The Taliban come to attack the Dera Ismail Khan Central Jail carrying their lives in their hands. They assault it with mortars and rocket-propelled grenades. And the first thing the guards do is dive into the nearest drains to save their lives, their instinct for self-preservation fully in line with Falstaff’s conception of honour: “…to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liveth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeed. The better part of valour is discretion…”
None other than the provincial revenue minister has given the nation an account of this bravery. And the Taliban were not put to the necessity of blasting the jail main gate. Those on duty obligingly opened the gate for them.
The attackers were inside the jail for some time, using loud hailers (think of it) to call to their comrades whom they had come to free. And they had time to slaughter (literally) some inmates, probably on account of their ‘heretical’ faith. No police high-up came to the scene of action. Conforming to the Falstaffian dictum of discretion being the better part of valour, even the army scarcely stirred, and when it did the attackers were far away.
And we have been moaning about the Americans violating our precious sovereignty and killing Osama on our home stretch next door to PMA Kakul. Treachery we have called it. But the Americans got away killing one person, and two or three of his companions. Here the Taliban, in an assault more brazen than the other one, free 250 prisoners and the institutions of the Republic, and every news channel in the land, are more fixated with an absolutely meaningless presidential election, resulting in the election of a nominee whose main qualification is that he has no qualification – his very facelessness his primary attraction.
So, could anything more starkly reveal the outlines of the unequal contest in which God’s own Republic finds itself? Faith, blind faith – even misguided faith, if we want to put it this way – on one side, and hesitancy and fear and the sound instinct of self-preservation on the other.
We know that even as the new incoming government was preaching austerity and calling for national belt-tightening, all 33 ministerial chambers in parliament got new ACs, TV sets and marble flooring. The new ministers just couldn’t survive on the old furnishings. And the Prime Minister’s House, Allah be praised, goes about upholstering the PM’s sofas, the purple cloth now to be seen as the PM, sitting in state, receives his visitors.
Let’s not even mention the plus-four million dollar watch, hackneyed as the subject sounds by now. We must also remember that everyone around is so religious that they even had to reschedule the presidential election for religious obligations to be fulfilled. And, as we all know, PM and family must spend the 27th of Ramazan in the Holy Land.
Thus goes on the saga of the Republic, even as cement and power magnates sit in on advisory meetings, principal beneficiaries of the Rs500 billion that have gone into paying off ‘circular debt’. Conflict-of-interest? Tell that to the mountains. Faint voices have called upon the government to say who has received what, but not a squeak on this score.
And the same cement and power magnates– and magnates of so much else besides – accompany the PM on his trip to China, in their own private jet of course but with members of the PM’s family on board. But this is tiresome stuff, now in the public domain, so no need to hang it out every time.
But what luck. First we had Zardari and his crew, assorted buccaneers, for full five years and now another set of performers who over a period of 30 years have proved their greater sophistication in these matters. Gen Zia was their godfather, pulling them out of the woodwork and setting their political careers rolling. We’ve heard of second comings. This is their third coming. National destiny perhaps, and who can fight the stars of destiny?
Twitterscape warriors often give the impression as if the only thing important is to strike the correct pose or adopt the right academic position. If only this were an academic contest. It’s much more, involving our country’s future. And the Taliban from launching more attacks on the lines of the Dera jailbreak will not be deterred by some of the moral indignation spewing across cyberspace.
Call the Taliban barbarians and satisfy your word lust. Even preen yourself on your verbal rectitude. But if from the armoury of our resolve this is all we can call upon, then the fear which besets at least a poor soul like me is that the battle is already lost.
The Americans had the weapons and the airpower and the satellite technology but it is the Americans who are getting out of Afghanistan, their job not even half-done. They are still hoping to leave a semblance of stability behind but they know, more and more, that propping up puppets is no recipe for stability.
It’s a question of priorities. Here the price of everything is going up…electricity, fuel, etc. Fine, if this is what it takes to correct the economy. But why must the burden of all this fall on the already-burdened, with the fat-cats and moneybags laughing as if they’ve never had it so good? And another moneybag, imported from Glasgow, is now Punjab governor. The heavens will not fall, no fear of that. But this just shows the way things happen here, in our Fortress of Islam. (Gen Kayani hasn’t mentioned this phrase for some time. Is everything all right?)
So let me come to my central thesis: the Taliban have clarity on their side, we have confusion. They have resolve and singleness of aim; we have dithering, and going round and round in circles. And they have been hardened by battle and the elements. We must upholster our sofas and wear unbelievable watches (and we must secrete our funds abroad and keep them there, our nearest kith and kin involved in lucrative business in ‘heathen’ lands, no doubt because investing in the Fortress of Islam is not so secure.)
And real estate and the army – the Egyptian army is heavily into real estate and other businesses, and while it may be a match for its own people, it’s no match for the Israeli army. (The honour, the unblemished honour, of being a match for the Israeli army belongs only to Hezbollah.) Our war is going to be a protracted affair, getting infinitely more complicated as the Americans leave Afghanistan. Unless Pakistan’s methods of governance, the quality of its ruling class, the mettle of its high command, are all rethought and remade, we will find the going tough. And the instinct of our warriors, those coming in the line of fire, will be that of the wise Dera guardians: jump into the nearest sewers.
There is an exception to this and it must be clearly stated: our soldiers and young officers, and some senior ones too although not all, have given an excellent account of themselves along our western marches, fighting on our behalf who are armchair samurais. They are out there facing ambushes and a war without end. In Islamabad and Lahore the concerns are different, the right sofa colours among them. But it is to our soldiers above all that we owe the gift of better leadership so that their sacrifices are not in vain.
Had it been the US or Britain, their leaders would have spent the 27th of Ramazan (or Christmas or whatever) with their troops in Fata. But this is the Islamic Republic. So to holier destinations we must go, to pray for things eternal and those that happen on mortal earth.
Tailpiece: Apropos of some of my recent meanderings, one Twitter comment was apt: “Ok, now who’s tampered with Ayaz’s Scotch?” Actually, Prof Adeeb Rizvi had, scaring me out of my wits and thereby putting me on barley water. And too much of that, as we know, is not good for anyone’s rigour of intellect.
Email: winlust@yahoo.com
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