I sat in my car at a distance from the main gate of the Karachi Press Club, thinking of what to do. I was already late by half an hour to the May 20th press conference called to discuss the ban on Facebook. Those who had called the press conference were of the view that the ban should be revoked: just because some pages contained objectionable content didn’t mean the whole domain should be blocked. But what made me particularly uncomfortable was the idea of crossing a crowd that had gathered outside the club gate protesting against an attack on “namoos-e-risalat” while everyone gathered on the street was probably aware of what was taking place inside. How would they react to me crossing from amongst them to attend something they obviously were against? Besides, I certainly did not look like I was there to support them. Nor was there any other woman in sight.

I finally managed to gather up the courage. I approached the police mobile parked close to the crowd and asked whether I could enter the press club. Getting the go-ahead, I quickly steered through the procession. I was in pursuit of Awab Alvi, or Teeth Maestro as he is known in cyberspace, one of the organisers of the conference. I arrived to find that the conference had ended so I stood and waited my turn to have a quick word with him.

While I waited I was informed by someone who attended that the conference wasn’t well received. He pointed to a group sitting in the garden of the press club and told me how they had vehemently opposed Awab’s stance; some even questioned whether he was Muslim. And then one thing led to another.

Members of the procession outside got the scoop on what had taken place inside. For them Awab’s stance was as blasphemous as the Facebook page itself. And by the time we found out what a stir it had caused on the street and were directed to exit from the side gate, it was too late. Angry protesters had already made their way inside the club and caught hold of Awab, telling him to come outside and speak his mind to the crowd. Upon his refusal, they threatened to forcibly take him. More than once, different groups caught hold of him and pushed and shoved him around, lashing out at Awab for voicing his opinions.

As for me, I suppose I was deemed guilty by association. And even though several fellow journalists reassured me that because I was from the media the crowd wouldn’t do anything to me, I wasn’t convinced.

Because our cars were parked out front where the procession stood, leaving was impossible. We were like sitting ducks. So Awab and I found ourselves in the Press Club office, hidden from the public eye, waiting for things to subside and the protesters to disperse.

We sat in the office, immobile and answered numerous phone calls, updating everyone on the mess we were in and waiting for someone to deliver us from it. It took a couple of hours for us to get out safely. The SHO escorted Awab out the back, where he was made to jump on a motorcycle with one of the club employees who escorted him to his office. I was made to sit a while longer till the press club officials could arrange for my car to be brought inside the club’s parking lot so I could make my exit.

So this is what happens in Pakistan when you disagree with public opinion. While we were protected from the lynch mob and cannot be thankful enough to the press club officials for taking speedy action, there were many people within the press club, journalists, who were disgusted with us and told us (more than once) to get out of the press club, even before the actual showdown with the protesters took place. What to say of these journalists and our media? Several TV channels were there when Awab was being shoved around — one man against so many others — but was that news worthy? Did any channel air footage of that? No.

But why not? Awab was hounded by them after the press conference, followed around and caught on tape while he was being manhandled, but what of it?

Isn’t the lynching of a man for voicing an opinion different from that of the majority something worthy of airtime? Why were the two of us left to ring up people to get the word around of the situation we were in and to help us get out of it while the media men conveniently disappeared after getting their slice of the pie?

This is what I foresee following in the days to come. People who want to discuss the ban on Facebook will be called non-believers and labelled as foreign agents working on a western agenda — I caught snippets of such nattering several times while the pushing and shoving took place. There will be a cry to use the blasphemy law against people who are against the ban on Facebook (and now the blockage of YouTube, Wikipedia, etc). Notwithstanding the countrywide protests that have already gained momentum with the government being ordered by men on the streets to take effective action or be prepared to face consequences, more and more lynch mobs will appear, eager to tear to pieces anybody with a different opinion.

I do not condone the cartoons, the Facebook page and also Facebook’s inaction. Had this been an anti-Semitic campaign, the page would have been taken down immediately; and it is not an exaggeration that when it comes to Muslims, a hundred excuses are invented for their voices to be silenced.

So register your protest, deactivate your accounts (if you can access them), or boycott Facebook by all means. But things are not simply black and white. There are issues to discuss and problems to resolve, so why can’t there be a discussion?

Vote in the poll located in the right-hand sidebar: Was banning Facebook the right thing to do?