Tehreek-e-Labbaik Pakistan (TLP) has announced a march towards the American Embassy in Islamabad “to show solidarity with Gaza.” The timing could not be more peculiar. Palestinians are celebrating a truce after months of horror, and Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif is attending an international conference on Gaza’s reconstruction. Yet, in this moment of fragile calm, TLP has chosen to flood the streets.
During Israel’s onslaught that killed nearly 80,000 Palestinians, TLP remained conspicuously silent. There were no protests, no campaigns, no genuine outcry. But now, as the guns fall silent, the party is blocking highways, disrupting businesses, and provoking clashes with the police. The question is why now, and for whom?
The recent crackdown in Muridke, following repeated police warnings, left several dead and many injured. Yet beyond the tragedy lies a familiar script. Every few years, the same actors emerge, the same slogans echo, and the same violence unfolds almost on cue.
TLP’s agitations have rarely been spontaneous. The group often functions as an instrument of pressure, activated and deactivated to suit political convenience. Its history offers ample proof. The Faizabad sit-in of 2017, when TLP paralysed Islamabad over a minor clerical amendment, was less about faith and more about power. The Supreme Court’s later judgment revealed how elements within the security apparatus distributed cash among protesters to undermine the PML-N government.
By 2018, TLP had evolved into an electoral spoiler. As a Barelvi outfit, it siphoned off crucial religious votes from the PML-N, indirectly clearing the path for PTI’s victory. In many constituencies, a few thousand votes made the difference. Once again, religion became a political tool, and the state a willing accomplice.
TLP’s rise from a fringe clerical movement to a national disruptor is a case study in state patronage gone wrong
Now, as TLP returns to the streets, its timing raises eyebrows. The so-called “Gaza solidarity” march coincides with mounting turbulence in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, where militants linked to Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) are resurging. The provincial government’s ambiguous stance towards the TTP only deepens the mystery. Could TLP’s mobilisation be another pressure valve, a distraction, a diversion, or a message from within?
Such coincidences are rarely accidental in Pakistan. Religious groups tend to re-emerge when political management demands muscle. Once their purpose is served, they fade until the next crisis. But every cycle of manipulation weakens the republic a little more.
TLP’s rise from a fringe clerical movement to a national disruptor is a case study in state patronage gone wrong. Born out of the 2011 blasphemy controversy, the group found official indulgence rather than restraint. Its name appears, disappears, and reappears on proscribed lists. Leaders are arrested and released in a ritual of convenience. The result is impunity draped in the cloak of faith.
What we are witnessing today is the return of two Frankenstein monsters. One was created in the mountains of Afghanistan and now stalks our borders. The other was nurtured in Lahore’s heartland, mobilised through loudspeakers and slogans of sanctity. Both were born of expedient policies, and both now threaten their creators.
Pakistan has paid a terrible price for these short-term manoeuvres. Religious vigilantism has eroded social harmony, driven away investors, and isolated the country diplomatically. The line between piety and politics has blurred to the point of absurdity. Every reformer risks being branded a blasphemer; every dissent is cast as heresy.
If the state truly wishes to curb this menace, it must stop managing it. That means enforcing the law without exception, dismantling militant networks, and prosecuting those who finance or facilitate them. The courts must stand firm rather than fold under mob intimidation. And political leaders must finally learn that flirting with extremism is not a strategy; it is suicide.
Pakistan’s future as a modern state depends on breaking this cycle. The security establishment must resist the temptation to play puppeteer. The government must assert civilian supremacy through institutions, not alliances with zealots. And society must learn to see through the illusion of religiosity wielded as a political weapon.
TLP’s current march may dissolve in a few days. But the larger question remains: how many times will the state unleash forces it cannot later control? Each time we mistake chaos for control, we inch closer to collapse. Unless this pattern ends, the next crisis will not surprise us; it will consume us.