Pakistan mustn't let another young woman fall prey to the same fate as Malala Yousafzai

Samira Shackle reports from Pakistan.

Two weeks after the shooting of 15 year old schoolgirl Malala Yousafzai became international news, another teenager from the same region has said she fears she is next on the Taliban’s hit list.

Two weeks before Malala was shot, a red cross was painted on the gate of the family home of Hina Khan, a 17 year old advocate of women’s education, hailing from Swat. "I removed it but someone just repainted it," said Hina’s father, Rayatullah. "Then after Malala was attacked we received telephone calls threatening that 'your daughter is next,' and 'we have already sent people to Islamabad to target her’.”

The first call threatening Hina came two days after Malala was shot, to the mobile phone of her mother, Farhat Rayat. “It was early in the morning. They asked, ‘Are you the mother of Hina Khan?’ When I replied, they said her life was in danger — and so was mine. I broke down in tears.” Since then, more threats have been issued.

The family fled their native Swat for Islamabad in 2008, after an earlier round of threats. The mountainous province, also home to Malala, was briefly ceded to the Taliban in 2009 after a sustained insurgency. Both of Hina’s parents are long-time opponents of the Taliban and proponents of women’s rights. Since 1999, they have worked to promote development and literacy programmes through their organisation.

Like Malala, Hina began speaking out for women’s education when she was very young. In 2008, aged just 12, she joined her mother in her campaign to promote literacy for women in Swat and to open a school that taught computer skills and sewing to women. Hina has attended press conferences, appeared in the national press, and in the process, become a target for extremists. “The Taliban hate me because I raised my voice in favour of girls going to school,” she has said.

Perhaps the most worrying aspect of this story is that the Khans have received absolutely no protection from the authorities. This is despite the fact that the Malala case powerfully highlighted how real the dangers are for women in these areas. If the state is not going to take action now, when the public mood is one of revulsion with extremism, will it ever do so? This lack of protection is not an uncommon story. When I interviewed Mukhtar Mai, victim of gang-rape and iconic advocate of women’s rights, she gave a similar account. She regularly receives death threats, but despite informing the authorities, has been given no protection.

In the wake of the Malala shooting, politicians were falling over each other in their rush to denounce the incident, offer to pay for her treatment, and condemn the scourge of extremism. Where are those voices now, when another young girl is under a direct personal threat? Malala may have been hailed for her bravery – but how will more young women be encouraged to speak out, if it is so painfully clear that the authorities will do nothing to protect them? There is no point condemning a tragedy after it has happened. To prevent further tragedies from taking place, the state must stand behind the women defending the values it claims to hold dear.

Supporters of Malala gather in Islamabad. Photograph: Getty Images

Samira Shackle is a freelance journalist, who tweets @samirashackle. She was formerly a staff writer for the New Statesman.

Show Hide image

What it’s like to be a Syrian refugee in Paris

“We fled from terror and it found us again here. It feels like it is always behind us, stalking us.”

Walid al Omari arrived in Paris a little less than a month ago. Having fled the slaughter of his homeland and undertaken the long and dangerous journey, like tens of thousands of other Syrian refugees, to western Europe, he was finally safe.

Ten days later, a wave of brutal violence tore through the French capital as gunmen and suicide bombers put an end to the lives of 130 people who had been out enjoying a drink, dinner, a concert or a football match.

“It felt like terrorism was everywhere,” recalls the 57-year-old Walid, a former small business owner and journalist from the suburbs of Damascus.

“We fled from terror and it found us again here. It feels like it is always behind us, stalking us.”

Syrian refugees, not just in Paris but across Europe and North America, have since found themselves caught up in a storm of suspicion. The backlash started after it emerged that at least two of the attackers arrived in Europe among refugees travelling to Greece, while a Syrian passport was found next to one of the bodies.

It has not yet been confirmed if the two men were really Syrian – all suspects whose identities have so far been made public were either French or Belgian – while the passport is widely believed to be a fake. But, already, several US states have said they will not accept any more refugees from Syria. In Europe, Poland has called for the EU’s quota scheme for resettling refugees to be scrapped, while lawmakers in France, Germany and elsewhere have called for caps on refugee and migrant numbers.

“I fear the worse,” says Sabreen al Rassace, who works for Revivre, a charity that helps Syrian refugees resettle in France. She says she has been swamped by calls by concerned refugees in the days following the attacks.

“They ask me if the papers they have been given since they arrived in France will be taken away, if they’ll be sent back to Syria,” she says.

Anas Fouiz, who arrived in Paris in September, has experienced the backlash against refugees first hand.

“One waiter at a bar asked me where I was from and when I said Syria he said that I must be a terrorist, that all Arab people are terrorists,” says the 27-year-old from Damascus, who had been a fashion student before leaving for Europe.

The irony is that the terrorist organisation that claimed responsibility for the Paris attacks, the Islamic State, is, along with Bashar al Assad’s army and other militant groups, responsible for the long list of atrocities that prompted many like Walid and Anas to flee their homes.

“As a man in Syria you have the choice of joining the Syrian army, the Islamic state or another militant group, or you run away,” says Anas.

He remembers seeing news of the attacks unfold on television screens in bars and cafés in the Bastille area of Paris – close to where much of the carnage took place – as he drank with a friend. Desensitised by having seen so much violence and death in his home city, he didn’t feel any shock or fear.

“I just felt bad, because I know this situation,” he says. “You just ask yourself ‘why? Why do these people have to die?’.”

Perhaps a more pressing cause for concern is how easily extremists in Europe can travel to Syria and back again through the porous borders on the EU’s fringes – as several of the Paris attacks suspects are thought to have done.

Both Anas and Walid speak of the lax security they faced when entering Europe.

“Turkey lets people across the border for $20,” says Walid.

“In Greece, they just ask you to write your nationality, they don’t check passports,” adds Anas. “It’s the same in Hungary and Macedonia.”

Nevertheless, and despite his experience with the waiter, Anas says he is happy with the welcome he has received by the vast majority of the French people.

In fact, at a time when fear and violence risk deepening religious and social rifts, Anas’s story is a heartening tale of divisions being bridged.

Upon first arriving in Paris he slept on the streets, before a passer-by, a woman of Moroccan origin, offered him a room in her flat. He then spent time at a Christian organization that provides shelter for refugees, before moving in with a French-Jewish family he was put in touch with through another charity.

He says the biggest problem is that he misses his parents, who are still in Damascus.

“I speak to my mum twice a day on the phone,” he says. “She asks me if I’m okay, if I’m keeping safe. She’s worried about me.”