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- Nov 17, 2010
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Client country’s descent into chaos
Long before the world had come to commemorate September 11 as a day of remembrance and mourning, Pakistanis had learnt to mark the day by grieving the loss of their country's founding father, Muhammad Ali Jinnah, who died on September 11, 1948. Although separated by more than half a century, the cumulative effect of these losses for Pakistan has been, quite simply, incalculable. Reeling from unprecedented levels of violence unleashed by the events of 9/11 and still struggling to come to terms with the existential crisis precipitated by Jinnah's premature death in 1948, the country is fast descending into chaos.
Pakistan is, of course, no stranger to chaos. But what makes this moment in Pakistan's history exceptional is the threat it is seen to pose, simultaneously, to the security of its own citizens, to the welfare of its regional neighbours, and to the stability of the wider international community. These new concerns bear little or no comparison to the more 'contained' moments of chaos that have scarred Pakistan: its blood-stained conflict in 1971 that led to the creation of Bangladesh; its carefully orchestrated hostilities with India over Kashmir, and its dalliance with global jihad against Soviet forces in Afghanistan. All have taken a heavy toll on the country, yet none gave cause to associate Pakistan with mortal danger.
The events of 9/11 changed all that. Within months, Pakistan was engulfed by wave upon wave of uncertainty and tension. Ethnic, sectarian and Islamist violence now threatens to tear the country apart, while the proliferation of local jihadi groups and the advance of al-Qaida on its territory have earned Pakistan the unenviable label of the world's most dangerous place. Moreover, with many of these internal groups intent on precipitating wars beyond its borders, nuclear-armed Pakistan is now seen widely also to be the epicentre of terrorist violence.
Yet, it is worth remembering that none of the perpetrators of the 9/11 attacks were from Pakistan. Nor can Pakistan be held solely responsible (indeed available evidence suggests otherwise) for supporting a regime (the Taliban) that chose to harbour terrorists. But for these acts of omission and commission more than 30,000 civilians in Pakistan have paid with their lives since the fall of the Twin Towers. No wonder then that of all the emotions fuelling ordinary Pakistanis today, none is more palpable than anger.
However, while it is unquestionably the case that Pakistan has suffered more than most from the violence that followed 9/11 (more than 12,000 Pakistanis died in terrorist violence in 2010 alone), the majority of Pakistanis killed have fallen not at the hands of foreign forces avenging the attack on America, but of other Pakistanis at war against their own state. This war, which is of Pakistan's own making, reflects not only the deep divisions of a highly militarized state and its dysfunctional politics, but also the chronic weaknesses of a national narrative where questions of political belonging are still to be resolved.
It comes as no surprise therefore that the violent conflict between Pashtun tribesmen and Pakistani security forces that erupted in the wake of 9/11, soon morphed into a more fundamental struggle. It immediately brought to the surface long-standing grievances over the right of Pakistan's tribal population to equal treatment under the law.
This has found an echo in the violent insurgency in Balochistan (the fifth of its kind since 1947), which erupted in 2005 and which is currently exacting a deadly toll. Hundreds have been killed and scores have since 'disappeared' in a war driven by Baloch resentment against the steady impoverishment of their province and the state's blatant disregard of Baloch rights.
In Sind, ethnic tensions involving native Sindhi, Pashto and Urdu-speakers that have festered since the 1970s, have recently taken a more lethal turn. With Pakistan's once booming war economy in the doldrums, competition between rival ethnic parties has grown ever more murderous in cities like Karachi, where there are rich pickings to be had. Even Punjab, once the sturdy heartland of Pakistan, has not been spared. Here sectarian and doctrinal divisions dating back to the 1980s have led in the past decade to the killing and systematic persecution of hundreds of Shias and members of the Ahmedi minority. Bloody clashes between Barelvis and Deobandis, meanwhile, are a routine occurrence. More importantly, a long-established policy of official appeasement has clearly emboldened a poisonous brew of radical groups, which are bent on subjecting an already terrified population to ever more rigid and punitive expressions of Islam.
This points, ominously, to the onset of a bigger struggle for Pakistan than any "war on terror". What we are facing is the prospect of a fierce battle over the meaning of the country's Islamic identity. The precise meaning of that identity was lost to many Pakistanis with Jinnah's passing on September 11, 1948. By a strange irony, it took another traumatic event on September 11 for Pakistan to re-open the debate about the state envisaged by Jinnah and to address the real implications of his legacy.
(Farzana Shaikh is an Associate Fellow of the Royal Institute of International Affairs (Chatham House), London, and the author of 'Making Sense of Pakistan' (2009))
Client country’s descent into chaos - The Times of India
Long before the world had come to commemorate September 11 as a day of remembrance and mourning, Pakistanis had learnt to mark the day by grieving the loss of their country's founding father, Muhammad Ali Jinnah, who died on September 11, 1948. Although separated by more than half a century, the cumulative effect of these losses for Pakistan has been, quite simply, incalculable. Reeling from unprecedented levels of violence unleashed by the events of 9/11 and still struggling to come to terms with the existential crisis precipitated by Jinnah's premature death in 1948, the country is fast descending into chaos.
Pakistan is, of course, no stranger to chaos. But what makes this moment in Pakistan's history exceptional is the threat it is seen to pose, simultaneously, to the security of its own citizens, to the welfare of its regional neighbours, and to the stability of the wider international community. These new concerns bear little or no comparison to the more 'contained' moments of chaos that have scarred Pakistan: its blood-stained conflict in 1971 that led to the creation of Bangladesh; its carefully orchestrated hostilities with India over Kashmir, and its dalliance with global jihad against Soviet forces in Afghanistan. All have taken a heavy toll on the country, yet none gave cause to associate Pakistan with mortal danger.
The events of 9/11 changed all that. Within months, Pakistan was engulfed by wave upon wave of uncertainty and tension. Ethnic, sectarian and Islamist violence now threatens to tear the country apart, while the proliferation of local jihadi groups and the advance of al-Qaida on its territory have earned Pakistan the unenviable label of the world's most dangerous place. Moreover, with many of these internal groups intent on precipitating wars beyond its borders, nuclear-armed Pakistan is now seen widely also to be the epicentre of terrorist violence.
Yet, it is worth remembering that none of the perpetrators of the 9/11 attacks were from Pakistan. Nor can Pakistan be held solely responsible (indeed available evidence suggests otherwise) for supporting a regime (the Taliban) that chose to harbour terrorists. But for these acts of omission and commission more than 30,000 civilians in Pakistan have paid with their lives since the fall of the Twin Towers. No wonder then that of all the emotions fuelling ordinary Pakistanis today, none is more palpable than anger.
However, while it is unquestionably the case that Pakistan has suffered more than most from the violence that followed 9/11 (more than 12,000 Pakistanis died in terrorist violence in 2010 alone), the majority of Pakistanis killed have fallen not at the hands of foreign forces avenging the attack on America, but of other Pakistanis at war against their own state. This war, which is of Pakistan's own making, reflects not only the deep divisions of a highly militarized state and its dysfunctional politics, but also the chronic weaknesses of a national narrative where questions of political belonging are still to be resolved.
It comes as no surprise therefore that the violent conflict between Pashtun tribesmen and Pakistani security forces that erupted in the wake of 9/11, soon morphed into a more fundamental struggle. It immediately brought to the surface long-standing grievances over the right of Pakistan's tribal population to equal treatment under the law.
This has found an echo in the violent insurgency in Balochistan (the fifth of its kind since 1947), which erupted in 2005 and which is currently exacting a deadly toll. Hundreds have been killed and scores have since 'disappeared' in a war driven by Baloch resentment against the steady impoverishment of their province and the state's blatant disregard of Baloch rights.
In Sind, ethnic tensions involving native Sindhi, Pashto and Urdu-speakers that have festered since the 1970s, have recently taken a more lethal turn. With Pakistan's once booming war economy in the doldrums, competition between rival ethnic parties has grown ever more murderous in cities like Karachi, where there are rich pickings to be had. Even Punjab, once the sturdy heartland of Pakistan, has not been spared. Here sectarian and doctrinal divisions dating back to the 1980s have led in the past decade to the killing and systematic persecution of hundreds of Shias and members of the Ahmedi minority. Bloody clashes between Barelvis and Deobandis, meanwhile, are a routine occurrence. More importantly, a long-established policy of official appeasement has clearly emboldened a poisonous brew of radical groups, which are bent on subjecting an already terrified population to ever more rigid and punitive expressions of Islam.
This points, ominously, to the onset of a bigger struggle for Pakistan than any "war on terror". What we are facing is the prospect of a fierce battle over the meaning of the country's Islamic identity. The precise meaning of that identity was lost to many Pakistanis with Jinnah's passing on September 11, 1948. By a strange irony, it took another traumatic event on September 11 for Pakistan to re-open the debate about the state envisaged by Jinnah and to address the real implications of his legacy.
(Farzana Shaikh is an Associate Fellow of the Royal Institute of International Affairs (Chatham House), London, and the author of 'Making Sense of Pakistan' (2009))
Client country’s descent into chaos - The Times of India
