The latest Supreme Court judgment in the Mubarak Sani case has set the nation abuzz. Despite its eloquence, infused with revered Qur’anic verses, and references to Hadith, all articulated in fluent Urdu, it fails to pacify critics who remain defiant and louder than ever in their protests.

Earlier this year, the Supreme Court granted bail to Mubarak Sani, an Ahmadi accused of distributing a book (Tafseer-e-Sagheer) deemed controversial before its ban. The alleged offense occurred in 2019, before the Punjab Holy Quran (Printing and Recording) (Amendment) Act 2021, which penalises such actions, came into effect. Sani, who had already spent over 13 months in prison—well beyond the previous law’s six-month maximum sentence—was released based on the constitutional protection against retrospective punishment.

Following a review petition, Chief Justice Qazi Faez Isa authored a meticulously crafted decision grounded in staunch legal precepts. The detailed judgment, delivered last week, clarifies that while Ahmadis are classified as non-Muslims, they retain the right to privately practise their faith. However, the public use of Islamic terminologies and representation of themselves as Muslims are prohibited. The Court further clarified that invoking Sections 295 and 298 of the penal code is insufficient to substantiate such claims and, per the Zaheeruddin case, Sections 298 A, B, and C apply to Ahmadis only for public actions, not in private or worship spaces.

The judgment sparked a backlash, with religious groups widely condemning the decision and accusing the apex court of granting Ahmadis a carte blanche to propagate their faith. In a show of discontent, TLP chief Saad Rizvi watched as Naib Ameer Pir Zaheerul Hasan Shah threatened violence against the Chief Justice at a rally held in front of the Lahore Press Club. The situation deteriorated until the government intervened and arrested Zaheerul Hasan along with other key leaders.

The protests and chilling threats against the top judge prove one thing: mere legal pronouncements, no matter how deeply rooted in religious texts, are not enough.

For many Pakistanis, the TLP’s vehement defence of the Prophet resonates strongly. There is no denying that the message finds eager listeners in a nation where religious and national identities are intertwined. By portraying themselves as flag-bearers of sacred beliefs like the Prophet’s finality and Quranic respect, TLP manages to tap into the national consciousness, triggering a sense of purpose and belonging that transcends politics in a country whose religiosity defines its existence.

Recently, TLP’s Ameer Saad Rizvi boldly claimed, “We can unite Baloch and Pakhtun detractors under the banner of Islam, but not Pakistan.” These words draw on the deeply ingrained belief among many Pakistanis: the notion that the country’s unity is inherently tied to its Islamic identity. This belief, however, is not novel; it has been a core narrative of Pakistan’s nationhood since its inception. The TLP feeds on it and positions itself as the torchbearer of this identity.

However, this manufactured unitary identity under the guise of Islam glosses over the diversity that characterises Pakistan, marginalising those who don’t fit its mould—Shias, Ismailis, Deobandis, Salafis, Ahmadis, secular souls, and most egregiously, women who face even greater marginalisation and discrimination.

Pakistan’s current political scene isn’t helping matters. The PTI is at a crossroads with the establishment and feeling the squeeze from all sides. At the same time, the PML-N, once a powerhouse in Punjab, has seen its influence wane. This has created a vacuum which TLP attempts to fill by positioning itself as the true guardian of Islamic values and offering a moral compass that mainstream parties are seen to be devoid of.

How to navigate this tightrope? For mainstream parties, it’s time to wake up and reclaim the narrative. Enough with the petty squabbles and endless bickering that create a vacuum groups like the TLP eagerly fill.

The TLP’s 2.9 million votes in the 2024 elections are a stark reminder of our current reality. The question is whether this will jolt mainstream parties and relevant stakeholders into genuinely reconnecting with the public on critical issues, or will it deepen the divides? This rise is a wake-up call we can’t afford to ignore. The foreboding phrase “Mulk ek nazuk mor se guzar raha hai” is as relevant as ever—like a stubborn stain that just won’t wash out.

Muhammad Anas Khalid
The writer is a student of law at LUMS.