| 10 March 2004 | Wednesday | 18 Muharram 1425 |
BD cabinet's decision angers women's rights groups
Islamic values and the role of literature
Abdullah Murad: a national loss
When the United States marines landed on the shores of Haiti ten years ago, the primary purpose of the intervention was to restore to power the government of Jean-Bertrand Aristide who had been ousted in a military coup just nine months after winning the nation's first democratic election by a landslide.
Last month, as strife spiralled out of control in the western hemisphere's least developed country, a small contingent of US troops arrived in Haiti with the stated purpose of protecting embassy staff and other Americans. They appear, however, to have played a crucial role in coercing Aristide into exile.
To paraphrase a passage from the Old Testament: The overlord gave, and the overlord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the overlord.
The mainstream western press has broadly welcomed Aristide's removal from the equation, seeing it as a necessary (albeit insufficient) condition for the restoration of calm.
His more right-wing detractors in the US and France - both of which colonized Haiti at various periods in history - have tended to view Aristide as a dangerous Marxist, whereas less immoderate observers see him as a demagogue who betrayed the hopes and aspirations of his supporters.
The latter opinion is not entirely without merit. During his second term in office, which began in 2001, the uncomfortably dictatorial Aristide appeared to rely increasingly on militias, showing fewer qualms than before about violating the rule of law to maintain his political advantage. At the same time, Haiti did not quite start developing into a more hospitable homeland for its 7.5 million inhabitants.
It is therefore not particularly surprising that in recent years the Haitian opposition has included respectable figures who a decade earlier had supported Aristide.
But that is only part of the picture. For the most part, the opposition consisted of shadier forces, including remnants from the Duvalier dictatorships and associates of those who masterminded the 1991 coup, which led to Aristide's first exile.
Although nations such as South Africa, as well as some US legislators (including Democratic presidential nominee John Kerry), have demanded an inquiry into the circumstances in which Aristide was bundled aboard a plane and, guarded by the US marines, flown to the Central African Republic, chances of him being restored to power are negligible.
It certainly isn't going to happen at Washington's behest, and it cannot happen in violation of the American will. In fact, leading members of the Bush coterie were quite disturbed back in 1994 when the Clinton administration staked its prestige on returning Aristide to the presidential palace in Port-au-Prince.
That made a pleasant change from the tradition whereby the US generally supported military coups rather than their victims. It would be a mistake, however, to interpret it as an entirely philanthropic gesture. A brief historical detour may help to explain what was going on.
Riding the crest of a grassroots reaction to decades of right-wing, US-backed dictatorship under "Papa Doc" Duvalier and his son, "Baby Doc", Aristide garnered more than 67 per cent of the popular vote in Haiti's first democratic election in 1990. The candidate favoured by the US as well as Haiti's business elite, former World Bank official Marc Bazin, came second with about 14 per cent.
Aristide was a priest who had been disowned by his church for preaching politics from the pulpit; he was partial to liberation theology, and his platform gave precedence to wide-ranging social and economic reform. His triumph set alarm bells ringing among the elite in a country where 50 per cent of the wealth was owned by one per cent of the population.
Once it became clear that Aristide intended to practise what he preached, it was decided that he couldn't be tolerated. The extent to which elements in US agencies may have been involved is open to conjecture, but the Central Intelligence Agency has admitted that the key members of the junta that assumed power in September 1991 - just seven months after Aristide had been sworn in - were on its payroll.
Besides, American corporations that relished Haiti's sweatshop status shared the local elite's aversion to measures such as strengthening labour unions or raising the minimum wages.
In the three years between his ouster and reinstatement, death squads associated with the ruling junta killed at least 3,000 of Aristide's followers, including many of his movement's brightest sparks.
In the deal Washington struck with the junta that led to Aristide's return, those who had usurped power and sanctioned the killings were guaranteed liberty and allowed to keep all the funds they had accumulated. The elected president, on the other hand, was compelled to agree to a series of conditions before he was restored to office.
He couldn't stand for re-election in 1995, nor was his term to be extended to compensate for his three years in exile. Furthermore, he could forget about his progressive agenda: go ahead and institute reforms, he was told, but they must conform to the International Monetary Fund's structural adjustment programme.
In a year or so he had left before making way for a successor, Aristide strove to steer a middle course, following some IMF dictates while refusing to privatize most state assets, and taking steps to remedy the appalling levels of health care and education. Not surprisingly, though, he began to lose the trust of his supporters - and failed to gain that of his opponents.
It is now commonly claimed that the 2000 elections that brought him back to power were largely rigged. This was not the opinion of most observers, who at the time described the process as broadly fair, albeit not flawless - and almost exemplary in comparison with what happened the same year in nearby Florida.
The only serious complaint related to the methods used in calculating the results of eight of the Senate seats won by Aristide's party. The president prevailed upon seven of the senators to resign, but by elections could not be held because of the opposition's refusal to participate. The opposition also boycotted the 2000 presidential poll, which led to Aristide garnering a whopping 90 per cent of the vote.
The interim period has been tricky and unstable, with opposition to Aristide bolstered by sympathy - and possibly weapons - from a hostile administration in Washington. The political opposition denied links with the armed rebels who slipped in from training camps in the Dominican Republic a couple of months ago and began taking over Haitian towns and cities.
Having abolished the tainted army in 1995, the president could rely only on the police and loyalist militias, which proved to be no match for the insurrectionists. Foreign diplomatic intervention led to a compromise proposal that was accepted by the government but rejected by the opposition, which began insisting that Aristide had to go. Once Washington and Paris chimed in, his days were numbered.
Aristide is no saint, and several aspects of his rule have justifiably raised concerns. But he isn't evil incarnate either, nor is he by any means the worst ruler Haiti has had in recent history.
How he will be remembered by his constituency - Haiti's impoverished multitudes - will depend to a large extent on how the future unfolds. If, as expected, it's henceforth all structural adjustment and free trade, the priest who refused to abandon all his principles is likely to acquire a mythological status among the downtrodden.
Aristide knows this - and is not immune to illusions of grandeur. On arrival in Bangui as an involuntary exile, he announced: "In overthrowing me, they cut down the tree of peace, but it will grow again, because its roots are well planted."
The allusion, which won't be lost upon any Haitian, was to Toussaint L'Ouverture, also known as the Black Spartacus, who, inspired by the French Revolution, led a slave rebellion that liberated Haiti from French colonial rule 200 years ago.
Eventually trapped by Napoleon's troops, he was transported to France and spent his last days alone in a dungeon overlooking the Swiss border. On the ship that carried him away from his homeland, L'Ouverture reputedly said: "They have felled only the trunk of the tree. Branches will sprout again, for its roots are numerous and deep."
Haiti stayed free from 1804 until 1915, when it was colonized by the US for two decades, and then left in the hands of the ruthless National Guard the Americans had created, followed by the murderous Duvaliers. Aristide's ascendancy offered a ray of hope that proved all too brief. Who can say what Haiti's trajectory of development would have been in the absence of perpetual external interference?
While it must be hoped that the bedevilled nation can, in the decades to come, forge a tomorrow brighter than all its yesterdays, the latest instance of regime change holds important lessons not just for Haitians.
Not too far to Haiti's south lies Venezuela where, like Aristide, a popularly elected president is hemmed in by an implacably hostile business elite and an equally unfriendly private media.
Hugo Chavez was briefly deposed two years ago in a US-supported coup that, luckily, fizzled out within days; but he remains under immense pressure. Further south, Brazil's Lula da Silva also faces an Aristidean dilemma: a progressive, worker-friendly agenda that must be balanced against obligations to the IMF.
And on Haiti's western flank lies Cuba, the ultimate Caribbean prize for the Washington-based Regime Changers Inc.
At the weekend, as violence flared between political rivals on the streets of a city where the authority rests effectively with US marines, another comparison became hard to avoid. In Port-au-Prince last Sunday, there was a distinct whiff of Baghdad.
e-mail: mahirali2@netscape.net.
BD cabinet's decision angers women's rights groups
The cabinet of Bangladesh Prime Minister Khaleda Zia decided on Monday (Women's Day) to bring in a constitutional amendment bill proposing the reservation of 45 seats for women in in Jatiya Sangsad (parliament).
The decision ignores a popular demand for holding direct elections to the seats, causing concern among women's rights organizations. The cabinet decided that the 300 directly elected lawmakers would elect women members to the reserved seats on the basis of proportional representation. The MPs elected to the reserved seats will have no territorial constituency.
The proposal, if incorporated into the constitution, will be effective for ten years from the first sitting of the next parliament. Under another proposal, the current parliament will also have reserved seats.
The decision has disappointed bodies representing different sections of society, particularly women's rights activists who have been urging the government for the last ten years to hold direct elections for women's seats.
Left-leaning political parties have come down heavily on the ruling party's proposal. The Sammilita Nari Samaj, a conglomeration of women's rights organizations, has rejected outright the cabinet decision, saying MPs under the proposed provision would be "ornamental".
The alliance dismissed as disgusting the idea of distributing the reserved seats among political parties. "This is an insult to women, and that too on the International Women's Day," the Nari Samaj said, urging all "democratic forces" to resist the "undemocratic decision".
The Awami League has also criticized the decision. However, when the party was in power, it had formulated a bill in 2001 seeking retention of a constitutional provision that reserved 30 seats for women without direct elections.
The Bangladesh Nationalist Party's present aversion to direct elections for women's seats conflicts with its manifesto for the 2001 elections. The relevant section reads: "In order to empower women and enable them to play a more effective role in parliament, necessary steps will be taken to increase the number of (reserved) seats for women and arrangements will be made for direct elections to those seats."
But the policy-makers of the same party now, after less than three years, are publicly arguing that the scheme is "impracticable" as the country's womenfolk are yet to gain "adequate control over organizational and financial resources" required to contest direct elections.
It is partly true that most women in Bangladesh lack the means to contest elections, but that is because a male chauvinistic culture, even in political parties headed by women, prevents them from being able to acquire political power _ the key to financial power.
Had the government been sincere about economically strengthening women, it would have opted for direct elections enabling them to gain political power in the process.
And there is another fault in the government's argument regarding women's lack of financial resources. The handicap could be a blessing in disguise since big money itself is an impediment in the growth of democracy.
Islamic values and the role of literature
'The role of literature in the promotion of Islamic values' was the topic discussed at the Daira-i-Adab-o-Saqafat (International) last Saturday. Mr Zafer Mohiuddin introduced the subject, and referred to eminent philosophical poets and sufis of Urdu and Persian, contending that they had strengthened and promoted Islamic values.
Next to speak was Mr Naqqash Kazmi, a poet who usually conducts the literary sittings at the Arts Council. He was all praise for Hali and Iqbal, the elegiac poets Anis and Dabeer and of modern-day naat poets.
But was there any conflict between Islamic values and the values of literature? Mr Taajdar Adil briefly touched on the issue. Religion, he said, had its own discipline, while literature breaks all barriers and takes its own course.
Metaphysical writings in prose and also in poetic form from Amir Khusrau to Khawaja Mir Dard and contemporary poets like Faiz - (remember his munajaat - aaye haath uthaen hum bhi) have inspired people of all religions to join in promoting love, compassion and tolerance.
Mr Sabir Nizami preferred to emphasize another aspect of literature, that is, its topicality and its closeness to the demands of the present times. There should be more research in the social sciences, improvement in the standard of education and translations from the latest publications on socio-political issues from English into Urdu. Success will finally come to nations who are equipped with scientific knowledge, Mr Nizami asserted.
Prof Afaq Siddiqui, who presided over the proceedings, lavishly quoted the names of poets from Rumi and Saadi to Iqbal to Kalidas and Tulsidas and Shah Latif to prove that they had strengthened Islamic values. Referring to the last sermon of the Holy Prophet (PBUH) as the first charter of human rights, as mentioned earlier by Mr Zafar Mohiyuddin, Prof Siddiqui admired all the poets whose first preference in literature was service to the humanity.
Let me recall here the advice of the noted critic the late Professor Mujtaba Hussain on a similar occasion. He had remarked that literary writings helped in bringing about a change in the social order, provided there were other supportive factors.
He had also said writers were visionaries, adept at employing their literary tools effectively, like Hali and Iqbal. Only lip-service to literature would not help, he had said.
Religious and sufi poetry was abundantly quoted during the speeches but not many speakers defined "Islamic values" in the present context when the globalized world is getting more and more complex.
Also, one might ask as to what extent religious poetry so generously produced during these years has improved the standards of morality of Pakistani society.
Mr Javed Manzar who was compering the programme recited verbatim several couplets from Hafeez Jallundhari's Shahnama-i-Islam and in the process admired another Islamic poet Firdausi for his?
The number of absentees from among those scheduled to speak was greater than the number who turned up. As the president scheduled for the evening had conveyed his regrets to the hosts, another writer present was chosen to serve the purpose and the meeting commenced. The chief guest who by that time had been sitting for long left the venue. Mr Azfar Rizvi thanked the audience. The Dhaka Group of Institutions was the co-sponsors.
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Karachi has been the focus in stories produced by a couple of writers in recent days. Iss Dasht ki Tanhai comes from a senior writer Anwer Ahsan Siddiqui with several such collections to his credit. Earlier, three story collections came from Ms Raes Fatima with a notable career as a teacher of Urdu literature.
Her publications - Gulab Zakhmon Ke, Mausam Udasion Ke and Shaakh-i- Nehali Gham - were launched recently and were much admired by prominent fiction writers. The pain and suffering of uprooted families after migration and of poverty-stricken people denied their basic needs formed the theme of these stories.
Mr Siddiqui's book carries in its fold four long stories, their characters being the faceless, nameless, marginalized victims of an unjust social system. He has developed a peculiar style of story writing. He picks up a small news item from an obscure corner of a paper, and concocts the 'biography' of the person, implying that 'corpses also speak'. Life in Karachi is effectively reflected in these stories.
At the launching of Ms Fatima's collection, one speaker was happy to note that Karachi over the years had developed a culture of its own, and that it should now be treated at par with Lucknow and Delhi and other major cultural centres in the fold of the Jamuna and the Ganges.
Cultural centres like Delhi are not built in decades; they take centuries to be established and rise and fall in the process many times. That reminds me the remark of an old Karachian that all the cities of the subcontinent were uprooted to build Karachi. The major task of writers, intellectuals, educationists, architects and artists is to first build institutions in a healthy democratic environment.
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Dr Mohammad Ali Siddiqui was highly critical the other day of so-called modern literary theories, post-modernism, structuralism and many others, meant to "mislead writers and readers".
Dr Siddiqui - whose invaluable books on Sir Syed and another on Iqbal have just appeared - was the guest at the Irteqa Adbi Forum on Sunday. Writers praised his contribution to the genre of literary criticism during four decades. His books include Esharaat, Tawazun, and several other collections of essays.
Among those who spoke about Dr Siddiqui were Wahid Bashir and Hasan Abid, who introduced the guest, Dr Afaq Siddiqui who read out an article on the book Esharaat, and Shore Sehbai who presented his published sketch on Dr Siddiqui's person.
Dr Siddiqui is at present dean of social sciences at the Hamdard University. He was earlier director of the Quaid-i-Azam Academy and taught at the Karachi University and the Pakistan Study Centre.
But the main item on the agenda was Dr Siddiqui's discourse, who minced no words while commenting on contemporary writings. He said he was not against 'jadeediat' - a literary trend which started in the decade of the 60s in the subcontinent - but it had turned out to be an escape from the realities of life, a course of alienation when writers of other languages were fighting for their rights in their respective areas.
With the rise of the progressive literary movement, the 'art for art's sake' theory was launched to confront the progressives but it failed. With the rise of capitalism, the World Economic Forum, the monopoly of the capitalist forces and their institutions, post-modern theories were projected to devalue literature, confuse writers and readers.
Every economic system needs the support of writers and intellectuals who influence public opinion. Now the forces of globalization have appeared with their band of structuralists and modernists to rule over the world with their own tools, Dr Siddiqui contended.
Abdullah Murad: a national loss
The assassination of Abdullah Murad Baloch, member of the Sindh Assembly, marks the loss of an exceptional political leader. It is not just the murder of a local politician whose relevance is confined to his constituency or to his city and party.
In a relatively short political career of about 10 years, Abdullah Murad demonstrated unusual qualities of integrity in public service, a binding vision rising above differences of ethnicity, and personal bravery in dangerous situations. He epitomized the kind of hard-working, merit-based, middle-class leadership at the grass-roots level that is critical for the building of a strong and stable Pakistan.
In times when appeals are made to narrow nationalisms based on ethnicity, tribalism, sectarianism, language and location, he displayed deep humanism and a genuine commitment to an inclusive, equitable "Pakistaniat".
Abdullah Murad was like a gentle giant. Well-built, with a height of six feet plus, he was always soft-spoken and amiable. If in an argument, he would render even firmly-held opinions with at least half a smile.
In his initial years of activism, he was reticent but in recent times had become an articulate speaker. He had a good sense of humour and was pleasant company, warm-hearted and hospitable.
Along with our association as individuals interested in the political process, there evolved a close relationship as fellow volunteers in the development organization known as Baanhn Beli which began its work about 20 years ago in Tharparkar.
Abdullah often travelled with me on journeys through the vast arid region. He participated in village meetings with keen interest, making a number of useful observations and remaining attentively involved. When the Karachi office of Baanhn Beli needed additional space a few years ago, he happily offered use of his own premises in Malir for over two years.
Abdullah Murad and I got to know each other through our common friend, Advocate Nihal Hashmi. Younger than me by over a dozen years, Abdullah matured early and shared a deep concern at the violent new dimensions of Karachi's political landscape.
He remained respectful and unwavering even when one least expected it. He joined the PPP as a full-time member approximately around the time when this writer had developed a viewpoint on issues divergent from the top leadership of the PPP in the mid-1990s.
Yet there was not an iota of difference in our friendship. Nor in his association with Baanhn Beli in which individuals of different political parties diametrically opposite to each other work together in harmony for the poorest of the poor. Hanif Baloch, the driver of Abdullah's car who perished with him, had also worked devotedly for Baanhn Beli for over two years as a driver and dear colleague.
In the 1997 elections, Abdullah contested for the National Assembly on a PPP ticket and lost. Undeterred, he maintained his interest in the party and the area. In the 2002 elections, contesting as a PPP candidate for the Sindh assembly, he scored a decisive victory.
He mobilized hundreds of young people to work for peaceful political change. He enjoyed an unusual rapport with all the ethnic communities in his constituency. He served them as an able and vigorous representative, and often testing the ability of the honourable speaker of the Sindh assembly to control the proceedings while Abdullah helped voice his party's opposition to the LFO.
Born as the first son of Haji Murad Ali (who has lived to give the last pre-burial bath to his own first heir) of a highly respected Baloch family whose ancestors settled Siddique Goth in Malir in the 19th century, Abdullah's family recalls how their elders joined others to welcome the influx of migrants when Pakistan was created in 1947.
Rapidly, their tranquil village on the remote outskirts of Karachi was engulfed by new housing societies. Evacue property claims reduced their farmland to a few acres on which Abdullah's father grew vegetables and fruits to provide for his family's needs.
Abdullah grew up in the locality of his birth (now Al-Falah Society) and graduated from Jamia Millia College in 1979. He served at a local bank branch for some time before taking the risk of resigning from his job to sell-off some of his family land and start a construction firm. He quickly showed a flair for business and shared his success generously with his family and with the needy.
Even before formally joining the political process in 1993- 94, he became a fervent defender of his neighbourhood's rights. He led a campaign to protect a large playground from encroachment by rapacious fellow-builders. It was on the very same playground that his namaz-i-janaza was rendered on March 6. He helped protect a local school from being evicted from its premises and a few years ago forcefully averted a serious ethnic clash after the killing of two local residents.
The identikit sketches of the two killers put out by the police and published in some newspapers on March 7 have provoked serious doubts among Abdullah's family members and friends. They say that the sketches are far too detailed and precise to be plausible.
The speed and the circumstances in which the shooting took place and the swiftness of the departure from the scene of the killers could not possibly have enabled such specific features to be recalled.
A close local associate of Abdullah told me on March 7 that in recent days in particular, after having received death threats on the phone and through "messages", he had occasionally said: "I know they will try to kill me". Strongly urged to allow armed bodyguards to accompany him, he said: " I have grown up in the lanes and streets of my area..... I am afraid only of Allah, not of death. I will not take arms with me".
In view of the tension generated by the brutal murder of two small girls in his constituency and in view of the outspoken stand that Abdullah had taken in pursuit of identifying the killers, the police themselves should have insisted on providing him with a 24-hour armed escort.
While there is no fool-proof protection against an assassin who plots his work carefully, the visibility of a mobile armed unit itself serves as a partial deterrent. But that concern is about what might have been. We are left only with surmise - and a profound sadness.
Abdullah Murad was exactly the kind of individual direly needed in our political process. As an educated, self-made entrepreneur he was willing to risk the comforts gained through sheer hard work for the toughest form of public service - which is politics. His family, his friends, his constituency and his party have lost a fine human being. The country has lost a political leader who had the potential to make an even more valuable contribution to our future than what he had already made.
The writer is senior vice president of the Millat Party.