Beware of watchdog

Pakistan Today, June 12, 2012

It’s all about access: those who have it seek to protect it; those
that don’t will speculate till the lie becomes accepted fact.

I stop paying attention for a week and look what happens! It seems my whole world is in turmoil. A father tries his own son; a journalist defends his income on national TV; more undead Al-Qaeda zombies; a fresh wave of suicide bombings; the French Open; the Euro Championships and Elmo the Embezzler (more on that later). I think I will have a breakdown if I try to process all of this information simultaneously.

So let’s start with the most harmless issue: the media’s stake in the Arsalan Chaudhary-Malik Riaz scandal. Here are the facts as we know them: Malik Riaz is Pakistan’s answer to Donald Trump, Sir Richard Branson and Laxmi Mittal all rolled into one; while Dr Arsalan Chaudhary’s claim to fame is his descent from our chief and most honourable bastion of justice. Allegedly, the errant son extorted favours from the magnate in return for favourable decisions in court. When the prodigal child failed to come good on his promises, said magnate whipped out ‘evidence’ of his profanities and showed it to his friends in the media. These friends immediately chimed in, vouching for the veracity of this ‘unseen evidence’ like chorus boys singing Auld Lang Syne. Then there was ‘great debate’ between those lucky enough to have seen this ‘evidence’ and those cynics who didn’t get an invitation to the tycoon’s garden party. However, this so-called evidence has yet to see the light of day, even though it is under subpoena by the highest court in the land.

I have a few opinions too. The big chief is still ‘intimidating’ the prime suspect through other cases. He may have left his son’s bench, but there are other ways of twisting arms. And also, just because a case involves some of the most high-profile figures in the country does not mean that it warrants airtime on the primetime TV shows. And just because it’s on TV or in the newspaper doesn’t mean you should believe it. Especially if it’s not a public interest story. Because we in the media tend to make things up when it comes to the corridors of power and the people therein. It’s all about access: those who have it will not go to the trouble of writing about it lest they spoil their access; while those that do not will speculate and flog nonexistent horses until the lie is accepted as a fact. Beautiful, isn’t it?

Also, in all of this circus, we all seem to have forgotten that no evidence has been presented in court, no charges framed and no prosecution made. One small step for justice, one giant leap for speculation.

Then we have the curious case of Sim Sim Humara, the scandal that shook the muppets and puppets around the world. While the facts were laid out quite succinctly by this very newspaper, the story is bloodcurdling, to say the least. That a children’s show, meant to educate and entertain the most impressionable minds, was being used as a vehicle of embezzlement, is serious business. My sources tell me that while things are not as bad as they have been made out to be, the bulk of the allegations is true. While I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but all this could have been avoided (according to my sources) if the people in question had coughed up the “cost of doing business”. Since that was apparently too much to ask, they had to pay the ultimate price: the death of a dynasty. The donors, on the other hand, were going to pull out anyway. Only now, they will do so after a full inquiry and with a bitter aftertaste in their mouths. This may also apply to other projects the same donor has been funding and we may see a lot of cleaning house in the months to come. This obviously does not bode well for the artists and creative persons of the land, who are being sullied by association with the organisation responsible. It is a sad, sad day on Raiwind Road.

Finally, a topic I’ve tried to talk about before. It seems that our treatment of women is steadily declining into the medieval and the macabre. Be it Kohistan or Fort Monroe, it seems women can only be treated as commodity or cattle. Or objects of desire. This frustrates me to no end, because I generally try to consider them human beings. But there is something fundamentally wrong with gender relations in our fair land. Otherwise, the use of brutal and unforgiving force against (mostly) defenceless girls would not be on the rise.

Let me just say that I don’t care who wins the next elections. It’s obvious that nothing (much) is going to change, even if the tsunami does roll in. The chief of our problems will remain politics and human beings will continue to score very low on the ‘valuable things’ index. And the watchdogs that we trained to keep us safe, well, let’s just say they have begun to turn on their masters. Beware.

Cabinet drawers

Pique Magazine, May 2012

We should thank the first-among-cons for adding more seats to the cabinet dinner table. The caterers will be most pleased

Running a country is tough work. Ask anyone who has no idea about the way our system works and they will tell you that governance is an arduous process. It involves standing in line, flagging down the right peon to bribe and coaxing and failing to get an audience with the sahib-in-residence and then maybe, just maybe, walking out with a piece of paper saying that you accomplished something today. But that feeling fades fast. And then it’s back to feeling like your government has failed you.

But for those of us in the know, let’s just say that it’s not quite that cumbersome. Especially for the civil servant. Never has a title so humble been applied to something quite as pompous, or bloated. The fact that our country is run by flesh-and-blood human beings and not gremlins, as is the widely held view, some of the things they come up with are quite invariably, out of this world. But more on that later.

The impression that gremlins are in charge of the country stems from the fact that every few months or so, the top gremlins (or at least they were believed to be gremlins, until that myth was busted by Kamran Khan) would gather at the house of the head gremlin and, holding obscure texts, chant vows that would somehow make them super-strong and super-rich, but render them completely useless for anything else.

These pagan vows, sometimes known as an “oath-taking ceremony”, are not as vile and uncouth as it sounds. In fact, it is a civilized affair, with the crew of the national TV station, friends and family of the gremlins being sworn in, as well as assorted fruitcakes from the nearby diplomatic enclave, in attendance. But the grand vizer, YR Gilani of Sing Sing prison, promised, nay reassured the people last time that the number of gremlins needed to run the country was less than or equal to 25. Or 30. Or 40. The vizer’s definition of ‘not too many’ is quite flexible. In fact, just before his appearance before the Titan of Justice, he was overheard saying he would not need a lot of people to walk him to the Supreme Court. Just the usual security detail. And well-to-do MNAs, MPAs, assorted bureaucrats, the odd-political ally and a few busloads of jiyalas for the rhythm section of the “Zinda hai Bhutto zinda hai” choir. About 3,478 people. Not a whole lot, in the greater scheme of things. But these people weren’t paid a great deal of money to show up, they just did.

If only that could be the arrangement we have with our cabinet ministers i.e., we would not necessarily be paying them, but they would be there. In fact, the government should place a premium on becoming a minister: because the holder of public office stands to earn so much in the shape of kick-backs, shady deals, barters and other transactions that do not go on the Register of Public Interests; future ministers should be asked to pay their appointment. In fact, I’m sure some enterprising young spanner in the Presidency has already thought of that.

But to be fair, now that our first-among-equals is an ex-con, it is only a matter of time before the Titans pronounce him unfit to hold office. And coming as it does, so late in the parliament’s life, this contingency must be planned for. This is why, in another fell swoop of foresight, the Sun King decreed that there be a larger, more meatier cabinet to help him make decisions at this critical juncture. But finding the cabinet that is right for your Sun King can be tricky. There are certain criteria that need to be fulfilled before a president can be left alone in a room full of politicians.

1. They should all get his jokes. This is very important, because Hitler was just kidding when he said “Gas the Jews!”

2. They should all laugh at his jokes. What’s the point of having 50-odd people sitting at the same table if you can’t have them in giggling fits? Makes the big man feel like he’s in control.

3. They should have absolutely no technical qualification to deal with the portfolio they have been assigned. Prior competence often proves disastrous, because such incumbents try to ‘make a difference’ by ‘actually trying to run the affairs of government themselves’. It has been a long standing convention in the Cabinet Block that petty matters of governance should be left to the civil servants. Politicians who become ministers need only concern themselves with questions such as, “Which car should I take to work today?” or “Is this tie crimson enough?” or perhaps a spot of “How can I make life easier for my children?”.

4. They should only speak when spoken to. This applies to communication within and without the cabinet dining room. Because let’s face it, there’s always that one guy who spoils it for everyone, right? The one with foot-in-mouth disease. This is why it is imperative that only those who are qualified to speak should speak on the government’s behalf. Like Qamaruz Zaman Kaira or Faisal Raza Abedi. However, keep in mind that while all federal ministers are equal, some are more equal than others. Which is why there has been no reprimand for the callous display of tie-terrorism by one of the members of the Sun King’s kitchen cabinet.

So does the new, improved cabinet meet the nutrient requirements of an ageing democratic setup? At first glance, it would seem so. At least in the case of Mr Kaira and Mr Naek, who have been handed back their old portfolios after their successors completely bungled things up. The good sense of giving Kaira his old job back was manifested clearly in the minister’s systematic dismantling of the ‘Kamran Khan narrative’ on the eve of the prime minister’s conviction. That Kaira did not directly address any of the issues raised is immaterial: what matters is that Kamran Khan looked sweaty as well as pudgy when he was sparring with the minister with a knack for countering bullets with tactical nuclear warheads. Farooq Naek’s appointment also came as a blessing. Especially for Babar Awan, whose verbosity has often landed him and his fellow members of government in hot waters. Praise the Lord he wasn’t there to pontificate after the prime minister’s conviction, or the people would’ve gotten to see some real contempt for the courts, on national television.

Also back in the saddle are Sumsam Bukhari (of Ali Baba fame) and Malik Ammad Khan. The former is the most capable aide-de-camp to Herr Kaira, while the latter ‘assists’ Hina ‘The Man’ Khar in discharging matters of the state. Seeing as domestic image management (read propaganda) and foreign image management (read Keeping Up With The Jonses) are the two top items on the government’s agenda, there should be no surprises here.

However, the real Jack-in-the-box was the re-inclusion of Raja Pervez Ashraf, affectionately referred to as ‘Raja Rental’. The man who is responsible for robbing the country of all its water and power was moved from one seat of absolute power to another: he now heads the Information Technology arm of the government. This is a positive step, because it will allow him to focus on gleaning monies from those who already have lots of it i.e., mobile service providers, multinational IT companies with major off-shore holdings, as well as Microsoft and Apple. But if you think the big man is soft on corporations, consider that the able man’s first move upon taking office has been the postponement of the auction for 3G licenses. According to those who know more about this than I do, this is apparently the third time such an auction is being delayed. Ostensibly to increase the mark-up on the receivable kickbacks. A word of advice to the powers-that-be though: remember that licensing hardware that has been outdated for nearly half a decade now will not benefit anyone apart from those who’ve been hoarding scrap for at least 24 months. Now there’s a lucrative business proposition. Too bad somebody in the IT ministry has already thought of that.

For the uninitiated, this year’s list of ministries can be quite confounding. New and obscure creatures, such as the Ministry for Disaster Management, the Ministry for Environmental Change, the Ministry of National Regulation & Services and the Ministry for Food Security & Research, also populate the dinner table roster now. But no one seems to know what these ministries will do, especially the honorable ministers assigned to them.

Firdous Ashiq Awan, the incumbent at the aptly named Regulation & Services ministry, has neither regulations nor services to provide her minions. But after seeing her beaming on the telly, one can only assume that she is all too glad to be rid of her responsibilities as the government’s spin doctor, or, the goal-keeper for the most indefensible post of them all. But then, Firdous Apa is most at home in unfamiliar and hostile surroundings. Given her repertoire of inane insults and retorts – which are often lewd enough to put Nargis to shame – she would perhaps be most suited for the Ministry of Art and Culture. There, at least, she could let her true self shine through and be recognized for the artist that she truly is.

The prime minster (according to detractors, now the ‘crime minister’) has spoken at great lengths about the need for austerity and why spending less will help save Pakistan.

This is why banks now open for five days a week instead of six; government officials show up for work at 10:00AM and leave promptly at 3:00PM (ensuring that air conditioners run for shorter periods); higher education is imparted via email correspondence as opposed to a classroom environment and, the air and railtravel industry have been made kaput (to save on fuel costs, brilliant). The one thing which is expanding faster than Jabba the Hutt’s belly is the size of the cabinet and critics of the Gilani administration are using this as an excuse to attack the (first) sovereign, democratically elected government of Pakistan that is set to complete all five years in power. So rethinking this massive expansion would be the wiser thing to do.

But there could be a simple and more straightforward explanation for this. You see, being the head of a state is hard enough. But when the president has to take over from his prime minister the responsibility of day-to-day decision making, that will impact the fate of the country as a whole, balancing the ‘head of state’ and ‘head of government’ hat would’ve been tricky for the Sun King. That is, if he were to do it alone. Fortunately, El Jefe now has the support of 50-something able-bodied men and women to help him steer the country out of these dark times. One must salute the foresight of our ruler, who brought seasoned politicians and experts in the fields of punditry and naming-and-shaming from all walks of life, together under one roof. So the people of Pakistan must thank el presidente for his visionary leadership and courage under fire.

You know who else should thank the president? The state’s caterers. For all the business they are about to receive.

Due process?

Pakistan Today, May 28, 2012

I hope for the good doctor’s sake his friends in the CIA can spring him. If not, this loose end may be tied up quite soon

Temperatures are soaring. Already, it is too hot to leave cigarette lighters in one’s car: they will have exploded by the time you return to your vehicle. Vegetation has already started to droop and mammals, bi-ped and otherwise, are seen panting and jostling for a spot in any form of shade they can lay their paws on. Water holes are few and far between and the whole country seems to have turned into Sibi. But the PTI and the PML(N) still persist with their nationwide jalsa campaign and there is now a widespread risk of most of the country becoming garmi mein kharaab.

In such circumstances, it is very difficult to get outraged about a particular cause. Actually, let me rephrase that. While it is easier to get inflamed, being consistently outraged over any issue other than loadshedding is just not humanly possible anymore. Under such circumstances, to see that a large chunk of Pakistanis are getting fired up over the fate of one Dr Shakil Afridi, is a terribly encouraging sign. Terrible, yes. But encouraging nonetheless.

He, for those of you who don’t follow the news religiously, is no (direct) relation to our pugnacious cricketing hero, Shahid Lala. However, he is the man who gave the CIA Osama the Terrible of Abbottabad. In the excitement of taking out the final boss from all editions of the Call of Duty series, the Marines forgot to ‘extract’ Dr Afridi from the L-Z down the road. As a result, he was captured, interrogated, incarcerated and summarily sentenced under very dodgy circumstances to about 33 years in prison, ostensibly for ‘high treason’.

Opinion at home is divided. There are those who believe that the government has rightfully locked him up, because no one should have access to so many non-taxable American dollars and live to spend them. The apologists meekly argue that, “He did help nab Osama”, while citizens of outrage-istan are quick to condemn his unscrupulous use of vaccination programmes as a cover for his clandestine activities. But violations of the Hippocratic oath notwithstanding, there seems to be no clear consensus on what the good doctor’s fate should be.

The final stab in the back for Dr Afridi can be said to have come from the US itself, in the svelte form of Hillary Clinton. Indeed, her denouncement of Pakistan for awarding a ludicrously unjust jail-term to the part-time spook and the threat to withhold a million dollars for each year he would be in prison obviously did not go down well with a lot of patriots, who are now convinced that the Democrats (who are really just an extension of the Indian state – they even adopted the elephant as their electoral symbol) are out to get Pakistan and break it apart into little pieces any-which-way they can. Whatever Dr Afridi’s approval ratings were before the sentencing took place, Hillary made sure that they sank faster than Wile E Coyote tied to an anvil.

So what is the real deal? Would Dr Afridi not have received a similar sentence had he been tried in a standard civilian court rather than a tribal Jirga? Was it really necessary to bend the Frontier Crimes Regulation law (which is draconian in its own right) like a clown would bend balloons to make latex animal shapes, just to try one man? Do crimes committed in Abbottabad really fall under the jurisdiction of a Jirga in Afridi’s native FATA? Did the military really have a part to play in the summary judgement handed out to the good doctor? While the answer to all of these questions may be far more complicated than a simple ‘yes’, ‘no’ or ‘perhaps, if the circumstances were conductive’; there is a good chance that asking such questions can land you (and me) in a lot of trouble. For you see, the matter of Dr Afridi is one of ‘national security’. This, as many of you are aware, is one abstract construct that serves as the foundation of all the freedoms (hah!) that we enjoy and if removed, could threaten the very fabric of Pakistani society. Anything that attempts to sabotage our ‘national security’ must, therefore, be dealt with a swift and iron hand.

Unfortunately, no one is really buying this narrative. Let’s just say that Jack Nicholson’s performance in ‘A Few Good Men’ was far more convincing than the procedure adopted to put Dr Afridi behind bars for a goodly amount of time; and that if a trio of seven-year-olds had grabbed hold of an Ouija board and decided to conjure up spirits, they would’ve come up with a more coherent story than the one being concocted at all levels of the civilian and military leadership, with regards to the case of Dr Afridi.

Whatever else come of this case, it is clear to me that this case will mark the moment in Pakistan’s history when rulers no longer deemed it necessary to put any faith in the people of the country. While politicians and military dictators had always had a penchant for playing fast and loose with the facts, the government of the People’s is the first one to actually dispense with the formalities and the obsequious language and tell the people, essentially, to sod off.

With regards to Dr Afridi, there are more questions than answers. More half-truths than facts. As with any other story in the Pakistani media, this too shall pass from bulletin rundowns in a few days. I just hope for the good doctor’s sake that his friends in the CIA can spring him, like they sprang Senor Raymond Davis not too long ago. If not, I fear that this loose end may be tied up sooner than you could say ‘due process’.

Out to own us

Pakistan Today, May 21, 2012

We put our eggs in a basket, stamped a visa on it and sent it out into the world, hoping for some boomerang action

Why, they ask you, should you expect to be doing any better than you are? Think about it, what is the last piece of good news you heard? I’m not talking about the token ‘Kushkhabri’our 9PM news bulletins carry every night to stave off the impression that they’ve making money off the misery of others. I mean a real, honest to goodness, piece of good news. Like winning the world cup of anything. Or achieving a landmark in fields of the arts, sciences and everything in between. Perhaps even positive political tidings would count, something that affects the entire country as a whole. Maybe tidings of fiscal good fortunes. Think about it. Think really hard. And if you can think of anything, leave a note in the ‘Comments’ section on the website, because for the life of me I can’t think of anything. Not a single piece of information that has been relayed my way, save for births and (some) deaths, has been ‘good’ in the sense that it has brought me a genuinely euphoric sensation, unaided by pharmaceutical products. That’s quite sad, don’t you think?

Begs the question, what are we doing? I don’t mean just the government, or the people, or the institutions, or even the man on the street. I mean us, the people who run around in hamster wheels all day long in the hope that we can make a change, or, failing that, make some spare change along the way. The young professionals of this country who were supposed to ‘take over’ the reins of our country’s future. Who were groomed to lead and be led in the defence of our geographical, ideological, linguistic, social and economic frontiers until the dream of a ‘Glorious Pakistan’ was no longer just a dream? Where is this highly educated crop of people who were the shining stars of yesteryear, setting academic records, toppling global hegemonies in Model UN contests and presenting eloquent rebuttals of arguments more sophisticated than the fuel injection system of the new Ferrari?

Conspicuous by their absence are the people who, growing up, we thought destined for greatness. In their stead, we see mediocrity, creeping like a parasitic vine, up the paternal tree of dynasty. Free-loaders, becoming glorified noblemen and women riding on the shoulders of their family’s good fortunes, political and otherwise. Today, at any political conference or rally or academic moot, the teeming multitudes come and take in minutes upon minutes of fertiliser (sometimes Fauji, sometimes not) being sprouted by a village schoolmaster of an intellectual – insecure in his beliefs and jealously protective of their stability. Where questioning the established narrative once drew scowls, now any wise-crack about the real purposes of the ‘greater game’ afoot on Constitution Avenue can elicit the full wrath of the most faithful of religion and democracy’s Crusaders, thanks to social networks such as that infamous outlaw, the Twitter Bird.

So, to borrow from the American country singer, where indeed have all the cowboys (and girls) gone? They can’t all be married and reproductive. Some of them must survive to further the country. After all, the survival of the species has always depended on the sacrifices of the few.

Let’s be honest with ourselves here. We did count our chickens before they hatched. We put our eggs in a basket, stamped a visa on it and sent it out into the world, hoping for some boomerang action. Only, in the real world, things don’t really fly back to you, even if they do love you. Actually, if you love them, you would never wish them back. You would have them live in upstate New York or downtown Chicago rather than come back home to Model Town or KDA. You would do all of this because you love them, and wish to keep them in the dark about things such as load shedding, fuel prices and the cost of a 12kg bag of flour. You will seek to keep them away from televisions that broadcast uncouth images of unkempt parliamentarians yelling at each other. On the assembly floor and off it. You would also seek to keep them free from the clutches of the justice system, lest they have to contest a messy property dispute in the civil courts. You will do your best to shelter them, in the hope that they will have a more fulfilling life than you ever had.

But in doing so, you will be depriving them of a real education. Lessons that Harvard Law and Virginia Tech cannot teach them, things which do not exist in the rest of the world. Your precious little ones will then be no better equipped to venture out into The Real World Pakistan than a 13-month baby would be. Drooling from the mouth and running to daddy at the first sign of adversity.

The point, as so many of you love to ask me, of this article is simply this: parents should push their children into the deep end. They should let them lap up the misery and the experience of an unfulfilled life in Pakistan, so they may have the fear of God instilled in them. Let them ride the hideously overcrowded buses and go to sessions court. Let them wander the back alleys of your colony and let them come home with a few bruises. That’s the only way we will ever have people who ‘own Pakistan’. Otherwise, it’ll just be people out to own us. And that’s never a good thing.

Bleating about the bush

Pakistan Today, May 14, 2012

Sheep usually have a hard time detecting sarcasm. Are you a sheep too?

If you’ve been to university, you’ve probably been wooed by student groups that claim to be representative of bigger, more complex political ideology. Ideologies that drive the ‘real world order’. People who claim to be ‘in tune’ with the changing times. Profound mother lovers, essentially. They regale you with stories of a higher purpose, a chance to be part of something bigger than yourself. Deep. Very deep indeed. Unfortunately, at the time, you are too naïve to realise that this is all but a charade and the real world is far more cutthroat, not even half as idealistic and easy to deconstruct as they make it out to be.

Marxists, communists, progressive liberals, liberal fascists, tea baggers and other assorted confectionary movements have always based their membership drives on a one-point agenda: the promise of change. With high hopes and even higher proponents, these niche groups have been trying to raise political awareness among college going students since 1932. In fact, their model has been so unsuccessful for so long that the newly-conceived unholy alliance of Maulana Imran Khan and people with both severe psychological impairments and Twitter accounts, has adopted the ideologues’ 5-year plan. But while the ideological grease monkeys of academia have been peddling their opium in college campuses and shanty inner city apartments since the time of Muhammad bin Qasim, they have never had the kind of success that the sunblock-toting Insafians seem to be enjoying; there is no denying that the party of the Pathan from Mianwali has been steadily marshalling support in nearly all parts of the country.

So does this foreshadow an electoral coup? Will Imran Khan be able to unseat the Pee Pee Pee at the Centre? Or will Immy K lead the next not-so-friendly opposition in the 2014 charge of the presidential windmills? Asking such questions in respectable company is bound to elicit a laugh and an affectionate yet patronising pat on the head. But ask the same questions from the average man on the street and you get a completely different response. In the eyes of the sheep: traders, transporters, pharmacists, sanitation workers and even security guards, Imran Khan is the only man who can protect us from the dark times that are about to descend upon us.

And it’s not like he’s cutting through the supporters of any one particular party – although the jiyalas are the only lot that seem immune to the charismatic overtures of the right arm fast bowler. It is the same story all across: PTI and Imran Khan essentially offer a cleaner, slightly less worn out alternative to all shades of political sentiment in the country. For the middle-class professional jealous of the waderas’ wealth and fortunes, he presents a non-badmaash alternative to governance; with the ANP it’s a question of a charismatic Pathan leader with a national outlook, unheard of in our times. For the scion of die-hard PML(N) supporters, Imran presents himself as another name on the ballot; someone they can vote for aside from the bald and beautiful Sharifs of Jati Umra. The same Sharifs they have grown up maligning and exposing during their years at university under the Musharraf regime. The same leaders who their parents would vote for, yet secretly decimate over a glass of single-malt. Every single night.

But the one mistake that Imran has not made is of equating his election with the revolution coming to pass. It’s not like he’s promised something completely otherworldly: I mean, clean governments do exist and effective policies do an efficient system beget. In fact, I can count on the digits of my right hand the number of countries that have been successful in eliminating evils such as corruption, terrorism and illiteracy in one fell swoop. Countries like Sri Lanka and, errr… Sri Lanka come to mind immediately. Also given the fact that Imran plans to overhaul the irrigation system and integrate it with our dairies in such a way that sweetened, condensed milk oozes through the pores of each unlined canal in the Punjab, he is well on his way to electoral supremacy come the next general elections. PTI supporters are also busy with developing contingency plans for the great blackout of 2015. They are already stocking up on generators, fuel and energy drinks, in hopes of becoming self-sufficient in energy before the crisis hits. Such foresight puts him firmly in the driver’s seat come election time.

His detractors might say that he is too idealistic and that his plans will never work in the real world. But this is a weak defence, given that most of the things that college kids learned in Marxist study circles also do not hold up in the real world. But that has not stopped economists and welfare state idealists from making crackpot projections about the economy based on principles put forward by the crazy German and then putting them into play. It all seems to work out in the end. Somehow.

In sum, it is best to leave the running of the world and of your country to the people who have the time and patience to run for office. Their rhetoric might be dated and their promises entirely transparent. But as sheep, it is the duty of all to unquestioningly believe the mantra that is being fed to them and never flinch in their resolve to make sure that it does come to pass, no matter what the consequences. No more bleating about the bush. It’s time to set things right. By supporting the one, true leader. Tsunami avay-e-avay!

Press start to continue

Pakistan Today, April 30, 2012

The Noon League loves to play off the front foot. Ironic, as Sharif the elder favoured backfoot drives in his cricketing days

Politics in Pakistan is like a video game: you start with nothing and you work your way to a reasonable position. But then, just as you’re about to reach your goal, you are blind-sided on multiple fronts by threats that you have no way of coping with at the first go. So you die, respawn and return to the last checkpoint, only to see that your flag, which once flew proudly there, has been replaced by the enemy team’s emblem. Disheartened but not defeated, you struggle to bring your flag back and plant it in the same spot, again and again and again. Each time, you are blind-sided, ambushed and stabbed in the back, forcing you to return to your last save point.

In the case of the incumbent government, this save point has been martyrdom, whether political or physical. No party plays the “Sacrificed In The Name Of Democracy” game better than the PPP. From the judicial execution of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto to the brutal murder of Murtaza and culminating in the assassination of the late great Benazir Bhutto: jiyalas embrace the idea of martyrdom like bees flock to honey. It has been their most effective tool, in the past, as well as the present. But whether sympathy is the best way to win an election or not is up for debate: it did not work well in 1997 and it just may fall through the cracks come 2013.

The Noon League, on the other hand, loves to play it on the front foot. This is ironic, because during his days playing cricket at the Lawrence Gardens, Sharif the Elder would always favour late cuts off the back foot. But it’s a shame his batting technique did not rub off on his political footwork, especially since Chaudhry Nisar and Co do not let an opportunity pass without launching a snide personal attack on the top leadership of the PPP. The last time this happened i.e., Sunday, Minister for Tie-and-Die Rehman Malik opened a whole can of whoop-worms onto the Sharifs’ collective rear end. Monday saw Nawaz Sharif do the same for our jailbird PM.

This is the problem with playing politics at the expense of others’ personal activities. To quote someone from my Twitter/Facebook timelines, “Pakistan. A country where we all live in glass houses and everyone loves to throw stones. In every direction.” Quite true, this.

Remember last year, when the Sharifs were having problems with the MQM’s overstating of certain ‘facts’? Or remember 2007, when Imran Khan was on a warpath against Altaf Hussain? Or 2008, when the Chaudhrys were the most maligned political party in Pakistan and barbs of ‘Qatil league’ would fly around freer than sparrows? As a country, we are collectively suffering from perpetual selective amnesia. Must be all the hashish fumes that waft over into our territory from across our Northwestern borders. But whatever the cause, the result is always the same: every party, irrespective of ideology or standing, has to bend over backwards to accommodate its ‘allies’. While not all allies are as all-weather as the PPP and MQM, they’re not quite as civil as the PPP and ANP are, for example. But whatever the outcome of this great debate, it has to be said that the Afternoon League, headed by the mumbling Chaudhry of Gujrat, has managed to keep the boat of democracy afloat by plugging all the right holes at the right time. And then, of course, there is Maulana High-Speed Diesel, who has single-handedly changed the dictionary definition of power-monger. In fact, if you click online to Wikipedia, the article for ‘political expediency’ features a photo of the Maulana himself, in his Friday best.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of any other political actors. Especially, the tabdeeli soda-toting Pakistan Troll Intifada, or PTI for short. Intolerant of criticism, impervious to pragmatism, these Tweety-birds have taken the media (social and otherwise) by storm. Their domination over forums such as Twitter, Facebook and Jeem TV is now as complete as Genghis Khan’s tyranny over Asia. Unfortunately, this does not for great debate make, which is something quite necessary for the survival and establishment of a vibrant democratic society.

I have never been a huge fan of democracy. My political ideology comes from readings of Plato and Machiavelli. But those texts are old and so am I. It is time that I abandon my ‘benevolent despot’ approach and look towards the future, a future full of Internet trolls and diaper-toting advisers. I look to this future and shudder to think what smartphones, iPads and Playstation 3 will do to our country’s leaders in a decade. There are some who are trying to ride the wave of technology into the new millennium. Unfortunately, their skin is not thick enough to allow them to absorb criticism so freely, since they have never before been confronted with such direct questioning over things that, to them at least, are set in stone.

The typical Pakistani politician may well be dying. In its place is emerging a new league of super solider. One who can talk the talk and walk the walk. Whether it is the PTI, the PPP or the PML(N), I welcome this new breed. Here’s to hoping they’re more tolerant of logic and memory than their elders were.

Raging bulls?

Pakistan Today, April 23, 2012

A strong and sudden dose of negative G-forces causes a redout, retinal damage and blind rage, mostly online

Tragedies somehow bring out the worst in us. The Bhoja Air crash was just such an occasion. What should’ve been a time for nationwide mourning and comforting those who were struggling to come to terms with their own unbearable and unimaginable loss, was turned into a feeding frenzy for the piranhas of social media.

At around 6:40PM on Friday night, Twitter came alive with the news of an aircraft having gone down somewhere in the greater Rawalpindi area. At the time, it was raining cats and dogs outside and the sound of rolling thunder was deafening. At first, there were rumours that a chopper had gone down. I assumed that the loss of life would be minimal, as military pilots and their passengers were trained in escaping from doomed aircraft. Then, a few minutes later, it emerged that the downed aircraft may have been a passenger plane. Jolted out of my daze, I leapt to turn on the TV, hoping to catch some details in the top-of-the-hour updates. But as soon as the headline music ended and the news anchor appeared on screen, the power went out. Cursing my luck, I picked up my phone and began browsing the mobile version of the Twitter website in search of accurate information.

By the time the power came back, it had been confirmed that the maiden flight for Bhoja Air had crashed into a residential area with 127 souls on board. As the television flickered back to life, I saw my old friend, Zarghoon Shah, reporting live from what I could best describe as a scene from a war movie. Debris was strewn everywhere and a lack of adequate light meant that the cameraman was struggling very hard to keep focus on what little visuals he could muster. For the next two hours, I was glued to the screen. Occasionally, I would switch between channels, but I would always return to the Jeem as they were the ones who had the footage first. Also, I felt an affinity for the coverage, seeing as it was a familiar face that was narrating these terrible events to me. In all of these two hours, I did not see one, repeat, one corpse or even a speck of blood, so committed was the cameraman to his cause.

Soon after, I was joined by my friend and journalist Taha Siddiqui, and together we channel surfed, looking at how each channel was covering this tragedy. As was obvious, the coverage was chaotic and channels had cameras and reporters live from every place imaginable, including Bhoja Airline’s offices, the Karachi airport, the Islamabad airport and God knows where else. As we flipped channels, we speculated on what would be happening in the newsrooms of each channel at that particular point in time. The ones that were unabashedly airing shots of dismembered bodies got switched immediately. Others, where overzealous reporters were seen asking the most ludicrous questions from bereaved family members also met a similar fate.

After scrolling through the 30-odd news outlets my cable operator provides me access to, I would always end up at the Jeem, whose coverage was the most level-headed of the night. Granted, every now and then they would cut to a panicking reporter somewhere in the field who had no idea what he was saying. This, we both figured, was because in the reporter’s ear, on the talkback, was an arrogant producer, screaming and cursing at the top of his lungs. “Story, beeper, footage, updates, tickers, stand straight while you’re onscreen,” would be the mantra said producer would be hammering into the poor field reporter’s brain. And at the end of the day, the poor guy would slip, saying something insensitive, or incoherent, or even out of place. As would all the anchors that were commenting live on the incident. As would nearly all the ‘analysts’ that were called on air to pontificate.

But spare a thought for that young man, standing out there in the rain, while all around him, pandemonium reigned supreme. Blood and guts as far as the eye could see and all he was expected to do was to keep his cool and report the facts. I hate to break it to you folks, but this person was also human. The fact that he or she wasn’t in tears should be good enough for you. At least you got your fix of the latest news out of the crash site.

But was this good enough? Absolutely not. For days after the incident and even today, people are going after the media as if they are responsible for the crash. Accusations of cheap sensationalism and making money off the blood of the innocent flew around like so much pollen on the information super highway. It was a complete redout, that strong and sudden dose of negative G-forces which causes retinal damage and blind rage. Twitter-activists spewing hellfire and brimstone wanted nothing better than to burn down the headquarters of major TV channels across the country. But they also wanted to live-tweet all the information that the idiot box was spewing forth. It was madness like I’ve never seen before. Except when raging bulls come charging down. This outrage had no human face. It was the face of an animal. An animal on a bloodlust. Acting all holier-than-thou. Sickening. Just sickening.