MY friend Senator Dilawar Abbas has struck again, this time with another article extolling Chaudhry Shujaat Hussain’s qualities as an international statesman.

Only a direct quote can convey its flavour: “The idea of developing party-to-party contact (sic) between countries at international level is the brainchild of PML president Ch. Shujaat Hussain. His initiative is bearing fruits for Pakistan, as it is gaining momentum.” (Untie this yourself.) “Ch Shujaat Hussain’s historic visit was auspicious as it brings with it the arrival of the first batch of Pakistani manpower to Malaysia...” etc.

Abbas, formerly not famous for anything political owes his seat in the Senate to Shujaat, which perhaps explains his creative prose. Remember, our Senate is the last refuge of the positively unelectable: political hopefuls lacking a constituency to contest a general election. Thus, it is the swankiest backdoor in our politics. Can’t make it any other way, you make it through the Senate (or, the next best thing, through a special seat in the National Assembly).

Journalists have more than their share of political ambition. But again not many hazard the route of a general election. (I do but who’s talking of me?) That is why the more astute of them prefer the Senate route to power and glory. Some bright stars in the journalistic firmament have also taken up position in interim administrations, a peculiarly Pakistani concept. We first sack democratic governments and then, to hold elections, form interim governments, another boon for the unelectable. (None of which stops the holders of interim office from being fierce champions of the democratic process.)

The Indian upper house, the Rajya Sabha, is also the last waiting- station for a mix of the superannuated and the unelectable. Its one clear advantage over us lies in the tradition of having the occasional film star as its member: Nargis, Shabana Azmi, etc. An idea worth pursuing: Senator Nirma, Senator Reema. Being a sucker for talk-shows, I heard Nirma breaking into English the other evening, “There’s a quotation, if you can’t beat them, join them, to destroy them.” Roger.

Genuine rogues and scoundrels can be engaging fellows. You admire their sauciness and, often, their ready wit. It’s the self-righteous preacher who is a pain in the neck. Definition of a fake: military loyalist who turns ardent democrat on leaving office when he is of no use to man or beast.

When Zia seized power, Roedad Khan — as secretary, interior, later secretary-general, interior — was amongst the mandarins closest to him. When Musharraf seized power Roedad sang his praises, saying the man and the moment had come together. (Some man, some moment.) If Musharraf had any sense he would have given Roedad a suitable job.

Now Roedad is one of democracy’s biggest cheer-leaders. In his most recent article he writes, “The euphoria following the dismissal of Nawaz Sharif’s government soon gave way to the sobriety of the morning after. Unrealistically high expectations were awakened on October 12 and when these expectations were disappointed and remained unfulfilled, frustration set in. The revolution we all expected and which seemed so certain at the time, did not take place.” This is a bit much: the euphoria was Roedad’s, the sobriety is his. He shouldn’t place the burden of this imaginative reconstruction on the nation’s shoulders.

But he’s clever. Even as he pitches into Musharraf he sings a different tune about the army: “The Pakistan army is a people’s army, in the sense that it belongs to the people of Pakistan who take a jealous and proprietary interest in it. It is not so much an arm of the Executive branch as it is an arm of the people of Pakistan.” A jealous and proprietary interest in the army? Talk of going over the top and protesting too much.

APP, the sarkari news agency, has an indefatigable correspondent in London who, instead of making the mistake of reporting what’s happening in the UK or Europe, devotes himself exclusively to the doings of our excellency in London. Wonderful PR which keeps the nation fully informed of what she is up to, where she spoke, what she said. The APP stories are then carried dutifully by the newspaper of which her excellency was once distinguished editor. Nothing to beat insider journalism.

Accurate comment from young Shakir (columnist in a different paper): “Prime Minister Shaukat Aziz’s Lucky Irani Circus can at any point decide to take off (anywhere) with an entourage which would make most nouveaux riche (countries) green with envy.” Nice description: Lucky Irani Circus. And whatever else Shaukat Aziz may or may not be, he is an intelligent guy. What happens to his kind when they make it to Islamabad?

Shakir, however, is wrong in suggesting that Punjab home secretary, Hasan Wasim Afzal, should have resigned out of self-respect for damaging Lahore’s world famous Badshahi Mosque when he took it over for his daughter’s wedding. What’s more important, daughter’s wedding or ancient monument? And what’s the fun of being home secretary if you can’t drive a few nails into the old red sandstone floor of the mosque or have air-conditioning installed for the evening? In this country, as I suppose anywhere else, privilege comes with the job.

Just across the Badshahi Mosque is Akbar’s Fort. Over the years we’ve done a good job of ruining the Fort by allowing all sorts of foolish functions to be held in it. The Fort is a grand structure, one of the grandest in this part of the world. What’s so special about the Mosque that it should be spared the same treatment?

Wasim Afzal has a distinguished service record. As prime minister for the second time Nawaz Sharif set up a mini-Gestapo (aka accountability bureau in these parts) headed by henchman Senator Saifur Rehman (there you have it, characters like Saif ending up in the Senate). As deputy to Saifur Rehman, Wasim helped collect dirt on Benazir Bhutto and honourable Asif Ali Zardari, part of the same dirt, I suspect, which has them in trouble before the Swiss courts. He must have done well for he ended up with a civil decoration. More power to his elbow.

If we are to believe the ads with which the Punjab government is inundating the press, and hitting everyone in the face, Punjab is a place on the move under the dynamic leadership of Chief Minister Chaudhry Pervaiz Ellahi. When everything else about Pervaiz Ellahi is forgotten, his tree-cutting will be remembered. Columnist Masood Hasan gets needlessly worked up about this. My advice to him: save your energy. You’re not about to save any trees in Lahore or prevent New Murree from destroying what’s left of the Murree hills. Be as scathing as you like, it won’t make the slightest difference.

New Murree is a catastrophe waiting to happen but what do you do when Gen Musharraf, undisputed lord of this dispensation, is known to hold the view that while trees are important they can’t be allowed to stand in the way of development. Matter finished. The New Murree project may be an offence against reason, against all that is sacred in the skies above, but because Pervaiz Ellahi is for it (heaven knows for what reason) and the general is backing him, we’ll get the damned city and to hell with the hills and the trees.

This is not about the environment. It is about culture, or rather a clash of cultures. Pervaiz Ellahi could be a well-meaning person genuinely mystified by all the fuss about trees, dwindling water resources and greenhouse gases. Different wave lengths, differing contextual reference points: eco-talkers might as well be from another planet.

When I went up to the Punjab assembly in 1997 a minor problem of grammar awaited me. When calling for a voice vote, Pervaiz Ellahi, then speaker, would say, “Those in favour say ayes (sic)....” How to point this out without causing offence? A delicate matter because in Pakistan you can get away with questioning someone’s parenthood, not if you question his/her English, an unpardonable sin. But one day, screwing up my courage, I walked into his chamber and, as gently as I could, pointed out the difference between singular and plural.

Pervaiz didn’t thank me and I can’t forget his expressionless face but when next he called for a voice vote it was, “Those in favour say aye,” and when the ayes predominated, “The ayes have it, the ayes have it.” The integrity of parliamentary grammar stood restored.

The press is free, freer than ever before. It even helps form public opinion but between public opinion and government policy the yawning gap is wider than the Arabian Sea.