Khadim Hussain Rizvi, the firebrand leader of the Tehreek Labaik Pakistan that quickly grew to define a growing religious pushback and made a habit of bringing major cities to their knees, has passed away in Lahore. He was 54.
Born in Attock in 1964, Rizvi came to national prominence late with his protests over the exit of blasphemy accused Asia Bibi from the country. Since then, Rizvi became the de facto leader on the blasphemy issue, commanding swathes of people at will.
Rizvi is a difficult character to categorise. In his short time in the national headlines, he was a divisive figure. One who praised Mumtaz Qadri, led hundreds of thousands in his funeral, charged the capital en force on multiple occasions and commanded fierce loyalty from religious segments.
It was perhaps because of the issue he chose that he inspired such fierce loyalty. The blasphemy issue is a sensitive one for the Muslim Ummah, but has taken a very particular political bent in Pakistan. People’s commitment to the extent they will go over it has become a test of faith, and none espoused this ideology more fiercely than Khadim Rizvi.
It was also this intensity that has transformed what was once considered the Indian subcontinent’s mostly dormant, timid Barelvi majority into galvanized masses. The Barelvi Ulema have always been considered on the far end of the traditionally hot-blooded Salafis within the Sunni school of thought. Their sermons are more about devotion and sweetness than about vengeance and force. Their clerics uninspiring.
In fact, when Rizvi first came to prominence, many assumed because of his last name, black turban and style of speech that he was from the Shia sect. Few escaped the sharpness of his tongue in the process of his thunderous sermons, often filled with expletives, made him easy to dismiss for the intelligentsia as nothing more than a populist.
But populists can be dangerous for those they are not inspiring. And behind the soundbites that made for memes and video compilations and parody songs was a man with a fierce command of Punjabi, a powerful voice, and a very prominent streak of eloquence. Rizvi’s recitations of Iqbal and his storytelling abilities made him a natural orator, pulling crowds and driving them wild. His status as the flag bearer on the issues of blasphemy and Khatam-e-Nabuwat made him a leader for many, and a leader of considerable charm and charisma.
This, more than anything, may be his lasting legacy – the transformation of the Beralvi masses into Jihadi mobs. And to call them Jihadi mobs is not an act of dismissal or polemics, because Khadim Hussain Rizvi did indeed encourage Jihad, and for his followers, actions over sentiment have reigned. In fact, in one way, this is more a return to the original tradition of Ahmad Shah Barelvi than anything else, who waged India’s first Jihad against the British.
Interestingly enough, Rizvi’s Jihad did not shy away from the electoral and democratic process. His party, the TLP, contested in the 2018 elections, making surprise showings not just in Punjab, but also in Sindh. In Lahore alone they managed to secure more overall votes than the Pakistan People’s Party and came in third in numerous constituencies with hundreds of thousands of votes. Without Rizvi, the political force of his party will most likely be shattered, but the ideological courage he has given to his followers will continue to hang over Pakistani politics for decades to come.
