Judicial Invasion

Courtney: Daily Dawn, S. Akbar Zaidi

FOR a country which is notorious for not following the law, in any manifestation of its practices — constitutional, civic or corporate — we are now faced with a judicial invasion and an onslaught of lawyers and legal opinions in the public sphere. Just one look at Pakistan’s media will underscore this point.

Lawyers and retired judges have taken over the chatter houses known as talk shows on the dozens of television channels which now abound. Much of the discussion is about the NRO, memogate, presidential indemnity, judicial activism, reopening the Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto case, and so on.

It is impossible to read a newspaper today without at least one — or two — articles written by lawyers, and sadly some written by untrained amateurs on legal aspects of which they have no understanding. Even Dawn, the most sacred and dinosauric of public spaces, now has lawyers and advocates writing regular columns about the state of the law and interpreting it for its lay readers. Lawyers writing columns have replaced the retired civil servants and foreign secretaries who wrote pieces no one read, and have gained a new and added respectability as public intellectuals. And huge responsibility, as well.

Of course, the current public mood and acceptance of where the judicial and legal profession and its interlocutors are placed today is based on the events of 2007, the famous lawyers’ movement. Those few months were the period where the legal community was able to resurrect its disputed and tarnished reputation for having been subservient to political authority, particularly when it wore a military uniform.

In the public imagination at least, the judiciary was a major culprit and party to authoritarianism and dictatorial rule in Pakistan. By standing up for its own vested interests — and not directly for democracy, as some wrongly believe — the legal profession was able to show that it could resist authoritarianism. By launching a long and sustained movement for its very own specific institutional rights, a number of lawyers gained deserved fame and rock-star status. The role that the lawyers’ movement played in restoring democracy in Pakistan, was of the nature of unintended consequences.

It is this newfound legitimacy of standing up to a military dictator and of not giving up the fight for their just rights which has made the law and lawyers more respectable, relevant and real to all of us today and has brought them into the public sphere like never before.

The law has always been central to all modern societies, but it is this newly gained prominence and status in Pakistan since 2007 which has been a major transformation, both with regard to the law and lawyers, as well as to the articulation and meaning of this newfound power and authority. A ‘legal paradigm’ has now emerged in Pakistan and is becoming increasingly central to our understanding of political developments and of the nature of the state.

These developments of the last few years have opened up a new sociological field, or paradigm, based on the presence of the law as a structure and as an institution in Pakistan’s political economy. Academics working in and on Pakistan, have built their analysis on a critical appraisal of the role of the state, the military, of governmental actors, and even of the role of political leaders and individuals, all helping to explain one development or another.

Legal decisions have also featured in such understanding, but they have only been based on judgments, seldom anything more. We might now be seeing the emergence of a new field of social science in Pakistan, based on the law, lawyers and judgments.

While recognising that we may have opened up a new field altogether — call it the Legal Field, encompassing a whole host of factors based on law, justice, judges, their decisions, as well as issues of institutions and structures, all embedded in ideology and class — unlike other existing fields, such as that of the state, or social structures or even the military, the legal field has not been theorised at all in Pakistan.

We have academic research which looks at the state, social classes and transitions, gender, ethnicity and most other sociological, economic and political phenomena, but very little on law. Of course, there are numerous references to judgments and decisions, but only that. The legal field has not been analysed as a political, institutional or sociological phenomenon.

Unlike other social sciences in Pakistan, the legal profession does not have its academics or those who can interpret or theorise the law outside of its narrow vision regarding judgments. Law is a highly technical subject, and is best left to lawyers to explain. However, the absence of academics who deal with the laws means that we can expect far more articles by lawyers writing in newspapers about legal judgments and their political impact but few about structural and substantive issues which educate other social scientists.

For the legal field to emerge as a phenomenon on a par with that which exists in political economy, or with regard to gender, or even politics, we await theoreticians and intellectuals to emerge from amongst the lawyers. This wait might just be a very long one.

Seraikistan is Our Right

Courtesy: Express Tribune

Seraikis are not ‘south Punjabis’, just like Pathans aren’t ‘north Punjabis’. Stop calling them southern Punjabis; it’s in bad taste. Having one’s cultural identity reduced to a geographical variant of an alien ethnicity is unpleasant.

People should realise how incredibly offensive it is when they claim that Seraiki is just a dialect of Punjabi and not a different language. Seraiki is an ancient language, rich with heritage that represents its people. Some even argue that linguistically, Punjabi may be a relatively recent relic of the Sikh invasion, while Seraiki, with its original Sanskrit script, might be significantly older.

It’s ironic how a breakaway country for Muslims that denied a breakaway country for Bangladesh is now denying a breakaway province for Seraiki people. However, it’s refreshing to see that this rigid perspective might be changing.

Very simplistically, East Pakistan wanted out because their profits were being diverted to West Pakistan, and they weren’t getting their fair share of control. This is the same reason that Seraikis want out. Sentiment shows that the people are tired of their money being given to Lahore and the infrastructure costs of the industrial magnates of the Punjabi north.

People love talking about how divisions along linguistic lines should not be entertained. However, the proponents of ‘one big Punjab’ manage to blur over the economic benefits of north Punjab having its very own sweatshop down south.

Moreover, the incredible political strength that Punjab derives is mainly from the extra representational power given by the large Seraiki speaking areas forcefully appended to the province. The Seraiki district of Bahawalpur was forcefully attached to Punjab after the one unit scheme.

Remove the Seraiki speaking areas and you break Punjab’s vote bank, and take away its power to oppress other ethnic minorities and peoples. I’m tired of my vote being misused. If we had a separate province and more autonomous division, my vote wouldn’t be misused by my Punjabi overlords to oppress Balochis and Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa.

South Punjab is the bread basket of the country; it generates a significant proportion of the country’s food from wheat, and the cloth from cotton. Despite knowing this, we managed to sell the Sutlej river – the main water body that catered to the area’s irrigation needs. The resulting decrease in water levels caused water-logging, salinity, flooding, and quite a few agricultural troubles that resulted in large chunks of lands becoming infertile and uncultivable.

Is it so wrong to ask for some money to be spent on south Punjab? Hardly any funding is diverted to the region. This might be a significant reason for the radicalisation of south Punjab where terrorists are breeding.

Pakistan manages to efficiently discriminate against less powerful ethnicities, religions, and people. Muslims got Pakistan to stop living as second class citizens in their own land. Sadly, Seraikis are still second class citizens because of the way the way the province has been forcefully constructed.

Everyone deserves a haven where they can be autonomous to teach their own language, and practice their own culture. Most importantly, they should be able to spend their money on their own cities instead of having it spent on the cities of their northern political leaders. Saying that religious divisions are fine but linguistic divisions aren’t, is just plain hypocritical.

If Pakistan continues down this path, I fear the country will be victimised by the very divisive logic that created it. Bangladesh down, Balochistan, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Seraikistan to go.

The British ruled pre-partition India like a colony. Pakistan did the same with Bangladesh. Pakistan was the British mistake, Bangladesh was Pakistan’s. Let’s not make the same mistakes over and over again.

Memogate contradictions

The political crisis rages on, with the Supreme Court leading the charge. The battle lines were sharpened when Asma Jahangir withdrew from the memogate case, citing lack of confidence in the impartiality of the judiciary. She was of the view that the Supreme Court placed the concept of national security above that of fundamental rights. These grave developments and Ms Jahangir’s assertions need to be addressed with all the seriousness they deserve.

The so-called memo is a spurious and worthless piece of paper, whose authorship no one is claiming, and which has been tossed in the trash can by the person for whom it was intended, then-US military chief Admiral Mike Mullen, and by the courier, former US National Security Adviser General (retd) James Jones. There are contradictions galore. Mansoor Ijaz has made two statements: one, claiming that the said memo was authored by former ambassador Husain Haqqani and the other that the ISI chief toured Middle Eastern countries to lobby for support to remove the democratically elected government. The Supreme Court has accepted the first Mansoor Ijaz statement as credible enough to place Husain Haqqani on the Exit Control List and launch a full-scale judicial investigation. At the same time, it has ignored the second of Mansoor Ijaz’s statement and instead accepted the ISPR version. How is it that the court has pre-supposed one of Mansoor Ijaz’s statements as weighty enough and found another not worthy of consideration?

The Supreme Court judgment states that a probe is called for in order to ensure enforcement of fundamental rights. The connection is somewhat far-fetched and is reminiscent of the referendum ordered by General Zia, whereby a ‘yes’ vote for Islam was also considered to be an endorsement for the dictator to remain in power for five years!

The loss of East Pakistan apart, there have been many situations and occasions over the last three decades — unlike the frivolous piece of paper that the Supreme Court has placed on a pedestal — whence there have been tangible threats to the security of the state and to the lives of the people and thousands of civilian, police and military lives have been actually lost. It is now 26 years since 1985 that blood is being spilled on Karachi streets. How is it that thousands of sophisticated weaponry continues to be smuggled into the country and distributed freely for use in the country’s prime metropolis? Which agency is responsible for protecting the people from the influx and use of illegal arms? Who will hold these agencies accountable?

How is it that a two-bit mullah ran a clandestine radio station in Swat and aired seditious hate propaganda for years without being apprehended? After all, the technology to track down the origin of radio signals was available even during World War II. Which agency was responsible for controlling such illegal activities that spiraled into an actual threat to the integrity of the state and which required a full-scale military operation to subdue? Who will hold these agencies accountable?

How is it that sophisticated arms were stockpiled in Lal Masjid in the centre of the federal capital, leading to a battle that engaged the Pakistan army for days and actually cost the lives of many soldiers. What guarantee is there that an external enemy force will also not be able to stockpile an arsenal in Islamabad, Peshawar, Lahore, Quetta or Karachi and launch an attack on the country from within?

How is it that a foreign military force succeeded in penetrating to the outskirts of a premier military cantonment in the heart of the country, carried out an operation for almost an hour and escaped? What guarantee is there that a country that harbours enmity against Pakistan — India or Israel — will not be able to carry out a similar operation against our nuclear assets? What greater security threat can the country have actually faced? Who will hold the responsible agencies accountable?

If the Supreme Court considers it within its domain to defend national security above all else, it must also take cognisance of these actual threats to national security and to the actual losses of civilians and military lives. Otherwise, the so-called memogate issue, being billed as a conspiracy against the state’s security organisations, will be perceived as a conspiracy against the Constitution, against democracy and against the democratically-elected parliament.

Published in The Express Tribune, January 21^st, 2012.

Mr Prime Minister, I am proud of you

Courtsey: Express Tribune

After years of ambivalence towards him, I am now proud to call Yousaf Raza Gilani the prime minister of my country.

I admit that when he took oath, I was just as dismissive as anyone else. I thought he was another one of the pack — corrupt, incompetent and disloyal. And, on top of that, he seemed compliant.

And now, when the honourable Supreme Court has called him “dishonest”, I stand up and say that he is the prime minister and that he should not stand for this kind of treatment.

There is speculation that he will resign. Political uncertainty is such that between the time I take to write this and this comes into print, he may not be the prime minister. Who knows? And who cares?

After all, who cares that the world’s number one terrorist Osama bin Laden was in our midst for years, living a stone’s throw from the Pakistan Military Academy, where Army Chief General Kayani delivered a speech to graduating cadets weeks before Bin Laden was killed? Who cares that hundreds of terrorists who have killed and maimed thousands of Pakistanis are roaming free on the soil of this country? Who cares that another country, which calls itself our strategic partner in a long-drawn-out war that we’re losing, regularly kills our fellow countrymen, women and children in the tribal areas? And then some days, that same country kills our soldiers, too. Who cares?

Perhaps the honourable Chief Justice does. He who is correctly demanding that letters be written to the Swiss authorities and the money of the people is brought back to them. He who has held the prime minister responsible for failing to keep his oath but appears not to notice when the army and intelligence chiefs fail this country. He who takes suo motu notice over an individual carrying two bottles of alcohol in her travel bags but failed to do the same when Bin Laden was found and killed by foreign forces comfortably ensconced inside our territory, or when terrorists stormed the Pakistan Army’s headquarters in plain sight, or when American drones kill our own in our own backyard, or when hundreds go missing — and turn up dead — in Balochistan.

It took Prime Minister Gilani some time to find his voice. But now that he has, I stand by him. I do not know whether or not he will resign, but I know this that he does not need to until those whose job it is to secure Pakistan step down for failing to arrest the pervasive insecurity in this country; and until those whose job it is to be impartial conduct themselves in a manner that respects their oath.

Published in The Express Tribune, January 18^th, 2012.