[This file needs some cleaning up.]
Quantum Note
----------------------
Dr. Muzaffar Iqbal
January 15, 1999
Published as Portrait of a New City
Portrait of a City
Five feet behind the newly opened flower market lies the stinking nullah full of
the city's refuse; in any other place they would have shown more respect for the
flowers. But then, in any other place, the Capital Development Authority would
have taken advantage of the natural waterway which once carried clear, life
enriching water from the Margallahs to the dense green forest where now
Pakistan's capital stands as a metaphor for all the contradictions inherent in
the Islamic Republic's turbulent fifty years.
Divided into grid sectors, Islamabad is often described as a city located ten
kilometers from Pakistan. It has also been derided as a city without character.
But that is not true. Islamabad is just not lucky enough to have a Patras
Bokhari who could immortalize the woes of a city rich in natural beauty, full of
contradictions and possessing an irresistible charm of its own.
So what if the Capital Development Authority has not constructed beautiful
pathways along both sides of the nullah which runs north-south from the
Margallas through the heart of the city? One can use one's imagination to see
the marvelous stone pathways on both sides of a manicured nullah with sidewalk
cafés and shops amidst a riot of colours and fragrances from the incomparable
Rat ki Rani, Chambeli and hundreds of varieties of roses.
That done, one can also revert to the real world of our times and look at the
city as a metaphor for the stark realities of this ravaged country whose Prime
Minister always finds urgent reasons to go to the holy land during the last days
of the blessed month of Ramadan on state visits. Year after year, and prime
minister after prime minister, the pattern remains the same; it seems that
certain matters can only be discussed during these precious days.
But the city is more than a metaphor in one's imagination. It is a concrete and
real being with its own characteristics. Like any other city, Islamabad is also
a city which exists in minds and there are as many Islamabads as there are minds
which conceive the city. There is the Islamabad of the boys who go through the
garbage bins in all the sectors to find reusable plastic bottles, paper, clothes
and all kinds of things. For them, the city exists in the refuse of its
inhabitants. Their world is full of tales of mysterious finds in the bins. They
are also conscious of the differences between the rich and the poor sectors.
What they find in E-7 is unheard of in G-9. For them, Islamabad stands as a
metaphor for perpetual poverty, a city in which they have lost their childhood.
Contrast this with the city in the mind of a seasonal politician who has built a
luxurious house in the posh area of the city. He does not live in this palatial
building but uses it as the center for his power politics. Hoping that one day
he would gain official entrance to the Presidential or Prime Minister's house,
the politician experiences Islamabad as a city full of intrigues; a place where
political careers are made and destroyed. His palatial building lies in the
heart of a sector where all houses are constructed on a scale reminiscent of the
palaces of the Aad and the Thamud. But the house does not have enough water and
there are frequent power breakdowns. The alleys of the sector are full of
garbage. The residents have spent millions on their houses but no one has money
to clean up the neighborhood where they live.
Most of the streets in the city are straight but they are not numbered in any
particular order. Street five may follow seventy-three and street ten may be
sandwiched between street thirty-nine and fifty. The numbering seems to have
depended on the mood of the CDA staff. Most of the houses have guards and little
guard houses, especially in more affluent sectors. Guards sit outside the big
houses, watching vehicles and people. Their Islamabad is the Islamabad of a
watcher who looks at a lot of people everyday.
Those who live in the katchi abadis of the city have another version of
Islamabad. Located in the hollow between green belts, their makeshift "houses"
are full of half-naked children, disease-ridden old women and the daily chores
required to cope with the extreme cold and hot spells. During the rainy season,
their locality becomes a hub of malaria and other diseases and the stinking
smell from the nearby nullah adds to the nauseating smells which permeate their
dwellings. Islamabad, for them, is a city just outside their Abadi which is not
even recognized by any authority. They have no civic services and whatever they
have managed to obtain costs them dearly for the connections are all illegal and
they have to be maintained by constantly paying bribes.
The person driving a brand new mercedes with a yellow CD plate has another
version of the city in his or her mind. Here on a posting for two or three
years, the diplomat sees the city as one of the most charming capitals of the
world albeit a dangerous one where the usual allowances are doubled for being a
post in a distressing country. As long as the diplomat remains in that part of
the city which is known as the diplomatic enclave, he or she is really in
heaven. The breath-taking sight of the Margallas on a cloudy day, the cool fresh
air, the sprawling gardens and the fragrance of local flowers along with the
delicious fruits, fresh vegetables and the hundred and one delights of the
cuisine are any one's dream. The city would be ideal except for the frustrations
of having to work with a system which is thoroughly corrupt and where the usual
moral and ethical codes do not apply.
Islamabad for the Afghan refugees, who came to the city during the eighties and
nineties, is a place of refuge as well as opportunities. Those who were educated
and aspired to go westward, found ways to obtain immigrant visas to the western
countries. Others have settled here and are busy in various trade activities.
For them, Islamabad is a city which comes to life on Sundays when they can sell
their beautiful carpets, kilms and barjastas to foreigners in the weekly open
air shops behind the Aabpara bazaar. Some of them have small rented rooms in the
two Supermarkets of the city but most of their business is through the weekly
bazaars.
There are hundreds of workers, government employees, traders, labourers and
craftsmen who come to the city from neighbouring Rawalpindi. Situated within a
few kilometers from their homes is a city which is only theirs' during the day.
They come to the city every day on a public transport vehicle designed to
humiliate the passengers. They can never claim Islamabad to be "their" city,
though they spend their energies in maintaining the commerce and official
business of the city. The capitla will always remaining a foreign city for them,
nevertheless it possesses a certain charm which forces them to come to the city
everyday. The city in their minds is a refuge from the unbearable old mohallas
of Rawalpindi where noise, pollution and specters of poverty are the main
elements of life.
Then there are the native Pakistanis who come to Islamabad from other cities.
The first time visitor from a small city of the country is stunned by the
graceful palatial buildings, clean air, roads without holes and by the locale of
the city. Most of these visitors come to stand in lines outside the visa offices
of the foreign countries. For them, Islamabad is already part of that foreign
world to which they are seeking entrance. After their business is done, most of
them go to the Faisal Masjid at the foot of the beautiful hills. On a day when
clouds hang low on the hills, the white-marbled structure of the Mosque is a
site worth beholding. The sheer magnificence of the building is matched by a
sense of serenity which surrounds the whole area around the Mosque.
Over-crowded suzuki pickups which bring milkmen to the city from across the
Margallas come from hardly discovered surrounding areas of the city. Anyone with
city sickness can wander into the neighbouring hills and within half an hour he
will be in a totally different world. Villages on the other side of Margallas
are still full of natural beauty where water buffalos and sheep roam in the
green fields and where women in mud houses cook their lentils and chapatis on
fire. For the men and women who live in these beautifully serene villages,
Islamabad is as much a foreign city as London or Paris. It is another matter
that it lies just across the hills.
A city without original residents, without history, without a past to boast,
Islamabad has, nevertheless, managed to gain loyalty from all those who have had
the chance to live here for a while. The feelings toward the city are distinct.
They are not the feelings one has about Paris, London or Buenos Aires. Rather,
these are feelings of a place which exists out of context, even out of reality.
Jan.30, 1999 Eleven Reasons for Despair: A Rejoinder to Imran Khan's Misplaced
Optimism
Published as Reasons for Despair
Dr. Muzaffar Iqal
"Eleven Reasons why I still believe in Pakistan" (The News, Jan. 17, 1999) would
have been sufficient to revive a sense of hope twenty years ago. But not now. It
is too late in the day to fool ourselves. Good wishes are mere good wishes and
have nothing to do with reality. No matter how desperately one would like to
believe in what Imran has wished, there is no objective basis for optimism.
People have been burnt too many times and their confidence and trust has been
violated so many times that new hopes can only flower if there are solid reasons
for a change. Unfortunately reasons for Imran Khan's optimism are more a product
of sincere wishes than a logical result of any reasonable analysis of the ground
realities.
1. The first reason he cites for his optimism is based on the readiness of
people for a change. While true in part, the fact remains that people of
Pakistan have been "ready" for a change since 1947. It was this consciousness of
a grand change which resulted in the creation of a country based on the desire
of its populace that they want to live in a changed society, the one based on
Islam. During the last fifty years, this desire has never been lost yet,
"change" has always been for the worse. The reference to the Qur'anic verse at
the end of his reason for optimism is totally out of context. The part of the
Qur'anic verse (13: 11), from Surah Ar-Ra`ad, referred to in Imran's article
actually reads: Verily never will Allah change the condition of a people until
they change what is in themselves. The condition set forth by God is not merely
a desire for change but actual transformation of the inner self. There is no
sign that as a collective body, the Pakistani nation is going through any
transformation at this stage of history.
2. Imran Khan's second reason for optimism is equally flawed. Those who have
emigrated to the western world do not represent the potential of the nation.
They are merely a small percentage of the population and they cannot be taken as
a basis for drawing the conclusion he has drawn. Being the most educated and
dynamic segment of the population, their success in a better system is but
natural. The reasoning is flawed because the basis for drawing a general
conclusion is not sufficiently borne out of facts. If five apples are brown in a
sample of five million, then all apples are not brown.
3. His third and fourth reasons for optimism are, in fact, not reasons per se.
They are statements about "how to" and are based on an assumption. The
assumption here is: "if we have a government with integrity and determinism"
then corruption and lawlessness can be rooted out. Like any "if-then"
relationship, this is a true correspondence but it only exists in theory. The
real problem of our country has been how to achieve the condition ("if"); of
course the result "then" would have followed automatically. But the problem is
in the mechanism of establishing a just government. That mechanism is no more
present in Pakistan. It is like saying: "I would have produced one thousand
necklaces if you had given me five pounds of gold." Corruption, lawlessness and
increasing violence in our society are a result of and not reasons of absence of
a just system.
4. His fifth reason for optimism is in fact a statement: "The root cause of our
present economic crisis is our inability to collect enough tax revenues..."). It
is surprising that Imran has come up with such a simplistic solution of
multi-facet economic crisis which is a product of fifty years of corruption,
mismanagement and deficiencies in the system. It not only shows his inability
(or lack of willingness) to realize the true dimensions of our economic crises
but is also a source of despair for all those who have placed their hopes in his
leadership. Revenue collection is merely a minor source of income for the
government. It is not the root cause of the economic crisis, merely one
component of a complex mechanism. A country needs to have enough exportable
goods and services to balance its imports. Pakistan simply lacks that balance.
Whatever was available for export has been reducing due to population growth,
loss of markets, lack of infrastructure and corruption. Even areas such as
software export, which do not require heavy investment, have failed to yield
simply because the connectivity is poor and the minions who are called the
bosses in PTC simply do not understand the ABC of revolution in
telecommunication. Loss of income from just call back connectivity is running
into millions but there is no one in the government to understand the dynamics
of a changed world.
5. The sixth reason for Imran Khan's optimism is more a reason for despair than
optimism. The Parliament being what it is, the roots of a genuine democratic
setup are simply absent in our society. Intolerance and an inability to resolve
differences through any civilized mechanism has not taken roots in our soil. In
the absence of an awareness about Islamic (logical/civil) methods of conflict
resolution, raw violence is deemed to be the only mode of conflict resolution.
How many countries has Imran Khan seen where street fights, violent clashes and
even cold blooded murders are part of daily life? It is not a matter of enacting
laws to separate legislature from the executive nor the size of the provinces
(China has some of the largest provinces in the world) which produce real
democracies. It is the spirit of democracy, respect for others, humility and
acceptance of difference of opinion which produces stable political systems.
Western democracies have evolved because the individual was allowed to have
self-respect and dignity. Such conditions are simply lacking in today's Pakistan
where tribal lords still chain human beings and bonded labour is a routine
practice. There is simply no reason for optimism in this respect.
6. It is simply unbelievable that Imran Khan would base his optimism on the
observation of a foreign expert that the Indus Basin has six feet of deep top
soil compared to Australia's six inches. Canada has one of the largest
agricultural bases in the world with vast land resources but the farmers there
are unable to survive because the grain prices in the world do not even cover
their expenses. Presence of fertile land is not a guarantee for economic
prosperity. And the conditions he mentions (farm to market roads, lining of
canals, line of credit) cannot be met without external financing and where is
the money for that? In addition, isn't it what Nawaz Sharif has been clamouring
about for months: farm to land roads, yellow tractors and all the rest.
7. The worst reason for Imran's optimism is his vision of a tourist boom
bringing prosperity to the nation. No doubt the Northern Areas, the Cholistan
Desert and the Salt Range are blessed with unmatchable beauty and grandeur, but
a tourist boom envisioned by him is like building castle in the air. Hhave we
not already destroyed the natural resources in these places? Has he ever tried
to drink water in Hunza or Gilgit? Has he ever stood in lines to get an air
ticket to Gilgit from PIA's northern office which refuses to use computers for
bookings because then those who make their living out of this business will lose
their ludicrous income? In addition, tourists do not go to a country where they
do not feel safe. And suppose all the conditions are met, then would not tourism
bring its own vices with it? Has he ever heard of what tourism has done to
Thailand?
8. His ninth reason is once again an "if-then" relationship. If we could have
developed a just system of governance, we would not have lost the valuable human
resources in the first place. He is looking at the $60 billion annual GDP of the
overseas Pakistanis (or twice as much of their savings) but he isn't it
despairing to think that these four million overseas Pakistanis have been forced
to abandon their homeland, their relatives and their ancestral cultural and
religious moorings? The cost of this displacement is only known to those who
have taken this step. Any optimism on this part seems self-delusion when one
hears about the bitter experiences of those who have tried to return or invest
in Pakistan.
9. No doubt our family system is intact and there is a great deal of strength in
this blessing but in his zeal for optimism, Imran Khan has simply ignored the
fact that this system has been intact for the last fifty years and it has not
been able to check the constant erosion of values and downward slide of civic
society. It has merely provided a cushion and a valuable support system against
the disintegration. It is a great reservoir of strength against the atrocities
of a brutal system but it has no potential to produce a new system.
10. Imran's last reason for optimism is based on his personal experiences. One
can only hope and pray that his personal experiences remain a source of strength
for him; but not everyone is lucky to have the resources, time and energy to
fight against the custom officers who stop their wives from sending tiles to
their mothers.
11. My final reason for despair is the fact that violence, fifty years of
injustice and the deep-rooted feudalism has sucked up all vitality and
creativity from our society. One does not even have a foothold to start the
corrective process. Those who have tried and those who are still trying, are
fighting a lost war. In Pakistan, approximately fifty people are dying every day
in terrorist acts, police custody, armed robberies, hit and run road kills and
violent disputes. These violent deaths are leaving terrible psychological
suffering, anger and potential for more violence. That is fifty families a day;
several thousand individuals per year. Isn't it a indicator to where we are
heading? One only needs to look at the burning bodies of hopeless men to know
the answer.
At best, Imran's optimism is misplaced, at worst a self-delusion. If the last
fifty years have taught us any lesson, it is not to put our hopes where hope
does not exist.
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Dr. Muzaffar Iqbal
February 5, 1999
Why the Press Should be Silenced
Published as Why Silence the Press
Early morning a van drops five men at the corner of two not-so-busy roads in the
Capital. They all wear police uniforms. One has a newspaper in hand. It is so
cold that there breath can be seen in the air. They rub their hands, look around
and stand under a tree where the slanting rays of morning sun provide a streak
of warmth. This is the beginning of a long day for them.
After settling down, they divide the pages of the newspaper among them and read,
exchanging occasional comments about the news items. They are all on duty. Their
job is to keep an eye on the would-be terrorists. But they are human beings who
have left their warm beds for the sake of a salary which will not even pay for
the house rent and a career which will not take them anywhere. The pages make
rounds among the five and when they have all read the main news items, the
urgency of knowing what had happened during the previous day is gone and they
start looking forward to a cup of tea which one of them would soon fetch from a
corner kiosk.
Elsewhere, in hundreds of offices, shops and houses, millions of men, women and
children wake up to the presence of large-size folded papers which hawkers had
thrown in their offices or houses through small cracks. These pages are their
morning window to news about the world they cohabit with millions of other men,
women and children.
This daily routine is followed, day after day, throughout the world, by millions
of human beings who have come to regard the institution of press as the most
important development of the twentieth century. Habit, need and an established
routine play such a decisive role that on days when there is no newspaper, one
feels as if the day has not started. An almost subconscious need to confirm that
the world had been going around in its own manner when one slept, the necessity
of finding details about commodities and merchandise and the concern for one's
safety combine to make the morning habit of reading newspaper the most pervading
collective routine of millions of human beings.
All of this has given a tremendous potency to the Press. The inherent power of
the written word together with the receptivity of minds just waking up from a
night of refreshing sleep and the impact of receiving a news for the first time
are the latent forces which work behind the unique role newspapers play in
modern life.
Examples of the power of press abound in the history of the twentieth century.
Creative journalism has brought down mighty dictators and powerful regimes have
been brought to knees by the power of pen. Presidents, prime ministers and other
elected and non-elected rulers have been humbled by the press and there are
cases where a single phrase, a cartoon or a picture has broken the will of
strong men.
It is because of this latent power of Press, that the present government of Mr.
Sharif cannot stand the freedom of press in Pakistan. He knows that the
policemen standing on the corner of two not-so-busy roads of the Capital start
their day by reading the newspaper as do millions of other men, women and
children. He knows that from government offices to private shops and from
factories to roadside kiosks, the whole country wakes up to a routine of reading
newspapers thus giving these papers a parallel power to his rule. He knows that
he cannot change the habit of millions of people, but he also knows that
newspapers are printed on newsprint and newsprint he can control.
One only has to look at the modus operandi of Mr. Sharif's public career to know
why the Press must be silenced. No, I am not attempting a psychoanalysis of the
man who has become the most "powerful" elected ruler of Pakistan in its 51 year
history, I am simply pointing toward basic, well-known, facts.
Brought back to power rather abruptly due to a botched plan of Farooq Khan
Leghari, Mr. Sharif lost no time in moving toward appropriation of power from
all other institutions of the state. He had reasons. His experience had taught
him that unless he had absolute power, he could not survive in a country where
politics is based on raw force and money. He had had more than ten years of
experience in the corridors of power during which he learned, first hand, from
his mentor that in Pakistani politics one's loyalty has to be with the chair,
not with the person who sits on it.
Thus he was quick to sidetrack the only gentleman prime minister this country
had by getting a few dozen people who threw stones and forks on the poor man and
despatched him to Sindhri to die as a broken man. He won his first battle rather
quickly and gained the wide berth of Muslim League and the ticket to Islamabad.
Next came the confrontation with the cold-blooded and seasoned dictator of
sorts, Ghulam Ishaq Khan who succeeded in bruising him in return in a reckless
fight of mutual extinction which destroyed much of the sanctity attached to
certain institutions.
But these experiences were not useless for when Mr. Sharif returned to power
through a mandate so heavy that he had no use of any heavyweights from downtown
Rawalpindi, he clearly knew what to do. Of course the man from Choti had to be
removed before anything could be done. If he could do what he did to his own
party leader, nothing could be taken for granted. But that was no problem, a
cool trip to Choti and the game was over for Mr. Leghari.
But it was not over for Mr. Sharif and he knew it. Somewhere in his psyche,
there is a driving force which demands that everything has to be done quickly.
It is a imbalance of sorts which does not let him relax. His commands have to be
fulfilled as soon as they are uttered. This unconscious (?) mode of behaviour
amounts to assuming that unless he gets everything done instantaneously, it is
worthless. Like a child who insists that he won't sleep until his favorite toy
is brought to him in the dead of the night when all shops are closed, Mr. Sharif
insists that courts have to decide cases within 72 hours, bureaucracy has to
move instantaneously and parliament has to enact laws within hours.
Mr. Sharif knows well that he has appropriated more power than any other elected
ruler of this country but he believes that he has a mission to accomplish. And
rightly or wrongly, he is convinced that he can only accomplish his mission in
haste and only if there are no independent voices in his way. He tasted the
sweet fruits of his power when he quickly subdued state institutions one after
the other. He appointed Saifs and Chaudhries, made and broke careers at his will
and all of this produced a sense of movement and accomplishment. His appointees
appropriated power in his name and the organs of state started the cleaning
operation which silenced grumbling voices. Bureaucracy was humbled, opposition
was virtually eliminated, a jungle of legal battles and dynamics of a family
separated into husband, wife and children confined in three different spheres
took care of BB. There was no one else left and in that glorious void, he had
the freedom to plant the seeds of a new dynasty.
But it was not to be. There was a Chief Justice who had got some notions about
the independence of judiciary, then there was an army chief who started to think
aloud and worst of all, there were some newspapers who employed some journalists
who insisted on using their own heads. Mr. Sharif knew how to manage the Chief
Justice and the army chief and managed that part quickly. But the newspapers and
the journalists were another story.
Journalists are, after all, men and women who live within the confines of a
state which has been turned into private dynasty. How could they still insist
that they have a brain which has certain rights and demands. This was simply
intolerable in a state where no one has the right to use such dangerous organs.
And now that he has removed all obstacles, he cannot let such little,
insignificant irritants as the Press stand in his way. That is why the press has
to be silenced. The Press has to be humbled simply because it is the last
unsubdued force, the last dying voice of a collective amnesia, the intolerable
babel of a few minds who refuse to submit to the glory of a rising dynasty.
Quantum Note
----------------------
Dr. Muzaffar Iqbal
February 19, 1999
Rebuilding Hope
Published as Small Steps to Build Hope
Water trickles into the empty underground tank on alternate days. A few phone
calls lead to the water supply department. They promise to "look into the
matter" but the man on the phone says, "there is not enough water to supply
everyone, get a tanker." Luckily, the "tanker office" has a phone which is
promptly picked up by some one who is ready to write the address of the house.
After a few hours, a huge tanker actually arrives. One feels relieved; there is
hope.
Hoses are hooked and a portable pump, fitted on the back of the tanker, starts
with the push of a button; water starts to pour into the underground tank. But
after two minutes, the pump is shut off. "That is the quota for each house,"
says one of the two men who had come with the tanker in a matter-of-fact manner,
"one tank to three houses."
They zip off but the next day, one discovers that the neighbour had a different
relationship with the water tanker; they actually emptied their whole tanker
into his underground tank. The secret trick lies in the transfer of some printed
paper which proudly displays the picture of the founder of Pakistan. But if you
do not want to lower yourself to such an extent, you have to live with one third
of a tanker!
But that is not all. Slowly but surely, one finds out the details of a huge
underground water business in the Capital and hope starts to evaporate. The next
day one discovers that the magic number which had brought the water tanker is no
more responsive. A few inquiries lead to the small room where the dead,
dial-less telephone sits on a desk. "It has been disconnected for lack of
payment of bills," the man informs, "send your servant here early in the morning
to stand in a queue and get a number."
This is just one of the several experiences of daily life which a non-VIP person
has to go through. One is not complaining about the lack of adequate water
supply (one learns to live with such things quickly!) but about the management
of a crisis of our own making. Why do citizens have to go through this ordeal?
Granted that there is not enough water in the reservoirs (because it has not
rained, they say), granted that this is a situation beyond the control of
Capital Devastation Authority (CDA), why can't its officials manage water a
man-made water crisis? Why do citizens have to start their day by standing in a
que for water tanker?
The answer may be simple. If there is a working system, then there will be no
underground water business and if there is no underground water business, those
who live on this ill-gotten money will have to revert back to their paltry
salaries. But this is just the tip of the iceberg.
The real problem is much bigger. From the ever-busy 117 number of railway
inquiry to the never-answering number of flight information, one finds a
pathetic state of affairs which make everyday life an arduous task for those who
do not believe in having "servants" (what a degrading word!). Solutions to most
of these problems are rather simple. They would not cost more than a fraction of
the money being spent on petrol by even one of the many ministers of the
government. An answering machine with recorded messages of incoming and outgoing
flights and trains, a working number for water supply and a direct deposit
facility for utility bills would make life easier for thousands, perhaps
millions of citizens.
But the real problem is the lack of willingness to acknowledge that our system
is over loaded with unnecessary hurdles. It is a system which was devised for
ruling over the natives and not for serving. Those who inherited this legacy,
have found it convenient to keep it that way. But an elected government must
know that it has been elected for a fix term and sooner or later, it will have
to go back to the voters. The rulers must realize that at this time, the most
important task at hand is rebuilding of hope.
Fortunately, rebuilding of hope does not involve millions of dollars. Hope can
be built by small steps which show that the system is moving toward honouring
the dignity of citizens. Hope can be built by simple mechanisms which would stop
the misery of thousands of men who have to stand in queues to pay utility bills,
by installing a few answering machines at the airports and railway stations and
by making sure that the phone works at the tanker supply office.
Hope can be rebuilt by such small steps as the establishment of a corrective
mechanism to check the malfunctioning of the public related departments of the
federal and provincial governments. Hope can be rebuilt by making sure that the
government officials show respect toward ordinary citizens when they come in
contact with them; this would not cost a penny but will go a long way toward the
reconstruction of a Civil society in Pakistan.
The reconstruction of Civil society in Pakistan will produce an atmosphere of
tolerance. Once the citizens know that there are ears to hear their grievances,
their level of tolerance will increase and they will find out civil ways of
conflict resolution. Simple, every day civility in the society will add to the
grace and refinement of its members and slowly the flowers of hope will bloom.
All that it will take to start the process of reconstruction is a decisive and
clear realization that the system of public dealings needs a major overhauling.
It has to move away from the mentality of ruling over the citizens to one of
serving them. Government officials are being paid out of public taxes and they
must serve, and not rule the citizens who are paying for their salaries.
We are not talking about revolutionary changes, merely about very small steps
needed to sow seeds of hope. The Prime Minister does not have to listen to
public complaints. What is needed is a multi-layered system designed to redress
public grievances which would take care of most of the routine problems. What is
needed is a well-trained team of professional managers who can look at the
problems inherent in our system and devise corrective mechanisms.
But these mechanisms have to be institutionalized and not personalized. No
individual should reap political benefits from such steps; it has to be a
professional job, done by professionals trained in public administration.
Along with institutional reform, we need watch dogs for matters of public
interest. In civilized societies, these independent watch dogs play a two-fold
role: they serve as a counter balance against the excesses of the system and
they act as a vent for public fury. Unfortunately, our society lacks such
independent voices. One or two organizations which are present (Human Rights
Commission) have done a tremendous job against heavy odds. But we need more, and
diversified, watch dogs. Independent, non-governmental commissions for consumer
protection, for rent control, for purity of consumer goods and for a host of
other ills.
It is obvious that these independent institutions can not come into existence in
our society unless they are planted with an active cooperation of the
government. In established democracies, such corrective institutions spring from
within the system because of an enhanced awareness of their utility for general
good. But in our case, the government should come forward and establish these
public institutions. A beginning, and an ill-motivated beginning, was made in
the form of Khidmat Committees. But the real need was not addressed, hence those
committees did not go anywhere.
What is needed is a realization at the highest political level that only the
establishment of genuine public interest institutions will initiate a process of
reconstruction of hope. Anything short of this will be merely one more step
toward further erosion of hope.
Quantum Note March 3, 1999 ???TWENTY MILES FROM PAKISTAN, MAR3, 2000???
----------------------
Dr. Muzaffar Iqbal
The Constitution Avenue
April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
T. S. Elliot, The Waste Land
March, and not April, is the cruelest month in Islamabad. Bringing news of the
approaching spring, the yellow jasmine bursts forth, carrying memories, desires
and dreams. At such a time, an evening stroll on Pakistan's fabulous
Constitution Avenue brings on memories out of the dead land of those who ruled
over the country from the marble building called the Presidency.
Built on a scale which reminds one of the Mughal dynasties, medieval ages and
grand empires, the Presidency recedes into the hills from its imposing front
view at the intersection of the Constitution Avenue and the Jinnah Avenue. Seen
from the outside, the building neither inspires admiration, nor awe; it is
simply a marble structure with only the reminiscence of power and no character
whatsoever.
Since that historic trip to Choti by a man who now faces an uncertain future,
the Presidency has lost its pivotal position in the power play. The last man to
enjoy and exercise the right of dismissing an elected government has also
disappeared from the scene. His decision to pack the chess game of a thoroughly
corrupt government had heralded a new era in Pakistan's turbulent history which
gave an unprecedented parliamentary majority and almost absolute power to one
man who could not handle it and ended up in a small jail in Karachi.
But the building stands and anyone strolling on the broad Avenue cannot help but
look at this grand structure and feel a sense of helpless exasperation at the
stature of men who have occupied this grandiose structure. Who were they? What
brought them there? What did they do to the country? Where are they now?
But the Presidency is not the only building on the Constitution which evokes
these feelings. The Avenue is full of such buildings. As one walks on the
sidewalk on the opposite side of the Presidency and looks at the marble
buildings across the road, they all seem to exist in a foreign land; they all
seem to be out of place. The Parliament building is not visible from the road,
only its iron gate and the guards can be seen. This is perhaps the only thing
that is not out of place. The caged-in building is a good metaphor for
Pakistan's political history.
Leaving aside the equally imposing marble structure of the Supreme Court, one
comes to a truly palatial building which has yet to emerge as a real structure
in the history of the country. This is the Prime Minister's Secretariat which
has successfully dodged two successive prime ministers, though both have spent
lavishly on its construction and furnishing. The Mughal-style Mihrabs, the
turban-clad guards and the empty spaces between the white minarets all stand as
metaphors of propensity of Pakistan's rulers who have a knack for empty
rhetoric.
Next to the Prime Minister's Secretariat, but hidden behind it, is a building
which deserved to be on the main boulevard but which has been tucked behind the
imposing structures; only a sign stands at the Constitution Avenue, pointing to
the presence of Pakistan's National Library. It has taken years for this
building to become habitable but even after its completion, it stands aloof,
hidden and is inhospitable. There is nothing warm about it. The cold and
imposing structure has nothing inviting about it. As one stands facing its broad
stairs, one neither sees scholars with loads of books going in and out of the
building, nor students in search of knowledge. Only a few guards stand
aimlessly.
The cul-de-sac to the library ends the "Pakistani" part of the Avenue on this
side; from here to the end of the Avenue, there are only the foreign missions,
the French School and empty spaces. But it is time to turn around and have a
closer look at other side of the Avenue which has slowly emerged on the scene
and is still in the process of asserting its meager being compared to the grand
buildings which this side faces.
Walking north, one comes across two older buildings, the Foreign Office and
Radio Pakistan before a series of newer buildings. The first of these is that of
Pakistan Science Foundation. Established to provide a unifying umbrella to the
country's numerous science institutions, Pakistan Science Foundation's new
building is perhaps the only building on the whole Avenue with an aesthetic
exterior to it. Its blue tiles, modest yet symmetrical exterior and quietness is
in keeping with the traditional designs and historical structures which occupy
the vast cultural landscape of Islam's greatest cities.
Next to the Science Foundation, there is a building which has remained under
construction for more than a decade and has gained the characteristics of ruins
even before its completion: This is supposed to be the building of The Election
Commission of Pakistan. The construction history of this building is truly
amazing.
I used to look at this humble structure when it was trying to raise itself above
ground. At one time, it seemed that it would quickly soar high above the other
buildings on this grand Avenue. Workers worked, machines churned out concrete
and iron beams went up. But it was an illusion. That hyper activity must have
been the result of a closing date for a cheque clearance for the contractor.
Because after that short spell, nothing happened for months.
The building has been in the making for years. Does it need to be completed?
With no elections on the horizon, there seems to be no need for its existence!
But the unfinished cement blocks, the iron bars sticking out of the columns and
beams, the empty holes for the windows and the characteristic odour of ruins are
there for everyone to see.
Next to this building in ruins is a strange combination of two buildings. One of
these used to be an unassuming simple structure with weeping walls, run down
windows and unkept lawns with a small board which read: Pakistan Academy of
Sciences. The other one was not there at all. In its place, there used to be
just wild grass. But all of this has changed during the last two years.
The unassuming building in need of repairs has been given a new look with
columns and arches and the tall grass has given way to a building which seems to
come out of E-7, the posh residential area of the city. The old structure is
still undergoing changes and one day it might become as pretentious as the
buildings on the other side of the boulevard. The new structure, the guest house
of the Academy of Sciences, is still to find its character.
Further north stand two more government buildings, both similar in their
exterior to the building of the Pakistan Science Foundation. Occupied by those
who control the financial strings of the country, these buildings with their
blue and white colors add to the same sense of historicity as that of the
Pakistan Science Foundation.
Perhaps the famous epithet about Islamabad--a city situated twenty miles from
Pakistan--applies to the Constitution Avenue more than any other place in the
country.
MARCH 8, 1999
Challenges of a brave new world
Dr Muzaffar Iqbal
In a small town in the heart of rural America, in a relatively small laboratory,
a micro organism is at work. Dr. Jeff has just observed reproduction of bone
cells around a small piece of bio-degradable material which to the trained eye
looks like a human arm. Cells are rapidly multiplying and within a few days, he
hopes to see actual bone appear around the bio-degradable piece. He is excited.
He returns to his computer, records his observations and then chats with fellow
scientists across America and in Europe. The neuro cells in his brain move his
fingers on the keyboard and the words travel across the continent and beyond in
no time over an invisible path which criss crosses with hundreds of channels and
millions of megabytes of electronic data.
Artificial human organs, gigabytes of electronic data on the go, internet chat
and innumerable other phenomena are transforming images of a brave new world,
ushering us into the 21st century. Whatever else the new century may bring for
the human race, it is bound to produce a new global culture in which the
defining factor will be speed. There seems be no limit to that which humans can
aspire.
Each new microprocessor heralds us into a new era. From the clumsy, room-size
computers of mere 50 years ago, we have come to the laptops (and now to knee
tops) which weigh less than two kilogram and process data at speeds which were
unthinkable even five years ago. Speed at which one can transplant human cells
and ideas into the rapidly multiplying layers of human experience will be
defined by the power of words and images as much as it will be by technological
gadgets.
A brave new world-in-the-making promises speed and much more. It is the power of
transforming patterns of human behaviour and emergence of a global economic and
political map which is at the heart of the changing scenario. Ideas flash in the
mind and within minutes reach out to millions of other human beings through the
invisible waves, rapidly creating new thought patterns.
Like the previous century, a vast majority of human beings on this rapidly
shrinking planet is going to remain on the receiving end of this new onslaught
of technological imperialism. This vast majority lives in the south. The old
east-west axis is being replaced by a new north-south axis in which the new
imperial forces are disguised in the neat patterns of a microprocessor. But
regardless of whether one sees it as an east-west or north-south axis, the
defining thought behind the emergence of a new economic imperialism is, once
again, speed.
The so-called developing world (which used to be called the third world) moves
at a slow pace which has emerged through patterns of life which are as old as
the human race. This slow speed is evident everywhere: from the movement of an
ox-driven cart to the thinking patterns of the person who sits drowsily on the
creaking old cart. Though rapidly disappearing from our midst, this old cart is
an image of the old world which is under attack.
What is being replaced in much of the developing world is this slow pattern of
life which has evolved over centuries. The north is on the go but it cannot go
much further if the south does not move along. Hence the continuous
transplantation of machines and ideas which will rapidly destroy the old (and
low) patterns of life, ushering us all into an era where obsessive occupation
with speed will eventually take us to the brinks of our endurance because each
new machine plugged into an outlet produces a hysteria of its own kind. What
does this brave new world look like? The brave new world in the making is a
world defined by images of cyber trade. It offers faster, slimmer and cheaper
computers which recognize the human voice as an effective means of transmission
of data and video cameras capable of seeing the smallest speck of dust on the
white cloth. A private firm in America has already announced its commercial
space programme, which will enable anyone with enough money to send satellites
in space. This is a new frontier that can be utilized to facilitate a wide range
of commercial projects, from telecommunication to gravity-less scientific
experiments.
This new venture is a bold beginning of yet another kind. Outer space is the
arena of new human explorations in the next century. It is that vast, uncharted
and limitless space which will help us all to move from an earth-focused
worldview to a really universal view, that is, unless space, too, is colonized.
For lost human beings, the sky remains the most ubiquitous unpossessed entity.
But the economic war to colonize the sky is already on, as band widths are being
bought and sold. After the plunder of the planet, we've turned to the skies.
This new development will usher us into a new century where previous ways of
living and thinking will hardly suffice. The virtual reality of being will
undoubtedly be carried to new dimensions.
The new brave world of the 21st century will present to the Muslim world new
challenges. New forms of cultural exchanges will take place. Most of the
developing world will have to grapple with certain basic dilemmas: what are they
going to do with the new forms of technological advances which will make inroads
in their societies? Some of these will have to be met squarely. The challenge of
science is the one which requires clear thinking and formulations of a new kind.
The old responses will not work. Those who announced that the arrival of man on
moon was tantamount to intruding on sacred territory had completely missed the
message of the Glorious Qur'an which calls to attention that believers are
supposed to seek the secrets of the earth and the heavens.
New responses are needed. Science is here to stay and we cannot leave our
religion., so what is needed is a constructive interface between the two which
would give western science a spiritual basis and Islam a strong scientific base.
An enlightened community of religiously committed and scientifically advanced
scholars can make a huge difference in the nature of our responses to the
challenges of the 21st century. At present, most of the science in the Muslim
world is western science and western science is going through a major
transformation because the west seems to have realized that they need to rebuild
the spiritual foundation for their scientific enterprise. This realization is
producing books upon books written by scientists and scholars as well as
theologians and historians of science.
What is needed is establishment of a new connection with our intellectual
history -- a connection which will give us a solid foundation with the past.
Muslim theologians need to come to terms with the modern science. We can
reconstruct a sound scientific foundation on the basis of our intellectual
heritage. After all, some of the greatest names in Islam's intellectual heritage
are names of scientists who were also theologians. There are enough Muslim
scientists in the west who would be more than willing to come back to their
communities to help regenerate a process of creative regeneration.
A clear vision for the next century, combined with the will to act resolutely
will produce a new generation of Muslims ready to meet the challenges of a new
millennium. It is a long journey and the beginning has to be made soon.
Quantum Note
----------------------
Dr. Muzaffar Iqbal
March 19, 1999
March 1940 Revisited
On March 22nd, 1940, at 2:25 pm, a man wearing a chooridar pajama and an achkan
went up on the stage. He was followed by a woman who wore pale, ivory silk sari.
As soon as they arrived, a group of guards, with glistening swords, surrounded
them. Deafening shouts of "Zindabad" were heard throughout the jam packed crowd
of more than 100,000 who had come from all over the subcontinent to hear their
leader.
The tall and lean man was Muhammad Ali Jinnah, affectionately known as Quaid-e
Azam (the greatest leader); the woman was his sister, Fatima. The venue was
Minto (now Allama Iqbal) Park, Lahore.
"The World is watching us," the man said in English after his introductory
sentences spoken in Urdu, "so let me have my say in English."
True to his words, the world was really watching him that afternoon as he spoke.
He was going to change the course of history. "The last session of the All-India
Muslim League took place at Patna in December 1938," he opened his formal
speech, "since then many developments have taken place."
The representatives of Associated Press International, Reuters and UPI were busy
recording every single word of that historic address; before the end of the day,
Jinnah's message was cabled the world over.
"His voice now deep and trenchant, now light and ironic," as the Times of India
reported the next day, Jinnah went over various political developments since
December 1938 and announced, "the Act of 1935 must go once for all. We do not
believe in asking the British Government to make declarations. These
declarations are really of no use."
Then he categorically spelled out the most fundamental basis for his demand for
a separate homeland: "It has always been taken for granted mistakenly that the
Musalmans are a minority, and of course we have got used to it for such a long
time that these settled notions sometimes are very difficult to remove. The
Musalmans are not a minority. The Musalmans are a nation by any definition."
On that glorious Friday afternoon, the Quaid spoke for two hours. He did not use
the word Pakistan, nor did it appear in the forthcoming Lahore Resolution but
there was a finality in his tone which was quickly perceived by all who listened
(and later read) his address. It would take seven long years and thousands of
martyrs to actually attain a separate homeland for a separate nation but for the
Quaid, there was no turning back.
The next day, it took League's Subjects Committee a better part of the day to
agree to the draft of what would be known as the historic Pakistan Resolution.
When the second session started, Fazul Haq, who had earlier chaired the Subjects
Committee, moved the resolution. He read out the resolution para by para. The
third paragraph stated:
"That it is the considered view of this Session of the All-India Muslim League
that no constitutional plan would be workable in this country or acceptable to
the Muslims unless it is designed on the following principles, viz., that
geographically contiguous units are demarcated into regions which should be so
constituted, with such territorial readjustments as may be necessary, that the
areas in which the Muslims are numerically in a majority, as in the
North-Western and Eastern zones of India, should be grouped to constitute
Independent States in which the constituent units shall be autonomous and
sovereign."
It was the headlines of Indian newspapers next day which called the Lahore
Resolution "Pakistan Resolution" and so it has remained to this day. This is how
the demand for a separate homeland for the Muslims of the Indian sub-continent
became the demand for Pakistan.
Seven long and torturous years followed. The demand for Pakistan gained momentum
and the State was created in August 1947. The energies of a whole generation of
Muslim intellectuals were consumed in defending the demand. They used the
time-honoured historical reasoning to support their demand. The most fundamental
rationale behind their argument was that the Muslims were a different nation in
the Indian Subcontinent, hence they needed a separate country.
But were there not many "other nations" and did they not need separate
countries? The argument here was that Muslims were "fundamentally" different
from others because of their religion, customs, social rituals and ways of
worship. The others were "locally bred" variations of Hinduism. Muslims, on the
other hand, had a totally different concept of God. This was the most
fundamental difference between them and others.
Pakistan came into existence on the basis of this fundamental difference with
other "nations" of India. But the fulfillment of the demand produced a serious
conceptual void. The two-nation theory only addressed one aspect of the
political reality of the Indian Subcontinent: the reality of two nations:
Muslims and non-Muslims.
The conceptual framework at work behind the two-nation theory did not take into
account the presence of multi-racial, multi-cultural mosaic of Muslims within
the proposed state. What would be the relationship between the various groups of
Muslims who would share a common state? What kind of government would be the
most suitable for the new state? How would it be run "differently" from the
British style of government? What would happen to the rights and
responsibilities of the citizens in the new state? These and many related issues
were left unattended. And perhaps understandably so for the great historic tide
had left no time for these reflections.
But the tragedy of Pakistan and its fundamental theoretical framework is that
the void created by the fulfillment of the demand for a separated homeland has
never been filled. Instead of a continuous process of evolution, the creation of
a new country ended the creative process of conceptual formulation and instead
of going on to a grand new conceptual framework for the new polity, idols were
created and put on high pedestals. Iqbal and Jinnah, the two most important
figures of the struggle for independence, were put on such high pedestals that
no one was allowed to critically evaluate their contributions to the historical
process which had begotten them; instead, they themselves came to be regarded as
the embodiment of history.
As a result, no new polity was born with the creation of a new state. Old
political forces (and personalities), old colonial institutions and old
bureaucracy put on the new green and white robs and started to rule the teaming
millions who had dreamt of a homeland where they would be treated with dignity
and honour.
Our tragedy today is fundamentally rooted in the March 1940 Resolution which
only stipulated a conceptual framework for the demand for a separate homeland
and did not look beyond the fulfillment of that demand. During the last fifty
years, the void created by this process has been filled with empty rhetoric.
From the ill-conceived One Unit system to the malfunctioned Basic Democracy of
Ayub Khan and from Bhutto's attempts to install the outdated Socialism to the
self-perpetuating Islamization of General Zia-ul-Haq, every new embodiment of a
conceptual framework has been basically an attempt to fill the gap at the very
foundations of our statehood.
No one has the courage to openly and squarely spell out this void; no one is
ready to admit that in the herculean task of achieving independence, the
founding fathers of Pakistan did not look beyond the immediate demand. In
today's suffocating intellectual atmosphere, no one in Pakistan dares admit that
we need to revisit our own history and revisit our self-created myths. We need
to have the courage to say that the founding fathers were humans and as humans
they had limitations. They worked under great historic pressures and achieved
what they could. The nation and history did not end with them. Let there be no
cause for concern if we discover that certain things were lacking; this does not
amount to treachery nor to disrespect.
The state of Pakistan is in a serious predicament. Under the apparent calm,
there are storms brewing. Let March 1999 be the year of revisiting March 1940. A
new and healthy tradition of constructive debate on the fundamental issues is
urgently needed. The state and its institutions do not seem to have the will or
ability to initiate such a debate. Perhaps the press can do this. Perhaps an
intellectual forum can be created to look into the fundamental issues confronted
but not acknowledged by us. The state of Pakistan needs a new conceptual
framework which will resolve fundamental questions dealing with the rights and
responsibilities of the constituting units. The provinces, the northern areas,
the federally administrated units--all need to be recognized and honoured in
their own rights. There is no fundamental danger to the State from this
re-thinking. Those who have bred this phobia, should be dealt a deathblow;
Pakistan is here to stay. We need to graduate from the stage of phobia and
insecurity about our State to a mature process of serious thinking. The State
was achieved on the basis of two-nation theory and that theory is still valid;
hence there is no danger to the fundamental structure; it only needs to grow.
If there is any appropriate gift for the new generation of Pakistanis, it will
be a new theory of state, of course constructed on the foundations of the two
nation theory.
Quantum Note
----------------------
Dr. Muzaffar Iqbal
April 2, 1999
Two visions of America
Standing in the long line outside the US Embassy in Islamabad are young men
whose only dream is to go to America. They are the representatives of a new
generation who has grown up in a cultural tradition which draws its inspiration
from the ideals and realities of American lifestyle. They are not alone.
All over the world, in places as far apart as Rio de Janeiro and Casablanca,
there are millions of young men and women who aspire to go to America. They are
not Columbus and there are no uncharted waters to the new world. In their quest
to reach America they have to overcome the long chain of bureaucratic process
which has learned to treat every applicant as a potential problem. But in spite
of the hurdles and high visa fees, every year thousands of new men and women
arrive in America to start new lives.
These men and women arrive in America and soon they are disillusioned. Yet, most
of them remain in America and become part of that great melting pot which has
produced a unique synthesis in the human history. Once blended into the fast
moving pace of a society never at rest and never satisfied with what it has
achieved, their individual lives are lost in the stream and they became
metaphors for the grand unfolding of a civilizational drama which has captivated
the world.
Today America stands alone as a dominant cultural force capable of reaching to
the most inaccessible places on the inhabitable earth. The "American dream" may
have started in a small rural town but its reach has become global. Just like
the vertical penetration of dominant civilizations before the present era,
American lifestyle, ideals and aspirations have a unique way of surfacing
everywhere in the world: McDonalds in Makkah, Lahore, Mexico City, Cairo and
Paris are not merely convenient outlets for fast food; they are testimony to the
fact that America is the sole dominant force in the world which is affecting
millions of lives around the globe.
What gives kinetic pressure to this force is its ability to touch the deepest
levels of human aspirations and release the suppressed dreams and ambitions into
a canvas which knows no bounds. The most dominant characteristic of this relief
is freedom. Freedom in all its imaginable forms. America stands as a metaphor
for freedom, for a place where one can anything. At least that is what conjures
up in the minds of millions of aspirants who see America as a gateway to freedom
from economic, political, religious and emotional suppression. Freedom--that
priced commodity which remains illusive for millions of human beings in a world
dominated by political forces which thrive on suppressing all forms of
freedom--is believed to be available in abundance in America.
The vast plains and rocky terrain between the two oceans stretches and gives
birth to new hopes. The land of opportunity with its inviting statue of liberty
evokes images of biblical promised land for millions not because it really is a
hallowed place but because it has managed to take hold of the imagination of men
and women who yearn for freedom. It beckons them, tantalizes them and allures
them into its labyrinths. The land and its resources, its people and
institutions, its cultures and values--everything promises freedom. This
dominant alluring factor is only matched by technological advances America has
managed to make in a relatively short time.
America's ability to reach out to the far corners of the world is really based
on a technological revolution which has no parallel in human history. The fact
that this revolution has been the result of several generations of men and women
in Western Europe is a forgotten matter of history. It is America which has been
able to provide home to a vast scientific enterprise which first emerged in
various countries of western Europe. It is America which was able to draw to
herself men and women of exceptional intelligence, people like Albert Einstein
who have defined the frontiers of knowledge in the twentieth century. This
ability to draw a steady stream of highly intelligent men and women is simply
not present in other cultures of the contemporary world.
America is not alone in this aspect. Baghdad, Samarkand, Cairo, Alexandria and
Cordoba have had their day. The uniqueness of America rests in the fact that
never before in human history we have seen such a sustained and broad phenomena.
Other civilizations and cultures had their irresistible pull but not on such a
global level and certainly not over such a vast number of human beings. This
unique American characteristic of providing a home to diverse civilizational
forces has imparted a two-fold enrichment: it has allowed the American culture
to draw upon the strength and contributions of all past civilizations and it has
produced a mosaic of multi-cultural and multi-racial society which thrives on
diversity.
But this unique position of America in the contemporary world has also placed a
high degree of responsibility on its leaders, a moral responsibility which seems
to be beyond the comprehension of recent American leadership. No American
president since the days of Kennedy has shown the wisdom, statesmanship and
vision which has produced this unique civilization with a global reach.
Allured by short sighted gains and the glory of easy victories, successive
American presidents have yielded to the temptation of bombing innocent citizens
as far apart as Vietnam, Baghdad, Kosovo and Afghanistan. As a result, the
America of Herman Melville's imagination has been obliterated from the annals of
history. Instead, a punitive version of a grand dream seems to be encroaching
upon the world which finds no relief from the narrow confines of a diminishing
multiplier which would one day reduce a gigantic experiment in human history to
the rubble of a self-destructive civilization.
This short sighted leadership has been able to tarnish the original vision of
America by producing a barbaric double. This second vision of America is what
Khomenie dubbed as the Great Satan--a caricature of the original which is
capable of bringing forth images of Iraqi children dying from the effects of
radio activity from bombs dipped in depleted uranium (DU). It is this second
vision of America which is behind the violence heaped on its innocent citizens
in places like Beirut, Nairobi and Karachi.
This second vision of America is dipped in DU with its infinitely long half-life
of 3.5 million years. In this second vision, America stands as a metaphor for
destruction like the one it produced in Iraq where in a five week long aerial
bombing campaign 940,000 DU tipped shells were dropped from the air. This
tragedy of epic proportions is begetting deformed children and tens of thousands
of cases of lymphoma and leukemia, particularly in children. Seeped into the
rich soil and water of Iraq, depleted Uranium is going to remain active for a
long, long time to come.
In addition, there are powerful forces within America which are tearing at the
very fabric of this grand synthesis of human cultures. These forces conjure up
images of blowing steel and concrete from Oklahoma, shivering and hungry
children living under bridges of the inner cities, millions of teen-age
pregnancies and skin-headed youth, intoxicated by the newly emerged manhood,
throwing homemade bombs on mosques.
America today is a battleground for men and women desperate to find spiritual
solace, of ideologies and religions struggling to gain converts, of conflicting
political interests fighting to gain an upper hand in a battle which Faulkner
would have deemed unworthy of victory or defeat. New Age philosophies,
Scientism, Positivism, Relativism and hundreds of other competing ideologies are
trying to reach out to a populace already over saturated with information.
Buried under this rubble are the good old American family values and practices
which produced generations of stable families whose nourishing homes welcomed
the weary children when they needed the warmth and comfort of a home.
It is possible that the current torrent will wipe out this unique exercise in
human history. It may be that the inner tensions of the American society will
reach such proportions that it will forget its ways of healing its wounds. It
may be that one day history will remember only one version of America: a
self-destructive civilization which came into existence and devoured itself.
That may be as it is. For now, America stands as the unique and dominant force
in a world struggling to live with the two mutually exclusive visions: one
filled with enchanting dreams of a land full of freedom, fulfillment and untold
opportunities; the other dominated by a place where policy planners don't think
twice about the effects of their strategic bombings and depleted uranium bombs
on humans who might be living next door to them.
April 16, 1999
Death of a thinking man
Dr Muzaffar Iqbal
"Go around the country and try to find someone who can still think," he had said
during one of our last meetings, "you will have to look hard, but you will find
one. Once you have found such a person, you would have found a miniature of
hell."
I knew he had become a cynic, an ultimate pessimist who had given up on
everything but equating the mind of a thinking man to hell was too strong a
metaphor for me.
He lived near my house and, once in a while when he was not too depressed, he
would stop by for a little chat. We had been neighbours for six years but I
still did not know how he had come to such a sorry state. "You have just
returned," he had told me in our first or second meeting, "you cannot even
imagine what an agony it is for a thinking man to live in this country. Live
here for a few years and you will find out."
His real name was something else, but everyone called him Manno jee. His sudden
death was reported on the back pages of the national newspapers but no one has
mourned it except his family and a few friends who knew how great his
accomplishments were. He was certainly one of the most sensitive human beings I
ever met in my life. Once I had seen tears in his eyes when a little kitten was
run over by a Pajero in front of his house.
When I first went to see him at his house, I was impressed by his drawing room
which was filled with mementos of a cherished past: in one picture he was
standing with the head of the Oriental and Asian Studies Department of the
University of Tashkent; in another, he was being presented the highest civil
award of France; in the third, he was sitting cross legged with Louis
Massignon--that French giant of the twentieth century whose work on al-Hallaj
and struggle for the Algerians would always be remembered with admiration. Those
were the days of another Manno jee, the one who was emerging as one of the
finest synthesis of eastern and western thought in a country where writers and
poets still dreamt and wrote inspiring pieces of grief-ridden verses.
"Go around the capital," he once said, "and see the lines outside the foreign
missions. See the faces of those who stand under the burning son. These are the
sons of this land, my previous students among them, who would find their way to
the countries where they would not be degraded for thinking. Thinking has become
the greatest sin in this country."
Manno jee was a professor. He was one of the founding fathers of an institute to
which he devoted a decade of his life. But eventually he was replaced
unceremoniously. At that time, he was on leave, teaching in a foreign
university. The new person had the right connections in the right circles. And
within a year, he destroyed the institute by hiring incompetent persons who made
sure that the team of chosen individuals who had worked hard to make it one of
the finest institutes of the country either resigned or fell in line. Manno jee
never recovered from this calamity. He always tried to seek refuge in the
memories he had when he taught at the Government College Lahore during the days
when that fine institution was the centre of Lahore's literary and intellectual
life. It was a solace of some sort but not a cure for the loss.
His students lived and worked all over the world. He had taught them his
favourite languages: Persian, French and Arabic. But that was not all. He must
have also taught them something more, for some of them revered him. Once he
showed me a letter of one of his students who wanted to bequeath a large sum to
him but he declined. "I know how he had made that money," Manno jee said. "I am
ashamed of you," he had written to his former student.
But those were the days when he was holding on to a dim hope which took him from
office to office with his curriculum vitae and folder of clippings of his
publications in international journals. "They would give me tea," he later told
me, "high flying words for all my achievements, promises to call me back and
then forget all about it." By "they" he did not mean ordinary people. "They"
were the ministers, heads of institutions with powers and perks no one can
imagine, even a prime minister who wanted him to come to France with him as his
official translator--an offer he rejected with scorn. "They want to make you
small," he told me when he received the offer through a close aide of the prime
minister, "they want to break you from within. But how can I let them kill
something which I have cultivated for half a century! That is all I have."
He had gone to one of the oil rich countries for a job which paid well and gave
him an opportunity to build a house in the capital. It was then that his leave
had been cancelled and another person had been appointed in his position. When
he returned, he tried to get his lost position back but could not. Then he spent
the next three years fighting a court battle and by the time it was decided in
his favour, he was above sixty; he could not return to his job. That put an end
to his career.
"Sixty is the limit," he would say, "once you are sixty, you have no right to
live anymore, at least not in this country. No matter how active your mind is,
no matter how productive you are, you have no place unless you are well
connected."
Ironically, it was after winning the court battle that he had started to lose
hope. He had spent three agonising years and a lot of money but by the time the
decision was made in his favour, he had crossed the official limit for
retirement. "Have you ever seen any professor retire?" he would ask in despair.
"Those societies where knowledge and thinking is respected create honourary
chairs, special endowments for research positions to benefit from the long
experience of professors. But here...."
This was also the beginning of the time when he started to leave his sentences
unfinished. I noticed this change in him and was saddened. He never specifically
said so, but I knew he was also facing economic crunch. "How long can your
savings last?" he once said, "one day they will run out. Then what are you
supposed to do? Crawl in a hole and die, I assume. In this country, it is a sin
to live beyond sixty. Unless you have connections."
During the last few months of his life, his state deteriorated rapidly and he
started to suffer physically as well. When I noticed the impact on his health, I
proposed a daily evening walk. "Yes, let us do that," he readily agreed.
It was during those walks that I came to know him closely. He was an
extraordinary human being with a gifted mind. During those walks I realised that
in spite of everything he was suffering from, there were periods when his
intellectual vigour and energy returned and then he would talk so passionately
that he would forget walking. The range of his ideas covered areas ranging from
linguistics to literature and from religion to Marxism. A renaissance man who
knew his native land so minutely and so intensely that after half a century, he
could still describe the contours of the hills and the shapes of rocks near his
native village where he had spent a happy childhood.
Our walks took us to a park through some quiet streets where security guards
stood outside large, palatial houses. "If you want to see where a country is
going, see how its population is spending its time. One half of our population
has been barred from contributing toward the national development. These are the
people who have been locked up in houses, in jails, on large feudal farms, on
roads in uniforms. A large number from the other serves in non-productive jobs:
security guards standing outside palace-like houses, peons bringing tea to
offices, drivers taking their sahibs to meetings and their begum sahibs to
shopping malls, domestic servants standing in queues to pay utility bills--that
is how we are spending our time."
But our walks did not last long. The lucidity of his mind cost him too much
energy and he complained about being left drained after the walks. He lived
alone in the lower portion of his house with renters upstairs. He had a devoted
man who looked after him. His name was Rahmat. When the bell rang early one
morning and I saw Rahmat standing at the door, sobbing. I knew what had
happened. I went over to the house where Manno jee's body was lying in a room
filled with books. Rahmat had not yet covered his face yet. There were no signs
of death agony. He had died in his sleep.
The next day, newspapers carried a small item on the back pages announcing his
death. A day later, condolence messages appeared in another back page news item
and then Manno jee was forgotten. Nobody ever celebrated his anniversary.
April 30, 1999 Dictates of respite
Dr Muzaffar Iqbal
In less than a year after India and Pakistan tested their nuclear devices, our
world has gone a full circle.
From imposing sanctions to lifting them and from delivering sermons on
disarmament to forgetting the
lethal weapons. This is by no means surprising.
Readers would recall that in the June 5, 1998 "Quantum Note", I had stated: "By
conducting nuclear tests,
India took certain calculated risks. The tests were conducted with the clear
realisation that they will be
condemned by the world community. But the Indian leadership knew very well that
the furor over the
tests would soon vanish and though the sanctions will remain for a while, these
too will not last long..."
One wishes that the same could be said for the Pakistani leadership. Pakistanis
have paid a huge price for
the nuclear tests. Hundreds of families have suffered the consequences of the
freezing of eleven billion
dollars by the government. A handful of people made millions during those days
when the State Bank of
Pakistan was issuing notification after notification, each contradicting the
previous one,and hundreds of
businesses have been uprooted, perhaps forever.
But the government has been the greatest beneficiary of the tests. On the
economic front, it used the
pretext to devour a huge amount of money and, remaining totally callous about
the suffering of
thousands of human beings, it was able to boost its reservoirs. The rest was
done by the formal lifting of
sanctions and the recently concluded negotiations with the donor agencies.
On the political front, the last eleven months have favoured the ruling party
like no other period. Karachi
is seemingly calmer though reported killing of more than three thousand people
during the first three
months of the current year and an alarming number of rape cases is a chilling
reminder that the wave of
terror has actually spread throughout the country. The opposition has been
eliminated, discredited and
stands at the brink of total collapse following the recent court verdict and
there are no dark shadows
lurking behind the scenes. It is safe to say that Nawaz Sharif has more power
than any other ruler has ever
accumulated, including General Zia for the latter constantly had challenges to
his credibility and struggled
to justify his rule.
As a result of all these factors, the government has earned respite. But like
all temporary solutions, this
respite also comes with its own stern dictates. If the present situation is to
be held for long, the economic
and political benefits of the respite have to be turned into long-term, real
gains. This involves a series of
well-planned actions to strengthen the social fabric:
1. Institutional Reform: There is an urgent need to undertake institutional
reforms to transform the
unproductive, uncompetitive state institutions into modern, efficient systems
dedicated to a vision for the
next century. This involves,
(i) A clear understanding of the present malfunctions followed by time-honoured,
tested remedial steps.
Nothing revolutionary is being suggested here. Rather, these are the most
obvious reforms needed to
avoid a terrible collapse. The railways, for example, could turn into a
productive and profitable institution
if it is run as a modern corporation dealing with transportation of people and
goods. There are many
models to follow but each of these successful models is based on the premise
that the railway provides a
service, that it is the privilege of the traveller to travel after he or she has
paid and it is not the generosity
of a brown sahib to let a person travel. There is a conceptual difference
between the two models: the one
now in operation in Pakistan is based on the British Raj's unstated premise that
the natives may be allowed
to travel on the trains but it is not their right to do so. The same goes with
other institutions which
provide services.
2. Education: The single most important realisation that has dawned on the
populace of Pakistan is
associated with education. The worker in the factory, clerks in the offices,
peons, drivers, officers of the
federal and provincial bureaucracy, traders, manufacturers, peasants, landowners
and the migrant workers
-- all have realised that they need to provide education to their children. This
realisation has been
responsible for the creation of a new business which was hardly conceivable
fifteen years ago. Institutions
which claim to provide education have mushroomed like no other institution. From
vocational to medical
and from computer education to engineering, there are all kinds and all levels
of private institutions which
have captured the needs and pockets of a huge population willing to invest in
their children's future.
But the govt has remained a silent spectator to the growth of private
educational institutions which range
from "Mohallah schools" to "chain schools" which operate in several cities. What
is being taught in these
schools is producing a new generation of Pakistanis which is going to radically
transform the social and
moral fabric of the nation in the years to come. Already there are increasing
number of teenagers who
have graduated from these institutions who feel aliens in their own country.
Young men and women who
can not even converse in their national language. Once this generation barges
upon the social scene, there
will be serious consequences for the whole polity.
Unfortunately, no government has paid any attention to this "time bomb"; the
conflict between a
generation coming out of institutions based on the premise that the west is
best, and the one deprived of
this education is bound to produce a serious flash point which may take any
form: from religiously
motivated hatred to uncontrollable social chaos.
No "new education policy" will correct this malady. The diversity and infusion
of two opposing educational
worldviews has penetrated the society so deeply that only a radical reform can
help to correct the
imbalance. What is needed is a serious undertaking which will define national
goals and priorities, invest a
huge amount of effort into rebuilding a national curriculum for the next
generation and allow quality
educational institutions to flourish within a broad ideological and conceptual
framework.
3. Health: Like education, health care has had a tremendous growth during the
last few years. But once
again, this has been an unregulated growth. As a consequence, Pakistan suffers
from disproportionate
levels of health care for its growing population. The discrepancy between those
who can afford to pay the
cost of professional health care and those who have to rely on dangerous
practitioners is just
overwhelming. In a country with a growing ratio of young to old populace, this
is hardly a healthy
indicator. Those young men and women who are going to see their parents suffer
because of inadequate
health care will not be a healthy addition to the national work force. The state
run hospitals are simply not
in line with modern practices. A bold, systematic and well-planned effort is
needed to introduce a national
health care plan which provides a consistent pattern of health care for the
majority of the population.
4. Infrastructure: A true and remarkable image of the present state of
contemporary Pakistan is
Rawalpindi's Nullah Leh, a small and filthy nullah of a nuclear state whose
civil engineers have not been
able to solve the simple problem of annual overflow of this sewage-cum-nullah
which deposits its filth in
the houses and shops which have mushroomed on its banks. It is an indicator of
the lack of investment in
the infrastructure by successive governments. As a result, we have cities which
have become just impossible
to be managed, transport systems which are outdated, farms where half the
produce is wasted, power
transmission systems where almost half the electricity remains unused or is
stolen or lost; canals which are
filled with silt, rivers which pose serious threats during monsoon and remain
half utilised during the rest
of the year and cities without adequate water supply or waste disposal systems.
With the resources we have, Pakistan could have turned into a modern state long
time ago. Just imagine
the energy which can be produced by harnessing the solar radiation so abundantly
available. This does not
require huge investment in research; solar power technology is available off the
shelf and can be readily
put to use. Likewise the fast flowing rivers in the north are natural power
source for water turbines. No
one has taken advantage of these natural gifts because no one had time to invest
in building the
infrastructure.
These four categories are merely broad indicators of what is required. Basic
institutional reforms are
needed in all state run institutions: from the functioning of the police to the
water and power department
and from the huge but un-productive Forestry Department to the institutions
governing the Mining and
Fisheries industries.
All of these problems require professional help. These cannot be solved by
speeches made for instant
political gains, nor can these be wished away by slogans of entering into the
twenty-first century. These
are also not unsurmountable problems. But they require professionals who
understand what city planning
is all about and how a modern transport system runs.
What is needed is (i) a clear resolve to undertake broad institutional reforms,
(ii) induction of a dedicated
team of professionals into the hierarchy of government and (iii) the will and
capacity to acknowledge that
we are sitting on a time bomb.
The present respite may be the last chance for a country which has so much
potential. The stern dictates
of this respite are not hard to discern. History will judge the present rulers
on the basis of what they make
of this challenge.
Quantum Note may 14, 1999
----------------------
Dr. Muzaffar Iqbal
A Requiem for the Dead
Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince. And flights of angels sing
thee to thy rest.
He sat across the table and ate slowly as if the very act of eating was a ritual
permeated with a hidden meaning. He preferred vegetables over meat and ate very
little. Whenever a dish was passed to him, he would say in his own peculiar way:
"Thank you. I have had enough." Upon insistence, he would take a small portion
and relish every single bite. But it was obvious that more than the food, he
liked the conversation.
We had never met before but that evening when he arrived at our house with
Professor Nomanul Haq, it was as if we had known each other for a long time.
Noman had come from the States where he teaches at Rutgers university. He and
Eqbal Ahmad were members of the Advisory Board of an educational institution.
Noman had come to participate in the annual Board meeting and that is where he
had met Eqbal Ahmad for the first time.
"He saved me," Noman had told me on the phone, "it was so suffocating that if it
were not for him, I would have died. Meeting him was worth the trip."
Gentle, unassuming and a bit slow in his movements, Eqbal Ahmad was a rare man
in the sense that one could almost see his thinking process as he talked. It was
in February of this year, just three months before his death on May 11. At that
time, no one could think that he would die so soon though one could easily
detect a sense of tragedy in his words. Or perhaps not so much as tragedy but a
tragic understanding of life.
At the dinning table, we talked about his most recent interest: Fazalur Rahman.
Why that giant of a man had to leave Pakistan? What were the exact conditions at
that time? What was the role of various individuals in the whole affair? He had
a few sketchy details and a lot of questions for Dr. Zafar Ishaq Ansari who now
held the same position which Fazalur Rahman once held. Eqbal wanted details of
the role played by every one: from president Ayub to an accounts officer at the
Islamic Research Institute.
After dinner, we returned to the study and resumed our conversation. Eqbal Ahmad
was thorough. Recalling his last meeting with Fazalur Rahman in Chicago, he
said, "the man never recovered from the loss of leaving his country." Then he
went on to discuss various social, psychological, political and personal aspects
of uprooting of men like Fazalur Rahman and the effect of this process on the
Pakistani society. Then Dr. Ansari left.
Late that night, somewhere between the words being spoken and heard, we three
who had met for the first time in our earthly lives, felt that rare kinship of
spirit which allows one to transcend barriers and establish a bond beyond the
ephemeral realm of time.
Eqbal Ahmad was a man of substance. The one who knew that it was preferable to
remain silent than speak words which carried no meaning. Extremely observant and
interested in detail, he was an engaging conversationalist as well as a
brilliant listener: one did not have to say too much for him to grasp what was
being said.
The focus of the conversation was Pakistan--his abiding interest. And it was not
difficult to deduce that the sense of tragedy one felt in his every act was
intimately connected with the drift of Pakistani society. No matter what happens
at the personal level, there is something in the very soil of this country that
binds its children in an indissoluble bond.
"But tell me your story," Eqbal said repeatedly, "I am very interested to know
the details." It was nothing special, I told him, it happens to every one who
comes back to this country with dreams. But he insisted to know the details. Why
did I resign? What was the role of certain individuals in the whole affair and
once he had heard, he said, "you should not stay here, go back. See, for me, it
does not matter. I have come back at the end of my life. But you should not stay
here. You have many more years than me."
"But what is it that does not let the plants grow here? I asked. "What is
lacking?"
"We cannot allow dissension," Eqbal said, "our psyche is such that we cannot
allow independent voices. People who have different opinions are simply not
patriotic. I think that is the root of everything."
Then the topic changed to his life time dream: the Khaldunia University. "It was
an impossible dream," Eqbal said with a bit of irony in his voice, "now I would
not even dream anything like this."
That was a tragic statement. But it was said so easily that there was not a
single iota of cynicism in it. He had dreamed, worked and hoped for something
and it had not come to bear fruit. He was sad about it but the difference
between him and others was that where others would have considered it a personal
failure of epic dimensions, he understood it to be the result of the historic
forces which had shaped the society. He knew very clearly that what he wanted to
do was just not possible at this time in the historic development of the
society. And he had accepted it.
Eqbal Ahmad did not have many ambitions left. But he was obviously a man full of
ideas. He was going to India in a couple of days to further the process of
understanding between intellectuals of the two countries. "The politics of hate
is the biggest curse upon the subcontinent," he said. "We have been promoting it
for fifty years. What have we gained by it? Both countries have suffered
tremendously. Both have diverted their limited resources to the pursuit of
mutual destruction and both have produced a rich harvest of millions of wasted
lives."
A keen observer of society and politics, Eqbal Ahmad had candid views about
Pakistani rulers, both past and present. But they did not count much at this
stage of his life. At 67, he was a man who had reached a certain tragic
understanding of life and had accepted it with stoic resolve. Yes, it would have
been much better if things were otherwise but the way they are is an outcome
beyond our control; we only need to accept it.
But he was not fatalistic; far from it. He was a man who believed in doing his
little bit. Where did he get his energy from? How could you keep going after the
bitter experiences? That was not a concern for him. You can't help thinking,
once you have started to think. It is just like breathing. And like every
thinking man, he knew that it was most painful but a lifetime spent in the
pursuit of understanding human nature and society could not be given up.
What did he think about the future of the country? He did not say anything too
pointedly but his analysis was the work of a mind which was immersed in a
historic consciousness. Education, he said, is the most important factor. What
we are providing our students is not education. Education means to learn one
thing: how to think. Everything else is secondary. And this is precisely what we
are not teaching.
We talked about things which had disappeared: Lahore of his days, the city which
had given him so much love and affection and comrades. We talked about the
simple joy of sharing a thought with a stranger in some far off place. We
discussed nuclear explosions which were very much on his mind. We discussed
books and ideas and people and late that night, Eqbal Ahmad called his driver.
"It is late," he said on the phone, "but would you mind to come and take me
home?"
That polite conversation with his driver was the best I had ever heard between
two people in such a relationship. A few minutes later, Eqbal Ahmad got up,
saying his driver had come. We had not heard any car, nor the door bell but when
we came downstairs, his driver was there, sitting in the car, patiently waiting.
As if an invisible bond existed between the two.
Before saying goodbye, we made plans to meet again. He was going to India and I
was going to the States but after that interlude, we were to meet again. Days
passed. I went to the States and came back but the piece of paper on which he
had written his address and phone number had disappeared. I knew I would have to
dig it out from a pile of papers. I knew it was there, somewhere in that pile
and it was one of those things which would be done in a day or two. Two weeks
ago, that piece of paper on which he had written his address and phone number in
his fine hand surfaced on the pile, as if by its own will.
I will call and go and see him, I thought. But again days passed. It was one of
those things that you think you will do tomorrow. Only now there will be no such
tomorrow.
Quantum Note
----------------------
Dr. Muzaffar Iqbal
May 28th, 1999
The Real Story Behind the Bomb
Published as the Making of the Bomb
"If India makes an atomic bomb, then we will also do so even if we have to eat
grass, because we will be left with no alternative. [The threat of an] atomic
bomb can only be answered by an atomic bomb." Everyone remembers this famous
statement of ZA Bhutto after the 1965 war, but few know the price he had to pay
for making that statement. Here is what actually happened.
On May 18, 1974 India tested her first nuclear device in Rajistan, throwing ZA
Bhutto in a fix; he had no way to respond to the new threat from across the
border. He went up and down the country making emotional speeches, he blasted
India in the Parliament and in public meetings, he drew the attention of the
world to this new danger, but he could not produce a bomb.
Since 1973, he had been negotiating with SGN of France to supply us a
reprocessing plant. The government of France was a party to these complex
negotiations which had been dogged by a series of delay tactics and demands that
Pakistan accept all conditions imposed by France, the SGN and the International
Atomic Energy Commission. Pakistan was also required to declare that the
reprocessing plant would only be used for industrial purposes. Bhutto had no
problems with this. His real plan was to acquire the plant and then build a
replica which would be free from any international monitoring. The idea of the
reprocessing plant had been suggested to him by Dr. Abdus Salam and Munir Ahmad
Khan, his science advisors.
One of the major hurdles to this plan was the $300 million dollars needed to
acquire the plant. However, Bhutto was not a man who would accept any obstacle
to his plans once he had made up his mind. The price of oil was rising. He had
personal relationships with many heads of states where their windfall had
generated surplus funds and his quick visits produced results.
But then came the biggest blow to his dreams. Through a set of interesting
events, he finally realized that his whole strategy had been flawed; that he had
been advised to follow a torturous path which would take him nowhere closer to
the atomic bomb. Even if he could somehow collect 300 million dollars required
for the reprocessing plant, he would first have to have three other units before
the reprocessing plant could start functioning: he needed a reactor which made
plutonium, another reactor to make fuel and a third production plant for making
heavy water. Only then he could set up the reprocessing plant, which in itself
would take years to build.
So this is how it came to pass: Soon after India=s test in May, Bhutto received
a letter from Holland written by one A.Q. Khan who had a degree in metallurgy
and who was keen to come to Pakistan and join Karachi Steel Mill where he could
render great services. But the top brass of Steel Mill was not responding to his
offer. Bhutto could have easily forwarded that letter to the relevant ministry
and forgotten about it, except that it mentioned that the writer also had
expertise in enriching uranium. He was working with European scientists on a
joint UK-Holland-German project, Urenoko, which was investigating the use of the
centrifugal system to enrich uranium. Quick contacts were made and on a cold
December day in 1974, A. Q. Khan was sitting in his office, explaining to him
the long and torturous process which had to be followed to set up the
reprocessing plant, which would thereafter be under international safeguards.
When ZA Bhutto realized the futility of the route he had taken he was really in
a bind. He had already brought the negotiations with France and SGN to a point
that if he backed out now, Pakistan would have to pay huge sums in damages.
Thousands of dollars had been spent on foreign tours of the officials who
carried out these torturous negotiations and now the reality of that white
elephant was a nightmare.
Days passed. ZA Bhutto pondered over the new realities and then it dawned on him
that he really had to break the contracts with France and get out of the deal.
But these were difficult days. Floods had ravaged the country, rising oil prices
had destroyed the economy, crops had failed and the opposition was making all
kinds of demands. But being the man he was, by July 1976, he had A.Q. Khan
working at the top secret Kahuta Plant which was to produce enriched uranium by
centrifuge system.
But he still had to get out of the deal with France which he had signed on March
16, 1976. He was helped in this by the United States in a convoluted way. Carter
had expressed his strong opposition to the sale of a reprocessing plant to
Pakistan. When on August 8, 1976, Henry Kissinger arrived in Pakistan with the
stern warning from Carter that if Bhutto persisted in his plans to acquire the
reprocessing plant, Carter would "make him an example of the horrible end",
Bhutto knew he had found the perfect scoop. His rich, complex and fertile mind
quickly put together a complicated plan. He was going to flare up the Americans
to the extent that they would eventually force France to cancel the deal.
These were critical days. Now Bhutto was going up and down the length and
breadth of the country, taunting Americans and re-iterating his resolve to get
the reprocessing plant. On June 2, 1977 Carter reacted by canceling the
agreement to supply Pakistan with 110 fighter planes. But Bhutto was undaunted.
He had set his mind on a goal and he knew that his hard-hitting speeches were
serving him well: They focused world attention on the issue of the reprocessing
plant, thus camouflaging the Kahuta Project, and his words antagonized Carter.
He orchestrated this drama so successfully that the US administration failed to
notice that when Bhutto's government presented its Budget in the Parliament on
June 11, 1977, it only had a paltry sum of Rs. 400 million for the reprocessing
plant.
But Carter had his own plans and Bhutto's over-confidence and a host of other
factors helped him. The rigging of elections in March 1977 provided a perfect
backdrop for Bhutto's final demise. The opposition launched a concerted campaign
and by May 1977, things had flared up to such an extent that the whole country
was on fire. Bhutto was attacking the Americans, negotiating with the combined
opposition which had become a formidable force. Streets were filled with riots
and demonstrations and the law and order situation was deteriorating rapidly.
Curfew had to be imposed in many places and the army was called to help the
government.
While ZA Bhutto was fighting so many battles on so many fronts, Kahuta
Laboratories was busy in acquiring necessary parts for the plant from all over
the world through a network of front organizations. The centrifuge system it was
going to use to enrich uranium was a new technology which had only been mastered
by the Unites States in 1979 at its Portsmouth Plant. But A.Q. Khan, just like
Bhutto, was also a single-minded person who had set up a mechanism which worked
around the clock to assemble the plant.
On the night of May 31, 1977, following a meeting between Cyrus Vance and Aziz
Ahmad, Bhutto played the first of his two trump cards. That night locks were
broken in the offices of the Foreign Minister and Bhutto called Carter and
expressed his anger over the American interference in Pakistan. (Later, ZA
Bhutto would refer to this in his affidavit submitted to the Lahore High Court.)
Eight days later, on Saturday, June 8, he played his second trump card: That day
he suddenly left for Saudi Arabia with a select team including people like Aziz
Ahmad, Agha Shahi, Afzal Saeed, Masud Nabi Noor, A. A. Farooq and Mehdi Masud
which convinced everyone that this trip was to acquire funds for the
reprocessing plant. He met King Fahd and left for Libya the same day. Libya was
perceived as the oil-rich country most supportive of Pakistan's bid to acquire
the reprocessing plant.
This worked. Carter got a confirmation from France that the agreement to supply
the reprocessing plant would be revoked. On June 19, 1977, New York Times
published the news that France had canceled its deal with Pakistan. Precisely at
that time, (it was June 20th in this part of the world) Bhutto was in Abu Dhabi
announcing on the local TV that Pakistan would acquire the reprocessing plant at
all costs.
When he saw the news item in the New York Times, Bhutto was ecstatic.
It would take another year for the official announcement by France to cancel the
agreement. (This was announced in June 1978). By then, Bhutto had been deposed.
The great drama he had enacted had been successful, but at a cost he had not
anticipated.
Kahuta Laboratories did what they had to do. By 1982, there was enough enriched
uranium to test a weapon. And the rest is history.
[This narrative has been put together from published sources including Bhutto's
biography by Wolport, Maulan Kausar Niazi's "Aur Line Cut Gai" and a number of
reports from various newspapers.]
Quantum Note
----------------------
Dr. Muzaffar Iqbal
June 11th, 1999
Patterns of Cultural Dominance
The customs officer at the Islamabad International airport looks at my passport,
asks what I did, where I was going and why. My answers provide him a mental
picture of who I was and he stamps the passport. Next comes Mark, my Canadian
friend. The same officer looks at his passport picture, then at his face and
without a word, stamps his passport.
We pass through the narrow entrance but are stopped by two men in uniforms. I am
bodily searched but Mark is ushered to the corridor leading to the airline desks
with a courteous smile. "Why do they suspect you and not me?" Mark asks once we
are through the security check. I have no answer.
This is not an isolated incident. In my own country, I have been stopped by
peons, guards, clerks and private secretaries from entering into offices where a
foreigner would have been ushered with great joy and pride. I have had similar
experiences at airports as far apart from each other as London and Jeddah. At
the airports in western countries, I could console myself for the strict
security checks by blaming it on my beard. But in the Muslim countries and
especially when travelling with foreigners, the humiliating treatment by fellow
Muslims becomes unbearable not because of any personal reasons but because this
treatment only confirms certain painful realities.
At a certain level, this and similar behaviours are symptoms of a deep rooted
inferiority complex. These are outward signs of the cultural dominance by the
West which must have its roots in the long period of colonization or even
further back in history.
This deep rooted inferiority complex is confirmed by other signs: Expatriate
friends complain of discrimination at the highest professional levels. When
World Bank or UN projects are approved with the conditions of inviting experts
from the West, Muslim governments prefer Americans or Canadians over their
co-religionist expatriates. And if perchance an expatriate succeeds in coming
back to his or her native country, he or she is never treated as the Westerners
are treated in these positions.
This and hundreds of other behavioural patterns of a diverse and broad group of
population, spread over a large geographical area, have certain common elements:
They are all based on the premise that the West is best. They all confirm that
the colonial rule has left an indelible mark on the psyche of people who were
brutally ruled for anywhere between fifty to hundred and fifty years by
Europeans. These behavioural patterns also show a total lack of appreciation for
the rich cultures of the traditional Muslim lands--cultures which have evolved
over a period of centuries and which have a unique transcendental spiritual
element lacking in the contemporary western cultures.
This column is not a place for a sophisticated, scholarly analysis of the
complex phenomenon of cultural dominance nor for a treatment of the problems
inherent in mass psychology. Suffice it to say that the operative principle
behind the functioning of a large number of people and institutions in the
traditional Muslim lands is based on an unquestionable premise of the
superiority of the West. But it is an appropriate forum for raising certain
pertinent questions and seeking some soul searching answers.
Certain patterns of cultural dominance of the West can be easily traced to the
mental makeup of Muslim leadership during the eighteenth and nineteenth
centuries. During this period, the Muslim world was perceived as backward,
undeveloped and lacking the spirit of "modernity" which was considered to be the
hallmark of progress. From Sir Syed Ahmad Khan in India to Mostafa Kemal in
Turkey, one sees the same pattern. Muslim elite of that period saw the enormous
technological advances of the West as signs of progress and persuaded their
followers to become "modern" by acquiring Western education. In case of Sir Syed
and certain other Muslim leaders, this effort was couched in "Islamic" terms and
they tried to show that the Qur'an allowed for scientific progress. But in other
cases, the fundamentals of Islam were considered to be an impediment to
"modernity" which was synonymous with "progress".
This pattern is obvious throughout the leadership during the eighteenth and
nineteenth century and even up to the middle of the present century. When
movements for independence started in the Muslim lands, in most cases, they
sought to get rid of the colonial rule, by using the techniques learned from the
West: thus the right to self rule, democracy, freedom and the rest of the jargon
of the western political thought became the roaring cries of the leadership and
ultimately of the masses. By then, both had forgotten the traditional
institutional patterns which had emerged in these lands over centuries.
Whatever was achieved by the leaders of independence movements was achieved from
platforms which were a creation of the Western political tradition. Finally,
when nation states were born in the Muslim world, they were babies born from the
wombs which had a dominant Western genetic pattern.
Millions of people who sought independence from the colonial rule were hardly
aware of what they were seeking beyond the vague concepts formed through
political struggle. The leaders knew what they were seeking: they wanted to
govern their own countries but beyond this concrete wish, they were not seeking
independence from the chains which had strangled the older, time-tested and
traditional forms of life. Most of them had studied in the West and their ideals
and goals were shaped by western philosophical tradition.
They won what they sought for and as a result, new nation states emerged over a
large area of the world which continued to be governed by institutions which had
been planted by the colonial masters. As a result, there emerged a mismatch of
several contradictory ideologies, traditions and concepts of reality. There were
millions of uneducated and illiterate people who were supposed to make
intelligent choices of leadership through democratic elections leading to
parliaments which were supposed to work on the model of British Parliament;
there appeared governments which were supposed to follow the governing patterns
of the colonial rule and state institutions which were fashioned to govern
responsible citizens who willingly paid taxes and obeyed laws.
In addition, there were anomalies which were typical legacies of the colonial
rule which divided the population into categories. A large majority of "natives"
was considered to be unworthy of certain liberties which were granted to
individuals in the West; there were institutions which were supposed to function
under the centralized rule in a hierarchy which placed the Viceroy at the apex;
there existed a state establishment which was geared toward "ruling" rather than
"serving" and there were educational institutions which were designed to produce
obedient citizens, rather than free citizens.
Half a century later, these operative principles and institutions form the core
of our collective lives. They beget behavioural patterns one observes at
airports, government offices, educational institutions and during security
checks. These institutions, paradigms and complex psychological patterns have
produced millions of people who accord a high degree of respect, dignity and
honour to the West but shun their own culture and fellow citizens. They go out
of their way to help a Westerner but fail to provide common decency to their own
brethren.
The most painful tragedy of these patterns of cultural dominance is the fact
that the customs officers, the government functionaries, the security guards and
hundreds of other men and women in important positions are not even conscious of
what they are doing. Their discrimination against their own kith and kin is so
deep rooted that it has become a second nature and operates without their own
knowledge.
These patterns can only be uprooted from the psyche of masses if they become
aware of the behavioural pattern. But the avenues through which one can gain
such awareness are not open to most people. Regular channels for such awareness,
such as the educational institutions, professional training and in-service
experience are replete with the same mentality. Social norms sanction, even
promote, these patterns of cultural dominance.
It seems that history has deposited a potent residue in the deep recesses of
colonized people which affects their thinking patterns and behaviours in such a
way that nothing short of a major revolutionary transformation can remove this
residual force. It is a herculean task to "unlearn" these patterns and the
tragic fact is that no one is even thinking of attempting such a task. Neither
the five-year planners, nor the mega planners of Program 2010.
In the absence of a conscious effort to remove this humiliating pattern of
behaviour, it is likely that our next generations would continue to live with a
deep, almost unconscious, sense of inferiority compared to the West. And if this
be the case, economic and political dependence is only a logical outcome.
Quantum Note June 25, 1999
Dr. Muzaffar Iqbal
The Education Fiasco
Renamed: Dangers of class-based education
“I do this only to earn enough to send my three children to school,” said Nadir,
“I had to quit school in grade nine. My parents could not afford it. But I am
determined to give my children a chance. Without education, there is no future
for them.”
Nadir was driving his “double-seater” through the spectacular desert landscape
between Taftan and Quetta. We had left the small border town just before evening
and were now halfway through the journey. The desert had cooled down and
millions of stars were traversing their path across the enormous sky. The newly
built road between Quetta and Taftan could have transformed the economic
condition of this sparsely populated area of the country but it has not made any
major difference because of the lack of other infrastructure. “We have no water,
no electricity, nothing,” Nadir continued in his brooding tone, “this road is
our life line. But there is not enough business. I drive back and forth three
times a week. If I am lucky I earn just enough to survive. But I will pay for
their education even if I have to starve.”
Nadir is not alone. Millions of parents have reached the same realization. As a
result, education has become the most important sector, growning beyond anyone’s
wildest imagination. Thousands of private schools have emerged during the last
fifteen years in all parts of the country. These range from expensive,
western-style institutions to small Mohallah schools run by individuals without
any educational training. This unplanned growth of educational institutions has
filled a need but it has also created a potential time bomb, which may cause an
irrevocable damaged to our already fractured social fabric.
At present, there are several distinct classes of educational institutions in
the country. There are the customary “government schools” which cater to the
needs of those who cannot afford tuition fees. Then there are the “Madrassas”
which are increasingly providing low quality secular education in addition to
the traditional religious education. Then there is a whole range of private
schools with various levels of tuition fees. In addition, we also have the old,
British-style boarding schools, convents, schools run by various societies,
Grammar schools and a small number of schools run by foreign missions.
These educational institutions not only provide different types of education,
they also inculcate different worldviews in the minds of their students. Thus we
have a whole generation of young Pakistanis which is alien to the linguistic,
social and historical traditions of the country. These are the products of
educational institutions which have been operating in the country as caricatures
of American or British schools. The mental attitude, environment and textbooks
taught in these schools have produced a generation that sees nothing worthwhile
in their native culture.
On the other extreme are millions of poorly taught students of religious schools
who have been groomed in an environment reminiscent of medieval ages. These are
the children of one of the most devastating failures of our traditional
educational institutions. Having failed to keep their moorings in the higher
principles of traditional education, these religious schools have been deprived
of the rich intellectual history of a tradition, which once produced Ibn-e Sina
and Ghazali. Most of the children from these schools do not even know Arabic and
Persian—two fundamental languages of religious thought in Islam. Their schooling
is restricted to a few books of Tafsir, Hadith and Fiqh. Their “secular”
education is below the level of the government schools.
Between these two extremes, there are all shades and levels of education. In
addition to these primary level institutions, there are all kinds of “higher
education” institutions, which have mushroomed during the last few years. Most
of these institutions have some kind of western epithet attached to their names.
Many boast of “affiliations” with the Western educational institutions. These
are the places where children of more affluent parents learn their initial
lessons in disenchantment with their country. Everything they learn comes from
the west. They are least concerned with the tradition, history and culture of
their land. Once they graduate from these expensive places, they head for the
west where they are soon lost in the great melting pot.
Imagine Pakistan in the first two decades of the next century. We will have a
country in which the “educated” section of the population would have come out of
a diverse range of institutions. These young men and women will share a common
job market. Under the present scenario, the students emerging from the
western-style institutions will grab the reign of the country. These young men
and women will hold highly influential positions. They will lead the country
toward the ideals, which are being inculcated in the western-style educational
institutions from where they have graduated. Their efforts to create a social
and economic order reflective of their worldview will be opposed by those who
are now being deprived of the opportunities to have similar education.
This clash of divergent ideologies and worldviews would create tremendous amount
of resentment and confrontation. Exploited by the latent centripetal forces
already at work in our society, the first two decades of the next century would
create a violent movement, which will fracture Pakistani society from within.
This frightening scenario is not an imaginary situation. The violent mix is
being brewed right now in thousands of buildings across the country. Various
governments have come and gone. Many educational policies have been issued and
dumped in the files of the Ministry of education. But no one has addressed the
real problems. It seems that those in charge of over seeing the affairs of the
country are totally blind to the potential danger that is lurking behind the
scene.
Perhaps it is already too late to do anything about this dangerous situation.
This assumption seems to hold substantial ground because we know that people
like Eqbal Ahmad could not realize their dreams of setting up quality
educational institutions in this country. Their failure is all the more painful
because we know that anyone with enough money to rent a house with a skeleton
staff to teach a curricula based on the western model has flourished.
This educational fiasco has not come into existence overnight and it will not go
away in a short time. What is needed to correct the imbalance is a visionary
approach and certain revolutionary steps. Soft-solutions can no longer prevent
the looming catastrophe.
The first step in the corrective process is the development of national standard
curricula, which must be taught in all schools across the country. This has to
be modern, twenty-first century curricula designed to provide quality education,
which will address major needs of the country in the decades to come. This basic
curricula has to present a binding and broad mandate to be fulfilled by all
educational institutions. Beyond meeting these mandatory standards, institutions
can be left to devise their own supplementary courses.
This national curricula has to be a genuinely Pakistani curricula based on the
traditions of our society and cognizant of the needs of the next century. The
development of this curricula can only be achieved through a national program,
envisioned in its totality by experts. The beaten track of formulation of a new
educational policy will not work. What is needed is a grand effort on war
footing. Unless the entire spectrum of our educational institutions is
transformed through a revolutionary process, there is no hope that the first two
decades of the next century will produce any improvement in the continuous
process of decay, which has characterized our polity.
Any real effort to change the dangerous scenario, which looms over the society,
has to be an inclusive approach, which will allow maximum freedom within the
broad parameters of a national educational agenda. This effort has to start with
a well-planned strategy involving teachers’ training, upgradation of existing
infra-structure and transformation of thousands of Madrassas into centers of
modern learning. The use of technological tools, such as computers,
accessibility to information and new techniques of learning languages has to be
an integral part of the strategy.
What is needed is a grand vision of the needs of the nation in 2020. These needs
can then be linked to the development of appropriate curricula at various levels
of education. This will ensure relevancy. Certain short cuts can be taken to
train a large number of men and women who can provide technological support in
certain key areas such as computer software, maintenance of hardware and
scientific instruments.
But the first step is the recognition that we are sitting on a time bomb. This
recognition has to be acknowledged at the highest level. Then there is a need to
form a national body to address this multifaceted danger. Such a body has to be
an independent body of experts with enough powers to implement a well-planned
educational agenda. This is not possible through the ministry of education,
which has never sh