BY all accounts Pakistan's return to international capital markets after a gap of seven years has been a resounding success and a ringing endorsement of the policies of the government.
The market's response to the government's five-year US $ 500 million Euro Bond offer has been inspiring, reflecting the greater confidence in Pakistan's economy and recognition of the improvement in the country's key economic indicators, due partly to better financial management and in large measure to a turnaround in our fortunes arising from the events of September 11.
The bond has been heavily over-subscribed, the bids in the order book totalling over four times the amount offered for subscription.
The international capital markets are ostensibly being tapped to test their reaction to Pakistan's re-entry after the ill-fated first attempt in the late 1990s (when the bonds issue of that time had to be rescheduled in 2001/02), to diversify the government's sources of funding and to reduce dependence on multilateral lending agencies for financing.
The raising of Moodys and Standard and Poors ratings by a notch and the impressive launch is also expected to facilitate Pakistan's reappearance on the radar screens of investors, thereby working up investor appetite for Pakistan's debt instruments, enabling the country to become a regular visitor to international capital markets in the future.
It is being hoped that these developments will not only serve as good indicators for attracting private direct foreign investment, but also help in lowering the interest rates on which Pakistan will henceforth be able to borrow from these markets.
However, despite the above stated reasons for accessing capital markets it is difficult to discern the economic and financial justification that underlay this move. Obviously, the need for liquidity or for settling immediate obligations cannot have driven this decision.
As it is, the country has foreign exchange reserves close to $12 billion, the bulk of them in the form of a non-interest bearing asset, cash. With the government struggling to find ways of utilizing this mountain of reserves one is at a loss to understand what it wants to, or can, do with the additional $ 500 million raised at 6.75 per cent.
It would, at best, earn a relatively nominal return from its investment in other income earning instruments. The overall outcome of such a transaction would be a net capital outflow, since the servicing cost of the bond would be higher than the income stream from the proceeds of the bond sales.
Moreover, just a few days ago the government retired expensive Asian Development Bank loans of $ 1.2 billion and even paid a penalty for prepaying them (details of the interest rates on the credits and the penalties levied by ADB for early redemption are not available).
It is, therefore, puzzling that it has chosen to raise fresh debt at interest rates higher than those that would be applicable on commercial loans from Asian Development Bank and World Bank.
The government needs to present its case defending the financial and economic rationale for the decision to float bonds at such a high interest rate, and at a time when the interest rates on loans in international markets are the lowest in recent memory.
In the opinion of this writer the government's efforts would be better spent removing the remaining impediments to the creation of a more friendly environment for investment, instead of expending its energies in areas that will increase the country's liabilities for uncertain gains.
The writer is a former finance minister of Punjab.
The taste of grass
By F.S. Aijazuddin
History is growing old. It is losing its short-term memory. It is beginning to forget things. It has forgotten the 200,000 souls or more evaporated in the atomic holocaust at Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945.
It has forgotten the furore that attended Pakistan's acquisition of nuclear technology in the 1980s. It has forgotten the avuncular accommodation shown by President Reagan's administration because Pakistan was a frontline state in the surrogate war in Afghanistan between the Russians and the Americans, and it has forgotten the subsequent volte face when that war ended.
It has forgotten when the Indian journalist Kuldip Nayar was taken by Mushahid Hussain to visit Dr Qadeer Khan so that the news of our new-found nuclear capability could be conveyed to the Indian government, after which a long silence followed during which it was suspected that this scoop was itself being peddled for cash, just as the forbidden know-how was to be later by Dr Khan.
It has forgotten the assurances our governments gave us and to others that our nuclear assets were in safe hands and under the strictest vigilant control.
Who was in fact in command of them? That question is as difficult to answer as it was once to identify who actually headed the Russian KGB or the Indian RAW or our own ISI? Those who knew would not tell; those who did not know could never be sure.
Similarly the control of our nuclear assets was presumed to be in the hands at the highest level of the President - Ziaul Haq, after him his chosen civilian second-in-command Ghulam Ishaq Khan, and after him someone else.
Quite clearly, not any elected prime minister. Benazir Bhutto and Nawaz Sharif frequently complained that they were kept out of the loop on such sensitive matters.
The expectation was that the faceless, nameless person charged with the ultimate responsibility for defending our motherland would knew which weapons were where to deploy when and wherever necessary.
In 1999, soon after taking over, General Musharraf was seen reviewing a parade of Pakistan Rangers at Lahore. Standing behind him on the jeep was a soldier carrying what looked like an unpainted car radiator but what was in fact the command black box.
There was a similar tradition in Ancient Rome but with a different function. The man deputed to stand behind the returning hero during a triumphal procession whispered to him periodically: 'Remember, you are mortal.' The soldier standing behind General Musharraf appeared to symbolize the message: Remember, you are in command.'
President Musharraf's belated assumption of command from Dr Qadeer Khan came through during the press conference the president gave recently.
That press conference was reminiscent of another equally important press conference, should history care to remember, when President Yahya Khan, in April 1971, following the army action in East Pakistan, chose to meet the international networks and deflected each question with similar aplomb.
No one listening to President Musharraf - from the Oval Office downwards - could do anything other than empathize with his predicament at having to choose between national security interests and an aberrant national hero. As US President Lyndon Baines Johnson once commented: 'Doing what is right is not the problem. It's knowing what is right.'
By rights, President Musharraf appearance on television before a Pakistani audience should have been followed rather than preceded by Dr Qadeer Khan's confessional.
Yet, for reasons on which the Pakistani public will forever remain divided, Dr Qadeer Khan was given the unprecedented opportunity to explain himself through the safety of a one-way television screen.
Dr Qadeer's sanitized statement has passed into the annals of Pakistan's history for at least three reasons: for its contents - he answered before a public audience charges that had not yet been framed by any public prosecutor; for its magnanimity - he absolved his superiors and exonerated his subordinates; and for its detachment - he held out, as if he still enjoyed the power of enforcement, that 'such activities will never take place in the future'.
In the closing paragraph of the statement that he read in a less than contrite voice, he asked for the nation's pardon without specifying exactly how the public could convey its forgiveness collectively.
It was obvious that the statement read out by Dr Qadeer Khan had not been written by him. The only words he had added to the ready-made text, we are told, were the disclaimer 'in good faith', and they were significant for it was precisely 'faith' that the entire country had reposed in Dr Qadeer Khan and his team of accomplices. It was given unasked; it remained unquestioned and it was in the end unrequited.
Within twenty-four hours of that self-scouring broadcast, President Musharraf obliged by giving Dr Khan a pardon, but not before referring the confession Dr Qadeer had made to him days earlier first to the National Command Authority, which in turn passed it to the Federal Cabinet which equally swiftly handed the radioactive crisis back to the president.
Did the president, recognizing the highest degree of sensitivity and national vulnerability, have any option? Perhaps not, but the government apparatus certainly did.
It could have acted. Although Dr Qadeer Khan may have never boasted about the parallel in public, privately he must have seen himself as Pakistan's equivalent to the US scientist J. Robert Oppenheimer, the father of the American nuclear programme.
After successfully testing the bomb, in December 1953, fifty years ago, even Oppenheimer came under suspicion for 'un-American activities'. Before these could be proven, his security clearance was immediately suspended and his association with the American Atomic Energy Commission terminated.
His achievements remained under a mushroom cloud of suspicion until his rehabilitation by President Johnson a decade later.
Dr Qadeer did not have to wait that long for exoneration. It happened in less than a day. Unlike Oppenheimer, Dr Khan may choose not to remain within the country, now that he has admitted having squirrelled away assets in that most unlikely of financial havens - Timbuktu.
If he is allowed to leave, he will be following a pattern of other purloiners of public wealth who are enjoying their wealth in countries that have no extradition treaties with Pakistan.
How can the country forget the money that changed hands during the euphoria to encourage Independent Power Producers under the guise of providing cheap power to consumers? History may forget that the avowed aim of our nuclear programme had been 'for peaceful purposes', to overcome our power shortage. Consumers cannot. They are reminded of it every time they flick a switch to turn on a light or a fan.
Today, the sympathetic attitude of the Bush administration towards President General Musharraf is conditioned by two factors - a mature sense of real politik, and a reluctance to muddy the waters further.
Their charity extends to the person of the president, as Nixon's now famous instructions in April 1971 to his staff did during the East Pakistan crisis: 'To all hands. Don't squeeze Yahya at this time.'
At this moment of national trauma, as in 1971, Pakistanis are confronted by a crisis - a crisis of confidence, a crisis of credibility, a crisis of faith. They wonder whether, in the altered circumstances of our confessed trade in nuclear proliferation, we will be allowed the sovereign prerogative to retain complete control over our nuclear assets, to deploy in whichever manner we choose? Only time and history and the latent possibility of future sanctions will tell.
Many years ago, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto (now miraculously rehabilitated) promised the Pakistani public that it would become a nuclear power - even if it meant having to eat grass. Pakistanis, particularly the thirty per cent living below the poverty line, can already taste the grass.