Dani Garavelli: Let’s honour Shaf ilea by breaking shame’s grip

THE poems by Shafilea Ahmed, in which she describes her ­misery and fear at being trapped between two cultures are, of course, distressing. “My desire to live is burning, my stomach is turning, but all they think of is honour,” the lively, ambitious teenager wrote, not long before she was suffocated by parents who believed she was becoming too westernised.

Yet more distressing still are the words penned by her sister Mevish, who was so traumatised by witnessing the killing at the age of 12 that she suffered recurring nightmares, and yet she denied all knowledge of her parents’ actions in court. In letters shown to the jury – which last week found Iftikhar and Farzana Ahmed guilty of murder – her conflicting emotions tumble out, a jumble of guilt, blame, denial, fear and abject despair. Her ­torment, more even than Shafilea’s, provides the greatest insight into the complex pathology of so-called “honour” crimes, which, unlike most acts of domestic ­violence, are often pre-planned and carried out by members of the extended family or even members of criminal gangs.

Some people, of course, object to the term “honour” in connection with such acts and I respect that; it goes without saying that there is no honour in drugging, kidnapping or murdering your daughter because she rejects your choice of husband or value system. But to say, as some critics do, that these crimes are ­murder – “no more, no less” – is to ignore the powerful cultural impulses that fuel them. Unless you acknowledge the hold the concept of honour has on some Asian communities; unless you confront the fact that girls like Shafilea, who fall foul of it, are torn between their desire for freedom and allegiance to their parents; unless you factor in the competing pressures other family members may be subjected to, it will be impossible to take adequate steps to prevent it happening again.

And action is certainly needed. Recent figures suggest that, despite new legislation, “honour” crime is on the rise with almost 3,000 such offences recorded in the UK in 2011 alone. Those who work on the front-line of these cases say many are, like Shafilea’s, linked in some way to forced marriages, with a girl who refuses her parents’ choice of groom seen as ­having brought shame on her family.

It is 16 years since the country’s first Muslim MP Mohammad Sarwar risked the wrath of his community to expose the scandal of such unions when he flew to Pakistan to bring back two Glasgow girls who had been kidnapped and forced to marry men they’d never met before by their father. Since then, many Muslim leaders have insisted “honour crime” has no place in Islam, but a BBC poll of 500 young British Asians carried out earlier this year found 69 per cent believed families should live by some kind of honour code, almost a fifth (18 per cent) believed certain behaviour by a woman justified physical punishment and 3 per cent (6 per cent of men) believed honour killings were sometimes justified.

Whatever the official line, the concept seems entrenched. Against a background of tacit acceptance and divided loyalties, it is difficult for both the victim and those trying to help her to take a stand. Even in the direst of circumstances, few children would choose to do something which might lead to their parents’ incarceration.

The Forced Marriages Act – introduced in Scotland last year – recognises this; it allows young women to seek a tailor-made protection order against an imposed union without automatically criminalising their parents (although they may face up to two years in jail if they breach the ­order). But the very act of going to the ­authorities may be seen as betrayal, leading to, at best, a further breakdown in family relationships, and, at worst, the woman being placed at greater physical risk.

On paper, at least, Shafilea should have had a fighting chance of escaping her ­domestic circumstances. She was not short of potential allies. She had good friends she could rely on and a teacher – Joanne Code – who was concerned about her welfare and helped arrange temporary accommodation when she told her a forced marriage was planned.

But despite this; despite eight weeks in hospital as a result of drinking bleach ­after she was snatched from the street and put on a plane to Pakistan; despite being offered a way out, Shafilea, the eldest of five children, chose to go home. Such is the pull of family, regardless of ethnicity, particularly if you have younger brothers and sisters to consider. Code, for her part, said Shafilea was adamant she didn’t want any further intervention, and she didn’t want to take unilateral action for fear of making things worse.

What is needed perhaps, more than new laws, is better guidance for teachers or other community leaders who become ­involved in such cases. They should be trained to pick up on the signs and empowered to take bold decisions. Just because a girl doesn’t want an intervention, doesn’t mean there shouldn’t be one; just because a girl resists the prospect of testifying against her parents doesn’t mean a case shouldn’t be brought.

Police and prosecutors should develop techniques to persuade family witnesses to break ranks. But most of all, Asian communities should do all they can to ­encourage a shift in cultural mores. So long as a significant minority continues to believe it’s acceptable to punish women for “aberrant” behaviour; girls like ­Shafilea, who want nothing more than the freedom to make their own choices, will continue to be at risk, while many more will collude in their own subjugation to avoid suffering her fate. «