A tribute to Vasim Aon Jaffrey

Vasim Jaffrey died yesterday as quietly and unobtrusively as he had lived. He would have preferred it that way. He was, till the end of his life, a quintessentially modest man, though, if the truth be told, he had very little to be modest about.

Jaffrey was acknowledged among his peers in service as an outstanding civil servant and a pre-eminent economist. Foreign governments sought his advice to manage their economies; they repeatedly invited him to talk to their economic planners and it is no accident that those who heeded his considered advice also prospered. Perhaps only a few will remember his brave attempts to salvage Pakistan’s economy in the 1990s when he was briefly our de facto finance minister. But those of us who knew him well will always remember his intrepid efforts together with his personal qualities of integrity and transparent decency, which will remain etched in our memory.

Though much older and more senior in rank, VA Jaffrey made it a point to seek out his juniors, at least those with whom he struck a rapport. I recall his visit to our home in Jakarta when he was our ambassador in Brussels in the 1980s. Pleasantly surprised to see him so far out of his parish, I asked him what on earth had brought him to Jakarta and that, too, during the wet season, and still recall his remark that he had “always wanted to visit Indonesia”.

“But surely not in the rainy season when the French Riviera is so close to Brussels,” I joked.

His response was a characteristic smile which always suggested that there was something he discreetly wished to conceal. Sure enough, shortly thereafter Indonesia’s coordinating minister of the economy arrived to accompany him to the presidency for a call on Suharto. It later transpired that they were so impressed by his report on the Indonesian economy that the president personally wanted to thank him for his effort and, more to the point, “to learn more from his wisdom”. But I had to find all that out for myself. It would have never occurred to Vasim Jaffrey to tell anyone, much less brag about it.

Subsequently, our paths crossed when I was seconded to the prime minister secretariat in 1993. Vasim Jaffrey, to our great surprise, and to the consternation of many PPP diehards, had been selected by Benazir Bhutto (BB) to be her adviser on finance. I was surprised because Farooq Leghari was angling for the finance post and although BB was fobbing off Leghari with the foreign ministership, most insiders felt that given his clout within the PPP, Leghari would eventually have his way. Instead, ironically, Leghari made it to the presidency, a fatal miscalculation by BB as it turned out; and in choosing Vasim Jaffrey BB thought she had got a docile civil servant as her point man in finance.

BB had erred again. Instead of falling in line with all the grandiose projects being floated by her, he shot them down with the unerring accuracy of a marksman on one financial ground or the other. So potent were his arguments that BB, even though she grumbled and swore under her breath, could find no good reason to overrule him. Moreover, he did so with such exquisite politeness and humility that she could hardly take affront.

I realised that matters had come to a head when Vasim Jaffrey took me aside after a meeting chaired by the prime minister and asked me to arrange a meeting with her. Having a cabinet minister make such a request to a staffer seemed strange considering that he could have walked up to her and made the request himself. Nevertheless I did as told. “Tell Dr No”, said BB, “that I will see him when I can”. I conveyed her message to Mr Jaffrey who laughed and said, “Yes, I have heard she refers to me as ‘Dr No’, because I have to shoot down the half-baked schemes they send me on her behalf”. It never occurred to him to say ‘yes’ to please the prime minister and keep his job because that’s the kind of man he was. He was eventually replaced in late 1996 by Naveed Qamar — need one ask why?

Another incident that revealed the nature of the man and his humility occurred during BB’s official visit to Japan. To save money, her entourage were told that meals would be served in the hotel dining hall at specified times and on no account would the government pick up the tab for room service by delegation members. The trouble with this arrangement was that one could be called away at any time, including mealtimes, and if that happened a difficult choice had to be made between parting with one month’s pay, which was the cost of a single meal in Japan at the time, or going hungry.

Preoccupied with official work, Mr Jaffrey was unable to make it for dinner. And, as I recall vividly, he and Mrs Jaffrey were sitting in a dimly-lit far-off corner of the hotel lobby pondering their fate when I arrived. The story, however, had a happy ending as the prime minister’s approval was obtained, ex post facto of course, for sparing members of cabinet rank from the mealtime rule. I doubt if any finance minister/adviser has ever included himself within the operation of such an order, or indeed, even contemplated having to face a similar predicament.

Such self-effacing public servants like Vasim Jaffrey, and of such high professional calibre and integrity, who carried their pride in a manner least likely to offend others and were so devoted to the service of their country, are frankly irreplaceable.

Had I met him while he was very ill and asked him about death, I am sure he would have said something intensely wise and yet very simply put — that it’s like a light being switched off; nothing very much to make a fuss about. And he would have been right. Vasim Jaffrey will always remain on a higher pedestal and we, his friends, will always remain in thrall of the extraordinary man that he was, both as a human being and as the professional public servant that he will now always be.

What you were for us, Vasim sahib, that you are still.



Published in The Express Tribune, July 1^st, 2011.