The very public spat between Pakistan and the US which emerged last week after Admiral Mike Mullen, a man known for his straight talking, outed the ISI and called the Haqqani militants a ‘veritable arm’ of the spy agency, has left many analysts perplexed. Why do it? What benefit would America gain from such a public announcement? Perhaps it was frustration on behalf of the Americans. Admiral Mullen is due to retire at the end of the year. Maybe, with his forthcoming demobbing, the chairman of the joint chiefs of staff felt able to candidly blow off steam at the perceived duplicity of the ISI? Unlikely. This evidence given to the Senate Armed Services Committee on September 22 was a designed ratcheting up of pressure on Pakistan. The defence secretary, Leon E Panetta, threatened ‘operational steps’ against Pakistan — a euphemistic term for possible American raids against the Haqqanis in North Waziristan.

But don’t the American’s understand the psyche and character of Pakistan’s military/intelligence nexus yet? Rather than spurring the ISI/Army into doing more, this public humiliation will have only further dented the frail ego of the military — an ego that has only just recovered from the dishonour of the Osama bin Laden raid. Mullen’s announcement will only have helped embolden those anti-American elements within the intelligence services and undermine the pro-Americans within the military.

America is undoubtedly frustrated with what they perceive as a double game being played by the ISI. But rather than merely lambasting the ISI for their treachery, it needs to understand the historical perspective from where it originates. Pakistan has, and is, a nation in perpetual existential crisis. They see foes on all sides. They know that friendships are fleeting in this part of the world. America — an ally against the Soviets in the 80s — has form in suddenly abandoning ‘friends’ in the subcontinent. Their withdrawal from the region after 1989 and the defeat of the Soviets in Afghanistan proved costly for Pakistan. The blowback from that sudden departure left Pakistan with three million refugees on its doorstep, an unstable neighbour, and the spread of the Kalashnikov culture.

The Pakistan military/intelligence nexus is merely planning for a post-US Afghanistan — a scenario that could be all too imminent. This is where Pakistan’s insecurity lies. Not without foundation. They don’t want a repeat of 1989. Instead, they want to have control and influence over an independent Afghanistan — hence the support for the Haqqani militants. This is not just for the old chestnut of ‘strategic depth’. Instead, they are particularly terrified that any ensuing vacuum after the pullout of Nato and American forces will allow India to gain influence within Afghanistan. They want to control Kabul before the Indians do. It is this very thought, above all else — the idea of having India effectively on both of Pakistan’s flanks — that has ensured the ISI carries out such duplicity, even at the detriment of Pakistan’s relationship with America. If America wants Pakistan to truly give up its links with the Haqqani network they need to understand this legitimate, even if ever so slightly paranoid, fear. And having done so, they should provide Pakistan with the necessary assurances and alternative solutions to allow Pakistan to give up their ‘veritable arm’.

But this latest row has really highlighted the dysfunctionality and disingenuousness at the heart of the ‘strategic relationship’. America easily forgets their own relationship with the Haqqani militants in the 1980s. It was during this period that links were first forged between the network, and the ISI and the CIA. Their leader, Maulvi Jalaluddin Haqqani, even shook hands with President Ronald Reagan at the White House. So America was happy to break bread with these people when it suited their strategic interests. The problem lies in that Pakistan and America’s strategic interest have now diverged. America is still fighting in Afghanistan in the present. Pakistan has an eye on the future.

Meanwhile, Pakistan expects the world to believe that they have had no contact or involvement with the operational activities of the Haqqani militants? Even if this was true — which is doubtful as support of the Haqqani network has been an open secret for a long time — the problem here is that Pakistan has what you might call form. For too long Pakistan has relied upon non-state actors for strategic goals. Whether it is the Taliban in Aghanistan, Jaish-e-Mohammed in Kashmir or Lashkar-e-Taiba in India, Pakistan is addicted to this dangerous game. So when the information minister denies Pakistan’s link to the Haqqani’s — the very same minster who denied that Osama bin Laden was in Pakistan — forgive us for not believing a word he says.

More worryingly, it reminds us of the short-term-ism of Pakistan strategic thinking. Pakistan believes that their support of the Haqqani network will allow them to act as the puppeteer of Kabul once the Americans depart. But have the military/intelligence nexus learnt nothing from history? These non-state actors do not remain compliant forever. They eventually go rogue. The Taliban, Sipah-e-Sahaba, Jaish-e-Mohammed and Lashkar-e-Taiba all eventually rebelled against their intelligence handlers and have now become Frankenstein monsters against the Pakistani state itself; thousands of Pakistanis have been murdered by these very groups.

Rather than being a strategic asset, groups like the Haqqani network remain the greatest threat to Pakistan’s existence. The cancer of militancy in Pakistan has metastasised because of our addiction to such loathsome groups. Even if America’s reasons are very different, they are right in wanting Pakistan to disengage with the Haqqani network. We need to stop our addiction to dangerous non-state actors for furthering our short-term strategic goals. For in the long-term all it does is perpetuate and aid a militancy culture in South Asia. And I think we can all agree that is not good. A recent programme on ARY stated idhar America, udhar Haqqani…..kya karay Pakistani? Get the necessary assurances from America for Pakistan post-US troop withdrawal, and then ditch the Haqqani militants.

Published in The Express Tribune, September 29^th, 2011. 

Would Imran Khan make a good prime minister for Pakistan? It’s a question that draws strong views from all sides of the Pakistani political spectrum. He’s a polarising candidate: you either love him or hate him. For many, the cricketing hero, turned social justice campaigner, induces paeans of passion. Others deride him as a Taliban stooge. However, there are a few of us still vacillating over his suitability as a leader.

He was in Britain this week, promoting his new book, Pakistan: A Personal History and gave an in-depth interview to The Guardian. The interview displayed all the best and worst of King Khan. On the negative side, we saw the egotism, stubbornness and political naivety. Yet, he also exhibited passion (and compassion for his countrymen), purpose and immense bravery. One suddenly realised what an immense toil this man’s decision to enter politics has had on his life. He has sacrificed his marriage, and thus access to his two boys, for the sake of his country. Life after cricket could have been an endless merry-go-round of endorsements, commentary and Chelsea homes. Lord knows he had earned it. That would have been the easy option. Instead, he chose “Kamran Khan kay sath,” Islamabad and the grubbiness of politics. For that he should earn our respect. He is clearly a decent, honourable and a good man, in a country lacking few genuine inspirational role models. Yet, I, like many, still find it hard to support him.

Firstly, let’s take the egotism. Imran Khan and the Pakistan Tehreek-i-Insaf (PTI) are interchangeable. Without the former, there is no latter. In the 15 years since its inception, he has failed to make the party anything other than a party for his political aspirations. So closely are the party and its leader aligned in the public image that the PTI may as well call itself the Imran Khan party. Unlike a Lincoln or an Obama, he has failed to reach across the aisle attracting real political talent. Could Imran open his arms to the Pakistani equivalent of Hillary Clinton or Robert Gates? (And I don’t count Shireen Mazari as talent.) This is not a party of intellectuals or political heavyweights. It’s a party of yes-men, doing the bidding of their chairman. This is not leadership. Instead, it demonstrates either a fatal inability to attract talented people, or insecurity in one’s own ability. How can he prevail in negotiations with fellow statesmen when he’s unable to attract people of serious calibre?

Flashes of the same egotism that he displayed after winning the World Cup — talking about himself rather than his team — were also present in The Guardian interview. Here he was discussing cutting deals with other parties: “The old parties are all petrified of me now. They all want to make alliances with me and I say: ‘No, I’m going to fight all of you together because you’re all the same.’” This is a serious problem for Khan. His pronouns need to change if he’s truly to inspire — more we and less me. For all his talk of being a radical outsider fighting a corrupt elite, he often comes across as just another strong man out to save Pakistan. A Bhutto or a Musharraf could have uttered that very same sentence. We need leaders who can develop teams, parties and institutions, not another man with a messiah complex.

Then there’s his political idealism, bordering on naivety. He wants to cut foreign aid, cut expenditure, tax the rich and fight corruption. All admirable goals, no doubt, but somewhat politically unrealistic — at least in the short-term. Withdrawing 20 billion of foreign aid overnight would be potentially calamitous for an economy already perilously close to bankruptcy. Improving Pakistan’s infamously low tax-to-GDP ratio above nine per cent will not be aided by a tanking economy. And how would his party achieve the goals of fighting corruption and taxing the rich without the money to invest in the necessary infrastructure?

On foreign affairs, he displays similar inexperience. He’s no Taliban supporter or stooge. That is clearly ridiculous. But he is woefully naïve when he claims he wants to withdraw from the war on terror. Fair enough, you may think. It’s unpopular and has cost Pakistan dearly in terms of lives and lost investment. But would retreat actually stop the killings in Pakistan? The Tehreek-i–Taliban and Lashkar-e-Taiba will not suddenly shut up shop once the PTI is in power and just because the US becomes persona non grata in Islamabad. Instead, Khan would be sending a dangerous message to such groups. Violence against your own people works. And when it came to promoting his own policies, such as regional peace with India, eliminating unchecked power to state agencies, or achieving 100 per cent immunisation for children against preventable diseases, could he count on the support of such regressive and militant organizations? That’s the problem with Khan. He lives in a Chomskyite fantasy world, which assumes all killing will cease upon the withdrawal of those nasty neo-imperialists in Afghanistan. His party’s manifesto conspicuously fails to mention Pakistan’s homegrown problem with terrorism or, for that matter, the ethnic and sectarian violence that is currently plaguing the country. Nor does he have a solution to any of these problems. Withdrawing the support for the US war in Afghanistan does not constitute a counter terrorism strategy for Pakistan.

Let’s give Khan the benefit of the doubt here. His policy statements could be the announcements of a wily politician. Perhaps he’s performing the old trick of canvassing on idealism — attracting students and the disaffected — only to govern with pragmatism and realism upon election. However, this is unlikely. Imran Khan does not do wile, guile or irony. He is a man who says what he believes and believes what he says. Good for a doctor, less so for a politician. Like the Liberal Democrats in the UK, or perhaps the unworldly Obama supporters, is he really ready for the responsibility and concessions of government? Or does he secretly prefer his perennial outsider status, untainted by the grubbiness of compromise?

So would this courageous, decent and good man make a first-rate prime minster? Time may tell. But leading a country is a lot more difficult than leading a cricket team.

Published in The Express Tribune, September 22^nd,  2011.

Every seth organisation has one — the incompetent buffoon who, despite being a fool and inept in every conceivable way, defies logic and remains employed in a senior position within the organisation. A chamcha, he is the Boss’s right-hand man (and it’s always a man). He performs all the unsavoury tasks, thus ensuring that the boss’s manicured hands do not get even remotely dirty. All three seth organisations I worked for had this character type. So perhaps it’s no surprise that the seth Government of Pakistan has one too. How else can one explain the continued employment of Rehman Malik?

Rehman Malik is a man devoid of any credibility. Let’s look at some of his recent statements. Way back in July 2009, he declared: “Strict action would be taken (against police officers) if any incident of target killing occurs from today onwards.” Obviously this did not have the required effect because the following year he had to remind the people (and state the blindingly obvious) “the government will have a strict no-tolerance policy for target killing incidents”. Oh, that’s good to know. Did this no-tolerance work? Well, by July 2010 he was able to declare to The Associated Press of Pakistan that “target-killing in Karachi has fully ended now”. When he said he ‘now’ he actually meant a little bit later because by July of this year he was still telling Dawn that the people of Karachi would soon have a peaceful environment in their city and the government was taking all out measures to achieve the objective. On August 12, The Nation reported that Rehman Malik has said that due to effective measures taken by the government, incidents of target killings have been controlled to a great extent in Karachi. The following week, 96 people were murdered.

Watching Malik spout about “miscreants” facing an “iron hand” is like watching some perverse Groundhog Day. Repetition follows repetition. His words now carry about as much weight as an anorexic stick insect performing roza. He flies in, talks tough and flies out again. The old joke that Islamabad is 15 minutes outside of Pakistan has never felt truer. If anything, Karachiites are presently feeling that the cosseted bureaucrats and politicians are living far further. The ongoing killings highlight the urgent need for decentralisation of political power away from Islamabad to local government.

Karachi doesn’t need a Malik — it desperately needs a mayor. However, though Mustafa Kamal was a good one; he lacked real power. His remit did not cover the six cantonment boards that make up the most salubrious parts of the city and his legacy will primarily be one of bridges and flyovers. Instead, Karachi requires a directly-elected mayor with genuine power. It seems unfathomable that a city of almost 20 million inhabitants does not have a figurehead that represents the aspirations and demands of Karachi — Pakistan’s only true metropolitan city. With such a mandate from the people of Karachi, an elected mayor would have the power to hire and fire Karachi’s top police officer. The mayor and the police suddenly become accountable to the people. Presently, who exactly is the unelected Rehman Malik accountable to?

Policing and local government are interlinked. Effective local government produces effective policing. Any further public policy debate must acknowledge this symbiosis. Strong mayoral leadership can truly alter cities. Enrique Penalosa, the mayor of Bogota between 1998 to 2001, transformed the Colombian capital from a deadly, crime-ridden city into an inclusive space with first rate parks, infrastructure and transport systems. Rudy Guilani was credited with reducing crime in New York. Time Square, once synonymous for its pimps and pushers, became known for the Disney store and its Starbucks under Guiliani. Both Penalosa and Guiliani were local boys. They knew what needed to be done for their respective cities.

But none of the political parties in Pakistan are talking about direct mayors. Even the party that perhaps would have the most to gain — the MQM — has remained silent on this form of decentralisation. Perhaps, the continued omnipresence of Altaf Hussain has ensured this idea does not end up on the table. After all, no one wants to upstage the Quaid-e-Tehreek do they? Just recall how Mustafa Kamal scurried over to London after he had been named “one of the mayors of the moment” by Foreign Policy magazine. A directly-elected mayor could potentially become more powerful than the party leader.

Until the political parties can agree to urgent decentralisation, and especially the need for directly-elected mayors in urban areas, Karachi’s power vacuum will persist. And that still leaves Rehman Malik in charge. And nobody wants that.

Published in The Express Tribune, August 25^th, 2011.

The subject line read “Aamir Liaquat Exposed”. To be honest, I was reluctant to click open the link my friend sent. Having just eaten dinner, I was disinclined to see the good ‘doctor’ laid bare. My mind had wandered to far darker thoughts. Instead, when I eventually clicked the link I saw a video of Aamir Liaquat swearing away. A wave of relief and sympathy washed over me. Relief that it wasn’t the exposure I had imagined it to be, and a fleeting sympathy for the TV evangelist. But the sympathy only lasted a nanosecond, mind you.

Most of us have uttered curses that we would not wish to be made public. Locker-room chat that is acceptable with the boys is not something we would want repeated in front of our wives or mothers-in-law. But then again, most of us don’t propagate an air of piety, uttering gaalis whilst talking about verses from the Holy Scriptures. That is the galling hypocrisy of this unedifying incident. What really sticks in the throat is the man’s cynical disregard for the very same people he professes to love and care about. It was particularly odious to see him sniggering as a woman caller sought advice on the sensitive subject of the legality of suicide in the scenario of protecting a woman’s honour. The very same people who gave him his success are the very people his sniggering disrespects.

It’s fine to swear like a lafunga on a motorbike at Seaview. Less so if you have made millions projecting a holiness that has made you managing director of a television channel that broadcasts religious programmes and also a former minister of religious affairs — in effect, a powerful, rich and influential man.

So what does this religious man do when he’s caught being less than godly? Does he throw his hands up, apologise and confess his sins and ask for forgiveness? Hardly. No, the man with no shame instead compounded the mistake by brazenly lying to the people of Pakistan. Yes, the not-so-good doctor had the temerity to claim that this was all a trick of editing and dubbing. It wasn’t him speaking, singing or clapping his hands. He claimed it was a dastardly plot hatched by his former employers in revenge for the popularity of his Ramazan programmes. Carefully ignoring the fact that it was those very same former employers who hastily pulled the video from YouTube soon after the footage emerged. If you believe his assertion about the dubbing and editing you’ll believe anything — or, at least, that Pakistan’s poor cricket performance was dependent upon the colour of their shoes’ soles. Ah. And there lies the problem.

For me, the good ‘doctor’ has exuded as much sincerity as the president exudes incorruptibility. But this view is clearly in the minority. People love him. And after this revelation, they will continue to love and support him. They’ll believe whatever he tells them. Already, we are seeing people calling his show, supporting his falsehoods and consoling him.

This reaction exposes a deeper malaise in Pakistani society. As a people, we seem intrinsically drawn to egotists, narcissists and demagogues. We love the masala, drama and showboating these characters provide. Whether it is a Bhutto, a Zaid Hamid or an Aamir Liaquat, we look to these people for simple answers to complex problems. Preferring their demagoguery and simplistic solutions to the heavy lifting of using our own grey matter.

So we loved it when Bhutto tore up the papers and stormed out of the Security Council at the UN. We find Zaid Hamid irresistible when he’s blaming the Jews and Hindus for all of Pakistan’s ills. We trust Aamir Liaquat’s superstitious claptrap when he blames the Pakistani cricket team’s poor performance on the green colour of the soles of the team’s shoes. Where’s the empirical evidence, ‘Dr’ Liaquat? So it wasn’t due to poor coaching or match-fixing then? But the colour painted by some poor sweatshop kid in China?

Distrustful of reasoning and logic, we mindlessly follow these characters. They enrich themselves at the expense, as well as the naivety and gullibility, of the Pakistani population. My mother and aunts-in-law — good law-abiding people — would regularly unquestioningly regurgitate the nonsense spouted by these charades. Why? It was easier than searching for the truth, or — heaven forbid — thinking for themselves.

The reaction to Aamir Liaquat’s exposure also reveals another problem within the Pakistani society. We are a nation in denial. Even when faced with the truth about these unsavoury characters we are still unable to accept their faults. Like small children, we can’t accept the truth even when it’s staring us in the face. Pakistan can only resolve its problems when it’s able to accept some uncomfortable, unpalatable truths about its society. The supporters of Dr Aamir Liaquat are a manifestation of the fact that this will not happen anytime soon.

The exposure of Aamir Liaquat exposes some of the country’s inherent contradictions and character flaws. My friend, Nadeem Farooq Paracha, often says that the problems with Pakistan aren’t economic, political or social — they’re psychological. He has a point. We have developed a Stockholm syndrome with the egomaniacs on our screens. Falling in love with them rather than contemptuously rejecting them. And when they have been revealed to be phonies, we continue to delude ourselves into believing their bold faced lies. It is time we turned the alim online, off.

There’s an African proverb that states that ‘singing Hallejullah everywhere does not prove piety’. Remember that next time you hear ‘Assalamualekum warehmatullah’ from Hardilazeez Aamir Liaquat Hussain.

Published in The Express Tribune, August 18^th, 2011.

Some in Pakistan are enjoying a sense of schadenfreude after seeing the incendiary scenes of burnt shells and looting emanating from the UK. Wishing friends to stay safe in London from the confines of Karachi does possess a somewhat perverse irony. Jokes abound of dispatching Rehman Malik to sort out the law and order situation in the UK, or asking Altaf Hussain to deliver a conciliatory speech to appease the mob in Ealing. There are also those who have fallen into the trap of conflating Karachi’s recent problems with events in London and other UK cities.

The truth is London and Karachi’s problems are not equitable. When people riot in Karachi, it is either at the behest of a political mob fighting ethnic and political turf battles, or because people are venting at the lack of basics amenities: food, water, power and security. In Karachi, they burn tires for paani and atta — not plasmas and addidas.

Let’s be clear, the rioters were opportunistic vandals and thieves (often, driving around in their own vehicles). These youths were hardly on the breadline — their anger, on the surface, unfathomable. The family of Mark Duggan, the Tottenham resident killed by police on August 4 and the supposed catalyst for the subsequent disturbance, was quick to dismiss the mob. This wasn’t about avenging Mr Duggan’s death, or protesting police brutality. This was the urban alienated youth sticking two fingers up at the rest of society and having a laugh. It should have been universally condemned and not used, as the former mayor of London, Ken Livingstone, did, as an opportunity for cheap political point scoring. He described the riots as a ‘revolt’ against the government’s cuts in public services. This was baloney and mischief-making. If this was about cuts, why target local businesses, buses and services. One such business, a party shop in Clapham that was burnt down, gave all its profits to a charity called Street Kids Rescue.

Destroying businesses only exacerbates unemployment and stagnates economic growth. Also, despite talks of cuts, Mr Livingstone forgets that public spending and government borrowing presently continue to rise in the UK. This wasn’t about the cuts. Nor does it justify the actions of the mob. Few law-abiding citizens, especially those who have seen their property destroyed, would agree with the former mayor’s apologist tones. If the violence spreads, we can expect a more heavy-handed and robust response from the police and the government.

However, where Mr Livingstone does have a point is when he talks about the disengagement of the young. “They feel no one at the top of society, in government or City Hall, cares about them or speaks for them”, he said. Personally, I think it was too soon for someone of his standing to acknowledge this point whilst people’s businesses were being smashed (who speaks for us, they may declare), however Mr Livingstone does raise a valid issue. We cannot, as much as we would like, dismiss the perpetrators as mere ‘feral scum’ — ‘chavs’ that should be locked up. Whilst not condoning the wanton vandalism, we do have a responsibility as a society to try and understand it.

For too long, the UK has seen the emergence of a growing underclass — not a working class — but an underclass blighted by urban decay, poverty, welfare dependency, addiction and family breakdown. As the traditional manufacturing working class jobs disappeared during the 1980s, those who failed to make the aspirational leap to the lower middle class, with their service industry white-collar jobs, fell onto society’s scrapheap. A new class was born, a sub-class, cut adrift from the rest of society, without hope or a future. The left blamed the neo-liberal monetarist policies of Margaret Thatcher. The right blamed the permissive society, family breakdown and the dependency culture of an indulgent welfare state. Since then, neither side has managed to resolve the problem.

It is the children of this generation (often from broken families, with little parental or adult guidance) that are hurling the bricks and lighting the fires in our cities. Politicians, across the political spectrum, have failed spectacularly to tackle the underlying cause of the underclass expansion, or the subsequent social problems that have arisen. Instead, the politicians have preferred quick fix, eye-catching solutions that appeal to voters and the tabloid press. So, in the 1990s, we had Tony Blair announce on-the-spot fines for anti-social behaviour and the creation of ASBOS (anti-social behaviour curfews). It helped win the support of the Daily Mail, but only further marginalised the outcasts from society. Suddenly, it became acceptable for mainstream society to laugh at the ignorance, poor hygiene and clothes of chavs. Whilst the UK was enjoying record growth at the turn of millennium, chav Britain was being mocked and scorned in equal measure. Shows such as Little Britain and Shameless satirised the underclass, meanwhile the Daily Mail and The Jeremy Kyle Show openly derided them. It was socially acceptable to mock the poor. The result was further alienation and a further tear in the UK’s social fabric.

Bizarrely, it was left to David Cameron, the new leader of the Tories, to be the first senior politician to acknowledge the dangerous gulf emerging between society’s haves and have-nots. He famously declared in a speech that we must ‘hug a hoodie’ and try to understand the isolation of today’s youth. But there was subsequently little policy follow-up after the controversial speech. Cynics argued that the speech had merely been a branding exercise; an opportunity, prior to an election, to reinforce the message that the ‘nasty’ Tories brand had indeed changed.

Let’s be clear, the riots, and the destruction of people’s property and livelihoods, are abhorrent. The culprits must be punished severely and dealt with quickly. But neither should this be dismissed as the spasms of a bored youth. This needs to be a sharp wake-up call for the political class. Our underclass hasn’t — and isn’t — going to disappear any time soon. We can no longer ignore them. In a year’s time, the Olympics are coming to London. The entire world’s eyes will be on the UK. For Britain’s politicians, the hardest competition will be mending the country’s class divide.

Published in The Express Tribune, August 11^th, 2011.

There is nothing like the thirst quenching coolness of an ice cold Coca-Cola to relieve my parched mouth after a roza. By the time iftar arrives, my mouth has the caked, arid dryness of the Gobi desert. Nothing brings me greater respite than those first few freezing, ice-cold sips of Coca-Cola as it slips down my scorched throat. Coke — it really is the real thing, the nectar of the Gods and the elixir of life.

Ok, did you notice something slightly odd about the previous paragraph? Apart from the little lie I alluded to about performing roza. Perhaps the constant shilling for Coca-Cola raised your eyebrow higher than the US debt ceiling. If you then found out I were actually in the pay of Coca-Cola you would probably angrily dismiss my protestations about the soft drink being the elixir of life etc as corporate prostitution of the worst kind. You would be rightly livid at my deception. My views, no longer my own, had instead been compromised and corrupted by payment. You wouldn’t be the only one upset. The Express Tribune would fire me for defrauding the newspaper — using my position as a columnist and this platform to promote views for which I benefitted from financially. And yet this is now common practice within Pakistani newspapers.

Today yellow journalism isn’t confined only to the Urdu press. The growth in the English language newspaper market has ensured a plethora of new writers on the scene. This has been mostly positive. The problem lies in the fact that, as columnists, we all need to rely upon another source of income for our livelihoods. In Pakistan, you cannot live off op-ed writing alone. For example, prior to leaving Pakistan, my main source of income was from working for the British Council.

Other writers derive their main income from the development and governmental sectors, often working in a freelance capacity. Where it becomes problematic is when they start promoting ideas for certain development or governmental campaigns in their columns. Campaigns that they are being paid to promote. Let’s take the economy as an example. A writer will be contracted to work on a campaign to promote and stimulate a debate on Pakistan’s economy. International donors as well as some local NGOs are paying for the campaign. For the sake of transparency, they should mention their motivation for writing the column. They fail to do so. They fail to mention the inherent conflict of interest and where they are receiving their funding from. Instead, they propagate views as if their own, without owning up on whose behalf they are generating the debate. What they are doing is inherently dishonest. In short, we, the reader, are being duped, deceived and ripped off.

That’s not to argue that writers should not write on behalf of international donors, government agencies or NGOs. But the Pakistani press and the columnists they hire need to promote full disclosure. We need to know the self-interest and financial benefit that the author is benefitting from when writing so we, the readers, can filter the views expressed through a complete prism.

So next time you read a column, look beyond the byline. Ask yourself, how is the writer making his/her living? (For full disclosure, I currently work as the director of a think tank called the Atlantic Partnership — which encourages transatlantic dialogue. So if I start banging on about the work of Nato, please haul my posterior over the coals.)

Back to Coca-Cola, they once actually asked me to front a campaign of theirs in Pakistan. I said no. I could piously declare that it was because I didn’t want to compromise the editorial judgment of the show I was doing at the time. How could I discuss childhood obesity whilst whoring this sugar-laden soft drink beloved by kids? But my decision was far less altruistic. Vanity. I couldn’t bring myself to drink a coke, shake my head, goofily shiver and then say ‘Brrr’.

This column was brought to you by Pepsi — the choice of a new generation.

Published in The Express Tribune, August 4^th, 2011.

Here’s a tricky question: What is the best-selling jazz album on the biggest-selling music retailer in the world, iTunes? Is it (a) a new Miles Davis retrospective, (b) the latest work by Jamie Cullum or (c) a Pakistani orchestra made up of local musicians from modest backgrounds reworking jazz standards? For those who guessed (c), you are indeed correct — five points to you. Yes, the BBC ran a wonderful feel-good story this week about the Sachal Studios Orchestra based in Lahore. Founded by Izzat Majeed and Mushtaq Soofi, the Sachal Orchestra is now providing a livelihood for many of the musicians whose careers were destroyed by the decline of the Pakistani film industry in the 80s. The state-of-the-art Sachal studios provided a space for these musicians to express themselves, collaborate and innovate. The result is some groundbreaking interpretations of jazz standards, using traditional Pakistani instruments, which have propelled them to the top of the jazz charts.

This wonderful album (I highly recommend it) and its music remind us of the transformative power of music. Music is what feelings sound like. It provides us with solace, hope and serenity for our turbulent lives. As Victor Hugo famously put it, “music expresses that which cannot be put into words and cannot remain silent”. But, all too often, we forget the music. Instead, we focus on the artist.

Long before the crack addiction, the alleged early onset of emphysema, the drug-dealing boyfriend, the incoherent performances and the tabloid nicknames, there was, of course, Amy’s music. But it took, I am ashamed to admit, Amy Winehouse’s death on July 23 for me to be reminded once again of that glorious sound. Motown, jazz, British soul, R&B, it was all there with Amy. Yet, whilst the sound on her breakthrough album Back to Black may have had a 60s retro vibe, the lyrics were very much contemporary. Delivered with that distinct, smoky voice, her songs wittily charted the confusions and contradictions of a 21^st century woman. Listening once again to “Rehab” or “Love is a losing game”, one is reminded of her sublime talent, as well as the power of music to transport and speak to us like no other medium. But why had it taken her death to remind me of her talent? Because, for me, like so many other petty moralists, Amy Winehouse, the artist, had long obscured her art. She had become tabloid fodder. And we followed her doomed story arc with salivating, almost prurient, interest. The overdoses, the bleeding feet where she injected heroin, the scratches and bruises from quarrels with her lover, we lapped all this unattractiveness up — and in the process only added further fuel to her mental anguish. And by reveling in the ugliness, we ignored the stark beauty of what made her unique and great — her music.

But Amy wasn’t the only one. For too long I have been unable to detach the art from the shortcomings of several artists. Be it Michael Jackson or Roman Polanski. Even artists who failed to share my worldview were roundly dismissed; their talent and music obscured. Take Junaid Jamshed for example. I have long sneered at the ex-member of Vital Signs. The beard, the active proselytising on behalf of the Tableeghi Jamaat, the naat recitation, the opportunistic ‘J’ brand of outlets selling modest clothes at immodest prices, Junaid Jamshed had, in my opinion, sold out. Squandered his talent. What a waste of that voice. That genius. When he politely told me over the phone that he couldn’t come as a guest on our show because his beliefs forbade him from sitting on the same sofa as a strange woman (my wife), I further mocked him to my friends.

Yet the day after Amy Winehouse’s death, a friend was around at our house and began to play the guitar. After a few songs, he suddenly played “Aitebar”. It was stunningly beautiful. I cried. But I realised I wasn’t just crying at the beauty of the song, but at my understanding that all along I had been angry with Junaid Jamshaid. He had done nothing wrong, but I had scorned him for all these years for his treacherous decision to give up music. That night I did something different. Instead of sneering at him, I silently thanked Junaid. I praised him for his voice, for his talent and for bringing us one of the great love songs.

So thank you, Junaid. Thank you, Amy. Thank you, Sachal Orchestra. Thank you for the music.

Published in The Express Tribune, July 28^th, 2011.

The British Labour prime minister Harold Wilson famously declared that a week was a long time in politics. Well, the past fortnight here in the UK has proved an eternity. The entire establishment has been rocked by the phone hacking scandal. The scandal, which has exposed the hacking of the phones of murder victims by News International, alleged police corruption and a far too cosy relationship between the Murdoch press and politicians, doesn’t look like it is abating any time soon.

Since The Guardian published their story on July 4, that the murdered school girl Milly Dowler’s voicemail was hacked, we have seen the resignation of Britain’s two most senior police officers and two senior News International executives, the closure of Britain’s most popular newspaper, the instigation of two public inquiries and the grilling of Rupert Murdoch and his son James by a parliamentary select committee. All of which was unthinkable two weeks ago.

For British politicians, Mr Murdoch has long been held in fear, an omnipotent media mogul who can break careers and swing elections. In the nineties, for some politicians — specifically Neil Kinnock and then John Major — his merciless attack dogs were instrumental in wounding these two hapless men. As his power grew in Britain, he obtained an almost Lord Voldermort-esque mystique around him in the Westminster village — he who must not be named. Unsurprisingly, Blair and then Cameron, not wanting to befall the fate of Kinnock or Major, courted the Murdoch press. In 1995, Blair infamously flew to a conference in Australia to kiss the ring of the great man. His newspapers subsequently swung their support behind Blair. So where does the scandal end? Well no scalps, at the time of writing, have been taken from the political class yet. But after the theatrics of the Murdoch committee appearance, there will be renewed pressure on David Cameron. His decision to hire Andy Coulson — the former News of World editor who resigned after the initial hacking scandal took place on his watch back in 2007 and who was subsequently hired by Cameron to become the Tories communications chief — has the potential to linger and wound the prime minister. Why did Cameron hire Coulson after the initial hacking scandal? Was Cameron naive in believing the assurances given to him by Coulson that he (Coulson) knew nothing about the phone hacking? Why has the Metropolitan chief commissioner, Sir Paul Stephenson, resigned after Scotland Yard hired the former deputy editor of News of the World, Neil Wallis, whilst Mr Cameron remains, despite having hired Mr Coulson, Mr Wallis’ boss?

Rather than stemming the blood, Cameron’s announcement of a judicial enquiry last week will allow Murdoch’s critics to keep picking at the phone hacking scab as this story runs and runs. Some of the coverage, especially by a hyperventilating Guardian and BBC, smacks of schadenfreude and commercial opportunism. The BBC, especially, is getting its revenge on the only media group that has threatened its hegemony of the British media landscape. They’ll be glad to see a weakened Murdoch empire.

But The Guardian and the BBC should also be wary of what they wish for. Lord Justice Leveson, the judge appointed to head the judicial inquiry into phone hacking, has stated: “At the heart of this inquiry, therefore, may be one simple question: Who guards the guardians?” Many fear that this inquiry could lead to changes in British press regulation, which in the past has relied on self-regulation. In the case of phone hacking, this clearly didn’t work. But actually there were already laws in place to deal with this. Phone hacking is a criminal offence. Had the police done their job properly at the initial stages, we wouldn’t be in the state we are in today. Would greater media regulation be any healthier for a democratic Britain? There may be legitimate arguments for greater media plurality in Britain (Murdoch owns around 30 per cent of the media in the UK). But for that argument to stick, regulation would have to take into account both non-commercial (the BBC) as well as commercial media. Instead, many worry that instead we’ll see the introduction of legislation that sees the stifling of a free press, with greater restrictions on revealing the private lives of the rich and famous. Do we need to know whom Sienna Miller is sleeping with? No. What about Jeffrey Archer or Dominique Strauss-Kahn? Guarding the guardians may not be in the public interest after all.

Published in The Express Tribune, July 21^st, 2011.

The killing of Osama bin Laden has brought much jubilation in many parts of the world but not, probably, in Pakistan. In fact, if anything, the ‘Sheikh’s’ capture and death on Pakistani soil further reinforces the view that the country is a ‘hotbed’ of terrorism.

It is almost inconceivable that the Pakistani military/intelligence nexus was unaware of the large compound and its occupant in Abbottabad — a mere 100 kilometres away from Islamabad — where, only last week, General Kayani gave an address to cadets at the Pakistan Military Academy, itself less than a kilometre away from Osama bin Laden’s hideout. Recent leaked cables suggesting active collaboration between the ISI and al Qaeda means that it is even less likely that no one in the military establishment knew of the whereabouts of the world’s most wanted man. In the forthcoming weeks, Pakistani officials will have some serious questions to answer.

Tellingly, the operation was conducted solely by US Navy SEALs. It appears that after the outing of the CIA bureau chief in Islamabad earlier this year and the Raymond Davis fiasco, trust between the CIA and the ISI was running very low. And after May 1’s stunning success, there will be questions in the Pentagon wondering whether the US should have acted unilaterally earlier.

This is dangerous for Pakistan on several fronts. Firstly, Pakistan could see more unilateral action by the US against Pakistani targets on its soil. Secondly, its biggest export has been its geographical strategic importance but that could change with growing signs of US unilateralism. For too long, Pakistan has been more than willing to proffer influence with one hand whilst wielding the begging bowl in the other. The end result is that Pakistan has become a client state to several nations (often with conflicting foreign policy objectives including the US, Saudi Arabia and China). Yet whilst courting these states, it has continued to forge its own, often contradictory, strategic policies. Pakistan demands military aid from the West in order to help fight militancy — a militancy that the establishment itself has often been accused of fuelling. But it seems the game may now well be over. Sooner, or later, this double-dealing was bound to be noticed by the Americans. Will other nations follow?

Caught by surprise, it was also telling how the hyper-nationalists and designer-patriots tried to spin the news of Osama bin Laden’s death on Pakistan television. News anchors and faux ‘analysts’ were wheeled out by their handlers to peddle a false narrative of Pakistan’s involvement in the operation — an involvement that was quickly discredited. The immediate coverage smacked of desperation, since if it was clear that the rest of the world thought that Pakistan had been exposed and the state and the powers behind it were unsure of how best to spin this so as to minimise damage. But the damage has been done; there is already growing clamour in the West for a reduction in military and civilian aid to Pakistan.

In Britain, there are grumblings that a country for which David Cameron pledged 650 million pounds only last month for education has been harbouring the mastermind of 9/11. This will continue in the weeks ahead. Pakistan has few friends left but, after this week, it will have even fewer. When Newsweek described Pakistan as the most dangerous nation in the world in the mid-nineties, many snorted with derision at the fraught hyperbole. Few would disagree with that assessment now.

Published in The Express Tribune, May 4^th, 2011.

I didn’t have much faith in The Express Tribune. My first column alluded to this scepticism. This is what I wrote: “The Express Tribune has finally arrived and enters a crowded and insecure English-language newspaper market. Does Pakistan have the need and capacity for another English broadsheet? Has the publisher been canny or foolhardy in investing in this old form of media? Time will tell. However, he is certainly betting against global trends. The perceived wisdom is that newspapers are going the way of the Dodo, Tehrik-i-Insaf and the VHS machine.”

But it wasn’t just the medium that was a cause for concern; the language was problematic too. The Express Tribune launched at a time when others were losing their mojo. A month after the launch of The Express Tribune, and despite a strong English media brand, Dawn News, the first private Englishlanguage channel in Pakistan, switched to Urdu in an attempt to revive flagging ratings. The English media clearly has a very niche market in Pakistan and even a venerable brand name such as Dawn was not always capable of finding an English audience.

My first piece also ended with a warning to old media: “Don’t think we in Pakistan are immune to the global changes the internet is bringing. With an estimated 18 million online and growing, it is only a matter of time before marketing and advertising rupees follow. ….(Publisher) short-sightedness at realising the power and potential of the Internet will be their loss. The first organisation that sows heavily today will reap the benefits tomorrow. The next Jang/ Express/ Dawn group may come from some entrepreneurial Pakistani who is willing to do just that.”

Thankfully, a year on, I have been proved wrong on both counts. Not only has The Express Tribune found a voice and created a unique space in the crowded English newspaper market but also it has done this whilst embracing the Internet. ET has invested in the online user experience like no other media organisation in Pakistan. And a significant part of The Express Tribune’s success must be placed at that decision. They are leading the charge and other newspapers are

having to play catch up. Whilst The Express Tribune may still lack the circulation of Dawn or The News, within a year they are comparable to these older papers in terms of editorial influence. They understood very early on the way we now connect with each other in this hyper mobile, interconnected world.

Their website remains the most vibrant, user friendly and interactive news site in Pakistan. As a result it has built a strong online community – a community that is well-informed, articulate and opinionated.

Something, we columnists are only too aware of when we are provocative or when we get it just plain wrong. The masochist in me loves reading the negative comments to pieces. I enjoy hearing the other side even if I continue to disagree with its arguments.

But sometimes a well-argued comment does challenge your own opinions and make you re-evaluate stated prejudices. For a ferment

of ideas, this is very healthy. No opinions go unchallenged – and that can only be a good thing for Pakistan.

The Express Tribune also opened the curtains and let the sun in on Pakistan’s traditionally stuffy op-ed pages. Young, often green, writers were hired. No longer were the opeds the preserve of retired faujis, bureaucrats and ministers. Instead, we had writers who represented three quarters of the nation’s population – that is, those under the age of thirty. Yes, at times their greenness and naivety shown through, but over time some have developed into exceptional writers with distinct voices.

My sceptical first piece was titled ‘A new dawn?’ It was a mischievous play on words alluding to Pakistan’s great English paper of record. Realistically, at the time, I didn’t think there was any serious comparison between the two papers. Now I am not so sure.

If The Express Tribune continues as strongly in subsequent years as it has done in its first, who knows, we may have to remove that question mark.

Published in The Express Tribune, April 12^th,  2011.