The Crises in Pakistan

ABDUL MALIK’S anti-aircraft gun, stationed on the flat roof of his house in Pakistan’s North-West Frontier Province (NWFP), still points towards the Taliban. Just 20km (12 miles) south of Peshawar, NWFP’s teeming capital, the militants have launched many attacks on Mr Malik’s village of Adezai in recent months—including a suicide blast on November 8th that killed him and 12 others.

Mr Malik, who was the village mayor, had raised a militia against them. In the absence of effective police, this force, of 150 well-armed locals, patrols daily at the dead man’s expense. “We are on the front-line,” said a thickset nephew of Mr Malik, Israr Khan, with a Kalashnikov sub-machinegun on his shoulder. “We are a wall and if this wall falls, the Taliban will take just two days to reach Peshawar.” That is plausible. Adjoining Adezai is Darra Adam Khel, a Taliban-held, arms-making town, and beyond that Orakzai, a semi-autonomous tribal agency, where the leaders of the Pakistani Taliban are now said to be.

Yet the Pakistani Taliban, a conglomeration of tribally based jihadist groups that control much of the lofty frontier region, has also suffered in recent weeks. In what may be the biggest victory of a seven-year-long, and mostly dismal, army campaign, 30,000 troops have advanced into most of the militants’ main stronghold, in neighbouring South Waziristan, from whence their leaders fled. It seems to be an impressive effort. For the second time this year—after the Pakistani Taliban’s inaugural thumping in May, in NWFP’s Malakand region—the army’s well-drilled infantrymen and attack helicopters, fighting in rugged and never-pacified terrain, have sent the militants packing.

Their prizes include Kotkai, the home town of the Taliban’s overall commander, Hakimullah Mehsud. The army also claims to have dismantled much terrorism infrastructure, including suicide-bomber training-camps that have supplied personnel for over 200 suicide-blasts in Pakistan in the past two years. A recent surge in terrorism, in retaliation for the offensive, underlines what a blessing this would be.

The killing has included suicide-blasts and commando-style attacks across NWFP and Punjab—in Peshawar, Lahore, Islamabad, the national capital, and in the nearby garrison city of Rawalpindi. Last month, on the eve of the army’s attack in South Waziristan, ten Taliban and Punjabi jihadists, led by a former army medical orderly, raided the army’s headquarters in Rawalpindi—the secular sanctum of a country ruled by generals for half its history. A score were killed, including nine militants and, for a valuable scalp, a passing army brigadier. Another brigadier was murdered outside his house in Islamabad; a third narrowly escaped the same fate. Worse, the terrorists have launched attacks on bazaars and queuing civilians, aiming to kill as many as possible—over 100 perished in a blast in Peshawar in October.

More than 270 have been killed by bomb blasts in the city of 3m since early last month. The provincial headquarters of the army’s powerful Inter-Services Intelligence agency (ISI) was another target. This carnage is despite recent progress in policing Peshawar—after dark days early this year, when the city’s wealthy inhabitants fled as Taliban kidnappers moved in. In the past three months Peshawar’s police claim to have defused 17 car bombs and apprehended 24 would-be suicide-bombers. Over the same period the number of police checkposts has been doubled. “Our efficiency is 200%,” says Niaz Ali Shah, an optimistic special adviser to NWFP’s chief minister. Yet the provincial government, he concedes, is pitifully under-resourced. To beef up police, it has been forced to cut spending on schools and hospitals. And it can do little to protect the inhabitants of outlying places such as Adezai, except urge them to save themselves. “In our culture there is a gun in every household,” Mr Shah explains, not reassuringly.

In similar fashion, the army’s recent progress has underlined the scale of its task. For the loss of 70 soldiers, it claims to have killed 600 militants, mostly local Pushtuns—of South Waziristan’s radicalised Mehsud tribe—and Uzbek jihadists, who had found shelter among them. That is a heavy toll. But it is much less than the 10,000-15,000 militants the army had estimated to be in the Mehsud fief. After stiff resistance at first, the jihadists seem to have fled in reasonable order. None of their leaders, including Hakimullah Mehsud, or Qari Hussain, an expert indoctrinator of suicide-bombers, has been captured or killed. As the army battles on, it is unclear where the militants are, how damaged they are and to what extent it will pursue them. If indeed they are in Orakzai, a pursuit may already have started—with a wave of aerial bombing reported there this week. But if, as some speculate, the Taliban have fled to North Waziristan, a neighbouring Taliban haven, it may be reluctant to follow. The militias there are at peace with the army, though at war with America and its NATO allies in Afghanistan.

Zardari’s boast

Uncertainty over the army’s progress, as well as the remoteness of South Waziristan and, above all, the ferocity of the terrorism, may have dimmed Pakistanis’ support for the anti-Taliban campaign. This support is a recent phenomenon, largely inspired by the Taliban’s encroachment across Malakand. It is also the proudest boast of President Asif Zardari, whose government, a coalition led by his Pakistan People’s Party (PPP), came to power last year after almost a decade of army rule. Mr Zardari rules Pakistan, in effect, through his leadership of the PPP, which he inherited from his wife Benazir Bhutto—a former prime minister murdered in 2007—and through the powers his predecessor, Pervez Musharraf, gathered to his office. He has often attributed Pakistanis’ fledgling enthusiasm for battling militancy to the legitimacy his civilian government has given to the struggle. The army, to give the unpopular Mr Zardari his due, seems to agree with this.

In power, Pakistan’s generals felt too exposed to public criticism to pursue the campaign vigorously. Many officers and men also felt sympathy for the Taliban, even as over 1,500 were killed by them. In fact, some still do: on a battlefield in Malakand, an army colonel described to your correspondent the flush of Muslim martyrdom he had seen on the dead faces of soldiers and militants alike. (A white mist, hovering over their stiffening bodies, was another sign.)


General Ashfaq Kayani, the army chief and instigator of its recent offensive, seems seriously committed to crushing the Pakistani Taliban. At the same time, alas, he has shown no interest in pursuing those other Taliban who use Pakistan as a rear-base for the insurgency in Afghanistan—and who allegedly include that country’s deposed rulers, even Mullah Omar himself.

It has been thus since 2001, when America’s invasion of Afghanistan sent thousands of Afghan Taliban, and their al-Qaeda guests, flooding into Pakistan. In return for American support, and the legitimacy it conferred on Mr Musharraf abroad, Pakistan grabbed scores of al-Qaeda members. But it ignored (or, if you believe Afghan officials, including President Hamid Karzai, re-armed) the Taliban, its former ally, through whom it had sought to hold Afghanistan against Indian influence. (The Indians had supported the Taliban’s Tajik enemies.) Indisputably, however, these fugitive Taliban used Pakistan from 2003 as a base for an insurgency so successful that it now affects 40% of Afghanistan’s districts. The Pakistanis could no longer turn it off if they tried.

Barack Obama’s administration recognises this—unlike many Afghans and Westerners in Kabul, who have grown used to deflecting blame onto Pakistan for their own failures. Yet Mr Obama has also increased American pressure on Pakistan to fight the Taliban of all kinds. As an inducement—and a measure of heightened American concern for Pakistan—he has also helped bring a big increase in aid to the country, including $7.5 billion of non-military aid over five years, approved by Congress last month. Meanwhile, an almost unbroken stream of senior American visitors to Islamabad, recently including Hillary Clinton, the secretary of state, and Richard Holbrooke, America’s regional envoy, exhort the Pakistanis to “do more” against the militants.

Fat chance of that—at least as far as the Afghan lot are concerned. Underpinning the army’s reluctance to go after the Afghan Taliban, whose leaders are said to reside in Pakistan’s city of Quetta, has been its belief that America and NATO will fail in Afghanistan. Recent events there and in Washington make it more certain of this than ever. Early this year, after Mr Obama had approved the dispatch of 21,000 extra American troops to Afghanistan, a senior ISI officer said he had revised upwards his estimate of how long NATO would be there to around 15 years. After so much mayhem, including heavy NATO casualties and Mr Karzai’s fraudulent re-election in August, this figure has no doubt been re-revised. Pakistani security officials in Islamabad, well-versed in Mr Obama’s dithering over troop levels and the wavering of his European allies, think the alliance could quit Afghanistan in a year or two. The army must feel vindicated.

In a sense, it must also be pleased. For both Pakistan and India, Afghanistan remains partly a zero-sum game. The failure of Mr Karzai’s Western- and Indian-backed regime, Pakistan’s generals consider, would therefore be one in the eye for their oldest and still-mortal rival. That calculation has been hardened by a deterioration in relations between the two countries since an assault by Pakistani terrorists on Mumbai a year ago this week. India responded by freezing a promising peace process, and says it will not restore this until Pakistan brings the attack’s masterminds to justice. Pakistan’s answer—on November 25th it charged seven alleged planners of the Mumbai attack with terrorism offences—looks inadequate.

Demands on America

But prolonged violence in Afghanistan would also have worrying consequences for Pakistan: for example, more Islamist blowback from its radicalised frontier. Or, worse, an American retreat from the region could mean an end to lavish American aid—an experience Pakistan endured in the 1990s, after the conclusion of the anti-Soviet jihad in Afghanistan. Partly to prevent this, perhaps, Pakistan is urging America to accept what it sincerely believes: that NATO’s strategy in Afghanistan, even if reinforced by the 40,000 extra troops requested of Mr Obama, will fail. Instead, Pakistani generals and diplomats argue with increasing confidence, America must seek a high-level political settlement with its Taliban enemies. And Pakistan wants a hand in this, thereby reasserting its influence over Afghanistan’s affairs, to India’s cost. According to a senior Pakistani official in Islamabad, some steps have already been taken. “We’ve already been talking to the Taliban,” he said. “If the US helps the process, some arrangements can be worked out for political reconciliation.”

America also wants to reconcile with the Taliban, but at a lower level. Unlike some of its European allies, it considers their top-level leaders beyond the pale. On November 23rd Mrs Clinton said she welcomed reports that Mr Karzai’s government was planning its own peace process with the militants, but she warned: “Obviously we are going to ask questions about how it proceeds... We have urged caution.” And no one in NATO seems to want the Pakistanis to play a lead role in any such negotiations. On the contrary, influential American pundits advocate inviting India to play a bigger role in Afghanistan.

Totting up these slights, and America’s unremitting refrain of “do more”, the army feels insulted. It considers the entrapped superpower in no position to issue lectures on dealing with the Taliban—or anything else. Last month its top brass decried the conditions Congress had written, in a hectoring tone, into its new aid bill: a demand, for example, for civilian control over senior army appointments. This encouraged the media and opposition parties to launch a raucous campaign against the bill. In a quieter tone, on November 23rd General Kayani reiterated his demand that America “give Pakistan and its interests a consideration and consult us when they design a new Afghan policy.”



Such bullishness is popular. Indeed, Pakistan’s free media is preaching an anti-Americanism just as virulent as that officially espoused in neighbouring Iran. Western journalists, once exempt from this onslaught, are no longer safe. The Wall Street Journal’s Pakistan correspondent, Matthew Rosenberg, was last month reported by an English-language rag to have been spying for America and Israel.

In Peshawar’s stricken bazaars, many blamed the recent blasts on foreign spies—American, Russian, Indian or Israeli. Others said the army was behind them. Still more reckoned the central government was blowing people up in their city. In Peshawar’s high-court building, where stray cats are still finding morsels of human flesh scattered by a suicide blast that killed 19 last week, a court clerk said: “People think the Taliban is not capable of this. They think it’s the government’s handiwork, just so it can get foreign dollars. People’s anger is at the government.”

The coming horde

Such is Pakistanis’ faith in their elected rulers. Indeed, a survey of young adults for the British Council, released on November 21st, suggests Pakistanis are increasingly giving up on their flailing state. Only 15% said the country was heading the right way. A mere third thought democracy the best way to manage it—the same proportion as advocated sharia law. Half the respondents were not registered to vote. Asked to appraise the country’s institutions, 60% said they trusted the army, and half religious authorities. Only 10% claimed to have much confidence in the government, national or local, or in the courts or police.

You can see their point. Only a fifth of respondents had a full-time job. A quarter of them were illiterate—as many of their children will be, with 40% of Pakistani children out of school. And with half its 170m people under 20, Pakistan has a lot of children, and many more coming. Its population, already straining the available fertile land and water, is predicted to increase by 85m within two decades.

The country’s leaders seem unconcerned by this coming horde, jobless and angry. The army is preoccupied with its game of soldiers with India, distractions in the north-west excepted. And the politicians, back in power after a long exile, are predictably at each other’s throats, especially Mr Zardari’s.

After falling out with one of his main coalition allies, the Muttahida Qaumi Movement (MQM), a gangsterish ruler of vast Karachi in the south, Mr Zardari has been unable to muster a parliamentary majority to rubber-stamp a 2007 amnesty, known as the National Reconciliaton Ordinance (NRO), which was granted to thousands of politicians and civil servants by Mr Musharraf as part of an attempted power-sharing agreement with Ms Bhutto. On November 28th, therefore, by order of the Supreme Court, the amnesty will lapse, leaving some of Mr Zardari’s closest allies vulnerable to renewed corruption charges. The president, relieved of many corruption cases under the NRO, may also be vulnerable. His office gives him immunity from prosecution. Yet if the anti-Zardari judges were to rule that he was ineligible to hold it, this might not apply.

Mr Zardari, who is closely linked to the gross corruption of his dead wife’s former governments, was always heading for trouble. He is one of the country’s most discredited politicians; that he should have spearheaded the restoration of Pakistani democracy is an irony lost on none of the millions who question its value. And he has since further blackened his name and united his opponents—including the judges and the main opposition leader, Nawaz Sharif, a popular two-time prime minister—through a series of hapless plots. Many Pakistanis are now predicting his demise, by some means or other—due process being always an open question in Pakistan, where there is much constitutional scar tissue left by on-off army rule.

In the short term, that might not be too destabilising. Many Pakistanis would be pleased. And the PPP-led government—officially headed by the prime minister, Yusuf Raza Gilani—could theoretically survive. But it would be bad for Pakistan, on two counts. First, because Mr Zardari, despite his bad press, has some admirable ambitions: above all, to make peace with India and cut the army down to size. That this has aroused the army’s ire, a factor in his travails, is to his credit. Also in his favour, he has pushed hard for a peaceful end to Pakistan’s second and smaller insurgency, in the western province of Baluchistan. On November 24th the government offered peacemaking proposals to separatists there, including an end to military operations and a payment of $1.4 billion to the province in increased gas royalties.

The second reason has nothing to do with Mr Zardari personally. It is that Pakistani governments need to get into the habit of completing their terms—something no fully civilian government has yet managed. And Mr Zardari’s removal, by scheming judges, generals or political opponents, would make this less likely. Partly because of this, Mr Sharif, a former army favourite who now stands firmly against its meddling in politics, seems willing to put up with Mr Zardari. Yet he also demands that Mr Zardari divest his office of its dictatorial powers and scrap a ban on third-term prime ministers, another Musharraf imposition. Mr Zardari says he will do these things shortly. He has broken many promises; he would be wise to keep this one.


Source: The Economist

The NYT and Pakistan Rock

By Fasi Zaka
Recently two friends of mine called me about a New York Times video piece in which I was quoted. They were quite upset at the story and wanted to know why I had participated in it. The story is by Adam B Ellick, titled "Tuning out the Taliban," the gist of which is the anomaly of Western-type Pakistani rock singers who claim to be politically conscious yet don't see the Taliban as a problem that affects Pakistan at all.

Both friends of mine (one of whom writes in these very pages) are people I respect immensely, and it was odd to me that there was a dissonance between how I saw the report and they did. I actually liked the report a lot when it came out.

I decided to look at it once again, to see if I missed anything, or frankly to gauge if my judgment had been compromised because of my participation as an interviewee.

The bulk of the criticisms that I could cull generally in person and online fell into some well-defined categories, the first that the report was too one-sided, that it ignored other voices who have been consciously speaking out against the Taliban and that it held Pakistani musicians to too high a standard.

I guess the first order of business would be to determine if the topic was newsworthy at all. When President Thabo Mbeki of South Africa denies the existence of AIDS, it's news. At the same time when major pop stars like Ali Azmat refuse to condemn the Taliban for destroying schools (actually saying that one cannot blame the Taliban for it) or Ali Noor claiming that the Taliban are the least of Pakistan's problems, it's also newsworthy: in that it's an anomaly, especially since the local social rags show that some of them live a prominently western lifestyle. Understanding the contradiction is something worthwhile.

So, once this premise is established, the next question really is, was the attempt to understand the contradiction done well by a western journalist?

On the accusation that it is uni-dimensionally demonising Pakistan, I disagree. It does contain a description of playwrights, columnists and ulema who condemn the things the Taliban do in the name of Islam. But all one has to do is look at Ellick's NYT story, "A schoolgirl's odyssey," a moving and sympathetic look into a Swati girl's life under Taliban oppression.

There was one critical comment that I liked about the report. Someone had posted a gripe that we do not expect western rock stars to criticise Israel, and expecting them to take a major stand in Pakistan is unfair. That's a valid point.

I wish more Americans could see through their support for a state that is bludgeoning a population, literally imprisoning them and robbing them of their dignity. That being said, the unfortunate problem is that the Pakistani rock stars in the NYT piece have invited scrutiny because they proclaim themselves as "politically conscious" musicians. Once they're questioned, their footing is on shaky ground.

When Ali Azmat and Ali Noor rail against the Americans, they aren't wrong. The United States is an unbelievably short-sighted country whose talk of democracy can easily be discredited by its record abroad and its illegal invasions. But what is wrong is when these musicians use the American record as a blind cover for our own issues. The Taliban were once an Afghan problem, then an American one, and now ours.

The Americans have done much wrong and have great reason to be ashamed of what they do for their interests. But, frankly, they haven't forced us to be rampantly corrupt, burn Christians, deny Balochistan development or issue the NRO (though they did have a hand in that one).

The real issue is rational debate, something that recedes when musicians like them use faulty thinking and their profile to project it. In a recent interview to Owned magazine, Ali Azmat claimed that E=MC2 is part of a "manufactured science" (therefore invalid): one can presumably infer that he means it's a Jewish invention. What scientific process was at work on our "Muslim Bomb" in Chagai, I do not know, and I suspect Ali Azmat doesn't either.

About a year ago I wrote an op-ed, "Pop protest chic," about this very trend of a small number of rock stars who have taken to xenophobia, bigotry and fairytales in the name of nationalism. Then, of course, there were no real murmurs, but the questions come alive when the international media take note of something.

This I understand. That's because there is a general fear that it will feed into the prejudice of western viewers and readers. But, frankly, in the digital age more voices will be heard, whether we agree with them or not, be they responsible or irresponsible. The key is not to stifle, but continuously engage.

They key, therefore, is to have the silent majority to speak out, and to think with more nuance. And one can find one of those voices in the NYT report itself, when part of the Noori duo, Ali Hamza says (of the reason for not speaking out), "it's very easy for them to get rid of us." That speaks of the truth, one that we wish wasn't so.

A Stroll in Peshawar

Today's was an unusually long walk along the busiest road in Peshawar. The place where I started from was a building opposite to the famous Pearl Continental Hotel, and a site of huge bomb blast a few months back. The Health Directorate building where I had a meeting with my former supervisor is almost adjacent to the judicial complex where a bomb blast had killed several people a few days back. I saw the gate which was damaged in the blast. I recharged my cell phone account at a vendor and started moving towards my home in Hayatabad.

Almost a few hundred meters from my starting point, I came across the site of another recent bomb blast. This was for the first time I came to know that the headquarters of ISI were located there. As soon as I saw the destruction, a spontaneous though erupted in my mind: what a devastation! An enormous devastation indeed. It was surprising how one single bomb blast can level such huge installations to the ground. There was construction going on and the workers were busy making a new boundary wall for the complex which appeared to be different from ordinary. "Blast proof wall, may be?" I thought to myself as I walked past.

For next couple of kilometers, I was walking with nothing significant to notice except the noise of the heavy traffic on GT road. A Gora Qabristan, I crossed the road and came on University road. The sight of the KFC restaurant there made my mouth water. I suddenly thought of their Zinger Burger. But then I thought of the calories and the weight gain aspect of it. I finally decided in favor of having a burger. But then I realized that the huge fencing and barricades erected outside KFC was not without reason. What if a blast occurs? I am not afraid of death but the thought that in case my body gets charred beyond recognition, this is going to make the trouble of a time for my family which will never believe me being one among the victims of the blast. For they would think I only went to meet my supervisor. Thus, I finally dropped the idea of eating a burger and carried on.

A slight descent was fun to climb and I actually started jogging until the road became plain again. This area, called Tehkal, is actually inhabited mainly by Afghan migrant who came over to Pakistan fleeing their homeland during the Soviet War in the eighties. There are many vendors selling meat, both mutton and beef, almost too many of them, reflecting the excessive taste of these people for the food.

Walking a few more kilometers and I was almost in University Town. Since there has been a relative mum in the serial blasts in the city for the past couple of days or so, and since Eid, a major Muslim festival, is around the corner, a lot of people thronged the markets. I stopped at several garment stores. I was looking for a leather jacket. There were a few which really looked cool, but I wanted to do an overall assessment before buying any one. It was a pleasant surprise to see the outlets of so many local and foreign brands. I made up my mind to buy one jacket Textillion and a pair of shoes by Epcot at Imperial store.

Evening was approaching so I had to hurry up. I stopped at one point to have Faluda at a small ice-cream shop where I was sure no one would want to come with a 'jacket' on. I loved the taste of it for I was really hungry. I then rushed toward my destination. At Board, I saw something new. There were scores of people selling coal. It was for making Bar B Q with the meat of the sacrificial animals slaughtered on Eid day. I also bought a five kilogram bag of coal but I did not intend to keep it for the Eid. Instead, I thought I would use it tomorrow the day after.

I reached home rather late. I was exhausted after my long walk and had a nap.

The Brewing Storm

Asif Ali Zardari, the accidental president of Pakistan, who secured the top office in an aftermath to the assassination of his wife and leader of Pakistan People's Party, Benazir Bhutto, has been increasingly weakened as a consequence of a series of developments on the country's political landscape. These events do not appear to be a part of, or in anyway connected to a plot designed at his ouster. Yet every succeeding event that unfolds seems to the same effect: loosen the president's grip on power. The latest NRO debacle is viewed by many as a drop scene in the melodrama.

The Pakistani media after it was allowed freedom of expression by the former president, although he repented his decision later on and fought tooth and nail to revert it, has become exceedingly belligerent in its criticism of politicians and other significant figures whose flaws they can make fodder for their grinding. Mr. Zardari has been no exception. That he should complete one whole year of his term in the top office was a miracle indeed, joked a private TV channel.  He has been constantly rediculed and made fun of as a president to the extent that at one point he even proposed a law stipulating that everyone who uses the media to undermine the president would be treated as a criminal liable to be punished. However, this could simply not prevent him from further becoming the butt of even more jokes.

Of all the flaws pointed out by his opponents, there is one taint which marks his character rather excessively: corruption. The list of the charges of corruption and corruption cases pending against our president is perhaps beyond the scope of this discussion. However, suffice to say that he managed to win the title of Mr. Ten Percent, awarded to him for his alleged exaction of kickbacks in illegal deals which he permitted during the time when his wife was a prime minister. The French submarine case is another single example among scores others.  All these charges are obviously going to haunt the president for his life. Unless he goes to the courts and clears himself, his rivals would always remain after his skin and would never give him peace of mind. The pressure all this would build up will make him succumb to it, sooner or later.

Pakistan's most powerful institution, its military, is also not happy with the man. Strain in the relations between the presidency and the army were present from the start of his tenure but the almost opposite stance assumed by the two on KLB Bill really widened the gap. The military now started to view the president as too dovish and subservient. So much so that his docility may actually go against the national interest. Ashfaq Kiyani, the army chief, has been trying his best to steer clear of politics so far. Yet he would be left with no choice left, as matter stand, but to take on the president which to say to seek his ouster.

The United States, which had a role in striking a deal between Musharraf. and Benazir  also does not seem to be able to come to the rescue of Mr. Zardari. At the time when Gen. Musharraf, a leader who the US had propped up all along was unable to maintain his grip on power, and the superpower, was helpless too for the mess that the general had created for himself was humongous. America could not choose to throw its lot with the People's Party. However, the constant threats to the survival of Mr. Zardari as a president make him too vulnerable to be helped out.

Crevices appeared in the unified structure of the People party as Zardari reshuffled its dynamics. Many people who were once the darling of Ms. Bhutto seemed to have been completely ingored by the new chairman (yes co-chairman). The worst crack would be the one between the prime minister and the president which many even do not believe if it exists at all, as none of the two has hinted toward any mis-understanding. Yet, as things stand, a rift between the two is nothing but imminent, if it has not already happened.

How long will the president stay in his office beyond this point is the question cudgling many man's brain today. Is he going to be shown the door soon? A yet more interesting question is what the fate of the People party would be in an eventuality of that kind. Only time will tell.

NRO

The chequered history of Pakistan, blemished multiply by corrupt governments, martial laws, coups and unjustified steps based on the doctrine-of-necessity, has yet no similar example when it comes to the singularly vile, so-called NRO, a black law promulgated by a self-proclaimed president and dictator Musharraf, in order to appease his opponents, almost all of them liable to be prosecuted for corruption and other charges, into striking a deal which would ensure a peaceful coexistence for everyone. By everyone, let it be said, only people who had a list of charges against them are meant and not the whole nation the majority of which are no criminals at all. It is difficult to ascertain who benefitted most from NRO, its promulgator or its beneficiaries. However, it is certain that the law did allow many people who would other wise be leading a life of hiding set foot in the corridors of power.

Although much can be said against NRO, it is important to point out one most serious flaw in the nomenclature. The term national refers to something that is related to a whole nation and not a particular group. Here, in case of NRO, we are only talking of a bunch of people against whom there are many corruption charges leveled and many cases pending. Thus it is most misleading to call it national. The term reconciliation too is misleading. A dictionary definition of the term is this: An act of self-mortification or devotion performed voluntarily to show sorrow for a sin or other wrongdoing. In case of NRO, where exactly do we see this definition, or anything of the sort applied? Instead of calling it reconciliation, this process should have been termed altogether differently. Perhaps, the terms amnesty, immunity, protection or something like that might have been appropriate but never reconciliation.

Now coming to the last term 'Ordinance', the Constitution as per clause 1 or article 89 allows the president to promulgate an Ordinance, be it repeated, the president of Pakistan. A president of Pakistan who grabbed power through a coup, suspended the constitution and dismissed the judiciary can hardly be considered as a legitimate president of Pakistan.

Thus there remains little question as to the validity of NRO. The Supreme Court of Pakistan and then the current political set-up, acting in the best national interest, have been able to discard NRO for good. The government now has released a list of all those who benefitted from it. One thing that really surprises me is that how come we do not see Musharraf name anywhere? Is it not that he benefitted the most from it? If it was not for NRO, would he be allowed to get away with all that he did? Anyways, now that he is enjoying a life of luxury abroad and there is no possibility of him being taken to task, let us forget about that.

The main issue now is what to make of this NRO list now? The list of about eight thousand people include the president of Pakistan Asif Ali Zardari, Altaf Hussain, three ambassadors and many politicians. Many of these people are actually holding important positions in the current set up. The demise of NRO automatically reopens the pending cases against those included in the beneficiary list.

The NRO would certainly put the country's politicians who are never short of calling themselves as the most sincere, honest saviors to an acid test. And passing this test would mean that they would let the court decide their cases through due process. If found innocent, they would be honorably acquitted and cleanse thus their hands. If found guilty, they would be punished according to the law of the land.