The battle for Punjab

Strange how the mind clears when blood is spilt.

And so begins the saga in the land of five rivers — a tale being told through the wails of people and the thud, thud, thud of fresh graves being dug. The State is on the move in Punjab, weaving its way through a bloodied path littered with the corpses of the innocent.

It need not have been this way.

On that Black Sunday, something truly horrible occurred in Lahore, while something truly alarming occurred in Islamabad. Both incidents were a punch in the gut for the State. It wasn’t just that men, women and children were massacred in Lahore; it wasn’t just that hordes of angry men stormed into the heart of the federal capital without any credible resistance; it wasn’t just that the State that was meant to protect the innocents in Gulshan-e-Iqbal park in Lahore, and blockade the not-so-innocents in Liaquat Bagh in Rawalpindi failed — no, the real shocker was the damage to the carefully constructed narrative of the State about good days being back again.

The Monday after the Black Sunday dawned with fresh realities, and perhaps a fresh resolve that has a habit of hardening courageously if enough people end up dead. And so, it unfolded that the army high command had ordered an operation in Punjab. It was made clear the said operation was being conducted by the army, Rangers and intelligence agencies. The government of Nawaz Sharif, and the government of Shahbaz Sharif could only watch from the sidelines.

A scary scenario blossomed like a mushroom cloud: were we witnessing a civilian-military head-on collision yet again? Were the carefully nurtured rules of the game being shattered again? Was the improbable transforming into the inevitable again?

For the high command, Black Sunday came like thunderclap. It produced a reality check: Punjab must be cleansed of terror outfits. It must have been crystal clear to the high command that Black Sunday could puncture the narrative of victory against the terrorists; Black Sunday could damage the carefully constructed image of this terror-stricken land being transformed into an abode of peace; Black Sunday could spoil the tastefully drawn portrait of a nation vanquishing its enemy and marching towards a glorious future. Yes, it could happen if the monster was not slain in Punjab. Now the stakes were too high for any kind of delay.



What of the Sharifs? Black Sunday also produced a reality check for them: terror in their heartland undercut the narrative of a peaceful, prosperous Punjab that is meant to translate into a peaceful, prosperous victory in 2018. In the Sharifs universe, Punjab is special, Punjab is under control, and Punjab does not need the army or the Rangers to do what the Punjab police can do. The logic is electric in this linear simplicity: the sense of control in Punjab that the Sharifs project must not be diluted by the perception that they were unable to handle the terror situation.

Was a collision then inevitable?  It was no secret that Punjab remained a hotbed of terror outfits; it was no secret that the government was slightly reluctant to take on these outfits with the full force of the law; it was no secret that many of these outfits had in the past enjoyed the patronage of the State; and it was no secret either that without cleansing Punjab of these outfits, without dismantling their well-entrenched infrastructure and without hitting them across the board, the final battle against terror would not be won.

And yet, none of this happened. Instead, madrassas were registered, hate speech laws were enforced and Malik Ishaqs of the world were bumped off. Random steps do not a policy make.

And neither do they make a game-changing difference. Punjab is where half of all Pakistanis live. Punjab is a success story. Punjab is mired in failure. All roads lead to Punjab. And Punjab is where the ghosts of our policy past come to haunt us.

The high command is fighting the final battle against terror in Punjab, but did we not create those who we fight? Did we not create them because they served a worldview that dominated Pakistan’s strategic direction? And did this strategic direction not link directly to what happened on Black Sunday in Lahore and Islamabad?

The Sharifs are fighting their political battle in Punjab, but are they not doing so because their ascent to the heights of power was originally rooted in Punjabi chauvinism? Did they not treat Punjab as a family fiefdom and ignored fundamental reforms that may have led to a reduced need for an operation? Did they reform the education system, fix the police force and spread public money evenly across the province? After nearly three decades in power, can they boast of achievements like universal literacy, accessible health care, model policing and planned urbanisation in Punjab? And were they not resisting an operation because of political reasons?

The Big Boys have much to answer for today. If they are colliding yet again on the plains of Punjab, it is a collision decades in the making. This war has no hero and no saviour; only men trying to atone for their sins.

But while they do their atonement, citizens are busy dying. It is now a familiar pattern: people die, State moves; more people die, State moves again. Big decisions are pegged to big tragedies. This State will not move unless it racks up a body count.

The dreaded collision may not be inevitable. After a frosty week, ice may have thawed in the meeting in GHQ on Thursday. An attempt is being made to act like mature adults. But do these adults have the capacity and the will to break free of their own limitations imposed on them by their institution and their politics? Do they have it in them to override their default mode and fight the battle for Punjab not for foreign policy objectives or political policy consideration, but for the reason this battle is meant to be fought: a peaceful future for our children.

Published in The Express Tribune, April 3^rd, 2016.

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