DAWN - Cowasjee Corner; 11 October, 1998

The man of the hour

By Ardeshir Cowasjee

GENERAL Jehangir Karamat, chief of our army staff until October 7, was endowed with one great attribute which no doubt helped him survive - a sense of humour.

Talking to him, several months ago, both agreeing that Nawaz Sharif was a prime example of all that a prime minister ought not to be, I asked him, "When are you taking over, General?" Looking me straight in the eye, he answered with one-word, "What?"

This just about sums up how low this country, gifted to us fifty years ago, has fallen whilst we, the docile, unthinking, fast-multiplying millions have sat by.

We started with an area of 451,291 square kilometers, divided between West and East. A quarter of a century later came a political adventurer who threw away 143,998 sq.km in the East so that he could be top dog of the West. We had a proud army, which this selfish man fattened and then disgraced.

In the 307,293 sq.km. left to us lies the second highest mountain of the world, one of its longest rivers, one of its most fertile plains, one of its best irrigation systems, and enough flowing water to generate sufficient hydro-electric power to meet the growing needs of the entire country. We have a coastline of almost 1,000 kilometers opening up onto a rich sea, an abundance of untapped oil and gas reserves on and offshore. We once had a first class railway system, as good as any in the world, and a network of serviceable roads. Situated outside the cyclone zone, we are blessed with good weather. We have a vast reservoir of human resources, the cream of which has filtered abroad where they hold their own against the best.

The half we were left with in 1971 was a viable country, governable even by the mediocre. We had friends around the world. Today we are friendless.

To call this nation a democracy is to grossly misuse the word. Exercising one foul means after another, the charlatans who followed in power after the deaths of Mohammad Ali Jinnah and a handful of others of that early era, have dug themselves in and worked purely for their own good, in total disregard of the needs of the nation. They have concentrated solely on the aggrandizement of self, family and cronies (a common Third World affliction), and more often than not have left office in disgrace.

For the past ten years, two families have been allowed a stranglehold on the fate of this country. There cannot be one thinking man, here or elsewhere, who will not agree that both are corrupt to the core. As to which has robbed and impoverished us more, as to which is more responsible for the present state of bankruptcy, is not yet certain. We depend totally on foreign loans and in the money world are now rated amongst the lowest, falling in the "Speculative Grade". How long can we continue to borrow without being able to pay back?

In the era of Benazir Bhutto and Asif Zardari, a few months prior to the January 1996 retirement of Chief of Army Staff General Abdul Waheed Kakar ('The Man who came to Dinner' and sent home one president and one prime minister), two generals, down the line in seniority, were vying for the top slot. One was the husband's choice, a corrupt and slimy bully. The other was a crafty spook adept at feeding funds where needed, and suited the wife. Fortunately, thanks to the husband-and-wife split, seniority and merit prevailed and General Jehangir Karamat, upright soldier, officer and gentleman, was rightly appointed to succeed Kakar.

In November of that year, Benazir Bhutto's government was dismissed by her own president, Farooq Leghari, the man appointed to protect her. He and his caretaker government made noises about initiating a process of accountability - 'Ehtesab.' The cry arose: Ehtesab before Intekhab! The people were convinced that the second family, obviously programmed to be brought back into power, would not be able to handle the country. Constitutionally, it was possible to postpone the elections for a limited period of time in excess of the stipulated 90 days.

The then Chief Justice of Pakistan, Sajjad Ali Shah, and army chief General Jehangir Karamat, shared the people's view, as did those countries of the democratic world with an interest in Pakistan. The Times, the mouthpiece of the Mother of Parliaments in London, on January 8, 1997, editorialized under the heading, "Time for Pakistan - Delaying elections may be better than it appears":

"...A time-limited delay of the February elections would not necessarily be as damaging to Pakistani democracy as it seems. The two leading contenders have both been dismissed from office on corruption charges; three months was always too short a time for credible choices to emerge from such polluted political machinery.

"Time would also allow the interim government to toughen up its accountability law, intended to disqualify politicians guilty of corruption. It was hastily drafted and has allowed too many big fish to slip through its meshes. In particular, there is need to tighten the new rules designed to bar politicians who have damaged the country's banking system by declining to repay massive personal loans to which nothing but their political influence entitled them".

The question the people asked of the diehard democratic constitutionalists baying for elections was: Do you want a constitution or do you want a country?

Farooq Leghari selfishly opted for expediency. He felt safe with Nawaz Sharif. Elections were held, the number of votes cast was the lowest ever. The people were disillusioned, disinterested.

Nawaz Sharif resumed his rule and started his second round. Having never batted on an even pitch, being used to playing the game with the umpire inevitably declaring a no-ball each time he was bowled, or caught, or run out, he decided to reverse the roles and declare the umpires 'out'. The first to be neutralized was the president, disempowered by the 13th Amendment. The next to go, in one fell swoop, were the parliamentarians, all dissent being eliminated by the 14th Amendment. The judiciary soon followed, Nawaz Sharif fearing that Chief Justice Sajjad Ali Shah might be the man who could send him home. Before that could happen, Sajjad Ali Shah was sent home, together with the disempowered president who had dared flex a muscle.

What was left? The army. Whether we like it or not, each government has rightly felt threatened by this disciplined party of half a million men who can rise at a single command. Nawaz Sharif was incapable of appreciating that it was possible for a general not to want martial law, not to want to take over the country, but to simply want to do his best by tendering professionally sound advice.

Karamat was intelligent enough to understand that he and his men could not possibly serve the country and its people any better than the politicians. But he did his duty and voiced his protest at the deteriorating all-round situation, and continued to voice his protest. Finally, on October 5, he spoke out as he did. Can any reasonable man find any fault with what he said?

Nawaz Sharif could find no fault with Karamat's statement, but the fact that he had dared speak up was sufficient for the insecure Prime Minister to ask him to go. No one who dares raise a voice against the designs of the nation's foremost 'Nur da puttur' can be tolerated. He asked Karamat to retract his statement, which Karamat could never do. Knowing that he would be sacked before he could get back to his HQ, the wise army chief there and then opted for premature retirement.