| May 26, 2003 | Monday | Rabi-ul-Awwal 23,1424 |
Made in Occupied Iraq?
About the next home
Globalization commodifies democracy: economist
Jam session
Every time the ruling alliance leadership goes out of its way to woo the MMA, as is happening today, it becomes almost impossible not to speculate about a possible rapprochement between the two. But, then, so far the MMA seems to have only upped the ante after every attempt by the government to win its support by conceding a point here or a point there.
The MMA appears to have been allowed one concession after the other since the elections in the hope perhaps that it will one day come over completely and the two will live happily ever after. To start with, no attempt was made by the ruling alliance to interfere in the government formation in the NWFP as it did in Sindh to stop the People’s Party Parliamentarians (PPP) from forming the government there. And in Balochistan, the government at the centre accepted even the most humiliating of demands of the MMA (like the release of two former JUI ministers from the NAB custody) in return for its help in the formation of a coalition government in the province. Next, it conceded a guaranteed senate seat in the capital to the MMA.
And there is this talk as well that a slot of deputy prime minister would be created if Maulana Fazlur Rehman consented to join the government at the centre. And in case the Maulana wanted to remain in the opposition, he would be made leader of the opposition, no matter which party had the largest number of members on the opposition benches.
Informed sources said that it was on the demand of the MMA that the president, as a pre-requisite for talks, first conceded publicly that he agreed with the idea that the offices of president and COAS should not remain in the hands of one person. He made a statement to this effect while talking to editors and senior journalists earlier this month.
And it was perhaps also to placate the MMA further that the president at the same meeting with the journalists said that he would like to negotiate with the MMA alone because according to him they had a logical approach to the issues involved while the other two parties, the Parliamentarians and PML-N, took instructions from abroad.
The ruling alliance from day one has also been making it very clear that while it would go a long way to bring the MMA on board over the LFO and its seven contentious points, it was not prepared to give in to any of the demands of the PPP and the PML-N, come what may.
This attitude of the ruling alliance is understandable because all the parties within this bloc are in competition with the PPP and PML-N for votes while they look at the MMA as ‘ideological’ partners having no competing electoral interests.
So, in the upshot of all this wooing and cooing of the MMA, the ruling alliance and the president have come to depend solely on the religious alliance for making the present system work and to sustain it.
And this the MMA also seems to have realized and that too very early in the day and, predictably, is trying rather shrewdly to get the government to concede one point after another without perhaps harbouring any desire either to join it or even provide it with any help in working and sustaining the system.
The government and the president seem to have stepped on a highly-slippery slope when they put all their eggs in the MMA’s basket fearing perhaps that if they make any concessions to the PPP and PML-N, the very justification of their continuation in power would evaporate in thin air.
And as of today it is very difficult to predict where this slippery slope would finally take the president and the PML-Q. But the desperation has started showing.
The president and most of those who see domestic politics in the light of the establishment staunchly believe that the country has come to this sorry pass because the politicians had been running to the GHQ every time they wanted to topple the government of their opponents. One sees a hint of the same in a recent news report which said that the corps commanders were all for the continuation of the COAS as president. But this time the COAS himself seems to have gone to the GHQ seeking help in his endeavours to prevent legitimately elected politicians from ousting a GHQ man from power.
The MMA on its part seems to have tasted blood and is asking for more. The alliance seems confident that the president would not be able to dissolve the assemblies. And they seem more confident of coming back with more strength even if the system was rolled up by its architect. So, they are keeping the pressure on the government without seeming to appear intractable or intransigent.
The PPP and PML-N seem also to have understood what is happening and are, therefore, biding their time. They perhaps believe that no matter how this whole affair ran its course, they would be the ultimate gainers. And by taking up a more inflexible position on the LFO and the uniform than the MMA, these two parties are only strengthening the bargaining position of the religious alliance vis-a-vis its negotiations with the government. And the ruling alliance and the president by shunning these two parties are clearly weakening their own hand in the bargain.—Onlooker
MOHAMMAD IDREES was a great friend. He was a journalist, a broadcaster and a television host and newscaster. He spent his entire career at The Pakistan Times (1963-1988). There he made himself immensely popular. Popularity gave him ambition and he went into trade unionism. He was president of the Progressive Papers Workers Union for several terms. He had a constantly improving vote bank and even his bitterest detractors couldn’t fault him. On radio, he did a university programme and all the boys and girls loved him for it. The high point of his broadcasting career, however, was his weekly show on world affairs —- Dateline International, which won him praise from the highest in the radio hierarchy. One radio boss went to the extent of saying that it was the best programme of its kind in forty years of broadcasting in the country.
On television, Mohammad Idrees began as a newscaster from Lahore. He would go to the station and take the news script from Muslehuddin who was then news editor, and carefully cross its t’s and dot its i’s and also delete or add the definite article as required.
He did a few other bit shows until he gained nationwide acclaim with his thunderously popular Studio One. It was an open house in which every one said what he wanted to say. And mind you, those were the dark and repressive days of President Ziaul Haq. How he made friends with the latter and how he lost his confidence is another story.
I am reminded of a day from his life. One day, he asked me to drive with him up to Kasur, a good forty, forty-five kilometres away from Lahore. Since I had nothing better to do, I agreed. In Kasur, a dirty, small and old town, we walked around the streets until finally Idrees took me to the railway station there. The place was incredibly clean and appeared for all practical purposes under British occupation. The Raj had not ended at the Kasur railway station. There were further surprises for me when he took me to the first class waiting room. Everything was nice and clean and was meant for a visit from the Queen. I saw, I distinctly remember, a huge wall clock. Inscribed on its dial was the legend: “Made in Occupied Japan”. When shall we read “Made in Occupied Iraq” on things manufactured in that luckless country? Or perhaps American presidents come differently now.
WHAT manner of man was Clive? If you are appearing in a competitive examination, never read the following piece which appeared in a collection of writings from The Statesman (1875-1975). Newspapers are not history. Written on April 11, 1907, the piece reads:
Lord Curzon’s plea for a statue of Clive in Calcutta will, we cannot doubt, find a ready echo both in India and in England. It is true that Clive’s name and personality are too deeply engraves on the memory of the inhabitants of both countries to depend for their immorality upon any monuments of brass or stone. But it certainly is an anomaly that, while our Maidan is so richly studded with the images of persons the majority of whom, however distinguished, were certainly not heroes, there should be as yet no memorial of the man who practically created for them the field of their distinction. The strangeness of the phenomenon is emphasized by the fact that a few weeks hence we shall doubtless be celebrating the hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the Victory of Plassey —- a victory which laid the foundations of the British Empires in the East.
It is known that government have already decided to erect an obelisk on the famous battlefield; but such a monument, useful though it may be, falls far short of the great soldier’s claims to recognition. Nor is there in the whole of India a more fitting site for a worthy memorial than Calcutta. It was here that Clive crowned the wonderful career of conquest which reached its climax on the field of Plassey. Calcutta had fallen into the hands of the enemy, and the whole English population had either died or fled, when Colonel Clive arrived on the scene “with the full intention” as he wrote, “of settling the company’s estate”, in these parts in a better and more lasting condition than ever.” This intention he carried out to the letter, and with results the magnitude of which even he could not ever foresee. Having driven the enemy’s garrison out of Calcutta, Clive proceeded to consolidate the advantage thus gained by attacking Nawab Siraj-ud-Daula, whom he found entrenched at Plassy. The odds against success were very heavy. The Nawab’s forces consisted of 15,000 cavalry, 30,000 infantry, and 40 pieces of cannon served by French artillery men, while Clive had under his command but 1,100 Europeans and 2,100 native troops, with 10 field pieces. Despite the numerical inferiority, Clive decided to risk an engagement “and the result was a battle which proved to be one of the great events in the world’s history. The Nawab was utterly routed, and from that time dates the beginning of British Supremacy in this country.
Clive, however, was much more than a great general. He distinguished himself scarcely less as a civil administrator; and his devotion to the interests of his employers was clearly proved by his refusal, on many occasions, to enrich himself as much as he might have done, preferring to sacrifice a great portion of his opportunities for the benefit of his comrades.
When Macaulay, in view of Clive’s wonderful exploits —- all of them achieved within a few years and at an abnormally early age —- compared him to Napoleon, he was hardly guilty of a rhetorical exaggeration.
SALMAN Khan, a young colleague, has sent me the following lines:
Wasim Akram has finally announced his retirement from international cricket after a career spanning over almost two decades.
Akram was arguably one of the finest left-arm fast bowlers the world has ever produced. He was cast in a classic mould by his mentor, Imran Khan, who hailed him as one of the last century’s greatest fast bowlers. “Grooming Wasim was the easiest thing because he was naturally gifted. All I ingrained in him was the ability to take wickets.” This was one great sportsman’s tribute to another.
In 104 Tests, Akram took 414 wickets, and a world record 502 wickets in 356 one-day matches. Four hat-tricks —- two each in both versions of the game —- was a matchless feat which distinguished him from his contemporaries. Besides, he was also a batsman and fielder of calibre.
Akram has received a lot of praise from his teammates, fans and opponents alike. “Wasim will be remembered for ever as one of the all time greats,” former Indian captain Krishnamachari Srikkanth said. Former Indian all-rounder Robin Singh vouches for Wasim’s approach to the game. “He is a gentleman cricketer and he will be missed.”
Akram had always put up a valiant effort against all odds. Unfortunately, the PCB failed to measure his worth. Petty politics and intrigues had tarnished his image in the twilight of his career. This he tells his fans with a broken heart. “Some people tried to unnecessarily drag me into a match-fixing controversy, but I have forgiven all of them and will clear my name,” resolves Akram.
Former star batsman Zaheer Abbas has described Wasim as the pride of Pakistan. “Losing a player like Wasim is the most depressing thing. It will be hard to replace him.” Commentator Omar Kureishi has rightly said: “If there was a Hall of Fame for cricket, Wasim Akram’s name would be high on the list.”
LAST Saturday, the people of this city witnessed a veritable galaxy of intellectuals and respected citizens talking with proper earnestness, touched with perceptible and justified regret, about the state of graveyards in this city where some fourteen million live and hundreds die each day. The very first point to be made about graveyards is that this is certainly no laughing matter.
For many of us it is not necessarily a mournful thought to be reminded, once in a while, that death is no less a reality of life than is birth. Was it not a very respectable early American who traced the origin of death and with such grace. If memory serves, Mark Twain (Samuel Langhorne Clemens 1835-1910) said ”Whoever has lived long enough to find out what life is, knows how deep a debt of gratitude we owe to Adam, the first benefactor of our race. He brought death into the world.” Indeed, who else? Fancy knows no bounds when the living human beings manage to summon sufficient good sense to contemplate on this ultimate, inevitable and inescapable dimension of life. If one must have a home to live a passing existence here below, one must also think of the grave — to live for ever, or until the final bugle is sounded. Thus, thinking about graveyards is something that would make sense, whichever way you look at this chastening, even elevating feature of life.
Let us face the immutable fact. Graveyard is where we consign our near, dear, respected and venerated ones — our gunj haiaye gran maya — as Asadullah Khan Ghalib so sublimely put it. Shall we not say that graveyard has to be a very, very special place for those who are living? Indeed, the state of the graveyard should be the yardstick to measure the quality of life in a city and the values of the people who inhabit it. Judged by this measure, the people of Karachi would find they have precious little to be proud of.
That we do not have a precise figure about the number of graveyards should be more than enough to confirm that the people of Karachi couldn’t care less about the graveyards they have, and about the graveyards they should have and do not have. No one in right mind can deny that a graveyard is everybody’s need and a need that just cannot be dispensed or wished away. There is a mountain of solemnity that surrounds the very thought of a graveyard. The same kind of solemnity must surround every graveyard, indeed crown every grave.
In properly organized cultures graveyards are institutions and places that wear the look of gardens. Only these gardens carry an aroma of silent solemnity that would belong to no other leisure or pleasure garden, however vast, colourful or even regal. The air above Jehangir’s tomb is far and away more communicative in its own plaintive notes than the birds singing, and fountains playing in the Shalimar. Come to think of it, life is mortal, death is not.
Admittedly, some graveyards in Karachi deserve to be viewed as a standing tribute to the good sense of those who manage and maintain them. We have also to admit that a vast majority of graveyards are an abiding affront to the community that live around them. We are told on good authority that where the state undertakes to provide mosques, no one should presume to build mosques. The same should be taken as the discipline for graveyards.
It is the duty of the state to provide the graveyards needed, quite as it provides, or pretends to provide, water, the elixir of life. Even if some philanthropic institutions volunteer to be active in this context, the primary and final responsibility to provide proper graveyards shall remain that of the state. Another responsibility in this context is to oversee, supervise, and where necessary, regulate management of all graveyards, including those managed by voluntary organizations. Undertakers, too, have to be kept under proper discipline and regulations.
For the sensible Muslim the very suggestion of a grave should cause the welling up the most deeply embedded emotions. It is in our tradition to elevate the last resting place to a level that surpasses the reality of life. It is the ascetic oriental concept that treats life as ‘maya’ or illusion. For the Muslim, life is a gift and has to be lived to its fullness, drunk to the dregs as the poet would say.
If anything, dying is life’s in-built companion piece that is destined to outlive life itself. In our culture a grave has to be respected. We are taught to salute the inhabitants of the graves as we pass by a grave or a graveyard. The thoughtful among us do say “Assalam-o-alaikum ya ahl-ul qaboor,” when they happen to go by a graveyard. And what a beautiful thought it is, greeting those lying inside those graves. This should be seen as a supremely soulful thought, if thought can ever be so soulful. For those of us who have never cared to think about graveyards in any serious or sensible manner, here is a verse and a soft warning, too. It comes from Ustad Ibrahim Zauq, the tutor of saintly emperor Sirajuddin Zafar Bahadur Shah:
Ab to ghabra kay yeh kehtay hein kay mar ja aingey
Mar ke bhi chaian na paya to kidhar ja aingey.
“Politics has been depoliticised, people disenfranchised and the society mostly commoditised, such are the features of globalisation,” remarked Rahman Subhan, a noted economist and social scientist from Bangladesh.
He was speaking on the “Political Economy of South Asia in the Era of Globalisation” — the second Hamza Alvi Distinguished lecture sponsored by Irteqa Institute of Social Sciences— on Saturday at the Jinnah Medical College.
“We can not walk away from globalisation, but we can redesign it,” Subhan said and added that governments were captive to their own agenda, not accountable to their people but to donor agencies.
He remarked that people everywhere were talking against globalisation, but a positive agenda had not been in sight and it was up to intellectuals to find a solution to the problem, empower people, generate political strength and organise them for collective action.
The globalised society, he said, was an unjustly divided society which suppressed workers. He cited the example of Bangladesh where, he said, a shirt costing one dollar was sold in the US market for thirty dollars, and the poor wage-earner employed against two thousand rupees a month was always under the threat that the garment factory might be shifted to any other South Asian country.
He said since the power of money was structurally embedded in the globalised system, every social right, from education to healthcare, water to electricity, was placed as a marketable item; even filing of an FIR at a police station was a favour only money could buy.
He said there was a time when a boy from a poor family with primary education in the village school could cross the barrier and attain higher education at a renowned university, but thanks to a sharply divided education system it was no more possible.
Mr Subhan said the South Asian countries had succumbed to the market forces, whereas the governments in the South East Asian countries - Japan, Korea, Taiwan etc had managed to retain a somewhat just order for all the people in their countries which offered education and healthcare to all. China, he said, was an example in that regard.
Rahman Subhan, who was chairman of Gramin Bank for six years, said that poor people who received loans proved to be honest and trustworthy compared to the rich who would love to multiply their assets but did not return the loans.
Noted intellectual Dr Manzoor Ahmad, in his presidential address, said: “The wish list may be long but no social engineering will be done on the top. Let people think about it.”
Earlier, journalist Javed Bokhari introduced the guest. Educated at Cambridge and several other academic centres in the West, Rahman Subhan is the author of fifteen monographs, twenty seven books and 140 academic papers on his subject. He is also the founder of the Centre for Policy Dialogue in Bangladesh.— Hasan Abidi
All said and done, the prime minister inspires a certain degree of confidence in me, writes this faithful reader.
Mir Zafarullah Khan Jamali may not be dashing, and his speeches and the way he handles pressmen may make one feel he could be a bit more articulate. Nevertheless, he is a gentleman — the sort that you know is going to return your money if he borrows it.
Yet last week, he hurt me immeasurably.
As my car weaved its way through the traffic jungle in Gulshan-i-Iqbal, I found the vehicles ahead of me at the Nipa traffic signal refusing to budge. There wasn’t even a crawl. First I thought the signal had gone wrong, or maybe there was some accident or a procession that had held up the traffic.
However, as I got out of my car to survey the scene, I found more traffic cops than one could imagine to be at Nipa normally. More significantly, the road coming from Gulshan Chowrangi was empty.
So, it was obvious, it wasn’t a traffic jam; it was a VIP visitation. Jamali Saab, I understand, has a home in Gulshan, and he was visiting.
My God! Fifteen minutes is too much at a traffic signal at rush hours. Then suddenly the prime minister made his presence felt as his motorcade zoomed past us, preceded and followed by the usual security vehicles and shrieking motorcycles.
So it is over, I thought, but how wrong I was!
Actually, if there is a traffic jam at one place, it becomes infectious. As I drove along, turned into a side-lane and appeared behind the National Stadium — an area that generally has little traffic — I got stuck again. Then the usual crawl.
Finally, as I hit the main Stadium Road, I thought now it should be clear. I was wrong again. More waiting at the junction of Karsaz Road and Stadium Road.
Abandoning the usual route, I swung into Karsaz Road toward Sharea Faisal. I reached my office in 70 minutes — against the usual 40 minutes. And this jam session was not a thrilling one.
As I said, I still admire Jamali Saab. But shouldn’t the prime minister restrain the po-
lice boys from overdoing this security business?
I hope the LFO talks succeed, and the PML(Q) and its prime minister rule us for the next five years for good, but I do hope this good governance will include some regard for common motorists.
The green bus
Now that the green bus has been plying the roads of Karachi for a couple of months, it would be fair for a commuter to gauge just where the service stands in the context of the conundrum that is the city’s public transport infrastructure.
Running on two routes — from Merewether Tower to Surjani Town and Tower to Sohrab Goth — the service provides a more efficient alternative to commuters who work downtown and live in the former District Central. The advantages these vehicles have over the monstrous hulks that otherwise pass for buses are obvious: they don’t pollute as much, they are air-conditioned and the passenger generally tends to get to his or her destination in one piece.
When the green bus was first launched, people were quite welcoming as they were tired of the chicanery and horrible (dis)service the operators of buses, coaches and minibuses were providing. The fact that the green buses are miles ahead in terms of service, comfort and speed is pretty much a matter of general consensus among citizens. However, a few bugs remain, which, if rectified, could pave the way for green buses or similar modes of transport to replace the existing buses throughout the city.
Firstly, despite having limited seats and even more limited standing room, the green bus drivers and conductors tend to overload. This causes obvious problems, as travel time is increased, the cooling system fails and the resultant mess that ensues usually sees a heated shouting match between irate passengers and an adamant bus crew. The solution to this would be to add more vehicles to the fleet.
Also, while most drivers are careful of loading and unloading passengers only at designated stops, some bad ones will still stop in the middle of the road to load/offload. But the drivers and conductors aren’t entirely to blame, as passengers often make a fuss when the staff tell them that they are only supposed to load and offload at designated points.
Another rather shameful act that highlights the lack of civic sense in our populace is that when the vehicle is full and the driver only opens the rear door to let passengers out, people will rush in through the exit door just to get a spot, knowing full well that there is no room. If it were up to them, they’d probably climb on to the roof of the bus, just like some folks do atop coaches and minis.
These little lumps aside, one still feels that the green bus is a welcome reprieve from the deathtrap that is Karachi public transport.
Doctor doom
Those in the medical profession, especially doctors, should have some empathy when dealing with patients. But as a colleague narrated a recent incident, it seems that perhaps the cold, mechanical constraints of our modern industrial lifestyle have also numbed the senses of some of those who are supposed to provide us healthcare and the healing touch. Here’s from the horse’s mouth:
“I had to have a minor surgery done — nothing serious — on my foot. I didn’t really think about it much till just before the procedure was about to take place. That’s when I started getting butterflies in my stomach. But I regained my composure and decided to face the pain like an adult. However, when the lady doctor started numbing my foot with anaesthesia by sticking several needles into it, I naturally winced at the pain, but didn’t get hysterical.
“Noticing my discomfort, instead of calming my wracked nerves, the doctor started coming down on me for having such a low tolerance for pain. I ignored it for a while, but when she started to make the incision, I naturally let out a wail. Despite the anaesthetic, I felt the sharp pain as the surgical instruments did their job, and this was all that was required for Dr Doom to let loose her torrent of vociferous scolding.
“She went on and on — and this is during the procedure — about how I couldn’t take even a little bit of pain. At this point, I was bewildered. Wasn’t there some sort of sub-clause in the Hippocratic Oath that stated you can’t berate your patients? Maybe this woman skipped that part.
“By the end of it all, the pain was too excruciating for me to actually attempt to reply to her ridiculous utterances. To top things off, after the procedure was complete, she just walked off, handing the orderly the prescription, not even taking the time to dispense any post-procedure care to me. Such was my experience. I felt more like a goat at a vet’s than at a professional doctor’s surgery.”
If that’s what some doctors in respected institutions are doing, then it’s not too far from the treatment the quacks sitting in front of Empress Market dispense to the needy and infirm who can’t afford expensive doctors.
Summer again
Summer is here, and mangoes are not; not the savoury, ripe, variety just yet. Everyone who can afford it is packing bags and leaving for greener pastures abroad. Many others will head north to the mountains. For those staying behind, relatives from abroad — wanted and unwanted — will come knocking at the door.
The moaning and groaning about how badly the Americans have been treating us desis in the ‘land of opportunities’ and how the incoming relatives even miss the loadsheding and dried up taps back home, will again be the prime subject for conversation. Well, they should wish for something else because the city managers are not going to deprive them of these very homely feelings one associates with visiting Karachi.
The tip of the season is the same as last year: run away from Karachi if you can, or be ready to slog it out. — By Karachian
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