Obituary: Asma Jahangir died on February 11th
Asma Jahangir
OBSERVERS of Asma Jahangir  usually male ones  would sometimes ask why  she  was so angry. From the 1980s onwards  she  seemed at the centre of every demonstration in Lahore or Islamabad  all five feet two inches of  her   glasses glinting  gesticulating  shouting.  She  led marches  held marathons  set up awkward organisations  and in every way was a gadfly. Most of all   she  spoke  her  mind. It might be in the bar room of the Lahore High Court  through a furious cloud of beedi smoke  or in court itself  dressing down judges who didnât get the point  or at a police station  still protesting. Bemused by this fierce little lawyer  the men would shake their heads.
But in Pakistan  how could  she  be silent? There was so much pent-up anger  for so many reasons. Lack of democracy. Almost total lack of justice. Duffer generals  bigoted mullahs  crony capitalists  chauvinist men. Certainly  she  could be a well-behaved upper-middle-class woman  in elegant shalwar kameez in  her  wood-panelled house. But  she  would rather be a street fighter. Of course   she  paid for it.  She  was bundled into police vans  put under house arrest.  Her  car was trashed. Hitmen held  her  relatives hostage. The intelligence services tried to liquidate  her  as a traitor and foreign agent (though  her  early death was natural). Every attack left  her  more energised than ever. When  her  shirt was torn off for organising a protest   she  saved  her  modesty with safety pins and went on hectoring. Briefly in jail in 1983   she  thought it a great adventure.
 Her  model was  her  father  a parliamentarian who had resigned in 1971 to protest against military rule. He too had gone smiling  and often  to prison. As a teenager  she  was already a troublemaker  complaining at  her  convent about the undemocratic selection of the head girl. In  her  prim school uniform   she  also scaled the gate of the Punjab governorâs house to plant a black flag against military rule. Rustication followed  to  her  joy.
When the phone rang at  her  law offices in Lahore   she  would always answer it. If  she  missed a call   she  would swiftly return it. Someone needed help  and  she  was often the only person in the country they could turn to.  Her  critics sometimes accused  her  of profiting from adversity  being a glory seeker. On the contrary   she  was defending democracy  secularism  judicial independence  human rights. Simple tenets  but not in Pakistan.  She  had come to the law enchanted with it  studying it at home because  she  was debarred  as a woman  from lectures.  She  believed in its power to right wrongs.  Her  tartness in court expressed  her  fury with the slow  corrupt  uneven way it actually worked.
High-profile cases did not attract  her .  She  preferred to defend a 14-year-old Christian boy accused of scrawling blasphemy on the wall of a village mosque  and to save him from the death penalty  which  she  abhorred. Though  she  was Muslim  herself   it was a personal matter.  She  accepted the place of sharia in the legal system of Pakistan  but battled its harsher interpretations. In 1987  she  helped set up the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan (HRCP)  the first of its kind  to keep an eye on things.  Her  presence on the Lahore High Court and later as the first woman president of the Supreme Court Bar Association  encouraged liberal lawyers and outraged conservatives  whom  she  mocked for their backwardness and beards.
 She  was eager to represent the poor. In half  her  cases  she  took no payment. For a time  she  even funnelled money to struggling families of political prisoners and abductees. Once  she  fought for a group of half-naked bonded brickmakers  who owed thousands of rupees to their employers. When the judge asked  her  why  she  had brought people into his court who stank   she  replied  bluntly  that he was there precisely for them. Ideally  to weaken the feudal system that enslaved them. At the least  to listen to the victims.
And no group was victimised more than women. They were treated as possessions in Pakistan  beings who should not question and should not think.  She  knew about that. As a young mother  even with a law degree   she  had been forbidden to work and reduced to a nothing. So in 1980  she    her  sister Hina and two friends set up the first all-woman law firm in the country.  Her  husband objected  but  she  went ahead. The year before President Zia ul-Haq had brought in military rule and severe hudood punishments  so  her  firm was needed.  She  defended girls  raped by their bosses  who now faced flogging for fornication;  she  helped women trying to escape loveless marriages  one of whom was killed in  her  law offices at  her  motherâs instigation.  She  provided a shelter for them  again the first. By this year  she  felt women had made progress. But not nearly enough.
With so much energy and noise   she  was noticed internationally.  She  became a UN special rapporteur for human rights  travelling to Iran  Afghanistan  Palestine and Chiapas. All the cases  she  encountered caused  her  anguish  but  her  chief concern remained Pakistan. For all the danger to  her    she  had never thought of leaving.  Her  ancestors were buried there. It was home. And like the typical Punjabi mother she was  nagging her daughters on how they should keep house  she needed to lecture Pakistan first. And keep on. And on.
OBSERVERS of  [TGT] usually male ones  would sometimes ask why   [TGT]   was so angry. From the 1980s onwards   [TGT]   seemed at the centre of every demonstration in Lahore or Islamabad  all five feet two inches of   [TGT]    glasses glinting  gesticulating  shouting.   [TGT]   led marches  held marathons  set up awkward organisations  and in every way was a gadfly. Most of all    [TGT]   spoke   [TGT]   mind. It might be in the bar room of the Lahore High Court  through a furious cloud of beedi smoke  or in court itself  dressing down judges who didnât get the point  or at a police station  still protesting. Bemused by this fierce little lawyer  the men would shake their heads.
But in Pakistan  how could  she  be silent? There was so much pent-up anger  for so many reasons. Lack of democracy. Almost total lack of justice. Duffer generals  bigoted mullahs  crony capitalists  chauvinist men. Certainly  she  could be a well-behaved upper-middle-class woman  in elegant shalwar kameez in  her  wood-panelled house. But  she  would rather be a street fighter. Of course   she  paid for it.  She  was bundled into police vans  put under house arrest.  Her  car was trashed. Hitmen held  her  relatives hostage. The intelligence services tried to liquidate  her  as a traitor and foreign agent (though  her  early death was natural). Every attack left  her  more energised than ever. When  her  shirt was torn off for organising a protest   she  saved  her  modesty with safety pins and went on hectoring. Briefly in jail in 1983   she  thought it a great adventure.
 Her  model was  her  father  a parliamentarian who had resigned in 1971 to protest against military rule. He too had gone smiling  and often  to prison. As a teenager  she  was already a troublemaker  complaining at  her  convent about the undemocratic selection of the head girl. In  her  prim school uniform   she  also scaled the gate of the Punjab governorâs house to plant a black flag against military rule. Rustication followed  to  her  joy.
When the phone rang at  her  law offices in Lahore   she  would always answer it. If  she  missed a call   she  would swiftly return it. Someone needed help  and  she  was often the only person in the country they could turn to.  Her  critics sometimes accused  her  of profiting from adversity  being a glory seeker. On the contrary   she  was defending democracy  secularism  judicial independence  human rights. Simple tenets  but not in Pakistan.  She  had come to the law enchanted with it  studying it at home because  she  was debarred  as a woman  from lectures.  She  believed in its power to right wrongs.  Her  tartness in court expressed  her  fury with the slow  corrupt  uneven way it actually worked.
High-profile cases did not attract  her .  She  preferred to defend a 14-year-old Christian boy accused of scrawling blasphemy on the wall of a village mosque  and to save him from the death penalty  which  she  abhorred. Though  she  was Muslim  herself   it was a personal matter.  She  accepted the place of sharia in the legal system of Pakistan  but battled its harsher interpretations. In 1987  she  helped set up the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan (HRCP)  the first of its kind  to keep an eye on things.  Her  presence on the Lahore High Court and later as the first woman president of the Supreme Court Bar Association  encouraged liberal lawyers and outraged conservatives  whom  she  mocked for their backwardness and beards.
 She  was eager to represent the poor. In half  her  cases  she  took no payment. For a time  she  even funnelled money to struggling families of political prisoners and abductees. Once  she  fought for a group of half-naked bonded brickmakers  who owed thousands of rupees to their employers. When the judge asked  her  why  she  had brought people into his court who stank   she  replied  bluntly  that he was there precisely for them. Ideally  to weaken the feudal system that enslaved them. At the least  to listen to the victims.
And no group was victimised more than women. They were treated as possessions in Pakistan  beings who should not question and should not think.  She  knew about that. As a young mother  even with a law degree   she  had been forbidden to work and reduced to a nothing. So in 1980  she    her  sister Hina and two friends set up the first all-woman law firm in the country.  Her  husband objected  but  she  went ahead. The year before President Zia ul-Haq had brought in military rule and severe hudood punishments  so  her  firm was needed.  She  defended girls  raped by their bosses  who now faced flogging for fornication;  she  helped women trying to escape loveless marriages  one of whom was killed in  her  law offices at  her  motherâs instigation.  She  provided a shelter for them  again the first. By this year  she  felt women had made progress. But not nearly enough.
With so much energy and noise   she  was noticed internationally.  She  became a UN special rapporteur for human rights  travelling to Iran  Afghanistan  Palestine and Chiapas. All the cases  she  encountered caused  her  anguish  but  her  chief concern remained Pakistan. For all the danger to  her    she  had never thought of leaving.  Her  ancestors were buried there. It was home. And like the typical Punjabi mother she was  nagging her daughters on how they should keep house  she needed to lecture Pakistan first. And keep on. And on.