Miranda Husain

We must recognise that here, in Pakistan, patriarchy is not always the sole subjugator of women. At times, those very
non-governmental organisations that profess to promote the safeguarding of women’s human rights are party to their servitude

Pakistani parliamentarians have shown us once again just how quick off the mark they are when it comes to introducing legal frameworks to safeguard women’s human rights.

A mere seven years after the Punjab Assembly unanimously passed a resolution to bring acid crimes under the legal purview of attempted murder, we have the Acid Control and Acid Prevention Bill 2010 under review by the National Assembly Standing Committee on Women’s Development. Hear, hear for the seven-year itch.

Of course, if and when the Bill becomes law, it must be welcomed as a fundamental blow to the perpetrators of crimes against women everywhere in the country. However, we must also recognise that here, in Pakistan, patriarchy is not always the sole subjugator of women. At times, those very non-governmental organisations (NGOs) that profess to promote the safeguarding of women’s human rights are party to their servitude.

How else to explain the following?

Last year, a leading Lahore-based NGO, regularly feted for its unwavering commitment to women’s rights, issued a press statement noting that the number of acid crimes against women in Punjab had doubled in the April-June period, as compared to the January-March period of 2009.

Yet this organisation was at a loss to provide any sort of statistical breakdown.

A request for a copy of the ‘report’ was met with the handing over of a single sheet of A4 paper, containing, wait for it, a table of figures. But just as there was no socio-economic breakdown, neither was there any gender breakdown. Meaning that there existed no mention of whether women could also, in some cases, be identified as perpetrators of acid crimes against women. Equally lacking was any mention of men falling victim to such crimes. This would not have appeared so glaring an omission had its umbrella organisation, the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan (HRCP), not mentioned in a 2007 report that two men had, in fact, been victims of this crime traditionally associated with women. A figure also noted by a leading anti-acid crime organisation. Yet perhaps the most shameful admission by this NGO was that its ‘fieldwork’ comprised nothing more than visiting four hospitals in the city and adding on to its findings whatever the media happened to report.

To be sure, this is not simply a question of undue nitpicking. For without any statistical breakdown, there can be no insight as to the possible factors behind such an increase. And without insight there can be no way of pinpointing adequate strategies to implement and strengthen safeguards for women. Yet this NGO is the proud recipient of funding from not one, but six, foreign NGOs, all from the same country.

And herein lies the problem of women’s rights in Pakistan. For the private sector, crimes against women represent, above all, a moneymaking business. An instant profile-raiser. The opportunity, perhaps, to hold lavish luncheons at posh hotels, where the buffet is always included. And where participants can pat themselves on the back, bless their little kitten heels, for playing their part in bringing on the revolution.

Of course, the failure of the state apparatus in this regard has simply played into their hands. It has allowed such organisations to perpetuate the myth that they alone have the moral courage to concern themselves with possibly the most horrific of crimes meted out to women.

And as far as foreign donors are concerned, funding such NGOs — without a second thought as to where the cash will actually be spent — serves their own end quite nicely. For can there be anything nobler than investing in a brighter future for that most systematically subjugated of creatures, the Pakistani woman? And so much the better if one can keep one’s credentials clean by bypassing a military regime or else a democratically elected one mired in ongoing corruption scandals. Of course it is surely nothing more than mere coincidence that the country in this particular question represents one of the largest investor nations in Pakistan’s telecom sector.

If any of these donor countries genuinely wanted to help the victims of acid crimes, they would visit the city’s only government hospital currently home to a burns unit, military establishments notwithstanding. They would be able to see for themselves the conditions with which reconstructive surgeons have to contend, such as a spectacular lack of generators and air-conditioners. This is not to mention the presence of natural wildlife roaming the corridors. Since government hospitals, by definition, are required to treat their victims free of charge, would it not make more sense for these foreign donors to invest in the medical infrastructure that actually works its fingers to the bone to help acid crime victims? A medical infrastructure whose audits are open to transparency in a way that those of the private sector are not.

Unfortunately, getting down and dirty in a government hospital provides no glossy photo opportunities, nothing to write home about.

Let us hope that this anti-acid Bill is swiftly adopted into law. It is the only way to reduce the monopoly of private NGOs on this front. And let us also hope that following this, there will come the widespread recognition that investment in government hospitals is essential to strengthening this law.

For it would be naïve to think that only men can treat women as commodities, to be bought, sold and demolished at will.

The writer is a Lahore-based freelance journalist and is currently working on her first novel. She can be reached at humeiwei@hotmail.com