultimately, one is left questioning whether what he describes as an “alternative form of secularity” is, in fact, nothing but a euphemistic label for what is decidedly an anti-secular governance model (155).

Jaffrelot correctly traces the trajectory of Pakistan to the development of Muslim separatism in South Asia during the nineteenth century. Relying on a distinction first drawn by South Asian scholar Ashis Nandy—that the Muslim separatist movement emphasized “religion as ideology” above “religion as faith”Footnote ²—Jaffrelot posits that famed Indian Muslim politician Muhammad Ali Jinnah founded Pakistan based on “a territorialized and communitarian version of Islam” steeped in identity politics (155). Nationalism, Jaffrelot contends, was the catalyst for the birth of Pakistan, which, at the time, was synonymous with Islam. This is a crucial distinction for Jaffrelot because he argues that the primacy of “religion as ideology” formed the basis for Pakistan's secularization process (160). But there is at least one problem with this construct. Jaffrelot assumes that Pakistan's founding relegated Islamic beliefs secondary to a national identity, which is not necessarily true. The “religion as belief” impulse still held up during Pakistan's secularization process. In an effort to redefine Islamic governance, Jinnah and those he appointed would often square the birth of a nation state within the box of Islamic theology.

For example, shortly after Muslims fought for an independent Pakistan, the United Nations General Assembly fought to construct a universal norm for protecting freedom of religion with the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR), passed in 1948. During a drafting session of the UDHR that year, representatives from Saudi Arabia and Pakistan quarreled as to whether freedom of conscience and freedom to change one's religion, as outlined in Articles 18 and 19 of the UDHR, were recognized under Islamic law (or the shari'a). The Saudi representative vehemently opposed the inferred right to change one's religion under shari'a, calling the articles a product of Western thinking. Muhammad Zafrullah Khan, the Pakistani representative to the session and Pakistan's first foreign minister, hailed the adoption of the articles as an “epoch-making event” and considered them entirely consistent with Islam's emphatic denunciation of compulsion in religion. Reasserting Jinnah's ideals, Khan exclaimed to the General Assembly: “Pakistan was an ardent defender of freedom of thought and belief and of all the freedoms listed in [Article 18]. . . . [F]or the Pakistani delegation, the problem had a special significance as some of its aspects involved the honour of Islam. . . . [T]he Moslem religion had unequivocally claimed the right to freedom of conscience and had declared itself against any kind of compulsion in matters of faith or religious practices.”Footnote ³ Nevertheless, Jaffrelot's broader point about the incubation of a secularity model in Pakistan more attuned to Taylor's Secularity I holds true, at least until 1953 (163–64).

Jaffrelot also correctly diagnoses the rapid erosion of Jinnah's governance model in Pakistan (167). Here, though, Jaffrelot underemphasizes the grip and reach of the ideology of Abul Ala Maudoodi and the Majlis-e-Ahrar group that stood alongside Jamaat-e-Islami—the combination of which was arguably the greatest ever threat to secularization in Pakistan. Indeed, it was Maudoodi who sought to unify Pakistani Muslims under the common cause of excommunicating Ahmadi Muslims from Pakistan, an objective eventually achieved by Pakistan's Second Amendment to its Constitution, redefining “Muslim” to exclude Ahmadis, in 1974. Justices Muhammad Munir and Malik Rustam Kiyani authored a seminal report (the so-called Munir Report) that examined the existential battle between secularism and fundamentalism by exploring the root causes of the disturbances in Punjab that led to the imposition of martial law in 1953.Footnote ⁴ The report arguably remains the most important document grappling with the confluence of religion and state in Pakistan. A close reflection of that report helps explain why the Maudoodian ideology—which grew rather than receded after his arrest—ultimately led to the weaponization of Pakistan's Constitution and criminal legal code against religious minorities, especially those perceived as a threat to majority Sunni Islam. These crucial links, which Jaffrelot only marginally explores, explain just how far Pakistan veered from its foundational model closest to Taylor's Secularity I.

Jaffrelot's most critical insight is his recognition of the deleterious effect of inserting a definition of “Muslim” in the 1973 Constitution of Pakistan and Zulfikar Ali Bhutto's subsequent effort to support a constitutional amendment declaring Ahmadis as non-Muslim (171–72). Jaffrelot correctly opines that “by precluding equal recognition of different schools of thought with Islam,” Bhutto “sealed the fate of secularism as defined by Taylor” (172). Pakistan is the only Muslim-majority country in the word to define who is or is not a Muslim for purposes of its Constitution—this has remained true for almost fifty years. Article 260 (the definitional clause) is not just problematic for Ahmadis—it is the principal culprit for sectarian conflict in Pakistan. The moment Pakistan injected a definition of Muslim in its Constitution, it created and fueled an environment where Muslim groups would compete with each other to claim Islam's hegemony. The decision to inject a definition incubated sectarianism, tribalism, and interreligious violence. Indeed, militants committed a significant number of recent mass killings and atrocities in Pakistan to preserve Islam's integrity and the definition of Muslim in Pakistan's constitution. Jaffrelot is correct that a secularist (Bhutto) sealed the fate of secularism in Pakistan. But Bhutto did not presage an “alternative form of secularity” (153); rather, he ensured the ascendancy of a religious movement to preserve Sunni Islam.

Jaffrelot's analysis of the so-called Islamization of Pakistan captures a number of salient points relating to fiscal, educational, and judicial reforms. Though Jaffrelot accurately distills several examples of the ways that Zia ul Haq injected Islam in various political matters, he argues that Zia nevertheless pursued a statist agenda that continued to define Islam “in terms of collective identity at the expense of its religious content” (180). But it was precisely the religious content of many of these reforms that drove Zia's policies. The prime example is one Jaffrelot only alludes to in passing: the promulgation and enforcement of Pakistan's anti-blasphemy laws.

Zia ensured that Pakistan used its Criminal Code to prohibit and punish blasphemy. Blasphemy in Pakistan broadly refers to any spoken or written representation that directly or indirectly outrages the religious sentiments of Muslims. Five of Pakistan's current penal code provisions punish blasphemy. As Jaffrelot cites (181), the most notorious of these laws is a fifty-word Penal Code Ordinance (called Section 295-C): “Whoever by words, either spoken or written, or by visible representation, or by any imputation, innuendo, or insinuation, directly or indirectly, defiles the sacred name of the Holy Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) shall be punished with death, or imprisonment for life, and shall also be liable to fine.” Based on this remarkably broad language, virtually anyone can register a blasphemy case against anyone else in Pakistan, and the accused can face capital punishment. Most critically, Section 295-C is a crime based entirely on the religious content of the speech or act.

Two of the five anti-blasphemy laws explicitly target by name the activities of Ahmadis. These two laws are part of what is known as Zia's Martial Law “Ordinance XX,” which amended Pakistan's Penal Code and Press Publication Ordinance Sections 298-B and 298-C, to charge Ahmadis for “indirectly or directly posing as a Muslim.” Here, again, the explicit impetus for Ordinance XX is the religious content of the speech or act. Pakistani police have destroyed Ahmadi translations of the Qur'an and banned Ahmadi publications, the use of any Islamic terminology on Ahmadi wedding invitations, the offering of Ahmadi funeral prayers, and the displaying of the Kalima (the principal creed of a Muslim) on Ahmadi gravestones. In addition, Ordinance XX prohibits Ahmadis from declaring their faith publicly, propagating their faith, building mosques, or making the call for Muslim prayers. In short, virtually any public act of worship, devotion or propagation by an Ahmadi can be treated as a criminal offense for “posing as a Muslim,” punishable by fine, imprisonment, or death.

Just a few years after the laws were passed, the Federal Shariat Court (the highest religious court in Pakistan created by Zia) was asked to rule whether Ordinance XX was contrary to the injunctions of the Qur'an and Sunnah (the practice of Prophet Muhammad). The court, in the case Mujibur Rahman v. Government of Pakistan, after an extensive analysis of Islamic authorities, upheld the validity of Ordinance XX––and ruled that parliament had acted within its authority to declare Ahmadis as non-Muslims. Ordinance XX, the court maintained, merely prohibited Ahmadis from “calling themselves what they [were] not,” namely Muslims.Footnote ⁵ That decision remains the primary source of legitimacy for Pakistan's leaders to justify continued execution and enforcement of Pakistan's anti-blasphemy laws under threat of capital punishment.

Zia ensured a content-driven application of criminal speech codes. Contrary to Jaffrelot's suggestion (180), there can be no real ulterior secular purpose for Zia to criminalize perceived insults to Islam. Indeed, Pakistan's anti-blasphemy penal code sections are a prime specimen of Zia's anti-secular governance, the legacy of which persists today. Jaffrelot also inexplicably stops short of evaluating a large amount of history post-Zia that could readily inform his thesis in both helpful and harmful ways.

For example, the eras of Nawaz Sharif, Pervez Musharraf, Asif Zardari, and Imran Khan each contain relevant historic markers that illuminate the politics of “religion as identity” and its impact on secularity without secularism in Pakistan. In 2002, then president Musharraf eliminated Zia's separate electorate regime, in place for several decades, and thereby restored the full, fair, and universal right to vote in Pakistan. But only a few months after enacting this action, he rescinded it only as it pertained to Ahmadis, ensuring they remain deprived of their right to vote without disavowing their Muslim identity, a move that remains intact today. Thus, between the horses of extremism and secularism, Pakistan remained trampled underfoot, lending further credence to Jaffrelot's analytical framework. Conversely, current prime minister Imran Khan's persistent invocation of a return to the era of Prophet Muhammad under the Charter of Medina in his various public addresses suggests a reintroduction of “religion as belief” in mainstream Pakistani politics and governance—a fact that complicates Jaffrelot's description of a Secularity IV (153–54).

Ultimately, Jaffrelot's analysis raises the question as to whether Pakistan will invariably be mired in religious extremism dressed up in the garb of pseudo-secularity. A possible escape hatch would be for Pakistan to reimagine what it means to be a citizen of Pakistan and what it means to protect the fundamental rights of this citizenry. Perhaps citizenship can transcend both “religion as belief” and “religion as ideology.” Perhaps citizenship can become the minimum political safeguard to revitalize the secularity that defined Pakistan's own founding until 1953. For all his skepticism, Jaffrelot leaves room for optimism.