THE Supreme Court of Pakistan — to be exact, Chief Justice Sheikh Riaz Ahmed — has trekked the extra mile more than once in recent days to extend the light of justice to the dark wasteland of the national social conscience. His grit and guts are to be admired.
The judge first took suo-motu notice of an event of international shame for Pakistan — the ugly episode at Meerawala. He then attended to more of the same — the moment it hit the headlines to the agreement between two families in the village of Abakhel in Mianwali for saving the life of four death-row prisoners in exchange of women and financial fortunes by invoking a time-honoured tradition of great dishonour.
Given that his precious time is fully occupied by and constantly under pressure from challenges linked with affairs of the state, the CJ’s actions are all the more praiseworthy. He is constantly required to adjudicate on critical matters relating to the future of the nation, its constitutional whereabouts and its destiny. One of the latest issues settled by the Supreme Court has been educational qualification of candidates for elected houses. The CJ endorsed the graduation prescription. In his learned opinion, it would prove instrumental in getting rid of the cursed institution of feudalism.
Education certainly opens closed vistas of hope, builds resistance and self-respect, informs people of their rights and strengthens their will to stand up for rights, possibly even fortifies them against baton charges. An end to the feudal system is devoutly to be wished. One wishes that his hopes and vision do not evaporate, his commitment to social justice bears fruit and the graduation clause expedites Pakistan’s transition from blackened times to civilized society. Looking at the national landscape, it would, however, be a long time before that happens — if at all it does.
There is every reason to be pessimistic. The most basic prerequisite for justice and equity is rule of law in a society governed by the constitution of the country. At this point in time, as indeed for decades, this state has eluded Pakistan. The supremacy of elements inimical to established and respected order that restricts them to their correct level has barred the path to that end with great determination. The BA degree does not look like the means for busting organized and institutionalized gang-up against national self-respect.
The educational qualifications of members of the Meerawala panchayat are not known. They set the course of justice ablaze with a decision that is unlikely to have a parallel in the annals of national history. One or two panchayat members may have been armed with graduation, but that has no relevance to their role as leaders and decision-makers.
The distinguished locals in Abakhel who presided at negotiations between rival families and helped them settle terms for securing the life of four persons condemned to death by the courts for murder, included graduates. The rejection of the prisoner’s mercy appeal by the President of Pakistan closed all the doors of survival on them. The noose could, however, be loosened — even untied — but not without the intervention of pillars of the local society.
Because of their educational background, the prominent personalities of the area were first able to bring the antagonists to sit opposite each other, negotiate without weapons, invoke an ugly tradition as arbiter and then explain away their own conduct in the sordid affair. However, like the Meerawala panchayat, such achievements were within the reach of reputed locals, regardless of any documents from a university. Hereditary influence and forcibly-attained eminence accords them authority and eligibility for a say in the lives of the have-nots.
From what I have been able to check, there was no graduate among either the death-row prisoners or family members of the murdered people. But they were educated and experienced in the ways of the tribal world of vendetta, settling scores and bargaining over money and women — the price had to be right. This is their arsenal in the battle of survival in a dispensation of tilted scales.
At Abakhel, the ransom inventory started with twenty females and Rs12 million for four lives, or Rs3 million and five females apiece. It could not be out-rightly rejected or accepted by the prisoners. They were also handicapped by paucity of resources. Money could be raised, but they did not have enough tradable females. Offering toddlers informed of the prisoner’s limitations. Demands had to be brought down to a realistic and manageable level.
A neutral and respected third party of established authority was needed for striking a balance between extreme positions, for equitably applying inequitable tribal traditions, for reducing the non-palatability of the agreement to the minimum for both parties and most importantly, ensuring that the contract would hold. That paved the way for the entry of influential and trustworthy brokers. Most of them happened to be educated for candidature in the polls.
The situation has ironical implications of hope and despair. The prisoner’s inability to come up with the right number of women may be a blessing in disguise for the women of the region where the birth of a girl is an unwelcome event. Contempt for women may be reduced in future because women are a component of many bargains.
Given the social lay of the land and running feuds between the locals, the pursuit of killing ‘enemies’ is unlikely to be abandoned in the foreseeable future in Mianwali or other regions of the country where revenge is a commitment and a matter of pride, and presenting women for survival is the approved norm.
As for those given in marriage to old men to satisfy their sense of honour, ego and lust, no extraordinary wrong was done. They never have a say in their marriage. This would have been their fate even under normal circumstances for they are mere pawns. In this case, brides-to-be children were saved from a long wait for life in contracted hell and two women were retrieved from lifelong agony. The women gained nothing. From Wani brides to divorcees is a deeper fall into wretchedness in the tribal system.
Nevertheless, the CJ acted commendably. But gang rapes are becoming a dime-a-dozen. Newspapers report a new case practically every day. The daughter of a wagon driver was reportedly subjected to the dastardly act in Lodhran a few days back. The daughter of a blind beggar underwent similar humiliation in a village of Sargodha recently. How many cases can the CJ take up? Only the rule of law can prevent such degradation.
One hopes that the CJ would take up more such cases. Here is one that deserves his intervention. Columnist Abbas Athar recently published a letter from a retired headmaster.
His daughter was abducted on August 15, 1999, when she was 13. He wasn’t even allowed to get a report registered and was referred to a panchayat. He has knocked at every door. While some officials wrote letters recommending help, nothing has happened so far. In his letter to Abbas Athar, he wondered if he would ever meet his daughter.
THE Supreme Court of Pakistan — to be exact, Chief Justice Sheikh Riaz Ahmed — has trekked the extra mile more than once in recent days to extend the light of justice to the dark wasteland of the national social conscience. His grit and guts are to be admired.
