Military-political discourse

‘It is said that the Constitution is sacred. But more sacred than the Constitution or anything else is the country and the welfare and happiness of its people.’ — Iskander Mirza, Oct 1958.

‘The choice before us on Oct 12 was between saving the body —- that is the nation, at the cost of losing a limb —- which is the Constitution, or saving the limb and losing the whole body.’ — Pervez Musharraf, Oct 17, 1999.

THE above statements are taken from two speeches proclaiming martial law in Pakistan with the temporal difference of 41 years. But there is a striking resemblance between them.

During these five decades almost everything changed with the exception of the political discourse of the ruling elite. A similar logic with identical analogies has been chosen to get across the message. Why is certain vocabulary chosen, with certain syntax? What persuasive techniques are used to justify the action? How is language wielded as a tool for the purposes of persuasion and consent (Gramsci, Chomsky)?

In this article I would like to focus on the five speeches delivered on the eve of martial law by Iskander Mirza in Oct 1958, Ayub Khan on Oct 27, 1958, Yahya Khan on March 26, 1969, Muhammad Ziaul Haq on July 4, 1977, and Pervez Musharraf on October 17, 1999.

Before we proceed with the speech analysis, it is useful to appreciate the political nature of discourse which, according to Foucault, has a special kind of relationship with power; it is a two-way relationship as power gives credibility to a certain discourse and in return the discourse legitimises and justifies that power by creating a certain kind of social reality. Detailed commentary on the linkage of discourse and power can be seen in the works of scholars including Phillipson (Linguistic Imperialism), Pennycook (The Cultural Politics of English), Canagrajah, (Resisting Linguistic Imperialism) and Norman Fairclough (Language and Power).

It is interesting to see a similar discourse pattern in all these speeches. Watch closely how a rationale is built for martial law by painting a depressing picture of the situation, and the martial law authorities pretending that they have no ambition to take over but they have to take this ‘unpleasant step’, in order to save the country. The politicians are presented as villains who are unable to deliver and because of whose deeds the army has to come in. The recurring discourse pattern of the martial law speeches suggests a certain mindset of the military rulers who present themselves as the saviours of the country.

It is easier to understand the discourse patterns of speeches if we follow the principles of designing a good persuasive advertisement. There are three principles, propounded ages ago by Aristotle. They refer to logic, emotion and credibility. In these speeches, a proper rationale is established for take-over, rhetorical statements are studded to appeal to the emotions, and the credibility of the authority is established by praising the army. A bond is established with the people by expressing appreciation for them and condemning the other competitors (politicians) by stigmatising them.

Let us first look at the way that military action is justified. First a bleak scenario is painted and special efforts are made so that the audience is convinced about the hopelessness of the situation. The image of the country suddenly becomes a top priority. For instance, the country is ‘on the verge of ruination’(Mirza); ‘a perfectly sound country has been turned into a laughing stock’ (Ayub); ‘a state of panic has paralysed the nation’ (Yahya);’provocative circumstances’ (Zia); and ‘lost our honour, our dignity, our respect in the comity of nations’ (Musharraf).

After painting a bleak picture of the country the proponents of martial law make it a point to target the poor performance of the governments they have toppled. The politicians and the toppled governments are dubbed as evil creatures and all possible negative adjectives are used to refer to them. It is important to look at the descriptive phrases used for politicians, e.g., ‘mentality of the political parties has sunk so low’, ‘political adventurers, traitors, unpatriotic element, thirst for power, unpatriotic conduct’ (Mirza).

Significantly, politicians are tactfully bracketed with the evil groups of society, e.g., ‘the political adventurers, the smugglers, the black marketers, the hoarders’ (Mirza); and ‘the nefarious activities of the bad characters, disruptionists, political opportunists, smugglers, black marketers and other such social vermin, sharks and leeches’ (Ayub). Also, ‘when the political leaders failed to steer the country out of a crisis, it is an inexcusable sin for the armed forces to sit as silent spectators’ (Zia); and ‘last governments were intriguing to destroy the last institution of stability left in Pakistan’ (Musharraf).

After condemning the politicians, appreciation is showered on the army, e.g., ‘valiant armed forces of Pakistan, their patriotism and loyalty’ (Mirza); ‘army…which had served them so well with loyalty and devotion’ (Ayub); ‘they have always stood by the nation selflessly and gallantly’ (Yahya); ‘buoyant and momin armed forces of Pakistan’ (Zia); ‘I salute my soldiers and men for acting courageously’ (Musharraf). Like a smart salesperson a direct bond is instantly established with the people by praising them, e.g., ‘simple honest, patriotic and industrious masses’ (Mirza), ‘patriotic and good people, tolerant, patient, and rise to great heights when well led’ (Ayub); ‘dynamic and industrious people’ (Musharraf).

After describing the hopeless situation of the country and condemning politicians and the governments and admiring the army the next job in hand is to suggest that how ‘unpleasant’ a task it was to take over but with great ‘reluctance’ they had to take this action.

For instance, ‘the action had to be taken with utmost regret’ (Mirza); ‘drastic and extreme step, great reluctance’ and ‘onerous and unpleasant duty’ (Ayub); ‘he (Ayub Khan) called upon me to carry out my prime duty of protecting this country…’ (Yahya). Also, ‘I was obliged to…fill the vacuum created by the political leaders (Zia); and ‘I took over in extremely unusual circumstances — not of my making’ (Musharraf).

On every such occasion, the people are told that the action taken is in the great national interest, e.g., ‘in the interest of the country and the masses’ (Mirza); and ‘this step has been taken in your interest and in the interest of the stability of Pakistan (Ayub). Each martial law speech gives the perfect justification for the initiative offering a grand objective. These professed objectives are perfect examples of dramatic irony, e.g., ‘to restore democracy but of the type people can understand and work’ (Ayub); ‘to save the country’ (Zia); ‘I shall not allow the people to be taken back to the era of sham democracy’ (Musharraf).

The martial law speeches follow a set pattern. They suggest that the country is on the verge of destruction, condemn the politicians and the toppled government, pat the people on the back, lionise the army, describing the take-over as something ‘unpleasant’, emphasise publicly the ‘reluctance’ with which they had to take the action, suggest that the action is taken in the greater national interest, claim that the country has been saved by this action, and promise greener pastures for the masses. The regular continuity and consistency in the political discourse pattern of the ruling military elite is intriguing for students of language and politics.

The writer is a linguist and educationist and author of ‘Rethinking Education in Pakistan’.

shahidksiddiqui@yahoo.com

Fear factor and militancy

SPINE-chilling fear grips the territory stretching across the geographical tract inhabited by the Pashtuns. The people of Waziristan to the southwest of the NWFP and in Swat in the north of the province have become almost voiceless since the militants got hold of their areas.

A high-intensity conflict has terrorised these people of diverse cultural backgrounds, and silenced them.

They are afraid of expressing their opinion even at private gatherings. Confusion, uncertainty, insecurity and frustration have penetrated the very fabric of society. The pattern of fear is identical throughout the Pashtun belt. Those comprising the common population are first de-linked from one another by the militants who ban all sources of information like TV, the internet and newspapers. Then a complex web of mystery is created, one which takes a heavy toll on the communicative ability of the local population. Words lose their meaning and what remains is muteness, the incapacity to move around and a breakdown of communication. Expression gets manipulated and become meaningless.

Here I will elaborate on the process of fear, the consciousness of fear and the relationship of ideology with the kind of fear created by militant tactics. The consciousness, effects and response to fear come through both tangible and intangible sources. The intangible means are more difficult to address. “The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a Heav’n of Hell, a Hell of Heav’n” as Milton would put it.

Scientists working on the subject classify the causes of fear under four categories — ‘intensity, novelty, hereditary natural reflexes and reasons hidden in human social interaction’.

A well-known child psychologist, John Bowlby, identifies several inborn determinants of fear, which he calls ‘natural stimuli and their derivations’. Stimuli such as ‘loneliness, unfamiliarity, sudden approach, sudden change of stimulus, height and pain’ are considered natural stimuli. According to Bowlby, the major stimuli of fear are ‘darkness, animals, unknown objects and unfamiliar people’. He argues that ‘loneliness’ is the most profound and the most important cause of fear.

According to scientists, the individual’s response to fear has two roads — the low road, in which the victim is unable to decipher the cause of fear, and the high road, in which he or she tries to unravel the mystery of fear.

In high-intensity conflict zones of militant and militaristic violence, one finds two factors that contribute to fear. Firstly, fear is collective. Secondly, it remains a low road for a very long time unlike in instances where individuals experience fear due to personal reasons when the ‘low road’ fear converts into ‘high road’ fear very quickly. The religious militancy that has penetrated the Pashtun belt over the last several decades has been using the idea of ‘martyrdom’ as a tool to produce individuals who create fear carrying along with it almost all the elements of a strong stimulus.

The concept works both ways. It gives the martyr the power to annihilate his own fear while at the same time it creates unimaginable fear in the minds of his victims. Isolation and de-linking are the tactics used in both cases. Farhad Khosrokhavar, a French scholar, in his book Suicide Bombers: Allah’s New Martyrs says that the two-way process of controlling and perpetrating fear is closely linked to the modern concept of ‘martyrdom’ coined by the Al Qaeda and its affiliates (the Taliban in Pakistan and Afghanistan).

Khosrokhavar says, “(Martyrdom) is individualised, posed in concrete terms and not an abstract form in some empyrean to which mere mortals have access. It is politicised, secularised and takes on contemporary meanings… Hence the fear of death and the fear of succumbing to that fear, which has to be overcome through the spiritual transcendence of life, by taking one’s fate into one’s own hands is an irreversible act.” The ‘holy warriors’, as they call themselves, take the path of death to give evidence of their fearlessness which in turn perpetrates fear in the victims who are ‘the enemies (both direct and indirect) of the holy religion’.

Suicide attacks are supplemented with gruesome beheadings and large-scale destruction. The common people are trapped between the militants’ isolationist tactics and the military’s large-scale destruction. The former instills fear through suicide bombers and the latter through gunship helicopters and jet planes.

The resultant wave of fear and terror that one has been observing in Swat valley and Waziristan contain all the significant elements of ‘intensity, novelty, hereditary natural reflexes and reasons hidden in human social interaction’.

But the most important factor in these circumstances is the creation of ‘loneliness’. A whole population is isolated from the world for the purpose of moulding socio-political and socio-cultural cross-currents into a particular worldview.

Probably, the ‘low road’ fear in collective consciousness takes more time to become ‘high road’ fear, and sometimes the low road remains static, and is in the same condition for a very long time. What we observed in Swat and Waziristan clearly indicates that individual low road fear needs to have spaces in which most individuals can interact to convert their low fear into high road fear. Till fear becomes collective high road fear, culture and society start taking new and unknown directions making it difficult if not impossible for the common masses to regain the lost power of expression and communication.

The socio-cultural environment is consequently devoid of ‘secularism, universalistic ideas of human rights and freedom of belief’. The space for interaction shrinks to the point where the majority of the people are unable to express genuine opinions. We observed the dissolution of tribal and cultural identities on the one hand and the elimination of cultural spaces for interaction on the other, in the case of Swat and Waziristan. This gave further impetus to the fear resulting from suicide attacks, beheadings and large-scale destruction.

This consequently breaks down all traditional spaces of expression and communication making fear more pervasive, long-term and self-perpetuating. The dissolution of ethno-tribal identities seems to have been the most traumatic factor that pushes the individuals towards the dungeon of ‘loneliness’.

This loneliness takes away the sense of time and space from the people, thus perpetrating a sense of alienation. Alienation, isolation and loneliness of individuals snatch away courage and passion from them and deprive them of the motivation needed to play a role in bringing about a change in the events surrounding them.

The resultant passivity of individuals trapped between militancy and militarism is sometimes seen as complicity by external observers, though all evidence proves the case to be otherwise.

We do not have any evidence to prove that the majority of the common people, both in Waziristan and Swat, support the militant and militaristic tactics. It is, in fact, fear which has imposed an eternal silence on their socio-cultural structure and has made these individuals voiceless.

The writer is a socio-political analyst based in Islamabad.

khadim.2005@gmail.com

Armed guards

WHEREVER you see a selfstyled VIP these days (or even a genuinely important person) you will find one or two armed guards escorting him, trying to ensure that nobody comes near him or talks to him.

Since they are not much educated but are inordinately dutiful they usually do not allow even another VIP to get near him. For some inexplicable reason, these security guards are called gunmen, although, according to dictionaries, the word means an armed bandit.

Anyhow, it always reminds me of an incident about Humayun Akhtar Khan, the Muslim League politician. Long ago there was a letter in an English newspaper by a lady from Lahore. She said she and her companions were frightened to death while having a walk in the Race Course Garden one morning when they saw a burly fellow with an automatic rifle hanging on his shoulder and running for his life on the jogging track. It was only later that they found that the man was running for Humayun Akhtar’s life, who was safe and unharmed anyway, and not his own.

Not accustomed to exercise, and probably fed on parathas made in pure ghee, the man was endeavouring to keep pace with his boss, who, not encumbered with extra body weight, was unsporting enough to sometimes leave him trailing far behind. Then suddenly becoming mindful of the salary he received to keep a vigilant eye on his master, he would dig his spurs in his own flanks and make a dash to catch up with him.

The letter-writing lady was indignant for nothing. Probably she was not au courant with the now common fad in ostentation and drawing attention to oneself, that is, the armedteeth security guard. Very likely the man can’t hit a buffalo from ten feet with his gun, and is more likely to kill, wound or maim some of his own companions if he were to retaliate in a shooting attack on his charge; but he has to be there.

Actually, he is more of a decoration piece. But no selfrespecting politician would like to be seen nowadays without one. It is the status symbol par excellence. Had that apostle of nonviolence, Mahatma Gandhi, been a Pakistani politician of today, he too would have been accompanied by such an armed guard. But please don’t tell the subject of this anecdote that the chances of his being made victim of violence are dim. He’ll be terribly disappointed, because everyone likes to feel important enough to make someone take a pot shot at him.

It’s like the story of the poor negro in East Africa (narrated to me by a friend who migrated to Pakistan from there) who was asked if he had change for a pound. The man grinned from ear to ear, flashed his pearlwhite teeth in a grateful smile, and said, “I am sorry I haven’t got the change, but thank you all the same for the compliment.” For him it was a great honour that anybody should think he had change for a whole pound sterling.

It’s the same with these selfVIPs. The other day there was a photograph of the militant ASSP headaddressing a Jhangvi conference somewhere in Punjab, with a Kalashnikovg man looking on. If some moron of an assassin had really made an attempt on the boss’s life at that moment it is difficult to say what he would have achieved. But one can imagine the dead bodies this bodyguard would have left behind had he tried to intercept the murderer with a weaponweapon strategy.

You will perhaps remark (cynically I’m sure): Who is worried about murderous attacks and demented assailants? The man and the gun are there for show. It is pure and simple exhibitionism and denotes a certain pride and false prestige. How else, other than being surrounded by guards, can a leader or a public figure declare his importance?

Everyone knows that a determined assassin cannot be stopped. With all the love and admiration that were her due, our Benazir Bhutto could not escape the cruel killer. And Rajiv Gandhi, when out of power, was given the same protocol and security as accorded to a prime minister, and look what happened to him. Got by a woman!

More than forty years ago when I was posted in Peshawar, the peon assigned to me was one Hastam Khan, an Afridi tribesman, who always carried a pistol slung over his shoulder. Once he decided to accompany me to Lahore where I was going for my sister’s wedding. He was the cause of my being made the subject of numerous jokes and sallies from my friends because of his aggressive appearance. In those days he was an anachronism in Lahore.

How I wish I had Hastam Khan with me today! Only he would be carrying a Kalashnikov now instead of an ordinary pistol. Everybody would ask, “I say, who is that distinguished looking guy with the bodyguard?” They would have got the reply, “Don’t you know? He is Hafizur Rahman, the newspaper columnist.” “What is he afraid of, keeping a bodyguard in tow?” The answer could be: “I really don’t know. Maybe of other columnists.”

There is this publicity advantage of course. If your own face is not welland since you don’t wear a label saying MNA (as your car does) people are bound to ask about your identity, just because of a cowboy trailing you. If you are within hearing distance, the whispered reply will add an ounce or two to your blood. And even if you can’t make out the words, the looks will be enough to give you a feeling of importance. Therein lies the rub.

Give democracy a chance

“TIN-POT dictators have ravaged Asia, Latin America and Africa. They are the worst tyrants of the post-colonial period. They have destroyed time-honoured institutions and treated their people like animals.

They have caused internal divisions and external confusion. The dictator is the one animal who needs to be caged. He betrays his profession and his constitution. He betrays the people and destroys human values. He destroys culture. He binds the youth. He makes the structure collapse. He rules by fluke and freak. He is the scourge and the ogre. He is a leper. Anyone who touches him also becomes a leper. He is the upstart who is devoid of ideals and ideology. Not a single one of them has made a moment’s contribution to history.”

This is an excerpt from one of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s letters to Benazir Bhutto written from his prison cell and published in a book titled My Dearest Daughter.

Bhutto’s views are as relevant and appealing today as they were 30 years ago. These are not the most inspiring of times for democracy and human rights and the battle for democracy continues to be fought in several countries of Asia, Latin America and Africa even today.

We have recently seen the overthrow of democratic governments in Thailand and Bangladesh, the crushing of monks in Myanmar and the stealing of elections in Kenya. There is disorder in Iraq and Afghanistan.

History teaches us that tin-pot dictators neither learn from history nor contribute to it. They don’t want democracy and always go against the will of the people.

They find it easy to work with coteries of self-seeking politicians to legitimise their regimes and their policies. They demonise political leaders to depoliticise society and import people without a constituency of their own to run the government. We have seen a couple of elections rigged in Pakistan and President Musharraf arguing that his people are not ready for democracy.

The brutal killing of Benazir Bhutto, suicide bomb blasts during election rallies and the suppression of democratic forces, civil society and the lawyers show that anti-democracy forces will not allow the people of Pakistan to take the best course for bringing democracy, federalism and constitutionalism to the country.

Ms Bhutto, who had the backing of millions of people, returned home from exile to join the battle the people of this country were waging against the rule of the praetorians. The charismatic leader could have galvanised the nation at a time when militancy seemed set to destroy the country. A civil war-like situation has already gripped the NWFP and most parts of the region are now split by violence.

The Feb 18 election will be a battle between those who have a gargantuan appetite for power and those who want the people’s dream of democracy to be realised to build a new Pakistan and a new federation.

The country is in the spotlight and elections are being seen as an opportunity for a transition to democracy and constitutionalism. It is time for a change, and proposals and suggestions are pouring in from abroad for the restoration of democracy.

Conspiracies and coups have usually been preludes to Washington’s interventions in the banana republics of Latin America and the Caribbean. One hopes the same is not the case in Pakistan.

The country faces a multitude of problems, including extremism. But why should we take orders from others to put our own house in order? In essence, the country needs to undergo a transition from military rule to a political system and this can be made possible through transparent elections that can help map out the future of democracy. This is ultimately the responsibility of the people of Pakistan, not external forces.

Over the years, questions have been asked about whether the integrity of the federation of Pakistan is in jeopardy on account of the growing disparity between the federating units. The people of the smaller provinces are blaming their bigger partners for their woes. They complain about the appalling inequalities between the provinces. It is time to remove this sense of alienation that has caused a sense of powerlessness and hopelessness to prevail and led to marginalised communities being rendered voiceless.

The people’s faith in Pakistan will never be restored unless the state institutions are opened to all groups of people to guarantee a hierarchal equilibrium. Seen against the backdrop of the Dec 27 reaction, the government should take sensible measures to prevent the volcano of anger from exploding. With the murder of Benazir Bhutto they have derailed the democratic process, but not the people’s appetite for democracy.

A myth has been created that Pakistan is a strong state held together solidly by the Pakistan army and the nuclear arsenal it possesses. If that logic is correct, why did the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia disintegrate? Why did East Pakistan separate?

Any attempt to manipulate elections or reject election results by the guardians of the old system can plunge the country into a crisis of a worse kind. So it is time to give democracy a chance before the country slides into anarchy.

manzoor.chandio@dawn.com

Hazardous glare

Jack Straw put it well. “A general principle applies to all relationships between lawyers and those whom they advise that the advice that they offer must in principle be given in confidence.”

As foreign secretary, he invoked legal confidentiality to explain why he was keeping the attorney general’s advice on Iraq secret. Over the weekend the Daily Telegraph alleged that “hundreds” of lawyers had been secretly bugged while visiting prisoners, many of them at Woodhill jail, where inmates include terrorism suspects.

The latest allegations follow news 10 days earlier that the MP Sadiq Khan had been bugged while visiting a constituent in Woodhill. Just as listening in on solicitors breaches legal privilege, the eavesdropping on Mr Khan cut across another established principle. Since 1966 the rule has been that MPs would not have their phones tapped. Despite the shadow cast by the cold war, the then prime minister, Harold Wilson, judged that constituents must be free to speak to MPs without inhibition.

Unaccountable surveillance jeopardises justice as well as the link between parliament and people. But rather than carve out special protection for MPs and lawyers, it would be better to turn on its head the presumption the authorities seem to have made ––that bugging is fair game unless there is some particular reason why not.—The Guardian, London