Victims of disappearance

Wouldn’t Pakistan do well to use political methods to resolve its Baloch problem?

By Zubeida Mustafa


GOVERNMENTS in Islamabad have traditionally had a dismal human rights record. Even civilian leaderships have followed the brutal traditions set by their military partners, though quite often they have had to battle it out in the courts.

The incumbent PPP government, however, has been different in one way. It has ratified more of the UN’s nine core international human rights treaties than any of its predecessors. As a result, Pakistan is now a party to seven human rights international conventions. Four were ratified by the present government, two by the PPP governments in the 1990s and one in 1966.

Given its actual performance it appears that the government has accepted commitments on people’s civil, political and socio-economic rights and against torture with a cavalierly approach. Since no optional protocols which provide teeth to many of these treaties have been signed the government probably feels it can ignore its obligations under the treaties with impunity with no disastrous consequences.

It is the government’s act of omission that attracts more attention. There are two instruments that it has chosen to distance itself from — the Convention on the Rights of Migrant Workers (1990) and the International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance (ICPPED). Adopted by the UN Assembly in 2006 and having come into force a few months ago in December 2010, it is the second one that needs careful attention at the moment given its immediate relevance to what is happening in the country.

Balochistan is in the grip of an insurgency today. What began as sporadic acts of violence is now a full-blown uprising and has been a theatre of an army crackdown. Since no sin cere attempt has been made to address the grievances of the Baloch, unrest has grown and the army with its training to fight a conventional war has found itself at a disadvantage.

In retaliation it has resorted to surreptitious methods against people it suspects are behind the unrest. That is what is widely alleged and has been confirmed by international human rights bodies. The youth picked up allegedly by the intelligence agencies constitute the ‘enforced disappeared’ of this unhappy province.

From information provided by Mir Mohammad Ali Baloch, a long-time activist from Sindh with a long association with the Baloch rights movement, we learn that the number of the missing is not small. When the Supreme Court took up their case in September 2009, 170 persons were said to be untraceable in Pakistan of whom 109 were Baloch. When the government was directed to provide information about them, it could point to the whereabouts of only six Baloch. Becoming uncomfortable with a court that was demanding proof and information from the authorities, they changed their tactics. From July 2010 to April 2011 it is reported that 104 Baloch youth were killed in kidnap, kill-and-dump operations, while 137 political prisoners were killed in custody.

Against this backdrop, shouldn’t Pakistan be paying more attention to the convention on enforced disappearance? Even though it is not a signatory of the convention it cannot afford to turn a blind eye to legal developments taking place around it. Defined by the UN as “a crime and, in certain circumstances … a crime against humanity”, enforced disappearance is taken very seriously. The convention recognises that it is every person’s right not to be subjected to enforced disappearance, and the right of victims to justice and reparation. What is most important is that the family of a victim is also regarded as a victim. Hence the preamble affirms “the right of any victim to know the truth about the circumstances of an enforced disappearance and the fate of the disappeared person”.

With the authorities refusing to take responsibility for this tragic phenomenon that is bringing so much anguish to the affected families the problem has been further compounded by the government’s denial of any involvement. Finding itself on a weak wicket the government erroneously believes that it can sweep the consequences of its ‘dirty war’ under the rug.

It is plain from a reading of the text that the authorities in Pakistan are playing with fire. For instance, Article 1 makes it categorical that “no exceptional circumstances whatsoever, whether a state of war or a threat of war, internal political instability or any other public emergency, may be invoked as a justification for enforced disappearance”. Article 2 comprehensively considers any form of deprivation of liberty by agents of the state or by persons acting with the authorisation or acquiescence of the state as a crime, as is its concealment of the fate or whereabouts of the disappeared person.

In the course of time, the convention will become a part of international law. Our rulers would do well to remember the fate of the Chileans and Argentine dictators and army leaders who inflicted the agony of enforced disappearance in the 1970s and 1980s on their people. The convention had not even been conceptualised then. Yet Pinochet and others were put in the dock.

Now that enforced disappearance has been declared a crime against humanity no government should be unmindful of its moral and legal responsibilities. Rather than resort to military means, wouldn’t Pakistan do well to use political methods to resolve its Baloch problem? The need is to negotiate with Baloch representatives who speak for the people and not those who are the guardians of Islamabad’s interest in the province.

Maze of governance

The importance and urgency of the local government system cannot be put aside. A system based on functional and financial autonomy with a self-regulatory mechanism is the need of the hour.

By Tariq Mahmud


IN a recent move, the Sindh government repealed the Local Government Ordinance 2001 and Police Order 2002 replacing these two flagships of the Musharraf era with the Police Act 1861 and the Local Government Ordinance 1979 only to reverse the latter act within no time.

The office of the commissioner which also stood activated went through a quiver motion, an expeditious revival, and what followed was a stunning midnight demise.

The local government ordinance has now to be presented before the provincial assembly and it will be interesting to see the manner in which this bill is steered through. The latest move by the Sindh government has, however, created ripples in some quarters whereas in this debate at the other end the office of the commissioner is being termed as a colonial legacy. The Police Act 1861 has been dubbed as an archaic law reminiscent of the British period. The Local Government Ordinance 1979, is getting flak as the handiwork of a dictator.

There is a need to correct the misplaced emphasis. An impression is being created as if the commissioner’s office is a substitute for the local bodies system, which it is not. These are two distinctly separate domains working in their own area of responsibility. During the Basic Democracies era in the 1960s, the district and the divisional bureaucracy had formal sway over the local councils but a significant departure was made in the Local Government Ordinance 1979.

An institutional arrangement of the district coordination committee, headed by the chairman of the zila council was put in place giving him overriding powers in coordinating activities throughout the district, resolving inter-council disputes and performing the role of planning and development in key sectors of primary healthcare, education, rural water supply, livestock development and farm to market roads. The deputy commissioner as the chief executive officer of the district coordination committee under this formal arrangement reported to the chairman of the zila council. The same position was occupied by the mayors in metropolitan areas.With the promulgation of the Local Government Ordinance 2001, the office of the commissioner was done away with and his revenue judicial functions were entrusted to lower-level functionaries who were under the direct control of the zila nazims. The nazims more often did not care to distinguish between their political and administrative role.

A frequent overlap of these roles in turn affected the working of these revenue judicial officers. It was overlooked that in a steeply factionalised Pakistani society the nazim was the repository of both development and regulatory functions and also controlled a hierarchy of officials dealing with revenue judicial matters. In 10 years, the revenue administration saw a marked deterioration resulting in serious dysfunctionalities.

The nazim system did throw up enviable names like Niamatullah Khan and Syed Mustafa Kamal, but at the same time, the commissioner system reminds us of its own prodigies. It is difficult to forget the names of Zafarul Ahsan, Musarrat Hussain Zubairi and many others who left deep imprints on the public mind during their careers.

Zafarul Ahsan is remembered as the builder of modern Lahore, he laid the foundation of new habitats and was the spirit behind the settlement and development of vast barren tracts of ‘Thal’ in western Punjab. Musarrat Hussain Zubairi’s name has been part of the folklore in the desolate expanses of Cholistan. The Rohilas of Cholistan, hitherto nomads, got a taste of settled life owing to his resolute efforts.

Under the 1979 Ordinance, the only interface the commissioner had with the local councils was not by virtue of his office but as a ‘delegatee’ of the provincial government, performing functions of oversight. If and when the need arose these functions could be parked in an independent statutory body.

Coming to the revival of the office of commissioner in the hierarchy of revenue administration, it should be seen in a larger perspective. The agriculture sector continues to be key to our economic breakthrough. A reasonably good level of growth in this sector has always been happy news for the overall econo my. We need to harness the full potential of this sector.

The country will have to move towards a broad-based income tax net for the key area. Despite the rising input prices there is appreciable surplus income in this sector. Our growing deficit is touching alarming levels. The only option available is to generate and mop up indigenous streams, agricultural income tax being one of them. We will, therefore, require an efficient and well-structured administrative machinery to perform this Herculean task.

This goes for all administrative tiers including the positions in the revenue districts and the divisions.

Laws are like living organisms representing both continuity and change. The Local Government Ordinance 1979 did not come from the blue. It was mainly based on the Municipal Administration Ordinance of 1960 which in turn had its genesis in the municipal enactments dating back to 1911. Not much had changed in terms of the ‘business processes’. The only change brought about was in the composition and modes of election of local councils and their interface with government tiers.

The Police Act 1861, at the same time, is by no means a perfect law, but to decry it on account of its colonial origins does not seem to be the correct way to proceed. This act was an ‘evolving law’ and had been absorbing changes through amendments all these years. Vintage should not be the cause for alarm as what was not colonial in this part of the world? We had the largest hydrographic society spawned by the colonial rulers in Sindh and Punjab that transformed production relations in the plains of the Indus and the allied river system. We are still reaping the dividends, with our road and rail network triggering all-time connectivity.

We need to think through the issue in its entirety. The importance and urgency of the local government system cannot be put aside. A system based on functional and financial autonomy with a self-regulatory mechanism is the need of the hour. At the same time, the provinces cannot be slowed down in taking steps which in their wisdom can help retrieve their fast-eroding writ.

The writer was previously home secretary Punjab, additional chief secretary former NWFP and secretary interior. tmahmud-pk@hotmail.com