The successful protest in front of the Red Mosque in Islamabad on Friday night demonstrates that even a small, determined crowd in Pakistan cannot be ignored.

Since gunmen sieged an Army-run public school in Peshawar on Tuesday and systematically massacred over 130 children, a nation numb to terror has come out into the streets holding candles.

On Thursday night, the candles in Islamabad became placards and chants, demanding the arrest of Mullah Abdul Aziz, a notorious state-paid, extremist cleric who refused to condemn the attack.

By Friday, #ArrestAbdulAziz was the top Twitter trend in Pakistan.

On Friday evening, locked out of the mosque by a police cordon, we marched to the Aabpara police station, demanding that a First Investigation Report (FIR) — which sets the criminal justice process in motion — be registered. The police admitted they were facing pressure from politicians not to register the case. Our numbers had dwindled to the double digits, but we announced we would spend the night on the sidewalk. Within hours, the police conceded. An FIR was registered.

Twice, we received threats. One that Abdul Aziz and his militant followers were coming for us if we did not disperse. Another that the Taliban would attack the gathering — which caused the younger ones among us to look up to see if a mob was coming, while the veteran protesting aunties laughed. But standing together, and staying, seemed like the only way to send a message to the Taliban, to the government, to the police standing in our way: the people of Pakistan have found a way out of silence.

In moments of crisis, it is common for countries to experience a rally around their flag. In these moments, public and media opinion align with the government, and leaders face a huge political opportunity to act.

Pakistan’s rally is different. In a country where the flag is under question if not attack, Pakistan’s rally is for humanity. In this, the government has a mandate to act. But with that, as in the United States after 9/11, there is every possibility of over-reaction, mis-action, and chasing the wrong demons.

While the hangings of convicted terrorists satisfies a public baying for blood, it is just that. Blood. And the politics of a government that must do something. But hanging terrorists of the past 20 years won’t solve our problems today or alleviate the threat of future attacks. Eliminating individuals alone will not erase the threat.

Pakistan needs serious security sector reforms: intelligence-sharing and cooperation between domestic security agencies, police reaching out to communities to improve relations and therefore intelligence-gathering, effective perimeter security and quick response teams in case of lapses, proper investigations that produces evidence that can be used in court, and a functioning criminal justice system that produces convictions.

The thing is, unlike in the United States on 9/11, Pakistan is emerging from a history of 9/11. That these problems need to be addressed is well-known. This moment is different because, right now, the government has the political capital to make it happen.

People argue that it doesn’t matter if thousands come out onto the streets. Until the state changes, Pakistan will not change. The evidence is against them. Nonviolent resistance movements are proven to be twice as effective as violent ones. They challenge the sources of a state’s power and legitimacy, and ultimately inspire defections within the state, including military establishments. Even last night, while the police stood between us and Aabpara station, a police chief said he was “with” us and offered us advice.

The Pakistani public is asking hard questions and making demands for real transformation in the way the state frames and manages national security. Party conferencing, plan development, and bureaucracy creation just squanders the current opportunity.

“Instead of body counts, Pakistanis need transparency on how the war within their borders is being waged and who is being killed or spared.”

While the military is quick to resort to air strikes, their utility is more political than operational. The United States routinely deploys airstrikes — against Serbia, Iraq, Libya, ISIS — when it needs to demonstrate action but cannot afford the political and military risk of ground troops. But the U.S. can afford to launch air attacks on enemy states beyond its borders. The same is not true for Pakistan launching air strikes within its own borders — the destruction is inflicted internally.

And with the Pakistani military using air strikes to target individuals, its no wonder they leave behind huge collateral damage, in the form of civilian lives and infrastructure.

Militancy-struck regions in Pakistan are completely blacked out and cannot be accessed by journalists without military supervision. Instead of body counts, Pakistanis need transparency on how the war within their borders is being waged and who is being killed or spared.

Pakistanis need discussion and proof of the dismantling of the “good Taliban, bad Taliban” framework — and that can start by ending state protection for public servant Abdul Aziz.

And rather than the Army’s instant externalization of this threat to Afghanistan, Pakistanis need to see the problem — homegrown, home-fed, and co-located at home — addressed at home. Attention to the part of the threat that receiving sanctuary in Afghanistan should not relieve pressure on the military to face the threat at home.

The rally around the flag effect does not last long, but a rally for humanity can. If candlelight vigils can become street rallies demanding real, specific changes, then it should become clear to the government that their mandate is not open-ended, and the public will not forget if they squander it.

This is the full version of an opinion piece published by Express Tribune on December 23, 2014.