Asif Mahmood
From May 9 to June 9, the pattern has been strikingly familiar. The rhetoric is the same. The method is the same. Even the excuses are the same.
First comes the incendiary language. Threats that everything will be set ablaze. Claims that institutions will be brought to their knees. Speeches designed not to persuade but to provoke. Then, when disorder erupts, the same voices retreat into innocence. Suddenly, nobody knows who the rioters were. Nobody knows who carried out the violence. Responsibility evaporates.
This was the defence offered after May 9. We were told that those who attacked state institutions were not really associated with the movement that had spent months stoking anger and confrontation. The same argument is now being heard after June 9. Those who fired upon police personnel, we are told, were somebody else. The blame must lie elsewhere. The script has not changed.
The language has not changed either. Abuse, vilification and personal attacks remain central features of this style of politics. Anyone who disagrees is subjected to torrents of insults. Debate is replaced by intimidation. Dissent is treated not as a democratic right but as a personal betrayal.
The targets are familiar as well. State institutions remain in the crosshairs. Every disagreement is framed as a struggle between absolute virtue and absolute evil. There is no room for nuance, no space for legitimate differences of opinion.
The role of overseas activists is another recurring feature. From afar, they cheer on confrontation, amplify inflammatory narratives and encourage a politics of perpetual agitation. The fire may burn at home, but many of those fuelling it watch from a safe distance.
Equally familiar is the reliance on propaganda. Rumour becomes fact. Allegation becomes evidence. Emotion overwhelms reason. In such an environment, truth becomes a casualty and outrage becomes an end in itself.
The cast of characters is often the same too. The professional protesters. The ratings hungry commentators. The habitual apologists who excuse one form of lawlessness while condemning another. The faces change little even when the slogans do.
At the heart of this mindset lies a deeper problem. The belief that one’s own cause alone represents truth, while all opponents are either corrupt, compromised or evil. Those who disagree are dismissed as sellouts. Those who refuse to join the crowd are branded villains. It is a politics driven by self righteousness and sustained by a sense of moral superiority.
Such mob politics cannot be defended. It could not be defended on May 9 and it cannot be defended today. A society that normalises agitation, intimidation and violence whenever political passions run high risks eroding the very foundations of democratic life.
One need only read the reactions that accompany these episodes to recognise another troubling similarity. Beyond the politics lies a shared moral crisis. The language, the intolerance and the willingness to excuse excesses committed by one’s own side reveal a deeper malaise that deserves serious reflection.