And now the economy

IT would be an understatement to say that the decision of the PML-N to quit the federal cabinet on the issue of reinstatement of the deposed judges has shaken the already low investor confidence in the national economy. Investor confidence had been ebbing for the past several months on account of many factors, political turmoil being the single most critical one. The formation of the coalition by the two arch rivals from the past — the PPP and the PML-N — had actually raised strong hopes among the business community that political peace and stability, essential for economic and business revival and growth, would finally return to the country. But the recent tensions between them on the judges’ issue have done much more damage to business, and resultantly to the economy, than just blighting the investment climate.

The separation of the PML-N from the fledgling government has further eroded the belief of the business community in the ability of our politicians to settle their disputes amicably. More than that, it has revived the fears of a re-enactment of the years of political confrontation and acrimony between politicians during our brief encounters with democratic rule in 1988-1999. It is feared that the falling apart of the two major partners of the coalition will accentuate the grave economic challenges we face. As it is, the paralysis that has gripped the country since March 9, 2007, has inflicted on it the problems of an expanding trade deficit, increasing fiscal imbalances, spiking food and energy prices, deceleration in the manufacturing sector, falling agricultural output, etc. Pakistan is already paying a premium of around six per cent as the price for political uncertainty on its 10-year, $750m bonds launched a year ago. Foreign and domestic investment is declining and the failure of the coalition partners to hammer out their differences on the demand for reinstatement of the deposed judges has caused a steep fall in the rupee’s value against the greenback in recent days.

The real and perceived fears of the business community about the possibility of repetition of the political turmoil of the 1990s due to the break-up of the coalition are likely to affect the business and economic climate in the country for a long time to come. The only way to revive business confidence in democracy requires our politicians to resolve their differences. Unless they pledge to work together for the reversal of the negative factors and policies impeding the goal of economic betterment of the country and mitigating the problems of the common man, they should forget the idea of restoring business confidence in the economy and in the political system. Moreover, given the economic tribulations of the masses, one should now be prepared to face the anger and despair of the starving millions who are finding it difficult to feed their children.

Back in the Commonwealth

SHOULD we be patting ourselves on the back, or the government for that matter, on being readmitted to the 53-member Commonwealth? This, after all, is indicative of our being on the road to fulfilling our democratic ‘obligations’. The Commonwealth has not much to offer in practical terms, apart from being a symbolic link to a past where British colonialism held sway. Hence no palpable loss was felt when Pakistan stormed out of the organisation in protest in 1972 at a time when Bangladesh’s membership seemed assured. Neither did the country suffer when it was suspended after Gen Pervez Musharraf’s 1999 coup. Still, readmission is to be welcomed. It will be seen as an international acknowledgment that the country is once again on the democratic track — something that many Commonwealth members have stuck to without much deviation — and that it continues to espouse a prescribed set of common values. Democratic governance is high on the Commonwealth’s agenda and it is only right that Pakistan, if it wishes to continue in the organisation, should not be violating this. Pakistan suffered considerable loss of face in the international community when it was suspended most recently after the Nov 3 emergency imposed by the president last year.

However, from a global perspective, we should not be dictated so much by how others perceive us, as by the actions that cause us to look small in the eyes of the international community or that constitute a threat to its interests in anyway. Equally, or even more, of concern is the damage that illiberal, undemocratic behaviour inflicts on people and institutions at home. This truth may be lost on military regimes or civilian ones that are controlled by uniformed men, but it would be a shame if democratically-elected governments did not take their cue. It is in this context that the current dispensation would do well to refrain from congratulating itself for too long over the improvement in the country’s image resulting from its re-entry into the Commonwealth fold. Instead, a sincere attempt to rule democratically and strengthen institutions essential to this goal should guide its efforts at winning the endorsement of both, the international community and the people at home.

Managing Karachi

BASKING in the glory of a just concluded visit to the US, Karachi Nazim Mustafa Kamal made all the right noises at a press conference held in the city on Monday. Bragging aside, Mr Kamal said he was willing to work with anyone for the betterment of the city. He offered reconciliation to the Sindh government — although he parried questions regarding his removal by the provincial administration as the head of the KWSB and KBCA. The offer to share the CDGK’s expertise in the field of health and sanitation with other districts is equally welcome. Given the city government’s management of last year’s torrential rains and their aftermath, a case can well be made for maintaining its unity of command over the KWSB, but the same cannot be said about the KBCA. The city government has consistently refused to honour the completion certificates issued earlier by the Sindh government to hundreds of buildings before the KBCA was handed over to it. It now requires a no-objection certificate for the resale of commercial and residential units in such buildings, which it will not give, leaving both buyers and sellers at the mercy of the land mafia and its own extortionist staff. How this could have gone on for years without the city managers doing anything to redress the anomaly is a question mark hanging over the CDGK’s management of the KBCA. That said, it is far from clear if the provincial government will deliver where the city government has failed.

Mr Kamal has quite a bit to be proud of in terms of the development work and the streamlining of services being carried out in Karachi, including, at times, in areas which do not fall under the CDGK’s jurisdiction. But a city the size of Karachi with a huge backlog of problems accumulated over the years requires much more to be done. The nazim has shown the will to get on with his job with the least fuss and not play the blame game. The provincial government will do well not to divert his energies by embroiling him in controversies. A well-managed Karachi with better civic amenities and services can translate into attracting more investment into the city, the beneficiaries of which will include not only the people of this city but the whole country.

OTHER VOICES - European Press

From cradle to the grave

The Independent

GORDON Brown’s announcement on social care for the elderly … helped shift the media spotlight briefly away from his own political troubles. But, unfortunately, from the perspective of the elderly, the prime minister’s announcement contained little substantive….

Ministers have been promising for some time to get to grips with this issue….We must hope that, this time, the government will actually deliver…. Standards of full-time and ancillary care are, in the main, dire…. The social care services are already under-funded and over-stretched. But such strains will only get worse as time goes on.

This is partly due to social changes. Fifty years ago, it would have been normal for the elderly to live with their extended family. This is increasingly rare; the strain of helping the older generation now often falls on local government and the social services. But the strains are also demographic. In 20 years time, a quarter of the UK’s population will be over 65 and the number of people over 85 will have doubled. Reform of the system is not a luxury; it is a political and social imperative.

Across the political spectrum there is an agreement that the present system of rationing care through means testing in England, Wales and Northern Ireland … is unfair. Anyone with assets of more than £21,500 must pay their full costs. The system thus penalises those with modest savings. And many … have been forced to sell their property to pay for their care.

But the solutions to such iniquities are far from obvious. The provision of Scottish-style universal care would be prohibitively expensive and also channel funds to those who are well off enough to pay for care themselves….

This newspaper recognises the spending implications, but nevertheless errs on the side of broader social care coverage, along the lines of the recommendations made by the King’s Fund two years ago. This report suggested a minimum level of care guaranteed by the state. This will not be cheap, but the British public have a right to expect basic medical and social support from the cradle to the grave. And a government that claims to have money for a ludicrous ID cards scheme and NHS super computers should at least have enough funds to ensure a dignified old age for all of its citizens.

There is another argument in favour of decisive action. If these are to be Mr Brown’s final years in government, what more attractive legacy is open to him, as things stand, than setting in train a bold and egalitarian reform of the social care system? — (May 13)

The lost generation

OUT of all of Gen Zia’s children of dictatorship, M. Hanif, the author of the new novel, A Case of Exploding Mangoes, is the lost sibling I’ve been searching for most anxiously.

Of course, given that we grew up in an era of sexual taboos and forced abstinence, the state made sure I could imagine no other social relationship with him (or any man, for that matter). So brother it must be. I say ‘lost’ because as a generation to find us you will have to search deep inside the closets of depoliticisation, cultural vacuity or, increasingly, layers of beards and hijabs.

Hanif is amongst the few of us who didn’t recede into any of these. Instead, he rescues those years and writes about how they made us damaged goods. No one from the next generation will get the real importance of his title, but in our politically incorrect hearts of the 1980s, only we know how we waited for that crop of mangoes for 11 years.

In Mangoes, Hanif’s strength is his complete and unapologetic irreverence. Every page reeks of a historical mockery of the Gen Zia years and the plot revolves around a reinvention of political moments and opportunity. It is as if the novel is trying to reclaim the dark years of militarisation, drugs, lies, torture, cultural asphyxiation and most of all religio-political hypocrisy. But not in the way that we activists, sociologists or researchers do.

In my attempt to search for the cultural impact of the Zia years and as I look to further my activism which germinated in that political wasteland, I am always too earnest, trying too hard and getting nowhere.

Hanif doesn’t insult the ‘oriental mind’ by explaining to any western audience about the twisted laws or bizarre social and political culture that suffocated us. He doesn’t look to be rescued either. He merely recollects and laughs while doing so. While we struggle to document and learn about ourselves from history, this novel is mostly a political mystery.

In those years of secrecy, anonymity, a complete media blackout; with literature, dance and song as underground as leftists; women the nemesis of the state and students academically lobotomised, how were we really expected to know what actually happened? So the lesson of historical amnesia that we were so skilfully taught is used to advantage here. The events are subverted and personalities caricaturised, with no special regard for historical accuracy. This story weaves together fact and possible fiction — just like our history lessons.

Set in the military of Gen Zia, the book draws heavily from the author’s own early career as an air force officer. There is a poignant camaraderie in the brotherhood but at the same time one can see through the hollow purpose of any war, particularly the proxy one we led against the Soviets in Afghanistan.

This surrogacy continues even now while the insidious process of militarisation of society and relationships as well as the lost youth of that period are the realities of today. Look into the soldier’s mind. There is Gen Zia’s fear-ridden mind, complete with the ‘holy tingling’ the author imagines the dictator felt in his backbone, as he benevolently hands out money to widows. Those were times when the Muslim male’s fear of emasculation, the politics of piety, suppressed sexuality, collaboration and class were all present and in a big way.

Equally the novel is about taking opportunities and converting them into historical relevancy. There was subversion and dissent within the military as dictatorship emerged as a method of leadership that merely sapped the collective potential of a nation with regard to all institutions. The plot revolves around multiple potential assassins of the president each with a pressing reason to commit the crime, each representing institutions and causes destroyed by the politics of dictatorship. Which eventually succeeds is not the point. That dictatorships continue to haunt us, is.

There can be no record of that period in Pakistan’s history without mentioning the single-minded destruction of the fourth estate by Gen Zia and his sycophants. The general managed to ‘cultivate’ with ease the newspaper editors who vacillated between prayers and boozing sessions.

Of course, I remember this is a novel and I read all these characters who are superbly representing a broad political principle. Consider Major Kiyani of the dreaded ISI, a man who “runs the world with a packet of Dunhill, a gold lighter, and an unregistered car”.

If he can remind me of the truth of that in one sentence, why does the novel fail to capture how the women’s movement became such a threatening reality in Zia’s conscience? Hanif can’t get the woman question convincingly. I read this as a biographical comment about the men of his/our generation.

This is especially so, since the general came down even harder on women. In one television broadcast, the general reportedly warned the nation not to be misled by the 200 elite women of the Women’s Action Forum who had become a street nuisance for him. The point being that misogyny isn’t always rooted in fear of the stereotypical dominating wife, nor does it always emerge from patriarchal religion.

The comment that Gen Zia eliminated from his daily routine all things that break an ablution — “garlic, lentils, women who didn’t cover their heads properly” — is clever but misplaced. Rather, Gen Zia made women very serious targets on which he hinged the legitimacy of his Islamisation project. Men eagerly ate this idea up and colluded with the misogynist state to accuse women of sexual transgression for their own (often material) advantage. I wish Hanif had shamed them here too.

But more than that one feels personal frustration with those of Zia’s children, who having suffered a stunted youth under his dictatorship, grew up and still romanced with the next dictator — merely because unlike his predecessor, the new millennium autocrat liked women, drink, dance, India and Israel. If anyone wants to be reminded of the true nature of military dictatorship, regardless of its pious or liberal masks, read Hanif’s book. Then you can welcome Musharraf’s children into the family.