IN a press release this week, the Committee for the Abolition of the Third World Debt (CADTM) takes issue, at the outset, with the Group of Seven’s self-description of its debt-cancellation initiative as “historic”. On the face of it, this seems like an unnecessarily sceptical response to a decidedly positive move. After all, Britain’s chancellor of the exchequer, Gordon Brown, has clearly stated that as a result of the hard-won agreement, 18 highly indebted poor countries (HIPCs) in Africa and Latin America will suddenly find themselves indebted no more, with another nine expected to follow within the next year or so.

If that is indeed the case, the appellation “historic” doesn’t seem misplaced. After all, isn’t this precisely the sort of measure social justice movements, as well as leaders such as Fidel Castro and Nelson Mandela, have demanded for ages? One could argue that such steps ought to have been taken decades ago. It also makes sense to point out that the initiative unveiled at the weekend does not go far enough. As a first step, however, surely it deserves to be welcomed?

Perhaps the most appropriate response to this query would be a hesitant yes. Hesitant because it remains to be seen how far the gesture will go in alleviating poverty in the targeted countries. Unfortunately, there are no grounds for high hopes on that score. For one, the cancellation is not all-encompassing: it covers only loans made by the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the African Development Bank. Other multilateral, bilateral and private lenders do not enter into the equation, which suggests that the level of debt relief will vary from one country to another, and is unlikely to be close to 100 per cent in any given case.

Secondly, there is the question of precisely what conditions have been attached to the G-7’s generosity. World Bank and IMF prescriptions generally involve wholesale privatization, including that of essential services. These prescriptions have not been amended despite considerable evidence of disastrous consequences, including violent reactions in cases where, for instance, foreign firms seek to step in as suppliers of basic necessities such as water.

Then there is the perennial problem of free trade being posited as an absolute good, even a moral necessity. Throughout the West, nations built up their industries through protectionism. For some reason, however, that luxury cannot be extended to the developing world, chiefly because the West is unwilling to countenance even the mildest of potential threats to its economic dominance in any sphere.

This attitude would be marginally less alarming were there at least the pretence of a level playing field. However, while the rules imposed on African countries doom nascent local industries because they are unable to compete with cheap imports, agricultural subsidies in Europe effectively close that market to African (and other Third World) farmers.

This double whammy helps to keep Africa mired in poverty and debt. Removing the latter, even to a substantial extent, cannot on its own eradicate the former. Hence the critique that an agreement on fair trade would have been infinitely more beneficial to Africa than the debt cancellation. But that isn’t even on the agenda.

On paper, the prospect of each of the affected countries being able to redeploy (if not redistribute) the roughly $1.5 billion they would annually have required for debt servicing seems like a windfall. In practice, everything depends, obviously, on where the money goes. The corruption and venality of African governments and elites is all too often encouraged by western firms, which are the chief exploiters of mineral resources — from diamonds to oil — in that continent. Africa is also a lucrative market for arms traders, again most of them Western.

Complaints against this aspect of free trade usually elicit the response that if western firms didn’t profit from sales of weaponry in Africa, traders from other nations would move in. That isn’t a nonsensical argument, but it doesn’t hold much water in terms of morality. It is tantamount to saying: ‘We’ll do what we can for Africa, provided it doesn’t interfere with the profitability of western ventures.’

The G-7’s African initiative has been spearheaded by Brown and his prime minister, Tony Blair. They evidently faced an uphill task in persuading their friends across the Atlantic of the importance of the proposed measures. A determined Brown is reported to have ruffled a few feathers in Washington, not least those of secretary of state Condoleezza Rice. A US administration insider has been quoted as saying that the British approach upset “the White House to the point where Blair had to get over to Washington to start mending fences .... You can’t paint the United States into a corner.”

Sections of the British press have suggested that Blair and Brown deliberately adopted a good cop-bad cop strategy, but it is at least possible that the chancellor is less inclined than his boss to cosy up to the neocons. Equally, it is likely that the British, directly or by implication, used their obsequiousness over Iraq as leverage in persuading the Bush administration to play along — thereby irking their European neighbours, who were understandably miffed at effectively having to sign on to a US-British agreement. Afterwards, all three sides attempted to claim credit for the final document.

Most British commentators are of the view that the Labour government’s enthusiasm for Africa springs from a genuine desire to heal the continent’s multiple wounds and ease its manifold woes. One can only hope that is indeed the case, and that the attitude involves a recognition of the role British imperialism and neo-colonialism have played in souring the likelihood of African success stories.

Chances are, however, that the philanthropic focus on Africa also has something to do with Blair’s attempted rehabilitation after his utterly disgraceful behaviour over Iraq. He has described Africa as “a stain on the world’s conscience” — a description that fits the Iraq situation only too well. Any such ploy deserves to fail; any positive change that the British government can catalyse in parts of Africa will be welcome, but that won’t make its leading role in the gratuitous invasion of Iraq any less unforgivable.

It is much harder to doubt the motives of the no-nonsense former rock star Bob Geldof, who was moved by images of famine in Ethiopia 20 years ago to coordinate a charity single and the Live Aid concerts on both sides of the Atlantic, and to make sure that what he described as the “fookin’ money” found its way to the right place. That initiative certainly saved some lives, but the relief was temporary. Today there are far more people at risk of starvation in Ethiopia that there were in 1985.

That’s partly because much of the aid that flowed to sub-Saharan Africa 20 years ago was earmarked for emergency use, and therefore could not be spent on long-term development projects. Geldof, who over the past two decades has been more prominent as an activist than as a musician, has lately been persuaded of the need to repeat the Live Aid experience. As a consequence, a string of Live8 concerts will preceded the G-8 summit in Gleneagles next month, the idea evidently being to raise funds as well as consciousness — and, in Geldof’s words, “to tilt this world a little bit on its side”.

The value of rock concerts in catalysing change is open to debate (and Geldof has been accused of insensitivity in not including more African performers in the Live8 line-up), although Nelson Mandela approves of the concept. Besides, they are unlikely to do any harm. But it’s important not to lose sight of the fact that charity offers no long-term solutions to any of the world’s problems.

Addressing a Make Poverty History rally in London last February, Mandela reminded his audience that, “like slavery and apartheid, poverty is not natural .... And overcoming poverty is not a gesture of charity. It is an act of justice. It is the protection of a fundamental human right, the right to dignity and a decent life.” In outlining the measures needed to fight poverty, Mandela listed trade justice, an end to the debt crisis and aid enhanced in terms of quality as well as quantity.

It is possible that in order to make poverty history, it may be necessary to make the IMF history. And the World Bank. And rather than tilting the world, it might make more sense to turn it upside down.

Consider the following figures, provided by CADTM. The 18 countries affected by the G-7’s debt cancellation contain only five per cent of the inhabitants of developed countries. That would rise to 11 per cent if the measure is extended to all 42 HIPCs. If all 165 developing countries are taken together, the initiative affects only two per cent of their total external debt. The operation would impose a financial burden of about $2 billion a year on rich countries. The G-8 spend $350 billion a year on agricultural subsidies; their military expenditure is $700 billion. The US spends $4 billion a month on the occupation of Iraq.

So let’s not lose perspective. In this particular case, one small step for man does not automatically translate into a giant leap for mankind.

ON the morning that Mr L.K. Advani rendered his resignation and some hours before it became generally known, I was invited by a local TV channel to participate in a talk show that evening on his visit to Pakistan and to give my views on what it could mean for the future of Indo-Pakistan relations. By the time the programme was recorded, the focus had shifted to what the resignation, rather than the goodwill exuded during Mr Advani’s visit to Pakistan, would mean for the Indian political scene and for Indo-Pakistan relations.

The initial view I presented was that the resignation, even if it had been induced by the pressure of the Sangh parivar on whose support the BJP’s political fortunes appeared to rest, would not be allowed to stand. I opined only half-jokingly that a resignation, in a crisis period, was a time tested method employed by South Asian politicians to secure a public reaffirmation of their hold on the party and to bring to heel recalcitrant supporters or dissidents within the party.

Two prominent Indian journalists, Kuldip Nayar (also a former Indian high commissioner to the UK and a frequent visitor to Pakistan) and Siddharth Varadarajan (of the highly respected The Hindu newspaper), who joined the discussion telephonically from Delhi, disagreed with this view. Both argued that things had gone too far; no prominent BJP leader had spoken up in support of Mr Advani; all indications in New Delhi were that the party stalwarts were now engaged in a hectic search for a replacement rather than in pleading with Mr Advani to withdraw his resignation.

Since they both had much greater knowledge of the Indian political scene and since both of them were also better placed to observe the happenings in New Delhi I accepted their view. In my concluding remarks, I, therefore, conceded that viewing this as only a “storm in a tea cup” was probably wrong. I went on to add that, much to the delight of the ruling coalition in India, the BJP would now be in disarray since it was unlikely that Vajpayee, Jaswant Singh and other “moderates” would remain in the party.

As it turned out, both the Indian commentators and I were wrong. Mr Advani was persuaded to withdraw his resignation but the terms on which he did so showed that it was more than a “storm in a teacup”. Advani was forced to sign on to a statement that failed to endorse his remarks about the Quaid and put the reference to the Quaid’s historic August 11, 1947, speech with its message of political secularism in the context of the restoration of the Hindu temple in the Punjab. His trip to Pakistan was hailed only in the context of carrying forward the policy initiated by former Prime Minister Vajpayee.

The unity of the party was maintained but only after numerous prominent BJP leaders in addition, of course, to the leaders of the Sangh parivar parties had roundly denounced Mr Advani. Talk abounds even now that the reinstatement of the BJP leader is temporary. Mr Advani appears much chastened and it is not at all certain that the support he enjoys in the party ranks continues to be what it was before the Pakistan visit.

What are the consequences for the Indian polity and for Indo-Pakistan relations of this episode? It would, I think, be facile to assume that this represents an end to the efforts of the BJP to move away from the extreme right position of its Sangh parivar supporters and to cultivate a more moderate image. Mr Advani’s problem arose from the fact that he chose a method of doing so — recognizing the Quaid’s political secularism — which is anathema not only to the Sangh parivar but to the more secular sections of the Indian polity. In the furore that this caused, another reference was lost sight of and that was recalling the role of the Quaid as the ambassador of Hindu-Muslim unity in the 1920s.

One could take the view that while Mr Advani wanted his Pakistani audience to take comfort from his endorsement of the Quaid’s secular credentials and from his emphasis on the role that the BJP government had played in improving Indo-Pakistan relations, he wanted his Indian audience to focus on the role the Congress party leaders of the day played in the 1920s and 1930s in creating the aura of suspicion and distrust that converted the Quaid from an “ambassador of Hindu Muslim unity” to “Muslim nationalist” or, as some Indians put it, “communal nationalist”.

One could also take the view that by saying what he did in Pakistan, Mr Advani was following the generally accepted principle governing visits to states with which you are seeking better relations — have words of praise for the founder of the state you are visiting and emphasize commonalities rather than differences. In other words he was prepared to look upon Pakistan like any other country, rather than a country towards which his party or at least that section of the party whose loyalty he commanded, had a special animus. In so doing, he was positioning himself as a moderate and as a worthy leader of India if this moderation were to bring the BJP and its partners back to power in the next elections.

The point in either case — in terms of domestic Indian polity — was that Mr Advani was seeking to occupy the middle ground that would give him and the BJP under his leadership a moderate image that would appeal to the Indian electorate. On a superficial plane, it would appear that his plan backfired and all he achieved was an emphatic and unwelcome affirmation of the degree to which the BJP is a creature of the Sangh parivar. This may turn out to be more than superficial. If Mr Advani is forced in days to come to step down — ostensibly because he is too old to keep carrying the burden or some such reason — the hold of the Sangh parivar will be confirmed.

Certainly it seems that Mr Advani’s fighting spirit has been dampened. His only remarks after withdrawing his resignation were that the last 15 days had been a “learning experience”. If, on the other hand as may yet happen, Mr Advani holds on, the fissures within the Sangh parivar may deepen and the BJP may genuinely be able to move towards the middle ground in Indian politics. Even if he goes, it is likely that his successor, with perhaps greater circumspection, will seek to free the BJP from the Sangh parivar stranglehold.

The benefits this would bring to Indo-Pakistan ties are obvious. What is perhaps less obvious is the impact this will have on the growth of extremism and sectarianism in Pakistan’s own body politic. One of the forces driving the growth of religious parties in Pakistan — admittedly not the major one — has been the rise of Hindu fundamentalism in India. If it wanes in India, and it certainly will if the Sangh parivar loses its hold on the BJP, the contribution to the abating of fundamentalism in Pakistan will be far greater than the contribution to its rise.

Turning to the impact of the controversy on Indo-Pakistan relations, there is no doubt that there was much anxiety in Pakistan, and to a somewhat lesser extent in India. Would the recently revived peace process termed irreversible have collapsed under the weight of the charged language that could have been used by Indian political observers and the resultant provocative responses by Pakistan? This did not happen. In Pakistan, beyond on expression of shock at the BJP’s reaction to what was termed as a very good visit not much else was said to fuel the controversy or to refute the charges made by the Sangh parivar leaders in India.

In fact, the day after the resignation, Mr Mani Shankar Aiyar, currently the Indian minister for petroleum and formerly a very popular Indian consul-general in Karachi, addressing a receptive audience at a soiree hosted by the Indian high commissioner in Karachi, hardly made a reference to the controversy and focused instead on the common interest Pakistan and India had in developing transit routes through Pakistan for energy resources from the Gulf and Central Asia to cater to the South Asian market.

It was also a time when attention in Pakistan was focused on the visit of the APHC leaders and the hopes that this generated of some movement towards a solution of the core dispute between India and Pakistan that was acceptable to the Kashmiris as much as to India and Pakistan.

Fortunately, the ruling party in India could, by and large, stand aside from the controversy publicly declaring that this was an internal affair of the BJP while perhaps taking secret pleasure in the split this caused in BJP ranks. More importantly, in the strident criticism of Mr Advani offered by the Sangh parivar and some BJP leaders, unkind words were said about his words of praise for the Quaid but not a word was uttered against the “peace process” or against the role the BJP had played in bringing it about.

There is no doubt, however, that for the Pakistani ‘man in the street’ the controversy brought to the fore the fact that there are a number of people who cannot stomach Mr Advani assertion that the destruction of the Babri mosque was the “saddest day” of his life. They include those with an anti-Muslim and anti-Pakistan agenda and are the same people for whom “Akhand Bharat” is an article of faith.

They bring back the same feeling of insecurity that the expression of such sentiments in India had created in the first few years of our independence and in the years of conflict subsequently. We now need to remind ourselves that we are militarily secure and that the people holding such a view in India are in a minority. This minority can and will shrink further.

If we have insecurity these should flow from our apparent inability to stop the drift of our internal polity towards extremism, and not from the views of a minority in India. It should certainly not jeopardize the peace process nor inhibit the continuance of efforts on our part to maintain relations with India on an even keel and to resolve our disputes in an amicable and peaceful manner.

Let us hope in this context that Prime Minister Manmohan Singh’s recent statement about making Siachen a “mountain of peace” means that India is now prepared for the unconditional withdrawal of forces which would enable this vision to be realized and may be the first concrete achievement of the “peace process”.

THE International Film Festival concluded recently in Cannes with all the glamour and fanfare associated with film stars, though, for me personally, it was saddening to see fantasy taking over from realism in judging the best movies. I am simply at a loss to describe why this is so.

In my narrow mind I equate this trend with preferring a cartoon to the film version of a literary classic. It’s the aging process I suppose. By the way, will there be a day when a Pakistani film is accepted for showing in the festival at Cannes or Venice or Moscow?

Another thing that I don’t understand is why my mind chooses to ignore forty years of world films, as if time in the world of cinema stood still somewhere around 1960 and has only started moving now. Maybe it was the long VCR hiatus, because going to the cinema was an integral part of enjoying movies, and as that wonderful and exciting habit declined, the interest in movies viewed on the box became a different kind of pleasure. A sort of second-hand thing.

Despite this, I keep up my academic interest in films, though I hardly ever watch a movie on television. Once upon a time, film-going was a craze with me. A vicarious interest is all that is left of a passion that began after I entered college in Lahore in 1939. I spent all my pocket money on going to the cinema. At that time matinee shows used to be at half rates, which reduced the ticket to the then respectable class to nine annas, say 60 paisas. Add two annas for a packet of potato chips, and it was a feast.

One of the truly momentous events for film fans, as also for those who went occasionally to the pictures (as we called them then), was the release of Gone With the Wind in early 1941. It was like the appearance of a comet, the declaration of world war, and the surprise acceptance of the idea of Pakistan by the Hindus — all put together. It ran in Lahore for an unprecedented three weeks instead of the usual four days. I saw it three times, and now and then again later in life.

I used to write down in a copy book the names of all the films I saw. Other information jotted down was the names of the principal actors and actresses, of the man who directed the film and the quality rating that I gave to each movie, the highest being four stars. I stopped keeping this record after partition though I still have the copy book which is a source of considerable interest and amusement to young people.

This was not all. I used to write my diary regularly in those days, every day if I could. A day’s activities would include a detailed review of the film seen that afternoon. When I was studying in Aligarh (1941-45) where they rarely showed English films, a visit to Delhi was memorable in the sense that I sometimes went to three different shows in a day and each film was duly reviewed in the diary. Come to think of it, I must have had plenty of time in those days for what you might call meaningless writing, though it didn’t seem meaningless at that age.

The scenario of film exhibition did not change for a long time after partition. Indian movies continued to be shown in Pakistan till 1965 when an agitation by the local film industry to ban their entry into the country succeeded. This was a milestone in the history of Pakistani cinema because it resulted in better films being produced in the country, which gives a lie to the shocking statement of today’s producers and directors that Pakistani films are of low quality because this is what the public wants.

Another boastful whopper by one of them which qualifies him to be shot by a firing squad is, “We are as capable of making beautiful art films as the Indians. Only there is no market for them in Pakistan.” With this I go back to my opening paragraph. Pakistani films are so cheap and puerile that they could only be sent to a special festival for bad movies. Once, pressed by the industry, the government did send an entry to the Moscow Film Festival. As a gesture of courtesy they showed it there, not in competition but “as a sample of Pakistani cinema,” whatever that meant.

As everywhere else, but more so in Pakistan, the arrival of the VCR too was a milestone. Here the effect was that the intelligentsia began to watch movies at home, and the industry started making films for the proletariat whose only entertainment was cinema-going and who revelled in gory violence, sex and loud noise. This was also the time when pieces of blue film began to be surreptitiously shown along with feature films, creating a new kind of clientele for unscrupulous cinema-owners.

The trouble is that in Pakistan if there is someone with ideas and wants to make a quality movie, he would rather do it for television than for the local cinema circuit. And he’ll do the shooting anywhere except in a film studio where the atmosphere grates on one’s finer feelings, apart from the appalling ignorance of its denizens.

I feel particularly sorry for Punjabi films, as also for Pushto films. At the moment they are the epitome of all that is unrealistic, garish and obscene. And yet there was a time when some very fine Punjabi movies were produced. This was the period of our industry’s halcyon days after the banning of Indian films. The only difference between a Punjabi film and an Urdu film was that of language, otherwise you didn’t have to place them in separate compartments for their theme and quality. One can only wonder at what has happened.

I have yet to go and watch a movie in a cinema house, for, as in Europe and America, the habit is coming back. What nostalgia it evokes, the visit to the cinema I mean! It was an outing, a picnic. You met family friends there, you ate and drank in the interval. They invariably showed a cartoon and also British Movie tone news. You even enjoyed the trailers of coming attractions and made plans. It was an occasion, an event in social and family life. All that is no more. Gone with the wind!

THE All Parties Hurriyat Conference (APHC) leaders’ visit to Pakistan came as a watershed in the protracted dispute between India and Pakistan on the status of Kashmir. In the bonhomie and euphoria that met the APHC leaders in every city they visited, some basic implications of the political strategy adopted by the Hurriyat leaders and the Pakistan government’s handling of the situation have been missed.

They indicate U-turns by Pakistan and the moderate Kashmiri leadership and a partial turn around by India. What is most important is that this turnabout is the best thing to have happened to South Asia — termed as the most dangerous spot in the world by President Clinton in 2000 — as it can now at long last hope for peace.

Taking a look at Pakistan we find that it had since independence pinned its entire foreign policy on Kashmir. We don’t have to argue whether it was the dispute on Kashmir which vitiated Pakistan’s relations with India or realpolitik compulsions of the two governments that pre-empted a solution to Kashmir. Whichever it may be, the fact is that India and Pakistan remained locked in a vicious dispute that cast its shadow on all other aspects of their bilateral relations.

For the first time, the president of Pakistan has in categorical terms abjured war and ruled out a military option in Kashmir. Four wars have been fought on this state to no avail and it comes as a relief that Pakistan has opted for the peace card.

As a corollary to this change in strategy, Pakistan has withdrawn its support to the militants who are even now determined to wage an armed struggle to “liberate” Kashmir from the “clutches” of India. It is well known that the Kashmiris who resorted to violence in a bid to win their freedom did so with the active support of Pakistan. Yasin Malik, the JKLF leader and a militant turned politician, himself declared during his visit that he had crossed the LoC eight times during the course of his armed struggle.

Like Yasin Malik, Islamabad now realizes that the time has come to use peaceful means and a dialogue to negotiate a settlement. The message sent by President Musharraf has been loud and clear. The militant section of the APHC led by the Jamaat-i-Islami leader, Syed Ali Shah Geelani, is not acceptable to Islamabad. Although the invitation was also extended to Geelani, he did not avail of it because he refused to journey by the bus which he had opposed tooth and nail. With India having impounded his passport, Geelani’s plans to travel to Pakistan by other means were frustrated. There was not even a whimper of protest from Islamabad. Why should there be? Geelani has been opposing President Musharraf’s peace dialogue and his fellow partymen in Pakistan are at the moment the staunchest political enemies of Musharraf. Politics in Pakistan, international relations in South Asia and the global mood against terrorism have combined to sideline the militants.

Keeping in view the emerging trends, President Musharraf has shrewdly changed his stance on the obsolete UNCIP resolutions calling for a plebiscite in Kashmir. He has been talking about exploring other options and “out of box” solutions. But he has wisely continued to demand a solution in keeping with the will of the Kashmiris. How does one determine their will? By inducting the Kashmiri leadership into the dialogue that has been taking place between India and Pakistan, says President Musharraf. It is to his credit that a solution on Kashmir appears not as unachievable as it was before.

The leadership in Kashmir has also shown a good measure of pragmatism and statesmanship. There are some people in Pakistan who feel betrayed by the Hurriyat. They fail to realize that the main brunt of our policies — good or bad — was borne by the people of Kashmir themselves. It was Pakistan which had been setting the direction. Isn’t it time now to let the Kashmiris decide how they want to settle the future of their state - not just the final solution but the modus operandi as well?

If the Hurriyat leaders have changed their stance and have been talking with New Delhi, they should be commended for their statesmanship and foresight. When Nelson Mandela, the inveterate freedom fighter in South Africa who spent the better part of his life in Robben Island prison, was released in 1993, he negotiated a deal with his white tormentors. The National Party, which had brought the curse of apartheid to South Africa, was included in the interim government that was set up and Mr de Klerk became one of the vice presidents. Mr Mandela’s statesmanship saved his country from a bloodbath and its ravages.

The leader of the APHC delegation, Mirwaiz Omar Farooq, made it clear in his speeches in Pakistan that the status quo in Kashmir and a division along the LoC is entirely unacceptable to his party. He spoke of other options which he said he had discussed with President Musharraf but would not disclose at this stage. His main demand is for the APHC to be included in the dialogue. As a concession to the Indian government, the Mirwaiz said that “triangular” rather than “trilateral” talks were acceptable to him.

In other words he was appealing to Pakistan to accept a format in which the APHC would talk separately with India and Pakistan, while New Delhi and Islamabad could carry on their dialogue. He let it be known that he would be briefing India about his visit to Pakistan. Given the conditions the Mirwaiz has spelt out — a change in status quo and no partition of the state — why should Pakistan question this framework especially if it can produce peace.

The change in India’s stance has been the minimum, but it has been there. As the strongest and biggest party with nothing to lose, India can afford to cling on to a hardline approach until it is pressured by circumstances or a bigger power to change gears. But it should be appreciated that after years of repeating ad nauseam that Kashmir is an integral part of the Indian Union and not open to negotiations with an outside power, New Delhi is now discussing the Kashmir issue with Pakistan. It has taken key decisions on issues such as the bus service, the ceasefire across the LoC, and how the Kashmiri leadership should be involved in the composite dialogue. These are major changes and should not be underestimated.

We will have to wait and see in what direction the peace process on Kashmir proceeds. The Mirwaiz and his colleagues asked why they are being asked to prove their credentials when other leaders, such as Mandela or Arafat, were not asked to do the same. Given the deep divisions in the Kashmiri leadership it is best that a more intense intra-Kashmir dialogue be encouraged to form a collective team.

Elections, when they are held for an interim government in the transitional phase, could be held simultaneously on both sides of Kashmir and the fairness of the electoral exercise be ensured by having neutral and independent monitors. All leaders, those in the governments in Srinagar and Muzaffarabad and those in the opposition as well as those outside the political set-up at the moment such as the Hurriyat and the JKLF, should be allowed to contest the polls. The interim government so formed could of the work out the details of the form of government to be adopted.

It may be pointed out that Pakistan will have to step back and allow the Kashmiris to take the front seat. For instance, it cannot insist that independence of the state was not offered in the UN resolutions or that the Azad Kashmir leadership only recognizes accession to Pakistan (because it has not been allowed to express any other viewpoint).

Mr Agha Shahi, a former foreign minister, explicitly pointed out to the APHC leadership at the Karachi symposium that Pakistan has supported the rights of the people of Kashmir but it also has its own national interests to guard. That is true but national interest is not something absolute. It is a relative issue which changes with times. It calls for statesmanship to determine when the time for a change has arrived.