FARHAN did not want to go to his madressah. He refused, for a few days, and told his family that he was afraid. His family believed the best course of action was to send him back to a place where they felt he would learn enough to serve him well in life. On July 22, three madressah teachers in Khwazakhel, Swat, punished him for his absence with five hours of unrelenting torture. It cost the young boy his life.
The country has now erupted in outrage. The question is, why must we wait for tragedy to strike before we can all accept that there is no room for violence in a space meant for learning?
There are several elements of this case that make it an illustrative example of what should not be happening. The first is that the perpetrators acted with a complete sense of impunity — their violence was brutal and unchecked, inflicted by multiple people who did not believe anyone in that space could question them or hold them to account. Rather than addressing what was wrong, it was purely about asserting their power and ultimate authority — how dare the child not comply?
Secondly, the acceptance of violence as a tool for teaching is deeply entrenched in our communities. Even after knowing the child did not want to return, it was a family member who handed Farhan over to his abusers. It will take a great deal of work to unlearn this, and for parents to become aware of their own rights and those of their children.
On a broader level, the institution itself was unregistered, and even where such institutions are registered there is a lack of oversight and regulation. Whether it is a madressah or a school, in reality there is rarely a system that children and parents are aware of where they can seek response and redress. Child protection should not be a nebulous and inaccessible concept, but one that is buttressing our education systems and is within the grasp of communities.
Why must we wait for tragedy to strike?
This is the moment where each province reviews the legislation in place for the protection of children, particularly with regard to corporal punishment. The Islamabad Capital Territory Prohibition of Corporal Punishment Act, 2021, should serve as a blueprint for other provinces, having clear rules of business that can be adapted. These then need to be communicated — and enforced.
It is also the time for mass mobilisation, with media partnerships to begin changing public perceptions around corporal punishment in schools and madressahs. Ulema and their councils need to step forward, come on screens and radio shows, and denounce this incident as something which is not acceptable in religion — which it is truly not. Compassion, kindness, reham — these are central tenets of Islam that need to be amplified and owned by those who represent religion.
Within classrooms and learning spaces, the conversation around ‘maar nahi pyaar’ needs to become more than a slogan. For it to really mean something, teachers need to be re-educated, with content around ending corporal punishment and adopting alternative strategies embedded in pre- and in-service training programmes. The same goes for administrators — the word ‘safeguarding’ needs to enter their vernacular, with more understanding around school-based safeguarding mechanisms and clear links being established with external child protection and education authorities.
As for families — what can be said about the pain experienced by those near to Farhan, who are now taking to the streets demanding justice? The perception that learning and discipline can be ‘beaten into’ a child is sadly misplaced, with fear being mistaken for respect. While the consequences of brutality at the hands of a teacher can vary, there are a range of harmful impacts of corporal punishment on a developing child. The home needs to represent a safe space where a child will be heard, and where the signs of possible abuse can be recognised. School refusal — or in this case madressah refusal — is one of the signs to look out for, that could indicate a problem.
‘He is not among us who does not show mercy to children.’ These words are believed to have been said by the Prophet (PBUH), who was known for his dignity of conduct as well as his strength of character. It is not too late for those who wish to take on the mantle of sharing his message to bring light and beauty into their work with children. For the sake of their childhood, however, we cannot wait longer — the time to act is now.
Published in Dawn, July 28th, 2025
