Peshawar, the volatile city in northern Pakistan, is the capital of what was once known as the North West Frontier Province. Now called Khyber Pakhtunkwa (KPK), the province remains on the frontier; close to the Afghan border and the ungovernable tribal region. As the administrative centre and economic hub for both KPK and the tribal areas, Peshawar – a densely populated, bustling market town – has been hard hit by terrorism. Bomb blasts are far more routine than in Pakistan’s other major cities; a friend of mine who grew up in Peshawar told me that most people she knows have, at some point, had to replace their windows because of bomb damage.
In recent weeks, the city has hit international headlines, after four major attacks which have left more than 150 people dead. The first of these was a huge suicide attack at a church – the worst assault ever on Pakistan’s Christians. The latest bomb killed two people, one of whom was a police officer, and appeared to be targeting anti-polio campaigners.
Since last December, more than 20 people involved in the anti-polio drive have been killed in Pakistan. It is a nihilistic campaign of violence that has shocked domestic and international observers, and has prevented this preventable disease from being stamped out. Pakistan is one of just three countries in the world where it remains endemic. Misconceptions abound; a small minority of people, misinformed by extremists, believe that the vaccine is a plot to sterilise Muslim children. The terror attacks on polio workers have generally been targeted killings by gunmen on motorbikes. Peshawar and Karachi, the chaotic mega-city in southern Pakistan, have been the worst hit.
Earlier this year, I interviewed polio workers across the country. Many of them, understandably, had a siege mentality. In Peshawar particularly, senior managers were jumpy about talking to the press. An initial offer to take me out with vaccinators was withdrawn as it was judged too risky to allow a foreign reporter into the firing line; it was a good judgement, as two vaccinators were shot dead that same weekend. When I spoke to Javed Marwat, the deputy commissioner of Peshawar, he conceded that polio vaccinators faced grave danger, but pointed out they are not unique in that regard. “The situation is not good for anyone in the city,” he said. “Every day there are bomb blasts, but the daily explosions get ignored. When a polio worker is killed, this news spreads to other countries, in the international media. The terrorists continue to kill polio workers because it has so much impact. More people die in blasts, but nobody cares about that.”
The quick succession of bomb attacks in Peshawar over the last few weeks has caused the world to take notice, but it has also caused the various terrorist targets to blur into one. The strands are too complicated, too various, to be properly explained in news coverage to an international audience with a limited understanding of Pakistan. The big attack against the Christians continued a trend of increased persecution of religious minorities. The attack on the market was typical of militant violence, which frequently targets locations solely on the basis they are densely populated. The latest blast, against polio workers, continues the campaign against vaccinators, which began with the Taliban’s proclamation that the vaccine was forbidden by Islam.
Each of these strands can be separately analysed: why are religious minorities targeted? Why go after the polio team, who are trying to save the lives of children? Why attack civilians in Peshawar at all, if the aim is to destabilise the government, which is based in Islamabad? But ultimately, the goal is always the same: to create terror. Attacking places of worship, health workers, and shopping centres all add up to the same thing: a terrorised population that does not believe that the authorities can look after them. What is under attack is the right of Pakistanis, in Peshawar and elsewhere, to live a normal life. As yet, no-one seems to be standing up for that right.
