In the moderately enlightened era of the previous government, one used to often catch the phrase 'Aayen mil keh Pakistan ka naam roshan karain' on television. Musharraf used to say it, Pervaiz Elahi loved it … I even heard the phrase being used to sell soap. Having noticed that, I’ve spent the past few years thinking – particularly when I read the foreign press – that I’d prefer us to have been aiming for merely Pakistan roshan karna; never mind the naam.
As an ordinary Pakistani with ordinary ambitions, and with the knowledge of decades’ worth of political debacles, I restrict my hopes and desires to the very ordinary: sufficient – not even plentiful – supply of items indispensable to my life, such as electricity, water, gas, wheat, sugar, edible oil and suchlike. Some basic human rights and dignity would be welcome too.
The thing is, you see, that I truly believe that in terms of making a name for itself, Pakistan has more than done the needful. It really is time now for it to rest upon its laurels.
Matters have come to such a pass that I find myself looking back with some fondness to the times when the mention of my nationality would elicit a question about whether the methods of transportation “over there” involved horses or camels. I regret the impatience and disdain with which I used to react then. Today, the world is not only far too well aware of my country’s past, present and the looming question mark of its future, but uncomfortably, those who could do something about this disaster-zone – including you and I – are busy arguing amongst ourselves to the point of total apathy.
Retired Gen Musharraf used to blame the media for having, as he once said, the habit of making public the country’s problems and embarrassments. And after the change in government, the murmur has been taken up by a few parliamentarians and politicians as well. They’re missing the point, though. It is not up to the media to refrain from pointing out errors in judgment and mismanagement on the governmental scale; it is in fact up to the government and its executive/legislative arms to try to avoid making such mistakes as far as possible.
Given that the country is facing so many, and such myriad issues, it is perhaps a good thing that they are being discussed nationally and internationally. Perhaps only then can potential solutions and avenues of redress be found.
The point for those in government and those at the receiving end to ponder, however, is why we are facing these issues at all; how the current situation vis-à-vis a host of matters from the militant terrorists to infrastructural issues to those of governance came to pass; how far earlier and which regimes were by either omission or commission complicit, and what can now be done to address our current status of international stardom.
The point is simple yet subtle, and one of vital importance. News commentators and observers are falling over themselves to take a side in the discussion about whether or not the earlier Bhutto/Sharif regimes were better than the Musharraf years, and that old discussion about whether military or democratic rule proved better for Pakistan is back on the agenda. But, the Bhutto vs Sharif vs military debate, for example, takes entirely the wrong track.
Democracy is important, not because the democratic leaders we have experienced were better but because under it the politicians themselves have a stake in the system; they cannot afford to weaken the fabric of society too far.
Leaders elected in all faith and all fairness can turn out to be corrupt or insincere, but once their credibility is destroyed in the eyes of the electorate, the voters can themselves prevent their return to power. While democracy is no magic wand, it does at least serve to level the playing field.
Because of this, democracy also means having to put up for some time with leaders that prove themselves myopic, misguided or render themselves unpopular. After all, it was during Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s government that the seeds of the ISI’s political cell, the infamous FSF, were sown. And Nawaz Sharif may be looking good today, but he did once attempt to have himself crowned the Amir-ul-Momineen.
But – and it’s a very important but – the electorate has to bear an unpopular democratic government for only the given term, after which those who have been found lacking can be voted out. In Pakistan, the legitimate term of an elected government is five years but we bore the last general for nearly double that. The politicians of today appear to be returning to earlier divisive tactics, and here’s what there is to be scared of: all a future general has to do is cite the doctrine of necessity and stamp his way in. The trouble with demanding of a general “Oh yeah? You and whose army?” is that all he has to do is point out of the window.
In Pakistan right now, the brew is poisoned further by the militant-terrorist nexus against whom our army is battling. They may have been sidelined in the news by the NRO, but we forget about them at our own – very real – peril. And what we need to succeed in the fight against them is a government with a legitimate and popular mandate; not one under siege by elements that ought to be backing it.
Before we begin to upbraid the world for “meddling in our internal affairs,” it is vital for us to put our own house in order. Significant portions of the country’s territories are in a state of war and the army finds itself at war with people of whom at least some are Pakistani citizens; the writ of the state in the north-west is a question mark, and secessionist feelings are rife in more than one province; even the viability of the federation is under debate. Meanwhile we lack an adequate supply of electricity, water or gas. And yet, we take umbrage when someone expresses disbelief in their ability to defend our nuclear arsenal.
Imagine that you live next door to a family whose lawn is unwatered and the plants are dying, whose children constantly beat each other up and the head of the household falls ever deeper in debt, whose housekeeper is slatternly, the larder is empty and the utilities are one by one being cut off because of the non-payment of bills. And then you hear that they’ve gone and bought 400 kilogrammes of TNT and are storing it in a house where everybody smokes. I don’t know about you, but I know I’d be worried.
Postscript: I read somewhere recently that “If you can’t be a good example, it could be that the sole purpose of your life is to serve as a hideous warning.”
hajrahmumtaz@gmail.com
Sunday, 27 December 2009
Yemen: the international takfiri-mullahs destination of choice
Attempted bombing of Northwest flight 253 has belatedly turned spotlight on terrorist network inside troubled state
The claim by Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab that he was trained, armed and tasked with blowing up an American airliner over US soil by al-Qaida operatives based in Yemen is the western intelligence community's worst nightmare come true.
Since the September 11 attacks, the US and allied security services hunting Osama bin Laden and his associates have focused their attention on the mountains of eastern Afghanistan and the lawless tribal areas of Pakistan.
In recent years, concern has grown about the activities of al-Qaida affiliates in North Africa's Maghreb region, notably Algeria, and in a few sub-Saharan countries such as Nigeria, birthplace of the would-be bomber of Northwest Airlines flight 253.
But in all these cases – even Afghanistan, once its Taliban rulers were deposed – the US could count on the collaboration of established, friendly governments that felt equally threatened by the spectre of Islamist terrorism.
Yemen, and Somalia, its terrible twin situated just across the Gulf of Aden, are a different matter altogether.
Both countries lack effective central government. Both, having suffered a long history of colonial intervention, are currently prey to warring factions that have no love of the west.
And both contain vast, so-called "ungoverned spaces" that offer ideal hideouts and training centres for "non-state actors", the intelligence community's polite euphemism for terrorists.
Large tracts of sparsely populated Yemen are, in effect, "no-go" areas for the forces of global counter-terrorism. These safe havens remain mostly out of sight and, despite a trailblazing CIA Predator drone attack against al-Qaida in 2002, mostly out of range.
In short, Yemen has become the international jihadi's destination of choice from which to prepare, plot and launch future terror attacks. "Only Pakistan's tribal regions rival Yemen as a terrorist Shangri-La", the Wall Street Journal said this year, citing American estimates that up to 1,500 al-Qaida-linked fighters are based there.
Now Abdulmutallab, the well-to-do, well-educated Nigerian recruit, has demonstrated what the Yemeni terrorist melting pot is capable of producing – and just how far its malice can reach.
The signs have been there for those who wished to read them. In an under-reported incident in August, a suicide bomber crossed from Yemen into pro-western Saudi Arabia, passed two security checks, and blew himself up only yards from Prince Mohammad bin Nayef, the Saudi counter-terrorism chief.
The same military explosive, pentaerythritol, that Abdulmutallab attached to his leg was used by the bomber in the Saudi attack, though the latter concealed it in his rectum. Like the Northwest passengers, Nayef escaped serious injury.
Another grim message of intent came in October when al-Qaida's Yemen-based "emir of the Arabian peninsula", Nasir al-Wahayshi, urged supporters to use any means to kill western unbelievers. He identified preferred targets. They were "airports in the western crusade countries that participated in the war against Muslims; or on their planes".
Abdulmutallab's statement to the FBI that he went to Yemen this year and received instructions from al-Qaida there is now under investigation by the government in Sana'a, which said it was co-operating fully with the US.
"The whereabouts and exact details of what he did in Yemen are still unknown, but the investigation will clear up these things in the coming days," a Yemeni official said.
Despite their Af-Pak focus, the US and allies such as Britain have not ignored the Yemen threat. In September, John Brennan, the White House counter-terrorism chief, travelled to Sana'a, and in an unusually strong statement, Barack Obama declared the security of Yemen to be "vital for the security of the United States".
Since then, Washington has provided unspecified assistance to Yemeni and Saudi crackdowns on jihadi bases and Iranian-backed Shia rebels, amid unconfirmed reports that US special forces are in the country.
Two air strikes on al-Qaida strongholds in Yemen, the latest on Christmas Eve, reportedly killed up to 60 militants. It remains unclear whether these unusual operations were influenced by knowledge of a plot to blow up a US airliner.
Yet such efforts notwithstanding, the fact remains that Yemen's security problems retain potential to destabilise Saudi Arabia and other Gulf states.
Author Christopher Boucek, in a report this year by the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, warned: "The inability of the Yemeni central government to fully control its territory will create space for violent extremists to regroup and launch attacks against domestic and international targets."
Another uncomfortable fact is that Abdulmutallab pointed to western military intervention in Afghanistan as the justification for his actions. His words appear further to undercut always tendentious official arguments that the war is making western countries safer.
Next time Gordon Brown tries to explain his Afghan policy, he may do well to examine its connection to what so nearly happened to Northwest Airlines flight 253 in the skies over Detroit.
CIF Guardian
The claim by Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab that he was trained, armed and tasked with blowing up an American airliner over US soil by al-Qaida operatives based in Yemen is the western intelligence community's worst nightmare come true.
Since the September 11 attacks, the US and allied security services hunting Osama bin Laden and his associates have focused their attention on the mountains of eastern Afghanistan and the lawless tribal areas of Pakistan.
In recent years, concern has grown about the activities of al-Qaida affiliates in North Africa's Maghreb region, notably Algeria, and in a few sub-Saharan countries such as Nigeria, birthplace of the would-be bomber of Northwest Airlines flight 253.
But in all these cases – even Afghanistan, once its Taliban rulers were deposed – the US could count on the collaboration of established, friendly governments that felt equally threatened by the spectre of Islamist terrorism.
Yemen, and Somalia, its terrible twin situated just across the Gulf of Aden, are a different matter altogether.
Both countries lack effective central government. Both, having suffered a long history of colonial intervention, are currently prey to warring factions that have no love of the west.
And both contain vast, so-called "ungoverned spaces" that offer ideal hideouts and training centres for "non-state actors", the intelligence community's polite euphemism for terrorists.
Large tracts of sparsely populated Yemen are, in effect, "no-go" areas for the forces of global counter-terrorism. These safe havens remain mostly out of sight and, despite a trailblazing CIA Predator drone attack against al-Qaida in 2002, mostly out of range.
In short, Yemen has become the international jihadi's destination of choice from which to prepare, plot and launch future terror attacks. "Only Pakistan's tribal regions rival Yemen as a terrorist Shangri-La", the Wall Street Journal said this year, citing American estimates that up to 1,500 al-Qaida-linked fighters are based there.
Now Abdulmutallab, the well-to-do, well-educated Nigerian recruit, has demonstrated what the Yemeni terrorist melting pot is capable of producing – and just how far its malice can reach.
The signs have been there for those who wished to read them. In an under-reported incident in August, a suicide bomber crossed from Yemen into pro-western Saudi Arabia, passed two security checks, and blew himself up only yards from Prince Mohammad bin Nayef, the Saudi counter-terrorism chief.
The same military explosive, pentaerythritol, that Abdulmutallab attached to his leg was used by the bomber in the Saudi attack, though the latter concealed it in his rectum. Like the Northwest passengers, Nayef escaped serious injury.
Another grim message of intent came in October when al-Qaida's Yemen-based "emir of the Arabian peninsula", Nasir al-Wahayshi, urged supporters to use any means to kill western unbelievers. He identified preferred targets. They were "airports in the western crusade countries that participated in the war against Muslims; or on their planes".
Abdulmutallab's statement to the FBI that he went to Yemen this year and received instructions from al-Qaida there is now under investigation by the government in Sana'a, which said it was co-operating fully with the US.
"The whereabouts and exact details of what he did in Yemen are still unknown, but the investigation will clear up these things in the coming days," a Yemeni official said.
Despite their Af-Pak focus, the US and allies such as Britain have not ignored the Yemen threat. In September, John Brennan, the White House counter-terrorism chief, travelled to Sana'a, and in an unusually strong statement, Barack Obama declared the security of Yemen to be "vital for the security of the United States".
Since then, Washington has provided unspecified assistance to Yemeni and Saudi crackdowns on jihadi bases and Iranian-backed Shia rebels, amid unconfirmed reports that US special forces are in the country.
Two air strikes on al-Qaida strongholds in Yemen, the latest on Christmas Eve, reportedly killed up to 60 militants. It remains unclear whether these unusual operations were influenced by knowledge of a plot to blow up a US airliner.
Yet such efforts notwithstanding, the fact remains that Yemen's security problems retain potential to destabilise Saudi Arabia and other Gulf states.
Author Christopher Boucek, in a report this year by the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, warned: "The inability of the Yemeni central government to fully control its territory will create space for violent extremists to regroup and launch attacks against domestic and international targets."
Another uncomfortable fact is that Abdulmutallab pointed to western military intervention in Afghanistan as the justification for his actions. His words appear further to undercut always tendentious official arguments that the war is making western countries safer.
Next time Gordon Brown tries to explain his Afghan policy, he may do well to examine its connection to what so nearly happened to Northwest Airlines flight 253 in the skies over Detroit.
CIF Guardian
Is anyone restraining the British police?
The use of narrative verdicts is working against the families of victims such as Mikey Powell, who died in police custody
An inquest reached a shocking conclusion this month, though you'd be hard-pressed to have heard about it. In a damning "narrative" verdict, the jury concluded that Mikey Powell had died from positional asphyxia following police restraint. He had been deliberately hit by a moving police car, sprayed with CS gas, struck with a baton and restrained on the ground while suffering a psychotic episode.
It was 7 September 2003 when Powell died. He was 38 years old, had three children, and worked as a team leader in a local metal factory. Known as Mikey Dread because of the extravagant dreadlocks he had worn as a young man, Powell was well loved in the Lozells area of Birmingham, where he lived. He also suffered from terrible depression, and on the night in question he cracked up. It was 11.30pm, he was raging outside his mother's house and he broke a window. His mother, Claris, called the police. She had always believed British bobbies were the best in the world, and that if there was a difficult situation you called them out for help. A couple of months earlier, when Powell had suffered another episode, she had called them out, and it had all been sorted.
But this time the police didn't calm Powell down. When the officers screamed at him to get on the floor, he took off his belt and hit the car with it. The police drove straight at him and ran him over. Then came the CS gas and baton, and he was restrained on the ground till a police van arrived to take him to the station. The inquest heard that Powell was put on to the floor of the van, face down, "like a dog". The van parked in the station yard and Powell was kept in it for three minutes before he was carried, still face down, into the "drunk cell". It was only then that officers realised he was not breathing. His cousin, the poet Benjamin Zephaniah, said that in their treatment of Powell the police had acted as a "force, and not a service".
Over the past 30 years, more than 1,000 people have died in Britain in police custody – a disproportionate number of whom are black men, and many, like Powell, suffering mental health problems.
In a now familiar pattern, death is followed by character assassination. After Powell died, a local paper reported that the police had driven their car at him only because he waved a gun at them. The gun was, in fact, his belt. When the family complained about this to West Midlands police, they were told it had been a mistake made by a source close to the investigation. By then the damage had been done. In the public mind, Powell was a crazed gunman who deserved to die. The truth was that he did not have a criminal record, and had even campaigned against gun crime.
In 2006, six officers were charged with battery and failing to treat Powell with due care and attention. All were cleared. Three years on, the family has finally gained the result it was waiting for. After the inquest, Powell's sister, Sieta Lambrias, said: "At long last the truth has come out. The jury have found that the position the police put Mikey in killed him."
It was a powerful and unusual verdict. Yet the story was conspicuously ignored by the media. The only national newspaper report was an appalling column in the Sunday Telegraph arguing that the inquest was a waste of public money.
Why the lack of interest? The reasons are alarming. In 2004, narrative verdicts were introduced at inquests. This was a descriptive verdict that answered questions rather than the traditional short-form verdict that simply stated how and why somebody had died. It was designed to provided more information for families, but its very nature meant it was less easy to sum up in a soundbite. The ultimate soundbite for a death in police custody is "unlawful killing", but since 2004 this verdict has never been reached.
Deborah Coles, co-director of campaigning group Inquest, supports narrative verdicts but she worries that they have led to less coverage of controversial deaths. "They allow more meaningful outcomes for families and can be very powerful commentary on individual and systemic failings. But the negative side is they are difficult to report on because of the detail. The significance of the narrative verdicts is being overlooked. People are not understanding how damning these narrative verdicts are."
Coupled with this are our changing attitudes to what we like to regard as "old-fashioned" policing. It has become known in legal circles as the "Life on Mars" defence, a reference to the TV satire on 1970s policing. Inquests are sometime not heard until years after the death. In the six years since Powell's death, many people in authority – from judges to newspaper editors – assume that policing has been transformed. To paraphrase, the logic goes: yes, we know officers were bent, racist and brutal, but the past is the past and let's focus on the future.
Recent deaths in custody, though, suggest this may not be the case. And if we are not interested in highlighting the potential abuses suffered by the likes of Powell, why should the police fear acting with a similar lack of restraint in future?
(From CIF Guardian)
An inquest reached a shocking conclusion this month, though you'd be hard-pressed to have heard about it. In a damning "narrative" verdict, the jury concluded that Mikey Powell had died from positional asphyxia following police restraint. He had been deliberately hit by a moving police car, sprayed with CS gas, struck with a baton and restrained on the ground while suffering a psychotic episode.
It was 7 September 2003 when Powell died. He was 38 years old, had three children, and worked as a team leader in a local metal factory. Known as Mikey Dread because of the extravagant dreadlocks he had worn as a young man, Powell was well loved in the Lozells area of Birmingham, where he lived. He also suffered from terrible depression, and on the night in question he cracked up. It was 11.30pm, he was raging outside his mother's house and he broke a window. His mother, Claris, called the police. She had always believed British bobbies were the best in the world, and that if there was a difficult situation you called them out for help. A couple of months earlier, when Powell had suffered another episode, she had called them out, and it had all been sorted.
But this time the police didn't calm Powell down. When the officers screamed at him to get on the floor, he took off his belt and hit the car with it. The police drove straight at him and ran him over. Then came the CS gas and baton, and he was restrained on the ground till a police van arrived to take him to the station. The inquest heard that Powell was put on to the floor of the van, face down, "like a dog". The van parked in the station yard and Powell was kept in it for three minutes before he was carried, still face down, into the "drunk cell". It was only then that officers realised he was not breathing. His cousin, the poet Benjamin Zephaniah, said that in their treatment of Powell the police had acted as a "force, and not a service".
Over the past 30 years, more than 1,000 people have died in Britain in police custody – a disproportionate number of whom are black men, and many, like Powell, suffering mental health problems.
In a now familiar pattern, death is followed by character assassination. After Powell died, a local paper reported that the police had driven their car at him only because he waved a gun at them. The gun was, in fact, his belt. When the family complained about this to West Midlands police, they were told it had been a mistake made by a source close to the investigation. By then the damage had been done. In the public mind, Powell was a crazed gunman who deserved to die. The truth was that he did not have a criminal record, and had even campaigned against gun crime.
In 2006, six officers were charged with battery and failing to treat Powell with due care and attention. All were cleared. Three years on, the family has finally gained the result it was waiting for. After the inquest, Powell's sister, Sieta Lambrias, said: "At long last the truth has come out. The jury have found that the position the police put Mikey in killed him."
It was a powerful and unusual verdict. Yet the story was conspicuously ignored by the media. The only national newspaper report was an appalling column in the Sunday Telegraph arguing that the inquest was a waste of public money.
Why the lack of interest? The reasons are alarming. In 2004, narrative verdicts were introduced at inquests. This was a descriptive verdict that answered questions rather than the traditional short-form verdict that simply stated how and why somebody had died. It was designed to provided more information for families, but its very nature meant it was less easy to sum up in a soundbite. The ultimate soundbite for a death in police custody is "unlawful killing", but since 2004 this verdict has never been reached.
Deborah Coles, co-director of campaigning group Inquest, supports narrative verdicts but she worries that they have led to less coverage of controversial deaths. "They allow more meaningful outcomes for families and can be very powerful commentary on individual and systemic failings. But the negative side is they are difficult to report on because of the detail. The significance of the narrative verdicts is being overlooked. People are not understanding how damning these narrative verdicts are."
Coupled with this are our changing attitudes to what we like to regard as "old-fashioned" policing. It has become known in legal circles as the "Life on Mars" defence, a reference to the TV satire on 1970s policing. Inquests are sometime not heard until years after the death. In the six years since Powell's death, many people in authority – from judges to newspaper editors – assume that policing has been transformed. To paraphrase, the logic goes: yes, we know officers were bent, racist and brutal, but the past is the past and let's focus on the future.
Recent deaths in custody, though, suggest this may not be the case. And if we are not interested in highlighting the potential abuses suffered by the likes of Powell, why should the police fear acting with a similar lack of restraint in future?
(From CIF Guardian)
Afghanistan, Pakistan ungrateful for U.S. aid
By now everyone with an opinion about the viability of President Obama's new strategy in Afghanistan and Pakistan has proffered it to anyone who would listen. But here's one important complication that has received little airtime: In both countries, they despise us.
In Afghanistan and Pakistan, the populations harbor a deep, visceral hatred of the United States born of perceived grievances, some present-day and others long past, carefully nurtured so that they can be passed from one generation to the next. To hear them tell it, America's presence in the region over the past eight years has made things only worse.
Helmand province, a Taliban stronghold, is a primary focus of Obama's troop surge in Afghanistan. In recent months, American troops have freed a handful of villages from Taliban control and found, to their dismay, that the villagers are anything but grateful.
"What are you doing here?" an unabashed village elder near Mianposhteh, Helmand, asked an American commander just after his men had won control of the area. "What are you doing in Afghanistan? You should go back to your country."
That sentiment, reported in the Washington Post, is all-too typical. Afghans, generally, don't much like the Taliban. But they like Americans less.
The United States and NATO have given up thousands of lives, billions of dollars, all sacrificed for the twin goals of eliminating al-Qaida and bringing Afghans and Pakistanis freedom to live their lives as they choose. The job is far from finished and, like every military, the West has committed blunders and miscalculations along the way.
But in both states, gratitude is the last emotion in the people's minds. Where, they ask, was the United States in the terrible years before Sept. 11, 2001? No one cared about Afghanistan then.
As Pervez Musharraf, the former Pakistani president, put it earlier this month, "Pakistan and Afghanistan were shortsightedly abandoned to their fate by the West in 1989. This abandonment led to a sense of betrayal."
The only Pakistanis who show any generosity toward the United States were government officials who depend on American aid to make their auto payments and pay their children's private-school bills.
Most telling of all was President Asif Ali Zardari's recent commentary in the New York Times. Zardari asked Americans to look at recent history "as seen by Pakistanis." As he described it, over the past few decades the United States has insulted, slighted and ignored Pakistan, all "to manipulate and exploit us."
Now, he said, the nation is insulted once again because a new law requires the United States to certify that Pakistan is actually "demonstrating a sustained commitment" to combating terrorist groups before delivering aid. That, Zardari complained, is "unfair treatment."
Well, was it fair for Pakistan to take $10 billion in American aid over the past eight years and spend it on anything and everything — except what it was intended for? For Pakistanis and Afghans, the United States is a convenient scapegoat for their own myriad failings. I, for one, have to focus hard on America's own goals before I can stomach spending another dime on those ungrateful people.
Joel Brinkley is a professor of journalism at Stanford University.
In Afghanistan and Pakistan, the populations harbor a deep, visceral hatred of the United States born of perceived grievances, some present-day and others long past, carefully nurtured so that they can be passed from one generation to the next. To hear them tell it, America's presence in the region over the past eight years has made things only worse.
Helmand province, a Taliban stronghold, is a primary focus of Obama's troop surge in Afghanistan. In recent months, American troops have freed a handful of villages from Taliban control and found, to their dismay, that the villagers are anything but grateful.
"What are you doing here?" an unabashed village elder near Mianposhteh, Helmand, asked an American commander just after his men had won control of the area. "What are you doing in Afghanistan? You should go back to your country."
That sentiment, reported in the Washington Post, is all-too typical. Afghans, generally, don't much like the Taliban. But they like Americans less.
The United States and NATO have given up thousands of lives, billions of dollars, all sacrificed for the twin goals of eliminating al-Qaida and bringing Afghans and Pakistanis freedom to live their lives as they choose. The job is far from finished and, like every military, the West has committed blunders and miscalculations along the way.
But in both states, gratitude is the last emotion in the people's minds. Where, they ask, was the United States in the terrible years before Sept. 11, 2001? No one cared about Afghanistan then.
As Pervez Musharraf, the former Pakistani president, put it earlier this month, "Pakistan and Afghanistan were shortsightedly abandoned to their fate by the West in 1989. This abandonment led to a sense of betrayal."
The only Pakistanis who show any generosity toward the United States were government officials who depend on American aid to make their auto payments and pay their children's private-school bills.
Most telling of all was President Asif Ali Zardari's recent commentary in the New York Times. Zardari asked Americans to look at recent history "as seen by Pakistanis." As he described it, over the past few decades the United States has insulted, slighted and ignored Pakistan, all "to manipulate and exploit us."
Now, he said, the nation is insulted once again because a new law requires the United States to certify that Pakistan is actually "demonstrating a sustained commitment" to combating terrorist groups before delivering aid. That, Zardari complained, is "unfair treatment."
Well, was it fair for Pakistan to take $10 billion in American aid over the past eight years and spend it on anything and everything — except what it was intended for? For Pakistanis and Afghans, the United States is a convenient scapegoat for their own myriad failings. I, for one, have to focus hard on America's own goals before I can stomach spending another dime on those ungrateful people.
Joel Brinkley is a professor of journalism at Stanford University.
Yemen: A new Mullah haven?
An insurgency in the remote Shabwa region of Yemen backed by groups claiming loyalty to al-Qaida has provided a new base for the terrorist network, which is under pressure in Afghanistan and Pakistan.
Yemen, where the suspected airline bomber Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab was allegedly trained by al-Qaida operatives, has had a reputation as a terrorist haven since the 2000 suicide attack against the warship USS Cole. Seventeen US sailors died when attackers rammed the destroyer with a small boat laden with explosives in the port of Aden.
The strategically important but impoverished country is considered a key training ground for Islamist extermists along with Pakistan and Somalia. Last week a pro-al-Qaida group in Yemen said it had declared war on the US.
Since the summer, hundreds have been killed and thousands displaced by clashes between government troops and rebels with the Zaidi sect, a branch of Shia Islam in the Sunni-dominated country. Western analysts believe al-Qaida has been able to establish a regional base in Yemen because the government is weak and distracted by internal conflict.
The president, Ali Abdullah Saleh, has co-operated with Washington's so-called war on terror, receiving tens of millions of dollars of aid and security assistance in return. However, it is feared that Saleh's support for the west has drawn the ire of Islamist extremists.
Last week, the government launched an air strike against what it claimed was a meeting of high-level operatives in the Shabwa region. At least 30 militants were claimed to have been killed, possibly including Anwar al-Awlaki, a radical cleric linked to last month's mass shooting at the Fort Hood military base in Texas that left 13 dead.
Almost half of the 210 detainees at Guantánamo Bay are Yemeni, and US intelligence sources say that about 60 continue to pose a security threat. Yemen's instability is thought to be one of the main reasons why Barack Obama will be unable to meet his January deadline to shut the detention facility.
The Foreign Office advises Britons against travelling to Yemen because "there is a high threat from terrorism", and says terrorists in the country continue to plan attacks. "Attacks could be indiscriminate, including against western and British interests, such as residential compounds, military and oil facilities, and transport and aviation interests," the FCO advice states.
Yemen, where the suspected airline bomber Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab was allegedly trained by al-Qaida operatives, has had a reputation as a terrorist haven since the 2000 suicide attack against the warship USS Cole. Seventeen US sailors died when attackers rammed the destroyer with a small boat laden with explosives in the port of Aden.
The strategically important but impoverished country is considered a key training ground for Islamist extermists along with Pakistan and Somalia. Last week a pro-al-Qaida group in Yemen said it had declared war on the US.
Since the summer, hundreds have been killed and thousands displaced by clashes between government troops and rebels with the Zaidi sect, a branch of Shia Islam in the Sunni-dominated country. Western analysts believe al-Qaida has been able to establish a regional base in Yemen because the government is weak and distracted by internal conflict.
The president, Ali Abdullah Saleh, has co-operated with Washington's so-called war on terror, receiving tens of millions of dollars of aid and security assistance in return. However, it is feared that Saleh's support for the west has drawn the ire of Islamist extremists.
Last week, the government launched an air strike against what it claimed was a meeting of high-level operatives in the Shabwa region. At least 30 militants were claimed to have been killed, possibly including Anwar al-Awlaki, a radical cleric linked to last month's mass shooting at the Fort Hood military base in Texas that left 13 dead.
Almost half of the 210 detainees at Guantánamo Bay are Yemeni, and US intelligence sources say that about 60 continue to pose a security threat. Yemen's instability is thought to be one of the main reasons why Barack Obama will be unable to meet his January deadline to shut the detention facility.
The Foreign Office advises Britons against travelling to Yemen because "there is a high threat from terrorism", and says terrorists in the country continue to plan attacks. "Attacks could be indiscriminate, including against western and British interests, such as residential compounds, military and oil facilities, and transport and aviation interests," the FCO advice states.
Swats Girls rise up against Mullahism
Faiza Khan is my metaphor for Swat’s future. And if I am right, turning Swat around post-military operation should not be difficult.
I was standing in the open quad of the Government High School for Girls in Mingora, my crew setting up cameras for the shoot there, and I could see girls peering through the windows of the classrooms all around. Getting there was not easy. I had to earlier meet with the district’s education officer to get his permission. There were two problems: schools have armed police guards throughout the area and, in this particular case, cultural sensitivities were involved.
“You cannot move freely,” the principal told my producer, a young woman who was my only hope to get through the cultural shackles. With the weight of the education officer’s permission behind me and a lot of persuasion, I was told I would get limited access to a group but only after the girls had themselves covered properly. They were told to stay inside the classrooms while we set up the cameras, and yes, to keep their heads down.
Curiosity and their vigour to challenge the principal’s order came to my rescue. I could see them looking out, faces uncovered and exhibiting the artless freedom that comes natural to young women. And then one of the doors opened; I heard giggles; some girls were trying to push another out of the classroom.
But then the sluice gates went up. Another door opened and out walked this girl, uncovered head and face, confidence bordering on cheekiness. She walked up to me, extended her hand to shake mine and said in accented Urdu: “I hope I am not disturbing you, sir. But would you tell me when your programme is aired and on what TV channel?” I shook hands with her and asked her name: “My name is Faiza Khan.”
I wrote down the details of my programme for her in a notebook and while I was doing that, doors opened one after another and girls came rushing out, surrounding me, shaking hands and chattering animatedly. As I watched the footage later I was convinced, more than before, that Swati women are not just beautiful, they have it in them to turn Swat around. If only the government could understand this.
Ironically, Fazlullah, the Radio Mullah, did. When he began his FM broadcasts, his first target were women. He used them for funding as well as to motivate their men-folk. That was 2002. Six years and much bloodshed later, the people of Swat are waking up from that nightmare. This is the time for the government to use Fazlullah’s strategy to reverse that process.
The army realises this, to some extent, if not fully. It has done two things. It suggested that Radio Pakistan set up FM96, known as Radio Swat, to start broadcasting just before the operation began. Radio Swat was beamed from Islamabad through satellite and began its transmissions on March 1. Within weeks Fazlullah felt the pinch. Not only would he and his cohorts appear on the channel to present their viewpoint, Fazlullah himself allowed his men, restrictedly, to play Pashto music to counter the RJ on Radio Swat whose programme was becoming a hit. Radio Swat is now immensely popular with its multiple programmes that target women and the youth.
The army’s second post-operation contribution is the setting up of Sabaoon, Pashto for “a new dawn”. Sabaoon is a rehab centre for captured youth who were either being trained as fighters and suicide bombers or spies for Tehreek-e-Taliban Swat.
I met the doctor and her staff, all female, who are working with these boys and the results are promising. The exercise is also very useful because it is the first attempt to seriously study the phenomenon and get data on the background of these boys and the techniques used to indoctrinate them.
The checkpoints are still there, manned by the army, Frontier Corps jawans and local police. As I drove to Kanju, crossing Swat River east to west and then drove up north along the western bank of the river to various other towns and villages, it was overcast. But from the east, where the clouds were thin, a ray of sunlight had penetrated and was falling on the eastern bank. It was a perfect setting, nature depicting Swat, the murkiness of fear combined with hope.
The people are back, life is picking up, the markets have come alive, roads are too often blocked because of rising traffic. But the pickets are there, soldiers ready with guns and suspecting everyone. The suicide bomber is the lurking fear and he can penetrate through all cordons and security measures.
That is exactly what happened at the hujra of Shamsher Ali Khan, the Awami National Party member of the provincial assembly. Just as the gate opened and he was getting into his car, the lone bomber entered the compound and blew himself up.
It is very difficult to counter the suicide bomber, an army officer told me. That’s where investing in the people, in the Faiza Khans, becomes so important. The only way to stop the suicide bomber is to ensure a society where he can’t be found, bred and trained.
Ejaz Haider, Consulting Editor, The Friday Times
I was standing in the open quad of the Government High School for Girls in Mingora, my crew setting up cameras for the shoot there, and I could see girls peering through the windows of the classrooms all around. Getting there was not easy. I had to earlier meet with the district’s education officer to get his permission. There were two problems: schools have armed police guards throughout the area and, in this particular case, cultural sensitivities were involved.
“You cannot move freely,” the principal told my producer, a young woman who was my only hope to get through the cultural shackles. With the weight of the education officer’s permission behind me and a lot of persuasion, I was told I would get limited access to a group but only after the girls had themselves covered properly. They were told to stay inside the classrooms while we set up the cameras, and yes, to keep their heads down.
Curiosity and their vigour to challenge the principal’s order came to my rescue. I could see them looking out, faces uncovered and exhibiting the artless freedom that comes natural to young women. And then one of the doors opened; I heard giggles; some girls were trying to push another out of the classroom.
But then the sluice gates went up. Another door opened and out walked this girl, uncovered head and face, confidence bordering on cheekiness. She walked up to me, extended her hand to shake mine and said in accented Urdu: “I hope I am not disturbing you, sir. But would you tell me when your programme is aired and on what TV channel?” I shook hands with her and asked her name: “My name is Faiza Khan.”
I wrote down the details of my programme for her in a notebook and while I was doing that, doors opened one after another and girls came rushing out, surrounding me, shaking hands and chattering animatedly. As I watched the footage later I was convinced, more than before, that Swati women are not just beautiful, they have it in them to turn Swat around. If only the government could understand this.
Ironically, Fazlullah, the Radio Mullah, did. When he began his FM broadcasts, his first target were women. He used them for funding as well as to motivate their men-folk. That was 2002. Six years and much bloodshed later, the people of Swat are waking up from that nightmare. This is the time for the government to use Fazlullah’s strategy to reverse that process.
The army realises this, to some extent, if not fully. It has done two things. It suggested that Radio Pakistan set up FM96, known as Radio Swat, to start broadcasting just before the operation began. Radio Swat was beamed from Islamabad through satellite and began its transmissions on March 1. Within weeks Fazlullah felt the pinch. Not only would he and his cohorts appear on the channel to present their viewpoint, Fazlullah himself allowed his men, restrictedly, to play Pashto music to counter the RJ on Radio Swat whose programme was becoming a hit. Radio Swat is now immensely popular with its multiple programmes that target women and the youth.
The army’s second post-operation contribution is the setting up of Sabaoon, Pashto for “a new dawn”. Sabaoon is a rehab centre for captured youth who were either being trained as fighters and suicide bombers or spies for Tehreek-e-Taliban Swat.
I met the doctor and her staff, all female, who are working with these boys and the results are promising. The exercise is also very useful because it is the first attempt to seriously study the phenomenon and get data on the background of these boys and the techniques used to indoctrinate them.
The checkpoints are still there, manned by the army, Frontier Corps jawans and local police. As I drove to Kanju, crossing Swat River east to west and then drove up north along the western bank of the river to various other towns and villages, it was overcast. But from the east, where the clouds were thin, a ray of sunlight had penetrated and was falling on the eastern bank. It was a perfect setting, nature depicting Swat, the murkiness of fear combined with hope.
The people are back, life is picking up, the markets have come alive, roads are too often blocked because of rising traffic. But the pickets are there, soldiers ready with guns and suspecting everyone. The suicide bomber is the lurking fear and he can penetrate through all cordons and security measures.
That is exactly what happened at the hujra of Shamsher Ali Khan, the Awami National Party member of the provincial assembly. Just as the gate opened and he was getting into his car, the lone bomber entered the compound and blew himself up.
It is very difficult to counter the suicide bomber, an army officer told me. That’s where investing in the people, in the Faiza Khans, becomes so important. The only way to stop the suicide bomber is to ensure a society where he can’t be found, bred and trained.
Ejaz Haider, Consulting Editor, The Friday Times
Can we do more?
There are theorists who theorise that Pakistan's strategic thinkers look at the Taliban as a strategic asset and that is why the Pakistan army does not want to do more. I really have no way of finding out whether the theory holds much validity or not. What I am about to do, therefore, is to try to ascertain Pakistan's capacity to do more -- as opposed to the army's willingness to do more.
Consider this: the Pakistan army's 37th Mechanised Infantry Division and X Corps' 19th Infantry Division are both in Swat. XI Corps' 7th Infantry Division is in North Waziristan and its 9th Infantry Division is in South Waziristan. Special Services Group's 7th Commando Zarrar Battalion is also engaged in the anti-terror campaign.
Bajaur Scouts are in Khar, Dir Scouts in Balambat, Khyber Rifles in Landi Kotal, South Waziristan Scouts in Wana, Tochi Scouts in Miranshah plus Kurram Militia, Mehsud Scouts, Mohmand Rifles and Orakzai Scouts -- all engaged in one or another aspect of our anti-terror undertaking. Then there are 6,779 Levies and 16,828 Khassadars.
I Corps has three divisions and the 37th Mechanised Division was pulled away and sent to undertake Operation Rah-e-Rast. X Corps has three divisions and we pulled out 19th Infantry Division and sent it to Swat as well. The entire XI Corps, 7th as well as its 9th Infantry Divisions have taken on the TTP in Waziristan's Operation Rah-e-Nijat (II Corps' 14th Infantry Division is reportedly involved as well). Right now, at least 20 per cent of our combat capacity is entangled in the anti-terror effort.
The Pakistan army maintains military outposts at Wana, Jandola, Ramzak, Miranshah and Mir Ali. Miranshah also has a helicopter fleet and there are army formations in Sara Rogha, Janta, Piazha and Makeen. All in all, we have deployed some 220,000 soldiers, military and paramilitary.
Swat has largely been cleared of extremists but the two divisions there would be required to prevent militant re-infiltration. By December 12, 2009, the army had captured all major militant strongholds in South Waziristan but at least two divisions would be required to hold the cleared territory free of militants.
To be certain, all these victories have not been without a heavy cost, both human and financial. Total Pakistani fatalities in terrorist violence from 2003 to 2009 now stand at 24,624 -- compare that with 1,477 coalition deaths in the Operation Enduring Freedom. For the record, 43 countries have contributed troops to the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) but Pakistan by itself has done more -- and sacrificed more -- than all those 43 countries combined. Clearly, counterinsurgency strategy (COIN) east of the Durand Line has been far more successful than COIN undertaken west of Durand.
Can we do more? The Indian army has 6,384 tanks in its inventory (as none of those Indian tanks can cross the Himalayas into China so Arjun MBTs must all be for Pakistan). The Indian air force has 672 combat aircraft. The Indian army's XV, IX, XVI, XIV, XI and X corps are all pointing their guns towards Pakistan. Indian army's 4th Armoured Division, 12th Infantry Division, 340th Mechanised Brigade and 4th Armoured Brigade have been deployed to cut Pakistan into two halves. The Pakistan army, thus, has no choice but to defend -- defend they must -- Pakistan's eastern border.
How can the world expect Pakistan to do more than what it is already doing? America wants the Pakistan army to neutralise threats to the mainland US but the Pakistan army must first neutralise threats to mainland Pakistan.
PS: On December 24, Prime Minister Gilani said that there weren't any forces conspiring against his government. The same day President Zardari said that there were forces conspiring against his government. Could they both be right?
Dr Farrukh Saleem is the executive director of the Centre for Research and Security Studies(CRSS)in Islamabad
Consider this: the Pakistan army's 37th Mechanised Infantry Division and X Corps' 19th Infantry Division are both in Swat. XI Corps' 7th Infantry Division is in North Waziristan and its 9th Infantry Division is in South Waziristan. Special Services Group's 7th Commando Zarrar Battalion is also engaged in the anti-terror campaign.
Bajaur Scouts are in Khar, Dir Scouts in Balambat, Khyber Rifles in Landi Kotal, South Waziristan Scouts in Wana, Tochi Scouts in Miranshah plus Kurram Militia, Mehsud Scouts, Mohmand Rifles and Orakzai Scouts -- all engaged in one or another aspect of our anti-terror undertaking. Then there are 6,779 Levies and 16,828 Khassadars.
I Corps has three divisions and the 37th Mechanised Division was pulled away and sent to undertake Operation Rah-e-Rast. X Corps has three divisions and we pulled out 19th Infantry Division and sent it to Swat as well. The entire XI Corps, 7th as well as its 9th Infantry Divisions have taken on the TTP in Waziristan's Operation Rah-e-Nijat (II Corps' 14th Infantry Division is reportedly involved as well). Right now, at least 20 per cent of our combat capacity is entangled in the anti-terror effort.
The Pakistan army maintains military outposts at Wana, Jandola, Ramzak, Miranshah and Mir Ali. Miranshah also has a helicopter fleet and there are army formations in Sara Rogha, Janta, Piazha and Makeen. All in all, we have deployed some 220,000 soldiers, military and paramilitary.
Swat has largely been cleared of extremists but the two divisions there would be required to prevent militant re-infiltration. By December 12, 2009, the army had captured all major militant strongholds in South Waziristan but at least two divisions would be required to hold the cleared territory free of militants.
To be certain, all these victories have not been without a heavy cost, both human and financial. Total Pakistani fatalities in terrorist violence from 2003 to 2009 now stand at 24,624 -- compare that with 1,477 coalition deaths in the Operation Enduring Freedom. For the record, 43 countries have contributed troops to the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) but Pakistan by itself has done more -- and sacrificed more -- than all those 43 countries combined. Clearly, counterinsurgency strategy (COIN) east of the Durand Line has been far more successful than COIN undertaken west of Durand.
Can we do more? The Indian army has 6,384 tanks in its inventory (as none of those Indian tanks can cross the Himalayas into China so Arjun MBTs must all be for Pakistan). The Indian air force has 672 combat aircraft. The Indian army's XV, IX, XVI, XIV, XI and X corps are all pointing their guns towards Pakistan. Indian army's 4th Armoured Division, 12th Infantry Division, 340th Mechanised Brigade and 4th Armoured Brigade have been deployed to cut Pakistan into two halves. The Pakistan army, thus, has no choice but to defend -- defend they must -- Pakistan's eastern border.
How can the world expect Pakistan to do more than what it is already doing? America wants the Pakistan army to neutralise threats to the mainland US but the Pakistan army must first neutralise threats to mainland Pakistan.
PS: On December 24, Prime Minister Gilani said that there weren't any forces conspiring against his government. The same day President Zardari said that there were forces conspiring against his government. Could they both be right?
Dr Farrukh Saleem is the executive director of the Centre for Research and Security Studies(CRSS)in Islamabad
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