Clinging to memories

IF there is anything sadder than a person clinging to power, it is the sight of someone clinging to his memory of it. Both President Pervez Musharraf and his former prime minister, Shaukat Aziz, in their own separate ways are finding it as difficult as then British Prime Minister Tony Blair did in 2007 to quit and to let go, to ‘go gentle into that good night’.

One can understand their reluctance. For eight years they were an inseparable partnership, sharing both rewards and risks, exercising power and surviving assassination attempts to thwart it. Together, in October 1999 they claimed to have seen a vision, a new dawn for our country; eight years later, they are being made to witness the disappointing twilight of failed expectations.

It would be impossible to name two other persons in the history of Pakistan who have come to occupy the highest posts in the land without any pre-qualifications, who have then had the privilege of leading our country for so long, and who have been dipping so continuously into the reservoir of public goodwill. Today, each of them sits by that receding pool, like some modern Narcissus, in love only with his own image.

For President Musharraf, history would appear to be repeating itself. Once before, early on in his 46-year-long army career, he was in danger of being dismissed from service. In 1965, he disobeyed the orders of his military superior and came within a whisker of being court-martialled.

Thirty-five years later, in 1999, he refused to obey the orders of a civilian superior who approved his removal as chief of army staff. Today, he refuses to heed the command of an electorate that in February’s general elections thought it had sent him marching orders, only to have them returned from his trenches. His predicament is unique: how does a president — however unpopular — give himself marching orders?

By comparison, Mr Shaukat Aziz’s departure from the two offices he held of prime minister and his own finance minister has been more dignified. His exit had been, as was his tenure in both posts, under the protective umbrella of Musharraf’s patronage. He could not have done better. Persons who enter politics from the side door need only one vote, not the crumpled mandate that falls out of a ballot box.

Not many people may be aware that long before 1999, Mr Aziz had circulated to any Pakistani government that would listen proposals for the rejuvenation of the country’s economy. He offered his services as part of a high-powered team drawn from amongst his Citibank colleagues. In this, he was following a path trodden by such economic pundits as Syed Shahid Hussain, Moeen Qureshi and Shahid Javed Burki, all of whom came from Washington DC with allopathic prescriptions to cure a backward country that craved homeopathic remedies.

Drawing on his experience as the head of Citibank’s private banking division, Mr Aziz could see that his new client needed amongst other things to shore up its foreign currency deposits and to have its mountain of external debt levelled through rescheduling.

Impervious to the blandishments of private temptations, Mr Aziz guarded the public treasury with the same care and rigorous discipline that he applied to his own private assets, some of which he was forced to disclose when he was nominated by Musharraf in 2004 to become prime minister. As he lacked a constituency of his own, he rode behind Musharraf on the PML-Q warhorse and remained beholden as much to Musharraf who held its reins as to the Chaudhries from Gujrat who held the whip.

Persons who did not know Mr Aziz better expected that he would relinquish the finance ministership once he had been elected prime minister, just as some optimists had languished in the expectation that Musharraf would doff his uniform and surrender his post as chief of the army for the presidency. Mr Aziz might have been taking his cue from his boss when he replied to one hopeful candidate for his finance ministership: “I cannot give you the only real job that I have.”

As prime minister, Mr Aziz ensured that his successes did not go unnoticed. A report prepared in 2005 by a subordinate in the ministry of finance, assessing his first year’s achievements as prime minister, lauds the country’s unprecedented GDP growth of 8.4 per cent, per capita income of $700, the highest production of cotton (14.6m bales), of wheat (21.6m tons), privatisation proceeds of $2.6bn, exit from the IMF programme, issuance of an Islamic Bond, and the introduction of the Fiscal Responsibility and Debt Limitation Law designed to control profligate governments from overspending.

Three years into office, the same ardent acolyte trumpeted that Mr Aziz’s “government has not only consolidated the economic recovery that began in early 2000 but also the economy of Pakistan continued to gain traction as it experienced the longest spell of its strongest growth in three years…. Pakistan is in the midst of its strongest economic expansion phase and its growth momentum is broad-based. All the three major sectors, namely agriculture, industry and services, have provided support to strong economic growth”.

Why then, now that Mr Aziz has left the stage, has everything that we were led to believe had taken place disappeared, as if it was some sort of conjuring trick, an illusion? Why are the residual remains of his prime ministership not laurels but prickly brambles? Why did the Pakistan Supreme Court have to intervene in the Pakistan Steel Mills privatisation case? Why should there have been a wheat crisis when we had a comfortable surplus? Why should we be experiencing an energy crisis when four years ago, in 2005, a cabinet subcommittee had been formed to devise a policy for the restructuring of the energy industry?

Apart from Mr Aziz, it had six other cabinet ministers as members, assisted by advisors and experts from within the government and outside it. It is obvious they failed. What is less obvious is why many of them were allowed to continue at the national steering wheel.

Now that Mr Aziz is no longer in public office, like Mr Blair he finds time hangs heavily on his hands. He occupies himself with the innumerable interviews he gives to TV channels exonerating his performance as prime minister/finance minister, with the lecture circuit, and by accepting consultancy assignments that must be less lucrative than those that went Dr Henry Kissinger’s way after his retirement.

We are told that Mr Aziz may be writing his autobiography of his years as Musharraf’s civilian alter ego. One hopes that he will be kinder to his mentor than he was to him in his autobiography In the Line of Fire. Out of seven references to Shaukat, Musharraf misspells his PM/FM’s name unconscionably as ‘Shuakat’ and ‘Shaukut’.

faijzuddin2@gmail.com

Bush loyal to Musharraf

THE Americans are preoccupied these days with their forthcoming presidential election, which promises to be unusually exciting.

It could also create history if the African-American Barack Obama, who has aroused unprecedented enthusiasm among the educated youth, is able to enter the White House. His victory could actually unleash powerful forces of change that may, among other things, restore much of this country’s international image and credibility.

But even in the midst of this hard-fought campaign, current developments in Pakistan continue to cause grave concern in the US, especially among those involved in national security issues. This was clearly discernible in my meetings in Washington with senior officials in government, Congress and think-tanks, over the past couple of weeks.

Admittedly, Iraq remains a highly contentious issue, with most Americans and certainly the Democrats advocating an early withdrawal from that country. On Pakistan, however, there is little to distinguish among the front runners. In fact, even those critical of the way in which the administration has pursued the war on terror, are cognisant of Pakistan’s critical importance to the success of this campaign. They also view the battle lines in both Afghanistan and Pakistan as intrinsically linked, to the extent that failure in one could make success in the other virtually impossible.

Though McCain is more in tune with Bush, most Democrats have major misgivings about the manner in which this administration has ‘mollycoddled’ Musharraf. Foreign policy advisors to both Obama and Clinton told me that they are convinced that Musharraf was never sincere in his claim that he was determined to root out the radicals. But it is Obama’s people who have a greater degree of scepticism, accusing the military dictator of pursuing a duplicitous policy on domestic extremism as well as combating foreign terrorists.

The Democrats are also critical of the administration for not recognising the significance of the February elections and not distancing itself from Musharraf thereafter. What explains this? For one, Bush is loath to give up on any policy, however unpopular, if perceived as being done under pressure. He may also have other shortcomings, but cannot be faulted for abandoning friends.

Over the years, Bush has not only gotten to know Musharraf well, but has become fond of him, viewing him as a faithful though somewhat inconsistent ally. Dick Cheney, who oversees policy on Pakistan, may have no emotional connect with Musharraf, but as an ideologically-driven exponent of American interests, he is no fan of democratic governments in the Third World, claiming that they are inherently weak and also highly inefficient.

It was, therefore, no surprise to learn that at a time when coalition partners in Pakistan were discussing how to respond to the popular demand that Musharraf be eased out, Bush phoned him to assert that he was ‘looking forward’ to the president’s continuing role in ‘strengthening US-Pakistan relations’. There could be no better evidence of the administration’s insensitivity to the democratic aspirations of the Pakistanis.

Lest it be forgotten, the administration never expected elections to bring Musharraf’s foes to power. After all, it had worked assiduously to ‘craft’ a new political set-up in Pakistan that while attractive, would nevertheless involve little change in substance. In other words, Musharraf would retain overall authority over issues relating to national security, while the civilians would be left to occupy themselves with the economic and social sectors. The ugly features of the authoritarian regime would thus be wrapped up in the attractive packaging that Benazir Bhutto constituted.

Interestingly, I was informed that unlike the past when the State Department was usually in favour of adopting more liberal positions, it is the Pentagon this time that appears to be more cognisant of the changes that have taken place in Pakistan. Its current assessment is that the US can now distance itself from Musharraf, without damaging the operations against the militants, that was being handled by the army chief about whose professional ability and commitment to the war on terror the Americans are in no doubt.

It is also true that US intelligence is currently sounding more confident of its eventual success. For the first time, it is portraying the terrorists as having suffered major reverses in Iraq and Saudi Arabia and being on the defensive throughout the region. This is, however, in sharp contrast to the National Intelligence Estimate issued last August which had described the border areas as an Al Qaeda ‘safe haven’ for terrorists reorganising themselves for attacks against the West. This optimistic assessment led the Democrats to accuse the administration of trying to influence the outcome of the election.

In any case, Washington is not prepared to reduce its pressure on Pakistan, as borne out by the recent remarks of General Dan McNeill, until recently Nato commander in Afghanistan, who charged that Pakistan had not only failed to follow through on promises to tackle militancy on its side of the border but that in recent months it had stopped cooperating with Nato and Afghan forces. He echoed the misgivings being voiced by other US officials over Islamabad’s peace overtures to the tribes, claiming that dialogue with them had always led to an increase in attacks against US and Nato forces. He did , however, add that this may be on account of the ‘dysfunction’ that he attributed to political changes in Islamabad.

Notwithstanding the administration’s claims to the contrary, the fact is that our relations with the US have become totally subservient to the latter’s global war on terror. Not surprisingly, I was warned that though this administration is “the lamest of lame-ducks”, having only a few months to go, its ability to do mischief should not be discounted. Its embrace of the democratic government in Pakistan is at best a tactical retreat, while its preferred option remains an authoritarian dispensation that does its bidding.

The real test, therefore, is that of our own political leaders who have to recognise where the country’s real interests lie. Should they fail the test, the fragile plant of democracy could be smothered in its infancy and authoritarianism raise its ugly head again.

Preparing kids for life

THE moment when Dr Peter Clough realised there’s more to performance than ability came on a bleak rugby league field. He was playing for Bradford University in northern England, and found himself up against a large and fearsome-looking winger who calmly announced that he was going to kill him.

“I believed him because, although I had fast hands for rugby, I lacked confidence,” admits the stocky figure who is now head of psychology at the University of Hull.

We’re on our way from Hull station to a nearby coffee bar. Clough is walking with a jauntiness that suggests confidence is no longer an issue. The painful lessons he learned on the sports field are what he’s now trying to pass on to those who find themselves in the less bruising but equally intimidating environment of the examination hall.

“Life’s tough; deal with it,” is his motto. Or, to put it another way, those who can train themselves to work well under pressure are more likely to do well in exams than intelligent students who are not good at coping with stress.

The term “mental toughness” is more associated with the world of professional sport than education. Indeed, I find myself inquiring whether this Clough is by any chance related to Brian, who knew a thing or two about psychology when it came to preparing footballers for the fray. He grins and shakes his head before conceding: “We would have had similar views, me and Brian.”

And that would appear to go for politics as well as psychology: Clough describes himself as “left of centre”, something of a surprise from a man who seems determined to challenge some liberal orthodoxies.

“I don’t buy into the theory that today’s schoolchildren are more stressed than previous generations,” he says.

Nor does he believe that there’s too much testing. “I’m a great believer in tests. It’s how the results are used that’s the problem. There’s an obsession with league tables [in the UK]. But I don’t think there’s anything fundamentally wrong with expecting children to sit down and answer questions about what they’re supposed to have learned.”

Clough is 48. There must have been fewer formal tests when he was at school in the 60s and 70s? “The same level of formalised teaching wasn’t there,” he agrees. “But I remember having to read out homework in front of the rest of the class while the teacher rubbished it.”

Clough insists: “What I’m not advocating is bullying or harassment. And I do accept that some people need help and intervention to boost their self-esteem. Children who are screwed up clinically and have behavioural issues are outside my area of expertise.”

As a chartered sports and occupational psychologist, however, Clough believes that he’s well placed to offer advice to those who underperform simply because they lack confidence.

He accepts that some secondary school teachers “doing one of the most stressful jobs there is” might be a bit suspicious of “academics like me coming in and telling them how to do their job”. Still, at least five schools in the north of England have allowed researchers from his department to talk to children about dealing with pressure.

Clough was brought up in a working-class area of Leeds; his father was a postman. He has little sympathy with those who blame their background for their lack of success.

“If they’ve had abusive parents, that’s different,” he says. But poverty is not a sufficient excuse. If you’re from a poor background, there will be fewer opportunities, but people have to take responsibility for their lives. There’s always a moment in life when the door of opportunity opens slightly. My job is to train people to put their foot in it.”

Paradoxically, perhaps, he also believes that children have to be allowed to fail if they are ultimately going to succeed. “Most people learn from their mistakes and bounce back, vowing not to make the same errors again,” he says. “In my view, there are too many safety nets in schools, such as the option to re-sit exams. It means that young people are less tough than previous generations, and less able to cope with life at university.”

—The Guardian, London