River crossings -- and other matters
Islamabad diary
Friday, April 09, 2010
Ayaz Amir
With the passage of the 18th Amendment we will have crossed a river. But anyone thinking that there will be no more to cross should recall Munir Niazi's haunting lines, so applicable to our condition: "Ik aur darya ka saamna tha Munir mujh ko, mein eik darya kay paar utra to mein ne dekha…" (As soon as I had crossed one river, I was confronted by another one -- a most imperfect translation, but I hope the meaning is reasonably clear).
A constitution is just a framework within which to carry out the business of government. It is not even a roadmap. It just sets down a few signposts, that is all. But how its spirit is to be made flesh depends upon the genius or wisdom of the set of persons entrusted with the task of governance.
We celebrated the passage of the 1973 Constitution, little foreseeing that only a few years later a tinpot dictator, the army's divisions behind him, would be trampling it underfoot. I was there as a spectator in the galleries when the Constitution was passed. The then law minister said that Zulfikar Ali Bhutto had fulfilled his pledge to God and man, at which Ahmed Raza Kasuri, the spoiler in that assembly and for that reason Bhutto's bete noire, laughed loudly in derision. Article Six of the Constitution said that subversion of the Constitution would be high treason. That stricture never prevented Zia's coup.
We are celebrating the passage of the 18th Amendment, and doing it all the more frantically because we seem to feel -- although I think this is a misplaced feeling -- that in our collective life there is very little to celebrate. But the cleansing of the Constitution will not by itself bring salvation any closer. By itself it will work no miracles, neither curb inflation nor stabilise the economy. Nor bring calm to the restive landscape of Balochistan. For those outcomes some other therapy is required.
To stretch the Munir Niazi simile a bit further, even as we have managed one river-crossing, we are seeing the hazy outlines of another river ahead of us in the shape of the growing tussle between the government and the Supreme Court over the question of the Swiss cases -- relating to the allegations that President Asif Zardari, when Benazir Bhutto was prime minister from 1988-90, received kickbacks in government deals and the money so received is parked in Swiss bank accounts.
The Supreme Court seems determined to have those cases reopened in Swiss courts. The government seems equally determined to resist these moves. How this tussle plays out we do not know. What is certain is that the political situation will remain unsettled as long as this problem remains.
As a nation we seem to have a knack for manufacturing crises. No sooner is one behind us, than another emerges on the horizon. This is a form of masochism, a hidden desire perhaps for self-inflicted pain. One aspect of this condition is that we can never leave the past behind us. We are forever fighting yesterday's battles. The capacity for moving on, for stepping into the future, we seem not to have acquired.
But the good thing about the 18th Amendment is that it signals an end to the era of excuses. Since the Feb 2008 elections we have already wasted two years in judicial and political wars. When Justice Chaudhry and his colleagues were in the wilderness, we argued they had to be restored if Pakistan was to move forward. They were restored, after a good deal of needless delay, but another cry was immediately raised: that Musharraf's 17th Amendment -- validating his takeover and giving him extensive powers -- had to be repealed before anything else was possible.
With the 18th Amendment's passage the excuses stand exhausted. Government has to deliver if public anger is to be assuaged and disillusionment arrested.
When the Constitutional Reforms Committee began working nine months ago the accepted wisdom was that the committee was just a ruse because Zardari would never give away his powers. The sceptics have been proved wrong. Zardari has shed whatever formal power he had, relating mostly to key appointments and the power to dismiss the National Assembly, not just willingly but almost cheerfully. He will now be a figurehead, like Fazal Ilahi Chaudhry or Rafiq Tarar. As PPP head he will still exercise power, but from the sidelines and indirectly.
Formal authority now rests in the prime minister's office, with all the levers of power in Yousuf Raza Gilani's hands. Left with no excuses, his real test begins now. His government's performance over the last two years has been dismal. Can he take charge and reverse the course of events? This is the challenge before him.
The political system could do with a slight shock. The cabinet is too large and unwieldy, with not a few ministers carrying a reputation either for corruption or inadequacy. The cabinet could do with a trim. The 18th Amendment stipulates that from the next elections the number of ministers, at the centre or in the provinces, shall be no more than 11 per cent of the total membership of the respective assemblies. Why wait until then? This process can begin now, bringing some kudos to the prime minister.
The Swiss cases are clouding the atmosphere. On the one hand we have a relentless Supreme Court, on the other a government beginning to dig in its heels. This has all the makings of a showdown, with unforeseeable consequences. At least we can console ourselves with the thought that it never gets dull in Pakistan.
The December and March brigades though have been proved wrong. They were not sure how precisely it would happen. But with prophetic certainty they were predicting his ouster or downfall. That hasn't come to pass, leaving the soothsayers in a state of some alarm and confusion. But we can be sure we will soon be hearing about another deadline.
Tailpiece: President Zardari's financial exploits are the stuff of legend. But not much is known about the financial success of a few men, little better than carpetbaggers, and some lucky women, who were objects of Pervez Musharraf's largesse. Some are almost rags-to-riches stories, the heroes or heroines arriving in the capital in relatively modest circumstances but making it big simply because they caught the general's fancy, or were the apples of his roving eye. Ladies once part of Yahya Khan's court are part of our historical folklore. But the full story is yet to be told of the ladies who cut a figure in Musharraf's court, and profited greatly from the association.
Tailpiece Two: Is there something in the air of Chakwal which induces a certain sense of bravado? The famous DSP of Lahore who became an instant media sensation when he went public with some of his grievances against his superiors, Imran Babar Jameel, is from Chakwal. He is an MA in Eng Lit, which may explain some of his erratic behaviour. More unusual still is his pursuit of a doctorate in some subject. Not many policemen would be caught doing such a thing. DSP Imran's father (I won't name him) is a well-known poet and man of letters. With such a father, and a background in English literature, anyone could be forgiven for behaving in an odd manner. And odd the DSP did appear at times, almost like a character out of one of the Falstaff plays. It would be a pity if such talent was allowed to go to waste. The Punjab police have a poor public relations setup, not quite in keeping with the times. Given DSP Imran's instant rapport with the media, the inspector-general of the Punjab police, who is not without a sense of humour, could consider making use of his services in this field.
The director-general of the Punjab Rangers who had a traffic policeman picked up and taught a lesson for having the temerity to ask his son not to park his car in a no-parking zone is also -- you've guessed it -- from Chakwal. When I mentioned the incident to some people from his village (Mangwal), they just laughed and said it was entirely in character. The major-general is known for his swashbuckling manner. Pity the traffic warden knew nothing about it.
Islamabad diary
Friday, April 09, 2010
Ayaz Amir
With the passage of the 18th Amendment we will have crossed a river. But anyone thinking that there will be no more to cross should recall Munir Niazi's haunting lines, so applicable to our condition: "Ik aur darya ka saamna tha Munir mujh ko, mein eik darya kay paar utra to mein ne dekha…" (As soon as I had crossed one river, I was confronted by another one -- a most imperfect translation, but I hope the meaning is reasonably clear).
A constitution is just a framework within which to carry out the business of government. It is not even a roadmap. It just sets down a few signposts, that is all. But how its spirit is to be made flesh depends upon the genius or wisdom of the set of persons entrusted with the task of governance.
We celebrated the passage of the 1973 Constitution, little foreseeing that only a few years later a tinpot dictator, the army's divisions behind him, would be trampling it underfoot. I was there as a spectator in the galleries when the Constitution was passed. The then law minister said that Zulfikar Ali Bhutto had fulfilled his pledge to God and man, at which Ahmed Raza Kasuri, the spoiler in that assembly and for that reason Bhutto's bete noire, laughed loudly in derision. Article Six of the Constitution said that subversion of the Constitution would be high treason. That stricture never prevented Zia's coup.
We are celebrating the passage of the 18th Amendment, and doing it all the more frantically because we seem to feel -- although I think this is a misplaced feeling -- that in our collective life there is very little to celebrate. But the cleansing of the Constitution will not by itself bring salvation any closer. By itself it will work no miracles, neither curb inflation nor stabilise the economy. Nor bring calm to the restive landscape of Balochistan. For those outcomes some other therapy is required.
To stretch the Munir Niazi simile a bit further, even as we have managed one river-crossing, we are seeing the hazy outlines of another river ahead of us in the shape of the growing tussle between the government and the Supreme Court over the question of the Swiss cases -- relating to the allegations that President Asif Zardari, when Benazir Bhutto was prime minister from 1988-90, received kickbacks in government deals and the money so received is parked in Swiss bank accounts.
The Supreme Court seems determined to have those cases reopened in Swiss courts. The government seems equally determined to resist these moves. How this tussle plays out we do not know. What is certain is that the political situation will remain unsettled as long as this problem remains.
As a nation we seem to have a knack for manufacturing crises. No sooner is one behind us, than another emerges on the horizon. This is a form of masochism, a hidden desire perhaps for self-inflicted pain. One aspect of this condition is that we can never leave the past behind us. We are forever fighting yesterday's battles. The capacity for moving on, for stepping into the future, we seem not to have acquired.
But the good thing about the 18th Amendment is that it signals an end to the era of excuses. Since the Feb 2008 elections we have already wasted two years in judicial and political wars. When Justice Chaudhry and his colleagues were in the wilderness, we argued they had to be restored if Pakistan was to move forward. They were restored, after a good deal of needless delay, but another cry was immediately raised: that Musharraf's 17th Amendment -- validating his takeover and giving him extensive powers -- had to be repealed before anything else was possible.
With the 18th Amendment's passage the excuses stand exhausted. Government has to deliver if public anger is to be assuaged and disillusionment arrested.
When the Constitutional Reforms Committee began working nine months ago the accepted wisdom was that the committee was just a ruse because Zardari would never give away his powers. The sceptics have been proved wrong. Zardari has shed whatever formal power he had, relating mostly to key appointments and the power to dismiss the National Assembly, not just willingly but almost cheerfully. He will now be a figurehead, like Fazal Ilahi Chaudhry or Rafiq Tarar. As PPP head he will still exercise power, but from the sidelines and indirectly.
Formal authority now rests in the prime minister's office, with all the levers of power in Yousuf Raza Gilani's hands. Left with no excuses, his real test begins now. His government's performance over the last two years has been dismal. Can he take charge and reverse the course of events? This is the challenge before him.
The political system could do with a slight shock. The cabinet is too large and unwieldy, with not a few ministers carrying a reputation either for corruption or inadequacy. The cabinet could do with a trim. The 18th Amendment stipulates that from the next elections the number of ministers, at the centre or in the provinces, shall be no more than 11 per cent of the total membership of the respective assemblies. Why wait until then? This process can begin now, bringing some kudos to the prime minister.
The Swiss cases are clouding the atmosphere. On the one hand we have a relentless Supreme Court, on the other a government beginning to dig in its heels. This has all the makings of a showdown, with unforeseeable consequences. At least we can console ourselves with the thought that it never gets dull in Pakistan.
The December and March brigades though have been proved wrong. They were not sure how precisely it would happen. But with prophetic certainty they were predicting his ouster or downfall. That hasn't come to pass, leaving the soothsayers in a state of some alarm and confusion. But we can be sure we will soon be hearing about another deadline.
Tailpiece: President Zardari's financial exploits are the stuff of legend. But not much is known about the financial success of a few men, little better than carpetbaggers, and some lucky women, who were objects of Pervez Musharraf's largesse. Some are almost rags-to-riches stories, the heroes or heroines arriving in the capital in relatively modest circumstances but making it big simply because they caught the general's fancy, or were the apples of his roving eye. Ladies once part of Yahya Khan's court are part of our historical folklore. But the full story is yet to be told of the ladies who cut a figure in Musharraf's court, and profited greatly from the association.
Tailpiece Two: Is there something in the air of Chakwal which induces a certain sense of bravado? The famous DSP of Lahore who became an instant media sensation when he went public with some of his grievances against his superiors, Imran Babar Jameel, is from Chakwal. He is an MA in Eng Lit, which may explain some of his erratic behaviour. More unusual still is his pursuit of a doctorate in some subject. Not many policemen would be caught doing such a thing. DSP Imran's father (I won't name him) is a well-known poet and man of letters. With such a father, and a background in English literature, anyone could be forgiven for behaving in an odd manner. And odd the DSP did appear at times, almost like a character out of one of the Falstaff plays. It would be a pity if such talent was allowed to go to waste. The Punjab police have a poor public relations setup, not quite in keeping with the times. Given DSP Imran's instant rapport with the media, the inspector-general of the Punjab police, who is not without a sense of humour, could consider making use of his services in this field.
The director-general of the Punjab Rangers who had a traffic policeman picked up and taught a lesson for having the temerity to ask his son not to park his car in a no-parking zone is also -- you've guessed it -- from Chakwal. When I mentioned the incident to some people from his village (Mangwal), they just laughed and said it was entirely in character. The major-general is known for his swashbuckling manner. Pity the traffic warden knew nothing about it.