Pakistan’s riverside region is being terrorized and fascinated by the authorities who are taunting the Tiktok bandits

With the flair of a showman and the mustache of an outlaw, the Pakistani gangster calls the hotline on his own most wanted message: he mocks the authorities who have placed a bounty on his head.

In a video on social media, Shahid Lund Baloch stares through the lens and challenges the official on the phone and his thousands of viewers: “Do you know my circumstances or my reasons for taking up arms?”

The 28-year-old is hiding in a riverine area in central Punjab that has long harbored bandits. He uses the Internet to captivate citizens even as he hunts them, police say. On TikTok, Facebook, YouTube and Instagram, he fascinates tens of thousands with armed messages, romanticizing his rural lifestyle and building a reputation as a champion of the people. But he is wanted for 28 counts, including murder, kidnapping and attacking police – with a bounty of 10 million (Pakistani) rupees on his head.

“People on the outside think he is a hero, but people here know he is not a hero,” said Javed Dhillon, a former MP for Rahim Yar Khan district, close to Baloch hideouts, and others bandits like him.

“They were on the receiving end of his cruelty and violence.”

Backwater with bandwidth

Baloch are said to live on a sandy island in the ‘Katcha lands’ – roughly translated as ‘backwaters’ – on the Indus River that bisects Pakistan from top to bottom.

High-growth crops provide cover for ambushes, and the region is torn by shifting waterways that complicate the pursuit of crimes ranging from kidnapping to robbery and smuggling. At the intersection of three of Pakistan’s four provinces, gangs with hundreds of members have for decades taken advantage of poor coordination among police forces by flitting between jurisdictions.

“The natural features of these areas support the criminals,” said senior police officer Naveed Wahla. “They hide in a water turbine, move in boats or through the sugar cane crop.”

Large-scale police operations and even an army raid in 2016 failed to impose law and order. In August this year, twelve police officers were killed in a rocket attack on a police convoy.

“As things stand, there is only fear and terror,” said Haq Nawaz, whose adult son was kidnapped in late September for a ransom of five million rupees that he cannot afford. “There is no one to take care of our well-being,” he complains.

But the gangs are increasingly online.

Some use the Internet to lay “honey traps” and lure kidnap victims by posing as romantic suitors or business partners and advertising the cheap sale of tractors or cars.

Some parade hostages in ransom clips or display arsenals of heavy weapons in musical TikToks.

Baloch has by far the largest online profile and is irritating the police with a total of 2,00,000 followers.

Media savvy man

Rizwan Gondal, chief police officer of Rahim Yar Khan district, says his detectives have a file proving his “heinous criminal activities.” “Police made several attempts to capture him, however he escaped,” he added.

“He is a very media-conscious man. Let him say, ‘I’m going to surrender myself to the state to prove that I’m innocent’ and let the media report on it.”

In his clips, Baloch protests his innocence as he casts himself as a vigilante in a lawless land, claiming he chose to fight only after family members were killed in tribal clashes.

“We couldn’t get justice from the court, so I decided to take up arms and started fighting my enemies,” Baloch said. “They killed our people, we killed theirs.”

But he also plays into the cycle of state neglect, which encourages banditry and in turn further relegates needy farming communities to the margins of society.

In comments sections, his viewers call him “beloved bandit brother” and a “true hero.” “You won my heart,” claims another.

“He is popular in the mainstream because he makes things difficult for the police authorities,” said former MP Dhillon.

Deprived of followers

Police have proposed to counter bandits by downgrading mobile phone towers to 2G, which prevents social media apps from loading. That has not yet happened and would risk further cutting off communities.

But more low-tech solutions have had some success.

An anti-honey trap police cell warns citizens against the gangs using billboards and loudspeakers at checkpoints entering the area, preventing 531 people from falling prey since last August, according to their data.

Baloch mocks police. But one problem plaguing his bid for online stardom has his attention.

Copycat social media accounts pretend to be him and share duplicates of his videos, earning thousands more followers and views than his legitimate accounts.

He feels deprived. “I don’t know what they’re trying to achieve,” he laments.

But for police, his status as an internet hero is at odds with the toll of his crimes.

“People will idealize Shahid Lund Baloch, but when they are eventually kidnapped by him, they will realize who Shahid Lund Baloch really is,” said senior officer Wahla.