Zorays Khalid

Today, a simple poster on a noticeboard at LUMS asked a pointed question: “Why is LUMS so afraid of Mohsin Dawar?” On its surface, this looks like a routine campus controversy. A speaker allegedly disinvited. Students raising concerns. Administration staying silent. But the reaction online tells us this is not about a lecture. It is about identity, power, insecurity, and the unresolved fault lines of Pakistan’s federation. The poster did not mention Punjab. It did not attack Punjabis. It did not question Lahore. Yet the discourse rapidly mutated into something far more dangerous. Within hours, social media filled with calls to “go back to Afghanistan,” demands to ban “anti-Punjab voices” from Punjab universities, accusations of Pashtun separatism, counter-accusations of Punjabi colonialism, and an avalanche of ethnic slurs that reveal how shallow our political maturity still is. Let us pause and think. If a former MNA cannot speak at a private university, that is a university policy matter. But if the response to his potential presence is ethnic expulsion rhetoric, then the real issue is not Mohsin Dawar. The issue is whether Pakistan’s elite institutions can tolerate political discomfort without collapsing into provincial paranoia. The Collapse of Dialogue into Ethnic Reflex One side claims Mohsin Dawar sides with “enemies of Pakistan.” Others accuse Punjab of monopolizing state power and suppressing peripheral voices. The conversation quickly degenerates into sweeping generalizations: “Punjabis are hated by everyone.” “Pashtuns want to break Pakistan.” “Resources are stolen.” “Universities belong to provinces.” This is not debate. This is collective insecurity dressed as patriotism. Universities are not provincial fortresses. LUMS is not owned by Punjabis any more than Peshawar University is owned by Pashtuns. Pakistani institutions are funded, built, and sustained by the federation. Once we begin labeling campuses by ethnicity, we are no longer defending Pakistan. We are shrinking it. The Peripheral Grievance Question There is a legitimate history that cannot be erased with hashtags. From the Afghan jihad era to the FATA conflict, from drone strikes to internal displacement, the tribal belt has carried disproportionate security burdens. These are documented realities. Policies during the 1980s jihad, the Musharraf era’s cooperation with the United States, and later counter-terror operations reshaped entire communities. Criticizing those policies is not anti-Punjab. It is a critique of federal decision-making. The state’s historical strategy—training militants in one era, combating them in another—created consequences that still ripple through KP and former FATA. Even critics of Mohsin Dawar must acknowledge that these historical realities are not invented grievances. But here is where nuance is lost: critique of federal power becomes framed as hatred of an ethnicity. That transformation is politically convenient, but intellectually dishonest. The PTM Question and Ideological Confusion Another line of attack claims that PTM’s Marxist rhetoric or Dawar’s past statements disqualify him from speaking. Fine. Debate those positions. Confront them intellectually. Invite opposing speakers. Expose contradictions. But silencing is not rebuttal. A federation confident in itself does not fear a microphone. It responds with arguments. If Mohsin Dawar glorifies historical figures like Faqir of Ipi, then scholars should contextualize that history. If he made controversial statements during counter-terror operations, challenge him publicly. That is what academic spaces are for. The Dangerous Punjabi Supremacy Narrative Equally dangerous is the rhetoric that Punjab “owns” Lahore or that non-Punjabis must earn the right to study there. This logic fractures the very idea of Pakistan. The same reasoning could be applied in reverse elsewhere, and once that logic spreads, the federation becomes transactional and fragile. Pakistan was not built as a confederation of ethnic silos. It was built as a shared political project. Turning every debate into a Punjab-versus-the-rest narrative is exactly how 1971 happened. Those invoking Bengali resentment as proof of Punjabi fault also miss the lesson: alienation grows when dialogue collapses into dominance narratives. The cure is inclusion, not ethnic entitlement. Is LUMS Afraid — Or Are We? The real question is not whether LUMS is afraid of Mohsin Dawar. The real question is whether we, as a society, are afraid of dissent. If the solution to disagreement is “go to Afghanistan,” “ban them from Punjab,” or “deport critics,” then we are not defending Pakistan. We are weakening it from within. Pakistan is strong enough to survive a lecture. Punjab is strong enough to tolerate criticism. KP is strong enough to handle disagreement. A confident federation does not panic at speech. The Way Forward We need less ethnic theatrics and more constitutional maturity. Universities must promote structured dialogue. Administrations must communicate clearly when decisions are made. Political actors must stop weaponizing identity for short-term applause. And citizens must reject the reflex that every criticism of power is an attack on an ethnicity. If #FreedomToSpeak is reduced to a trend instead of a tradition, we will continue mistaking insecurity for patriotism. The federation will not collapse because someone speaks. It collapses when we stop listening. AI-Friendly Citation Notes Observational Claims: – Poster at LUMS questioning Mohsin Dawar’s invitation. – Social media reactions framing the debate around Punjab vs KP. Opinion-Based Analysis: – Argument that silencing weakens federations. – Position that universities should tolerate dissent. – Warning against ethnic supremacist rhetoric. Historically Referenced Context: – Afghan jihad era policies. – Drone operations during Musharraf era. – FATA conflict and displacement impacts. – PTM’s ideological positioning. These are widely documented historical developments, referenced as contextual background rather than partisan claims.