Saying sorry

There are two helicopter crews and their ground controllers somewhere in the NATO/ISAF forces stationed in southern Afghanistan who are possibly having a very uncomfortable time - or, more likely, being quietly congratulated. They are responsible in direct terms for the killing and injuring of our soldiers in the September 30 cross-border incident, the consequences of which still reverberate. Not only has the US ambassador apologised in person for the raid but she has been joined by US Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Admiral Mike Mullen. A careful reading of Mr Mullen's letter to Chief of Army Staff General Kayani reveals that it is something less than an apology and more a condolence. This is in line with the position spelled out by the recent White House assessment of just what it is that we are not doing enough.
Considering the 'apologies' alongside the White House assessment we get a hard-edged perspective on the perceptions that form the back-story to the front-of-stage diplomatic activity. There is an assertiveness about the report that is rarely present in the measured tones of diplomacy, and there is a sense of urgency and underlying anger as well. It states bluntly that our military has been unwilling to take decisive or terminal action against Al-Qaeda and other extremist groups. The leadership of President Zardari is criticised - admittedly not a difficult task - and the stick is waved for the third time in as many weeks in terms of American aid being tied to our compliance on a number of fronts. That we may disagree with the report probably matters little in the American paradigm. But it should. Yes, we remain, unfortunately, dependent upon 'aid', but America too needs us to survive as it also needs Afghanistan to. Cutting the aid or limiting it is more likely to work against broader objectives, both American and Pakistani, than in their favour. Hollow apologies and sabre-rattling reports don't serve much purpose.

Dear leader, don't return

Iftekhar A Khan
On Oct 1, amid fans and fawners, Gen (r) Pervez Musharraf set up his All Pakistan Muslim League, boasting as if he had launched the mother of all political parties. Gen Musharraf, known as "Mush" to his foreign buddies, chose the land of strawberries to incorporate his party. He lives in self-exile in London, a city that distinguishes itself as a haven for runaway leaders, former generals and Pinochet-type strongmen who, because of their misdeeds, become prisoners of security among their own people. Mush announced his party manifesto, in which mainly the poor and deprived of the nation occupied his attention. It was more of the same claptrap that devious democrats churn out for public consumption. The only exception was that the dear leader, dreaming to become either president or prime minister, had risen from the West, an aspect that sets him apart from the homegrown variety.
Musharraf didn't waste time to assail his political opponents on the day he launched the party. The language he used for Nawaz Sharif bordered on incivility. He termed Nawaz Sharif brainless. Which was correct only to the extent that Nawaz Sharif had elevated Mush to the position of army chief, which would change the course of history -- a decision that the overthrown prime minister would rue for times to come.
About Musharraf's inaugural address, a newspaper reported he was inebriated before he took to the rostrum. Regardless of the accuracy of the report, the big man was full of bombast and bluster as he spelled out his vision for Pakistan. The television audience thought as if he was shouting military orders at them, instead of talking of peace, reconciliation and amity. People even wondered how they'd bear with the general's hauteur if he ever returned to power.
Musharraf was slightly contrite about some of the decisions he made during his reign. But that's not enough to win him public sympathy, because the enormity of his misdeeds is too grave to condone. It was when he chased octogenarian Akbar Bugti that Mush truly displayed his swagger as head of state -- "they wouldn't know what hit them." And that wouldn't endear him to people he is likely to ask for votes. The suspension of Chief Justice Iftikhar Chaudhry, which resulted in his maltreatment by a lowly inspector who even pulled the chief justice's hair, is fresh in public minds. Also vividly remembered is Mush calling the chief justice "a third-rate man, scum of the earth" during one of his many foreign jaunts. These events and more -- like the kidnapping of Aafia Siddiqui, together with her children, who included a baby of eight months, and handing her over to the Karzai government for torture in the notorious Bagram dungeon -- are imprints so indelible that nothing could delete them from the hard disc of public memory.
Imagine, when Musharraf was scheming to perpetuate his rule through the abominable NRO, the Great Architect above was planning His own moves. And His moves are always superior. Chief Justice Chaudhry occupies the most honourable seat in Pakistan, besides occupying a place in people's hearts, while the former First Citizen languishes in self-exile. All those who once considered him their benefactor now shun him like a pariah. What irony!
Unfortunately, Musharraf isn't the type to learn from his follies, because he doesn't admit them. He will not pay heed to what Aldous Huxley suggested in his novel, Brave New World: rolling in muck is not the best way to get clean. Musharraf will roll and roll without getting clean. The general-turned-politician, who doesn't consider anyone at par with his intellect, wisdom and foresight, is destined to remain an angry gent in the years left to him. His claim that he maintains his lifestyle by lecturing around the world is risible. Who would listen to him? Is he a philosopher, thinker, scientist or a sufi-saint for the Westerners to actually pay for that? Instead of riding into the sunset, Musharraf has decided to plunge into politics, where he could only be an entertainer.

The writer is a freelance contributor based in Lahore. Email: pinecity@ gmail.com

The Middle East quicksand

Tayyab Siddiqui
The Middle East peace process that was launched with high hopes after a hiatus of 20 months has run aground, just after two meetings between the leaders of Israel and the Palestinian Authority. This was not unexpected. The stand-off between President Barack Obama and Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu in their meeting in March on the settlements issue should have alerted Obama to the built-in fault lines, particularly when the core issue of settlements remain unresolved.
The freeze announced by Netanyahu was to expire on Sept 26. Without seeking any commitment or understanding from Netanyahu on the extension of the freeze, Obama initiated the peace process on Sept 2. The Arab League and PA President Mehmoud Abbas had made it clear that the PA would pull out of the talks if construction of settlements continued. Obama had been humiliated by Netanyahu on this issue and to expect a meaningful round of talks without a conciliatory gesture before the commencement of the talks was delusional.
Obama certainly committed a major miscalculation. He was wrongly advised by his administration, which argued that the conditions have never been better for talks as the PA has improved infrastructure, policing and living condition in the West Bank.
President Mubarak of Egypt shared Secretary of State Hillary Clinton's optimism that "peace is within reach. This is the time and these are the leaders who can achieve the results we all seek: two states, two peoples, living in peace and security." Mubarak, who told the New York Times on Sept 2 that "a peace plan is within our grasp," had cautioned: "The settlements and peace are incompatible, as they deepen the occupation that Palestinians seek to end. A complete halt to Israel's settlements expansion is critical if negotiations are to succeed."
The two major issues that the peace process was expected to resolve related to the Jewish settlements in the West Bank and creation of a Palestinian state. Both issues have been subjects of discussion between Israel and the Palestinians for the last 17 years. There is no ambiguity or flexibility in the stance of either party. The respective positions have hardened and there are no options or alternatives available.
Israel has continued to build settlements in the occupied West Bank. While the talks continued in 1993, there were only 107,000 settlers in the West Bank. During the Oslo talks and later, Israel added another 100,000 settlers. Today there are 300,000 settlers in the West Bank and another 200,000 in Arab East Jerusalem.
Until 2004, the US regarded these settlements as "illegal." Then, under pressure from the Israeli lobby, the Bush administration changed its policy and the settlements began to be considered "unhelpful" to the peace process. Obama made a major miscalculation of Netanyahu's obduracy, and that resulted in serious harm to the fate of the negotiations and to Obama's leadership.
The Quartet and the UN have come to the rescue of President Obama for a damage-control exercise and condemned the policy of settlements. The Quarter urged the government of Israel to "freeze all settlement activity, to dismantle all posts erected since March 2001 and to refrain from demolition and eviction in East Jerusalem." UN secretary general Ban Ki-Moon paid a two-day visit to the occupied West Bank, met the prime minister of the Palestinian Authority, Salam Fayyad, and endorsed the Quartet's call to Israel to halt all settlement activity.
To salvage the peace process, Obama has sought the support of Arab allies to pressure the PA into not withdrawing from negotiations. The PA, the weaker party, will agree to the Arab position as it has no other alternative. But the sum total of these talks will remain uncertain and prospects for peace in the Middle East will not be advanced. Such futile efforts have been made by successive US administrations in the past. The current talks will merely become a part of the depressing record of failed peace attempts.

The writer is a former ambassador. Email: m.tayyab.siddiqui@gmail.com

How the dream was stolen

Roedad Khan
There are, in my view, two factors that, above all others, have shaped Pakistan's history. One is the growing power of the military in running the affairs of state. The other, without doubt, consists in the total failure of the politicians, the intelligentsia, the intellectuals, the civil servants--in fact, the entire civil society--to comprehend the threat posed by a powerful army to the country's fragile democracy, and to devise ways and means to thwart it.
"Military coups," Alexis de Tocqueville warned more than 200 years ago, "are always to be feared in democracies. They should be reckoned among the most threatening of the perils which face [democracies'] future existence. Statesmen must never relax their efforts to find a remedy for this evil."
Mr Jinnah was aware of the threat posed by the army. On the day of Pakistan's independence, Aug 14, 1947, Mr Jinnah, who had just become governor general, scolded one young Pakistani officer. The officer had complained that, "instead of giving us the opportunity to serve our country in positions where our natural talents and native genius could be used to the greatest advantage, important posts are being entrusted, as had been done in the past, to foreigners. British officers have been appointed to head the three fighting services, and a number of other foreigners are in key senior appointments. This was not our understanding of how Pakistan should be run."
Mr Jinnah was deliberate in his answer. He warned the officer concerned "not to forget that the armed forces are the servants of the people and you do not make national policy; it is we, the civilians, who decide these issues and it is your duty to carry out these tasks with which you are entrusted."
Months later, during his only visit to the Staff College in Quetta, he expressed his alarm at the casual attitude of "one or two very high-ranking officers." He warned the assembled officers that some of them were not aware of the implications of their oath to Pakistan and promptly read it out to them. And he added: "I should like you to study the constitution which is in force in Pakistan at present and understand its true constitutional and legal implications when you say that you will be faithful to the constitution. I want you to remember, and if you have time enough, you should study the Government of India Act (of 1935), as adapted for use in Pakistan, which is our present constitution, that the executive authority flows from the head of the Government of Pakistan, who is Governor General, and therefore any command that may come to you cannot come without the sanction of the executive head." The supreme irony of the event is that the Constitution of Pakistan was to be abrogated or suspended by some of the officers present in Mr Jinnah's audience.
Marx once said: "Neither a nation nor a woman is forgiven for an unguarded hour in which the first adventurer who comes along can sweep them off their feet and possess them." Oct 7, 1958, was our unguarded hour when democracy was expunged from the politics of Pakistan, with scarcely a protest. I was deputy commissioner of Dera Ismail Khan when I heard over the radio that martial law had been declared and civilian governments dismissed.
Ayub Khan was now chief martial law administrator. The military regime heralded a successful revolution and was promptly recognised as a "basic, law-creating fact" by the Supreme Court. It gave the lie to all that I had been taught. "There can be no martial law in peacetime," we were told. The country was not at war, and was not sliding into anarchy. There was no civil commotion in the country preventing the judges from going to courts--an essential precondition for the imposition of martial law in peacetime, according to A V Dicey.
A telephone call from the local colonel asking me to report to him along with my superintendent of police brought me down to earth with a thud. Reality hit me like a ton of bricks. The colonel rattled off a string of directives for compliance within 24 hours: all unlicensed arms to be surrendered; all hoarded stocks of wheat to be unearthed; all prices, including the price of gold, to be controlled. I got back to my office late in the evening in a much chastened mood. The days of civilian supremacy were over.
We lost East Pakistan in 1971 because Pakistan was ruled by a military dictator. It is idle to speculate with the benefit of hindsight. But the war with India, the defeat of the Pakistani army, the humiliating spectacle of its surrender in Dacca (Dhaka), the loss of half the country, the long incarceration of our soldiers in Indian captivity, might have been avoided if Pakistan were a democracy in 1971. The politicians, left to themselves, would have muddled through the crisis and struck a political bargain. But for military rule, the history of Pakistan might have been different.
It is axiomatic that the army has no political role in any democratic country, whatever its form of government. But, for historical reasons, it has acquired this role in Pakistan which now appears to be irreversible, at least in the foreseeable future. Isn't it tragic that when strain develops between the pillars of state, it is the army chief who is called upon to act as a referee? In India, this role is played by the president who is strictly neutral and commands great respect. When the country faces what is called "the deadlock of democracy," the president acts as a referee, avoids becoming a participant or a partisan in the political power game. He is like an emergency lamp. When power fails in Delhi, the emergency lamp comes into operation. When power is restored, the emergency lamp becomes dormant. In Pakistan, the role of the army is like that of a fire-brigade. It rushes to the site of fire, extinguishes the fire, but instead of getting back to the station, it lingers on, tarries too long, gets involved in the management and administration of the house, and ceases to be a fire brigade.
Isn't it a great tragedy that 63 years after independence, political sovereignty in Pakistan resides neither in the electorate, nor the parliament, nor the executive, nor the judiciary, nor even the Constitution which has superiority over all the institutions it creates. It resides, if it resides anywhere at all, where the coercive power resides. In practice, it is the "pouvoir occulte" which is the ultimate authority in the decision-making process.
Today Pakistan is neither led nor governed. Who has betrayed the people? In the minds of ordinary folks, of course, it is the rulers--elected or unelected, in uniform or otherwise--who have done the betraying. At times, I want to buy a hundred bullets, use 99 on the architects of our national tragedy--corrupt politicians, bureaucrats, generals, and judges of the superior courts--all those who stole the Pakistan dream--and save one for myself.

Our nasty hangover

Babar Sattar
The writer is a lawyer based in Islamabad.
Much has been said about the buffoonery of black coats in Lahore last week. The ugly episode raises fundamental questions about the authority vested in the office of the chief justice, the desirable role of the bar and the bench, their modes of interaction and mutual relationship, and the depraved ethos that pervades the legal fraternity and our justice system as a whole. All these questions need to be approached in the backdrop of the objects and promises of the rule of law movement, with a dispassionate focus on whether or not the mechanism of strikes and street agitation, imperative in the initial phase of the movement that was singularly focused on restoring an independent-minded judiciary, is still a desirable means to reform the justice system.
Let us get the black and white issues out of the way first. Neither the decision of lawyers to resort to violence in order to voice their demands nor police brutality and indiscriminate beating up of lawyers in their chambers and the bar room can ever be justifiable. As to the merit of the demand seeking transfer of the district judge Lahore, lawyers have no business interfering with or influencing the composition of a court. If the logic of the argument made by the Lahore Bar Association is acceptable, can the High Court and the Supreme Court Bar Associations also gang up and seek removal of members of the superior judiciary?
Judicial robes don't come along with a licence to talk down to lawyers. And in any civilized society, being treated with respect is a fundamental human right. As officers of the court and professionals seeking to protect and defend the interests of their clients, what lawyers must demand is the right to a patient hearing by a neutral arbiter of the law. And to the extent that the brusqueness of a judge begins to interfere with his neutrality and administration of justice, a lawyer is within his right to file a complaint for judicial misconduct. But a 'culture of honour' that justifies the transformation of an attorney into a rogue upon being provoked by the rudeness of a judge must not be allowed to corrupt the ethical traditions of this fine profession.
The lawyers' demand seeking the removal of the Lahore District Judge was unreasonable in the first place. Their audacity to vandalise the chamber of chief justice Lahore High Court to exhibit their disquiet was alarming, especially in the backdrop of a growing trend amongst lawyers to rely on violence in dealing with judges, police, media and even litigants. Thus a settlement of the 'bar-bench' face-off in Lahore resulting in the removal of the Lahore District Judge is disillusioning, for it is the antithesis of the foundational principle underlying the rule of law movement.
The reaction to March 9, 2007, when the chief justice of Pakistan was deposed, and November 3, 2009, when the entire superior judiciary was sent packing, was about one basic thing: security of judicial tenure as a prerequisite to judicial independence and rule of law. The argument was that if judges weren't allowed to discharge judicial duties without considerations of fear or favour, they would never be neutral arbiters of the law capable of dispensing justice. The other potent argument in favour of restoration of the November 3 judiciary was that if we allow arbitrary removal of judges acting independently, in future no judge would ever risk his job merely to do the right thing.
Does the district judiciary (which remains the wrinkled face of our justice system confronting ordinary citizens) not need security of tenure to mete out justice? Are the jobs being performed by judges of the superior courts so fundamentally different from those of district court judges that the logic of judicial independence is simply not relevant for the latter? Now that Zawar Hussain Sheikh has been removed, will his successor dare tell functionaries of the bar that they have no business interfering with ministerial appointments in the court?
Hasn't a loud message been sent to all district judges around the country that appeasing leaders of the local bar is part of their job description if they wish to continue to serve in their positions? And why should posting and removals of district judges be tied to the whims of the provincial chief justice? While it is a settled law of this country that administrative discretion vested in executive authorities must be structured and never exercised in an arbitrary manner, why is it that the same principle finds no mention or application when it comes to the exercise of administrative discretion by heads of superior courts?
Other than the logic of principles backing the rule of law movement and the overwhelming hatred for Musharaf, one important reason why the cause resonated with ordinary people was because lawyers, as its flag-bearers, didn't seem motivated by self-interest. In seeking the restoration of illegally removed judges and sacrifising their means of subsistence in the process, they were not seeking any bounties for themselves. It was this selfless struggle for rule of law at the peril of personal liberty, professional advancement and financial security that earned them the respect and gratitude of this nation.
Restoration of an independent-minded judiciary was only meant to be the first (necessary but insufficient) step in the rule of law movement that was expected to remove obstructions to reform and empower judges who together with leaders of the bar were to emerge as agents for progressive change. But now that conditions are ripe to embark on the crucial journey of entrenching rule of law, and reforming the bar and the bench together with the procedures, practices and culture that make justice a forlorn hope for the ordinary Joe in Pakistan, why have we suddenly gone back to our old ways: the bench playing favourites and the bar engaging in sycophancy on the one hand and rent-seeking behaviour on the other?
Was it not the responsibility of leaders of the rule of law movement to taper the excitement of lawyers they eagerly brought onto the streets and lead them back into courtrooms to argue their briefs? Should they not have attempted to treat the hangover of the first phase of the movement and prepare their younger colleagues for the behavioural changes and self-reform that we urgently need as a professional group? Should the restored bench not have preoccupied itself with urgently putting the lower rungs of its own house in order?
Is it too naïve a thought the treatment of a lawyer in a courtroom should be determined by the strength of his legal argument and not his role in the rule of law movement or his facility with flattery? While the lawyers were forced to come out on the streets during the first phase of the rule of law movement because there were no legal mechanisms available to effect a change, why is it that after the restoration of an independent judiciary they are still being egged on by members of the judicature to functions as their 'foot-soldiers'? Aren't lawyers expected to function independently and critique judicial pronouncements to improve the quality of our jurisprudence?
The Lahore episode is the latest manifestation that the legal fraternity -- the bar and the bench included -- is losing its way. Let's all take stock and make amends instead of brewing conspiracies.