http://www.dawn.com/wps/wcm/connect/dawn-content-library/dawn/the-newspaper/columnists/ardeshir-cowasjee-needed-the-truth-590
It was William Randolph Hearst, American press baron, who came out with a valid truth: ‘A politician will do anything to keep his job — even become a patriot.’
We have no dearth of amateur patriots, they are a veritable swarm. One, sitting in far away London Town from where he leads a political party now in coalition, has issued a patriotic call to his fellow patriots in uniform urging them to come to the rescue of a sinking country and act to eradicate the many corrupt fellow patriots, to eliminate the feudal culture which has dragged this country down to where it is, rid it of powerful pressure groups and the so-called elite — in fact, of all those responsible for the appalling state of affairs in which Pakistan now finds itself.
Not an easy task — where does one start? The odd thing is that the general-rouser has inadvertently pleaded for his own and his party’s removal from the national scene.
The caller has offered to lead an uprising similar to that of the 1789 French Revolution, influenced no doubt by his close proximity to Paris. Naturally, this call to arms has drawn fire from all patriots of the professed ‘democratic’ bend, the generals maintaining a discreet silence.
It seems he was prompted to issue his call by the influx of flood-affected Sindhis into the urban fabric of the province, especially Karachi. With rising levels of education, the population increase rate among his community is levelling off, as is its vote-bank. In the last general elections, his party lost two provincial assembly seats of Karachi to a fellow coalition partner — since the Swat debacle of 2008, the number of Pathans in Karachi has been steadily increasing.
Nationalist Sindhi parties (and the PPP), who have witnessed the conflict with some unease, are now entering the fray. Flood-affected (and other) provincials are being encouraged and organised to take over properties (with guns, if necessary) and settle in urban areas to reclaim the cities and capital of Sindh. All of this augurs badly for an already overstressed and beleaguered Karachi.
The extensive damage over the past six weeks to standing crops, farm animals and human habitations in Punjab and Sindh (including a contiguous part of Balochistan) has been triggered by capricious and immoral decisions to breach bunds (dykes) in certain areas. As a result, the tolls in Pakistan surely far exceed the official numbers of 1,600 dead, 2,600 injured, 1.2 million houses and 11,000 schools damaged, and 18 million persons (about 10 per cent of the population) affected. The loss of over 3.6 million hectares of crops and millions of livestock threaten food security and the 20 per cent of the nation’s economy that relies on agriculture.
We have heard much about powerful political patriots and their ilk attempting to save their lands from inundation by breaching bunds on the opposite side. Tori/Ghouspur Bund on the eastern bank of the Indus above Sukkur was sacrificed in place of (allegedly the technically more appropriate) Ali Wahan Bund on the western bank (who else owns agricultural lands on that side besides federal Labour Minister Khursheed Shah?), and the river merrily haemorrhaged through the districts of Kashmore, Jacobabad, Shikarpur, Shahdadkot, Larkana, Dadu — and may still be doing so.
On Sept 1, the Punjab Chief Minister Shahbaz Sharif set up a tribunal of inquiry to probe into the report that “certain main bunds and canal networks were breached by the I&P [irrigation and power] department as well as by certain local individuals to divert the heavy influx of recent floods allegedly to save the properties of influential persons which resulted in colossal loss to the properties of the inhabitants of the areas.”
Headed by a respected judge of the Lahore High Court, Justice Syed Mansoor Ali Shah, the tribunal includes Mansoob Ali Zaidi, retired secretary of the irrigation & power department, and Abdul Sattar Shakir, dean of civil engineering at the University of Engineering & Technology, Lahore.
The body is charged with seeking out the truth while delving into the causes of the breaches in canal networks, bunds, roads and drains, ascertaining as to whether or not prescribed procedure was followed, establishing malfeasance (if any) on the part of government agencies or others, and fixing responsibility in cases of wrongdoing. When does Chief Minister Qaim Ali Shah intend setting up a similar tribunal to examine the Sindh fiasco (as demanded by our ambassador to the UN)?
This is far from the end of the story. In the reconstruction phase, we must expect much more greed, selfishness, corruption and deceit. Armed mafias have already begun to take over land in areas where the water has receded, taking with it markings and boundaries of farms and survey numbers. The most severely affected will be the poor and powerless (who will then migrate to the cities, exacerbating the situations there.)
Rehabilitation of roads, railway tracks, bridges and water/sewerage/electricity facilities will generate opportunities for graft and sleaze. Profiteers, moneylenders and hoarders will come out of the woodwork to prey on those who have lost everything: prices have already begun to rise, and loans will be available at exorbitant interest.
We in ‘the land of the pure’ have convinced ourselves that the truth is a rare and precious commodity, and that we must be sparing in its use. For 63 years, we have been unable to determine the truth about the murders or assassinations of every prominent figure that has fallen to the gun or the bomb, about the loss of half our territory and about who is actually running this country. Unless we can place a premium on the telling of truth — and the enforcement of the rule of law — our future will become bleaker with every passing day.
arfc@cyber.net.pk
Collection of Articles From Different Newspapers and Websites..
The war on Baloch women By Rafia Zakaria Wednesday, 26 May, 2010
http://www.dawn.com/wps/wcm/connect/dawn-content-library/dawn/the-newspaper/columnists/rafia-zakaria-the-war-on-baloch-women-650
Last month, Gul Begum and her elder sister Dur Jamal, aged 11 and 13 years, were standing outside their tent in Dalbandin when their lives changed for ever. According to Dur Jamal, a donkey had come too close to the orphans’ tent and they were trying to push it away.
Last month, Gul Begum and her elder sister Dur Jamal, aged 11 and 13 years, were standing outside their tent in Dalbandin when their lives changed for ever. According to Dur Jamal, a donkey had come too close to the orphans’ tent and they were trying to push it away.
Suddenly, two masked men appeared on a motorcycle, dousing them with acid and inflicting severe burns on their faces. In just an instant, like so many other Baloch girls, they had been turned into innocent victims in a sordid war that made their scars a symbol of the power of certain groups.
A couple of days later, an organisation calling itself the Baloch Ghairatmand Group distributed pamphlets in the Dalbandin area, including the Press Club, private houses and shops. The pamphlets warned that women leaving their homes would be disciplined like the girls in Dalbandin. Warnings and even, allegedly, a target list of women who had been seen venturing out, were circulated via cellphone. The driver of a van from the Government Girls College reported that he had been stopped and told that girls walking to the college would be attacked. Local people claimed that the culprits were unknown to them and that they had never heard of the group before.
The violence did not stop with the orphaned and destitute sisters who had lived all their lives in a ragged tent in a poor Baloch village. A fortnight later Nazima Talib, a professor of mass communications, was gunned down as she stepped into a rickshaw outside Balochistan University in Quetta.
Unlike the acid attack, which had taken place in the evening in a relatively remote area, the attack on Prof Talib occurred in broad daylight on a busy street, demonstrating the audacity of her killers. A professor of two decades’ standing, she was widely respected and well-known in the university’s academic community. Her gunmen sprayed her with so many bullets that she died instantly. Few definitive reports are available as to why Professor Talib was targeted.
While Balochistan was still reeling from Professor Talib’s brutal killing, women in Balochistan were targeted again. This time the victims were three young girls who were returning from a wedding in Kalat. Twenty-year-old Fatima, 14-year-old Sakeena and eight-year-old Saima were passing near the village of Babo Mohalla when two masked men flung acid on them, inflicting severe burns on their faces and other parts of their bodies. Yet another group claimed responsibility, distributing pamphlets the day after, warning women against leaving their homes without a male relation and instructing them to wear the hijab.
President Zardari took note of the attack a few days later, calling them ‘barbaric’. A few local suspects were rounded up but little information is available as to the larger connections of the group. Since the attacks, Balochistan has remained tense and many women choose not to venture out for fear of being victimised. According to reports in various newspapers, during the past week two government girls’ schools have been closed indefinitely due to threats from the Tehrik-i-Taliban Balochistan and the Balochistan Liberation Army.
The attacks on women in Balochistan and the lack of outcry or attention at the national level represent the afflictions facing the country. Beset with ethnic separatists that hold grievances against the usurpation of local resources and an itinerant and increasingly volatile branch of the Taliban, ample room exists for the proliferation of conspiracy theories that lull the public into inaction. With each new attack, a new set of rationalisations is created: the girls in Dalbandin were poor and hence probably just vagrants; Nazima Talib was Punjabi so her death must have been caused by the BLA; the girls in Kalat had loose morals so they deserved to be attacked and killed.
Each new act of violence seems to bring with it a new explanation that alters the moral shade of the attack from ugly black to murky grey, pointing towards the possible complicity of the victim in the act itself. The public, otherwise willing to take to the streets over any issue, mollifies itself with the comfort that no anger or repulsion needs to be reserved for the attackers, and no empathy for the victims because it must have been, at least in part, their own fault.
It is this moral miasma that prevents Pakistanis from acknowledging the horror of the killing, maiming and targeting of women in the streets of the country. The women of Balochistan, caught as they are between a tribal power structure that gives them little autonomy, the ever-encroaching Taliban and the military’s presence, have little to hope for.
Change is unlikely in a country mired in problems and more concerned with Facebook pages than the complete absence of physical security for millions of its women. This sort of violence against women, where their bodies have become political sites where various groups contest their control over the territory, is likely to claim scores more as long as the public refuses to decry it.
In the meantime, any woman venturing into the streets of Pakistan must do so with the knowledge that anyone who chooses to shoot them, assault them or fling acid in their faces is unlikely to face any sort of punishment. It is true that violence against women exists in every nation of the world, but perhaps only in Pakistan is it so easily tolerated and so rarely punished.
The writer is a US-based attorney teaching constitutional history and political philosophy.
Thus stands Karachi Nadeem F. Paracha Sunday, 18 Jul, 2010
http://www.dawn.com/wps/wcm/connect/dawn-content-library/dawn/the-newspaper/columnists/nadeem-f-paracha-thus-stands-karachi-870
For long Karachi has been known as one of the country’s most liberal cities. But its liberalism is of a Nietzschean sort: what doesn’t kill Karachi makes it stronger.
It would be obvious to proclaim that no place is safe from the brutality of terrorism in Pakistan. There are no safe havens here where the barbarians can’t and won’t strike. However, over the last couple of years, what was once the most troubled city has remained nervously quiet (if not entirely peaceful).
As suicide bombers go off with audacious frequency right across Khyber Pakhtun-khwa, Punjab and Islamabad, comparatively speaking Karachi has remained largely peaceful, save politically motivated targeted killings. Karachi has always been known as the only truly cosmopolitan city in the country with strong liberal and pluralistic overtones. But ironically, till 1984, it was also the only major city where fundamentalist political/ religious groups such as the JI and the JUP enjoyed their finest electoral hours.
The JI’s and JUP’s influence in Karachi was solely political — a case of reactive politics on the part of Karachi’s majority community which, unlike Sindhis, Baloch, Pakhtuns and Punjabis, was not inherently linked to the hinterland, and thus, they identified with Pakistan by supporting the country’s non-ethnic ‘Islamic’ credentials.
The politicised Islam displayed in the rhetoric of the JI and the JUP appealed to the mohajirs’ landless refugee status, whereas as a social, cultural and economic entity, they were largely liberal in outlook. That’s why, though the JI and the JUP continued to enjoy widespread political support in Karachi, this did not affect Karachi’s status of being Pakistan’s most modern, diverse and liberal centre of activity.
Till the late 1970s, Karachi was the entertainment capital of the country, having nightclubs, bars, cinemas, amusement parks, social clubs and the beaches. The city has also remained the country’s economic hub and bastion of higher education. On the other hand, Karachi also has the biggest slums. The widespread slums also meant that Karachi had the most pronounced crime rate in the country.
It is interesting to note that political/ religious parties had been more popular among the city’s middle and lower-middle-class areas (before the emergence of the MQM in 1985); whereas the voting that takes place in the city’s (Pakhtun and Baloch/ Sindhi dominated) working-class areas favours left-leaning parties, mainly the PPP and the ANP.
The emergence of the MQM as a distinct, mohajir party happened at a time when Karachi had started to teem with a number of administrative, economic and social problems, mainly due to overpopulation and the arrival of thousands of Afghan refugees who started pouring into Pakistan at the start of the ‘anti-Soviet jihad’ in Afghanistan in 1979. Many of the Afghan refugees also brought with them huge amounts of weapons and drugs.
Unchecked entry of Afghans, introduction of sophisticated weapons to settle scores and commit crime (kalashnikov culture), along with rising drug mafias and utter lack of road sense and concern by transport companies run by the richer Afghans in the city, all upset the social and political landscape of the city. It put a tremendous burden on the once thriving economy of the metropolis.
The consequential emergence and popularity of the MQM meant the fading away of the political support for conventional political/ religious parties like the JI and the JUP. This also meant the beginning of another process, in which relative social liberalism of mohajirs began to impact the community’s otherwise conservative politics. Throughout the 1980s Karachi struggled with intense ethnic and sectarian strife, an unprecedented crime rate, a serious heroin problem, and a collapsing economy — a trend that failed to reverse itself even across the ‘decade of democracy’ in the 1990s.
The city had become a cultural and economic graveyard, and paled in comparison to what it had been before 1980. But in contrast to this, the last 10 years have seen Karachi unexpectedly regenerate itself — during which the MQM also began to peel off its overwhelmingly ethnic and exclusive character. The pace of the social, economic, and cultural regeneration picked up after 2004, and the city started to regain confidence and maturity.
Though still one of the most complex and diverse cosmopolitan entities, Karachi’s relatively peaceful decorum in the face of the havoc being perpetrated by extremists elsewhere is due to some admiring compromises that the people and politicians of this city have struck in the last few years. A delicate but promising compromise was struck between the secular political expressions of Karachi’s mohajir, Punjabi, Pakhtun, Baloch and Sindhi populations, namely the MQM, the ANP, and the PPP.
The city’s diverse population understood the importance of social and political plurality and tolerance as a means to experiencing a strife-free and economically benefiting survival. The withering away of the political support that religious parties such as the JI and the JUP once enjoyed has also helped. For example, the JI’s recent politics that encourages a myopic and isolationist worldview can be detrimental to the people of a cosmopolitan city like Karachi.
An overriding consensus against the Taliban in Karachi was reached long before such a consensus was struck by Pakistan as a whole.
For long Karachi has been known as one of the country’s most liberal cities. But its liberalism is of a Nietzschean sort: what doesn’t kill Karachi makes it stronger.
It would be obvious to proclaim that no place is safe from the brutality of terrorism in Pakistan. There are no safe havens here where the barbarians can’t and won’t strike. However, over the last couple of years, what was once the most troubled city has remained nervously quiet (if not entirely peaceful).
As suicide bombers go off with audacious frequency right across Khyber Pakhtun-khwa, Punjab and Islamabad, comparatively speaking Karachi has remained largely peaceful, save politically motivated targeted killings. Karachi has always been known as the only truly cosmopolitan city in the country with strong liberal and pluralistic overtones. But ironically, till 1984, it was also the only major city where fundamentalist political/ religious groups such as the JI and the JUP enjoyed their finest electoral hours.
The JI’s and JUP’s influence in Karachi was solely political — a case of reactive politics on the part of Karachi’s majority community which, unlike Sindhis, Baloch, Pakhtuns and Punjabis, was not inherently linked to the hinterland, and thus, they identified with Pakistan by supporting the country’s non-ethnic ‘Islamic’ credentials.
The politicised Islam displayed in the rhetoric of the JI and the JUP appealed to the mohajirs’ landless refugee status, whereas as a social, cultural and economic entity, they were largely liberal in outlook. That’s why, though the JI and the JUP continued to enjoy widespread political support in Karachi, this did not affect Karachi’s status of being Pakistan’s most modern, diverse and liberal centre of activity.
Till the late 1970s, Karachi was the entertainment capital of the country, having nightclubs, bars, cinemas, amusement parks, social clubs and the beaches. The city has also remained the country’s economic hub and bastion of higher education. On the other hand, Karachi also has the biggest slums. The widespread slums also meant that Karachi had the most pronounced crime rate in the country.
It is interesting to note that political/ religious parties had been more popular among the city’s middle and lower-middle-class areas (before the emergence of the MQM in 1985); whereas the voting that takes place in the city’s (Pakhtun and Baloch/ Sindhi dominated) working-class areas favours left-leaning parties, mainly the PPP and the ANP.
The emergence of the MQM as a distinct, mohajir party happened at a time when Karachi had started to teem with a number of administrative, economic and social problems, mainly due to overpopulation and the arrival of thousands of Afghan refugees who started pouring into Pakistan at the start of the ‘anti-Soviet jihad’ in Afghanistan in 1979. Many of the Afghan refugees also brought with them huge amounts of weapons and drugs.
Unchecked entry of Afghans, introduction of sophisticated weapons to settle scores and commit crime (kalashnikov culture), along with rising drug mafias and utter lack of road sense and concern by transport companies run by the richer Afghans in the city, all upset the social and political landscape of the city. It put a tremendous burden on the once thriving economy of the metropolis.
The consequential emergence and popularity of the MQM meant the fading away of the political support for conventional political/ religious parties like the JI and the JUP. This also meant the beginning of another process, in which relative social liberalism of mohajirs began to impact the community’s otherwise conservative politics. Throughout the 1980s Karachi struggled with intense ethnic and sectarian strife, an unprecedented crime rate, a serious heroin problem, and a collapsing economy — a trend that failed to reverse itself even across the ‘decade of democracy’ in the 1990s.
The city had become a cultural and economic graveyard, and paled in comparison to what it had been before 1980. But in contrast to this, the last 10 years have seen Karachi unexpectedly regenerate itself — during which the MQM also began to peel off its overwhelmingly ethnic and exclusive character. The pace of the social, economic, and cultural regeneration picked up after 2004, and the city started to regain confidence and maturity.
Though still one of the most complex and diverse cosmopolitan entities, Karachi’s relatively peaceful decorum in the face of the havoc being perpetrated by extremists elsewhere is due to some admiring compromises that the people and politicians of this city have struck in the last few years. A delicate but promising compromise was struck between the secular political expressions of Karachi’s mohajir, Punjabi, Pakhtun, Baloch and Sindhi populations, namely the MQM, the ANP, and the PPP.
The city’s diverse population understood the importance of social and political plurality and tolerance as a means to experiencing a strife-free and economically benefiting survival. The withering away of the political support that religious parties such as the JI and the JUP once enjoyed has also helped. For example, the JI’s recent politics that encourages a myopic and isolationist worldview can be detrimental to the people of a cosmopolitan city like Karachi.
An overriding consensus against the Taliban in Karachi was reached long before such a consensus was struck by Pakistan as a whole.
Education and values By Ayesha Siddiqa Friday, 05 Feb, 2010
http://www.dawn.com/wps/wcm/connect/dawn-content-library/dawn/the-newspaper/columnists/14-ayesha-siddiqa-education-and-values-520-zj-08
A year ago, some of my old classmates from Lahore’s Cathedral High School tracked me down through the Internet. I can’t be grateful enough for this wonderful invention in communications, and the patience of this crazy bunch that wanted to travel back through the time tunnel.
The conversations of the class of 1981 continue; it is fascinating to go back in time, think about all those people and yourself, and then see how each has grown. All the people in our chat group are well settled and excel in what they do. Quite a few seem to have shifted to North America and have become successful doctors, engineers and management experts. I suspect that the majority are engineers and doctors since we belong to a generation whose parents could not see beyond these two professions.
A bright mind had to pick one of the two areas which left others, whose hearts were not in either field, quite out of sorts with themselves. You could not pretend to be bright without wanting to join either of the two vocations. Deciding for yourself was rare. So, the new generation has far more options.
But as I sat exchanging notes with former classmates and trying to remember the faces in some old photographs that we shared, it struck me that we had the privilege of studying in an institution. Moreover, we grew up in a value system that was grounded in a middle-class narrative. Looking at the photographs, I could recognise a classmate whose father owned a bakery in Neela Gumbad, Lahore (not a chain of stores but a single shop). It struck me that the overall value system and the educational institutions that produced our group did not cater to the class divide.
There were a range of such educational institutions, including Cathedral High School, St Anthony’s, Sacred Heart, Queen Mary’s, Divisional Public School and many others that were quite well grounded in middle-class values. These schools acted as melting pots where individual social realities had to soften enough to create ease for whoever else was part of the institution. While there were schools like Aitchison, which was socio-economically a class above, the others were generally at the same level.
The reason that Cathedral High School and other such institutions offered this was linked to the fact that they were run by different Christian missionaries or similar set-ups. This meant that upper-class children had to learn to survive with less affluent ones. So, while the Convent girls were generally reputed to be a bit ‘up in the air’, even they had to study with children whose fees were subsidised by the mission. This led to social intermingling that watered down the class barriers to a large extent.
Also, the fee structure was quite affordable. I remember our parents kicking up a racket when in 1977 the fees were suddenly jacked up from Rs50 to Rs75. Those were certainly not the days when children brought cellphones to school or got obnoxious amounts of pocket money. I remember us being warned to stay away from one child: he allegedly got Rs10 from his father every morning — there’s got to be something wrong with money doled out with such ease!
The coexistence of various economic classes also meant greater tolerance for other differences, be it class, religion, caste or creed. During the morning assembly, we would sing hymns followed by the national anthem. There was generally no fear of being induced to convert to another religion. At our school, students from all religious backgrounds had the option to join the choir, which some found attractive because it occasionally allowed you to skip a class to go to the cathedral for practice. (For a long time, one popular myth was that there were ghosts inside the cathedral, which naturally kept the majority away.)
It was not that all the students at this and other such schools came from upper-middle class families. The majority was middle class and yet liberal enough to allow a bakery owner’s daughter to attend a co-ed school. There were many others like her; there were children whose parents owned businesses, including in Anarkali, and others who came from the households of professional and educated parents. That was a value system that allowed the coexistence of many colours, sounds and smells. There was lesser tendency to create unfathomable compartments.
But all of what I have described was the case before society became flush with money. The ’80s witnessed the systematic strangulation of pluralism and multi-polarity. This was achieved through several methods, but certainly through changing the tenor of the socio-economic and educational systems. In the first category you could see changes regarding people’s behaviour towards money: the source of the money did not matter and, in fact, not having money or having less of it started to become a stigma. (A year ago I heard my five-year-old niece ask her mother about the model of their car; apparently, such questions are now not considered weird.)
The other major shift related to education, which fell prey to a process of rapid de-institutionalisation and capitalism. Suddenly, there was a mushrooming of new schools with fancy names, which aimed at establishing a class above the rest — based on money. Questionable sources were certainly not a problem. The more expensive the school, the greater a symbol of high status it became.
Schools gradually became places where you bought education without any baggage of values or responsibility towards society. The teachers began to be treated like they were the parents’ personal staff, there to keep the brats entertained. The social background of your classmate also became important. I remember being told about a school for children of the staff of a prominent university; the majority of the academic faculty had reservations about sending their children to a school that was also attended by the children of the staff.
Unable to compete in terms of money and good human resources, schools like Cathedral High crashed and it is not a place where I would today send my child. However, I am indebted to the school and our teachers for giving us more than just the ability to read and write; I am sure the class of ’81 will agree that studying in an institution was a great privilege.
The writer is an independent strategic and political analyst.
ayesha.ibd@gmail.com
ayesha.ibd@gmail.com
Kashmir in the picture By Kuldip Nayar Friday, 02 Jul, 2010
http://www.dawn.com/wps/wcm/connect/dawn-content-library/dawn/the-newspaper/columnists/21-kuldip-nayar-kashmir-in-the-picture-270-sk-05
With such positive talks between India and Pakistan recently, the tragic happenings in Kashmir seem more than a coincidence.
That the youth in the valley are angry for not getting their due is known to all. But why should Kashmir be on the boil when relations between India and Pakistan are on the mend?
Kashmiri leader Syed Gilani took advantage of the killing of one young man at the hands of the security forces to incite the people to come on to the streets. The Hurriyat Conference gave a call to start something new. Political parties jumped into the arena. All this developed into huge protests in four cities – Srinagar, Sopore, Anantnag and Baramulla.
An inept Kashmir police and the Central Reserve Police Force which has only guns at their command to tackle the protests aggravated the situation. The use of force against the protesters agitating against successive killings in the firing was excessive and what the security forces did was without restraint. This is a matter to be looked into by an inquiry committee.
Yet the fact remains that extremists in Kashmir strike whenever an atmosphere of goodwill begins to prevail after some kind of engagement between India and Pakistan. Pro-India elements have become irrelevant. They, in any case, are too elitist, seldom mixing with the common Kashmiris. Chief Minister Omar Abdullah leads the exclusive club. But their distance from the people is a contributory factor — not the factor itself.
Underlying the situation is the belief of the Hurriyat leaders that violence alone can lead to a solution in Kashmir. That the problem must be solved quickly goes without saying. But the extremists only stall the issue by instigating violence. They should have themselves come on to the streets to lead the protests in a peaceful manner to focus attention on the unresolved issue of Kashmir. They should understand that no discussion is possible at gunpoint.
One welcome development of the Islamabad talks was that nobody, except for a few hawks, implicated Pakistan in the Kashmir happenings. This means that the talks between the two foreign secretaries and the home ministers, in that order, have reduced to some extent the deficit in confidence which New Delhi has been seeking.
I do not know whether Home Minister P. Chidambaram and Interior Minister Rehman Malik discussed Kashmir. But at least the foreign ministers of the two countries should do so when they meet in Islamabad. India’s army chief has also emphasised political initiatives in Kashmir.
The talks at Islamabad have made two points clear: one, New Delhi has again enunciated Prime Minister Manmohan Singh’s assurance in Egypt that the terrorists’ attack would be kept separate from the talks. Many experts in India tried to quibble over the meaning of this but there is no ambiguity now. Two, the core issue between India and Pakistan or, for that matter, before the Saarc countries is terrorism.
The separation of the two points was clear when the two foreign secretaries who prepared the agenda for the forthcoming talks between their foreign ministers refrained from discussing terrorism. But they did discuss Kashmir. My information is that Indian foreign secretary Nirupama Rao asked her counterpart whether the ground covered on Kashmir through the back channel held good.
Pakistan’s foreign secretary had told me in Delhi that the two countries would go forward from the undertaking reached through the back channel. This should set at rest the doubts some Pakistani quarters raised that a democratic government was not bound to follow what was achieved during Gen Pervez Musharraf’s regime.
Chidambaram, who played to the gallery when he spoke to journalists at Delhi, was more responsible and vividly sober in his remarks in Islamabad. For him to say that he did not doubt the intention of Pakistan should be an eye-opener for retired Indian foreign secretaries who continue to follow the hard line they had taken during their careers to bring the two countries practically to the point of no return. They are openly critical of Manmohan Singh who has taken the bold initiative to talk to Pakistan despite criticism from the Bharatiya Janata Party.
New Delhi expects more arrests in Pakistan after the disclosures by David Headley whom the Indian intelligence agencies met in Chicago. Manmohan Singh has reportedly drawn President Barack Obama’s attention to Headley’s confession.
Chidambaram has rightly reminded Pakistan of the status of Most Favoured Nation India extended to it many years ago. If Pakistan were to respond to it, Chidambaram’s ideas on trade and investment between the two countries could be implemented. India, with a bigger market and investment potential, can help Pakistan overcome the lack of openings and technology which puts its industry at a disadvantage.
Action against Jamaatud Dawa chief Hafiz Saeed remains India’s litmus test to assess Pakistan’s steps towards normalisation. His cries of war or jihad against India are not what bothers the government and the people so much as his vast network which made 26/11 possible.
In fact, Islamabad’s declaration to have a regional plan to combat the Taliban will mean a strong effort against the militants. Some elements in Pakistan consider it their duty to support fundamentalism. But religious values are the antithesis of what the Lashkar represents. Today’s world, including Muslim nations, wants religion to inculcate values, not to be used to incite violence.
New Delhi and Islamabad should ensure that their rulers meet the opposition leader when their officials visit each other’s country. India has been able to establish it for visiting presidents or prime ministers. The Pakistan government should include Nawaz Sharif on the list of dignitaries during the visit of top Indian leaders.
The writer is a senior journalist based in New Delhi.
With such positive talks between India and Pakistan recently, the tragic happenings in Kashmir seem more than a coincidence.
That the youth in the valley are angry for not getting their due is known to all. But why should Kashmir be on the boil when relations between India and Pakistan are on the mend?
Kashmiri leader Syed Gilani took advantage of the killing of one young man at the hands of the security forces to incite the people to come on to the streets. The Hurriyat Conference gave a call to start something new. Political parties jumped into the arena. All this developed into huge protests in four cities – Srinagar, Sopore, Anantnag and Baramulla.
An inept Kashmir police and the Central Reserve Police Force which has only guns at their command to tackle the protests aggravated the situation. The use of force against the protesters agitating against successive killings in the firing was excessive and what the security forces did was without restraint. This is a matter to be looked into by an inquiry committee.
Yet the fact remains that extremists in Kashmir strike whenever an atmosphere of goodwill begins to prevail after some kind of engagement between India and Pakistan. Pro-India elements have become irrelevant. They, in any case, are too elitist, seldom mixing with the common Kashmiris. Chief Minister Omar Abdullah leads the exclusive club. But their distance from the people is a contributory factor — not the factor itself.
Underlying the situation is the belief of the Hurriyat leaders that violence alone can lead to a solution in Kashmir. That the problem must be solved quickly goes without saying. But the extremists only stall the issue by instigating violence. They should have themselves come on to the streets to lead the protests in a peaceful manner to focus attention on the unresolved issue of Kashmir. They should understand that no discussion is possible at gunpoint.
One welcome development of the Islamabad talks was that nobody, except for a few hawks, implicated Pakistan in the Kashmir happenings. This means that the talks between the two foreign secretaries and the home ministers, in that order, have reduced to some extent the deficit in confidence which New Delhi has been seeking.
I do not know whether Home Minister P. Chidambaram and Interior Minister Rehman Malik discussed Kashmir. But at least the foreign ministers of the two countries should do so when they meet in Islamabad. India’s army chief has also emphasised political initiatives in Kashmir.
The talks at Islamabad have made two points clear: one, New Delhi has again enunciated Prime Minister Manmohan Singh’s assurance in Egypt that the terrorists’ attack would be kept separate from the talks. Many experts in India tried to quibble over the meaning of this but there is no ambiguity now. Two, the core issue between India and Pakistan or, for that matter, before the Saarc countries is terrorism.
The separation of the two points was clear when the two foreign secretaries who prepared the agenda for the forthcoming talks between their foreign ministers refrained from discussing terrorism. But they did discuss Kashmir. My information is that Indian foreign secretary Nirupama Rao asked her counterpart whether the ground covered on Kashmir through the back channel held good.
Pakistan’s foreign secretary had told me in Delhi that the two countries would go forward from the undertaking reached through the back channel. This should set at rest the doubts some Pakistani quarters raised that a democratic government was not bound to follow what was achieved during Gen Pervez Musharraf’s regime.
Chidambaram, who played to the gallery when he spoke to journalists at Delhi, was more responsible and vividly sober in his remarks in Islamabad. For him to say that he did not doubt the intention of Pakistan should be an eye-opener for retired Indian foreign secretaries who continue to follow the hard line they had taken during their careers to bring the two countries practically to the point of no return. They are openly critical of Manmohan Singh who has taken the bold initiative to talk to Pakistan despite criticism from the Bharatiya Janata Party.
New Delhi expects more arrests in Pakistan after the disclosures by David Headley whom the Indian intelligence agencies met in Chicago. Manmohan Singh has reportedly drawn President Barack Obama’s attention to Headley’s confession.
Chidambaram has rightly reminded Pakistan of the status of Most Favoured Nation India extended to it many years ago. If Pakistan were to respond to it, Chidambaram’s ideas on trade and investment between the two countries could be implemented. India, with a bigger market and investment potential, can help Pakistan overcome the lack of openings and technology which puts its industry at a disadvantage.
Action against Jamaatud Dawa chief Hafiz Saeed remains India’s litmus test to assess Pakistan’s steps towards normalisation. His cries of war or jihad against India are not what bothers the government and the people so much as his vast network which made 26/11 possible.
In fact, Islamabad’s declaration to have a regional plan to combat the Taliban will mean a strong effort against the militants. Some elements in Pakistan consider it their duty to support fundamentalism. But religious values are the antithesis of what the Lashkar represents. Today’s world, including Muslim nations, wants religion to inculcate values, not to be used to incite violence.
New Delhi and Islamabad should ensure that their rulers meet the opposition leader when their officials visit each other’s country. India has been able to establish it for visiting presidents or prime ministers. The Pakistan government should include Nawaz Sharif on the list of dignitaries during the visit of top Indian leaders.
The writer is a senior journalist based in New Delhi.
The high cost of defeat By Irfan Husain Wednesday, 28 Jul, 2010
http://www.dawn.com/wps/wcm/connect/dawn-content-library/dawn/the-newspaper/columnists/19-irfan-husain-the-high-cost-of-defeat-870-hh-05
The vast trove of leaked intelligence reports recently posted by Wikileaks over the Internet has elicited a furious denial from the ISI about its alleged role in Afghanistan that emerges from many of the cables. Washington has similarly denounced the release of these secret documents on the irrepressible website.
For me, what was more interesting and depressing than the allegations of ISI involvement in the burgeoning Taliban insurgency is the sense of hopelessness that emerges from these reports. Time after time, American soldiers and intelligence specialists voice their frustration and anger over their failure to gain hearts and minds among local Afghans, as well as the incompetence and corruption they see among Afghan police and officials.
In short, these are not the voices of an army winning the war. Almost uniformly, they carry a sense of foreboding and of failure. Although these reports relate to the pre-surge period, they do not convey much hope. Clearly, things are not going the American-led coalition’s way. We have been seeing the steady rise in casualties among Nato forces, and nobody in a responsible position seems to hold out much hope that the situation is about to change anytime soon.
Soon after the invasion of Afghanistan in the wake of 9/11, an apocryphal story hinting at the nightmare to come did the rounds. At a mosque in the badlands under Taliban control, a cleric declared in his sermon following Friday prayers: “See how mighty is Allah! Earlier, the Americans were too far away for us to kill. But now, by the grace of Allah, they have landed on our doorstep!”
It sounded slightly funny at the time, as the quick victory of the allied forces seemed to signal the end of the Taliban. It doesn’t sound so funny now.
As the sombre tone at the recent conference on Afghanistan held in Kabul suggested, nobody has any high hopes of a quick battlefield victory. Equally, nobody expects any rapid transformation in the capabilities of the Afghan bureaucracy or its security forces.
Already, this is the longest war the United States has ever been engaged in. Hundreds of billions of dollars and thousands of lost lives later, victory is further away today than it seemed at the outset of the campaign. Indeed, the talk is not of victory any more, but of an exit strategy.
How to declare victory and leave is the question occupying the minds of generals and politicians in Washington and London.
The frail reed these policy-makers are clinging to is their desperate hope that they will be able to train Afghan soldiers and policemen to take over security duties when Isaf troops leave. This is a clear victory of hope over experience.
Time after time, Western soldiers engaged in training Afghans have complained of their lack of motivation and leadership. Absenteeism is rife, as is drug use. As many lethal incidents have shown, many Afghan soldiers and policemen are prone to defecting to the enemy after turning their weapons on their Western comrade-in-arms.
The Obama surge that committed an additional 30,000 troops to Afghanistan was the last throw of the dice. Already, these reinforcements seem like a stream of water dribbling into a vast desert. Accompanying this sense of failure is a drumbeat of critical comment in much of the liberal Western media.
In Canada, where I am at present, and in England, friends constantly ask what their soldiers are dying for. Whatever their political affiliations, they see no point in continuing a futile war in which their national interest is not directly involved. They no longer believe politicians who declare that their troops in Afghanistan are protecting the streets of Manchester and Montreal. They point out, quite correctly, that the threat to their countries comes from home-grown young Muslim radicals rather than from the Taliban.
I reply that had I been a Canadian or a Brit, I would have also demanded a pullout of Western forces. But as a Pakistani, I hope that they’ll stay for as long as it takes to defeat the Taliban.
For me, the issue is crystal clear: as soon as the coalition forces leave, the Taliban will be back in Kabul, and the civil war will resume. Pakistan will end up supporting the Taliban again, while India and Iran back the Northern Alliance. And inevitably, the Taliban will help their jihadi brethren in Pakistan. Without the drone attacks to check them, the Pakistani militants in Waziristan and elsewhere will further tighten their grip over the tribal areas.
Above all, a Taliban victory over the United States and its allies will bring more jihadis from around the world flocking to the region. When the mujahideen forced the mighty Red Army out of Afghanistan, that victory resounded across the Islamic world. Imagine how the defeat of the remaining superpower will be perceived by the faithful.
The entire region will become a hotbed of extremist violence. The Taliban – and Al Qaeda – will have greater credibility and appeal than ever before. Girls will be sent home from their schools, and women will be relegated to the second-class status they had endured in the earlier bout of Taliban rule. And the fallout from this allied defeat will spread over Pakistan and cross the border into India, apart from enveloping the Central Asian republics.
Triumphant and energised, political Islam will be a major destabilising force. As a Pakistani, I shudder to think of the consequences of this chain of events. Unfortunately, far too many of my countrymen, both on the left and the right, are convinced that for things to become normal, Western forces must leave Afghanistan. They are naïve in thinking that the extremist genie can ever be put back in the bottle.
There has been much discussion about talking to the Taliban. The point to remember is that thus far, Mullah Omar has ignored all these feelers. He sees that public opinion in the West is now dictating a timetable for retreat. He knows that all he has to do is wait. The allies have to win outright, while the Taliban can settle for a draw and still win.
In words attributed to Mullah Omar: “The West has the clocks, but we have the time.”
The vast trove of leaked intelligence reports recently posted by Wikileaks over the Internet has elicited a furious denial from the ISI about its alleged role in Afghanistan that emerges from many of the cables. Washington has similarly denounced the release of these secret documents on the irrepressible website.
For me, what was more interesting and depressing than the allegations of ISI involvement in the burgeoning Taliban insurgency is the sense of hopelessness that emerges from these reports. Time after time, American soldiers and intelligence specialists voice their frustration and anger over their failure to gain hearts and minds among local Afghans, as well as the incompetence and corruption they see among Afghan police and officials.
In short, these are not the voices of an army winning the war. Almost uniformly, they carry a sense of foreboding and of failure. Although these reports relate to the pre-surge period, they do not convey much hope. Clearly, things are not going the American-led coalition’s way. We have been seeing the steady rise in casualties among Nato forces, and nobody in a responsible position seems to hold out much hope that the situation is about to change anytime soon.
Soon after the invasion of Afghanistan in the wake of 9/11, an apocryphal story hinting at the nightmare to come did the rounds. At a mosque in the badlands under Taliban control, a cleric declared in his sermon following Friday prayers: “See how mighty is Allah! Earlier, the Americans were too far away for us to kill. But now, by the grace of Allah, they have landed on our doorstep!”
It sounded slightly funny at the time, as the quick victory of the allied forces seemed to signal the end of the Taliban. It doesn’t sound so funny now.
As the sombre tone at the recent conference on Afghanistan held in Kabul suggested, nobody has any high hopes of a quick battlefield victory. Equally, nobody expects any rapid transformation in the capabilities of the Afghan bureaucracy or its security forces.
Already, this is the longest war the United States has ever been engaged in. Hundreds of billions of dollars and thousands of lost lives later, victory is further away today than it seemed at the outset of the campaign. Indeed, the talk is not of victory any more, but of an exit strategy.
How to declare victory and leave is the question occupying the minds of generals and politicians in Washington and London.
The frail reed these policy-makers are clinging to is their desperate hope that they will be able to train Afghan soldiers and policemen to take over security duties when Isaf troops leave. This is a clear victory of hope over experience.
Time after time, Western soldiers engaged in training Afghans have complained of their lack of motivation and leadership. Absenteeism is rife, as is drug use. As many lethal incidents have shown, many Afghan soldiers and policemen are prone to defecting to the enemy after turning their weapons on their Western comrade-in-arms.
The Obama surge that committed an additional 30,000 troops to Afghanistan was the last throw of the dice. Already, these reinforcements seem like a stream of water dribbling into a vast desert. Accompanying this sense of failure is a drumbeat of critical comment in much of the liberal Western media.
In Canada, where I am at present, and in England, friends constantly ask what their soldiers are dying for. Whatever their political affiliations, they see no point in continuing a futile war in which their national interest is not directly involved. They no longer believe politicians who declare that their troops in Afghanistan are protecting the streets of Manchester and Montreal. They point out, quite correctly, that the threat to their countries comes from home-grown young Muslim radicals rather than from the Taliban.
I reply that had I been a Canadian or a Brit, I would have also demanded a pullout of Western forces. But as a Pakistani, I hope that they’ll stay for as long as it takes to defeat the Taliban.
For me, the issue is crystal clear: as soon as the coalition forces leave, the Taliban will be back in Kabul, and the civil war will resume. Pakistan will end up supporting the Taliban again, while India and Iran back the Northern Alliance. And inevitably, the Taliban will help their jihadi brethren in Pakistan. Without the drone attacks to check them, the Pakistani militants in Waziristan and elsewhere will further tighten their grip over the tribal areas.
Above all, a Taliban victory over the United States and its allies will bring more jihadis from around the world flocking to the region. When the mujahideen forced the mighty Red Army out of Afghanistan, that victory resounded across the Islamic world. Imagine how the defeat of the remaining superpower will be perceived by the faithful.
The entire region will become a hotbed of extremist violence. The Taliban – and Al Qaeda – will have greater credibility and appeal than ever before. Girls will be sent home from their schools, and women will be relegated to the second-class status they had endured in the earlier bout of Taliban rule. And the fallout from this allied defeat will spread over Pakistan and cross the border into India, apart from enveloping the Central Asian republics.
Triumphant and energised, political Islam will be a major destabilising force. As a Pakistani, I shudder to think of the consequences of this chain of events. Unfortunately, far too many of my countrymen, both on the left and the right, are convinced that for things to become normal, Western forces must leave Afghanistan. They are naïve in thinking that the extremist genie can ever be put back in the bottle.
There has been much discussion about talking to the Taliban. The point to remember is that thus far, Mullah Omar has ignored all these feelers. He sees that public opinion in the West is now dictating a timetable for retreat. He knows that all he has to do is wait. The allies have to win outright, while the Taliban can settle for a draw and still win.
In words attributed to Mullah Omar: “The West has the clocks, but we have the time.”
Benazir doesn’t need a monument By Kamran Shafi
Benazir doesn’t need a monument
By Kamran Shafi
Tuesday, 14 Sep, 2010
Tuesday, 14 Sep, 2010
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