BY TANVIR AHMAD KHAN
By far the most reassuring aspect of the current turmoil
in Balochistan is the readiness of the people of the other provinces of
Pakistan to reach out to the mainsprings of the Baloch grievances and
understand them with gravitas and empathy. This is particularly true of
Punjab which has wakened up at last to the new dangers to the federation
and which is engaged in deep soul-searching as to what it should do to
minimise them.
Political scientists often analyse internal conflicts that
have a spatial concentration in terms of the ability of dissidents or
insurgents to tap into local human and material resources to sustain an
intense sub-national war. Either because the underlying cause is itself
limited, as in the case of erstwhile East Pakistan, or the available means
are inadequate, there is little resonance beyond a delimited geographical
zone – the rest of the country beyond the area of spatial concentration
hardly registers a seismic tremor.
Frequently enough, the authority that is challenged in
that zone is able to convince the rest of the nation that it is a handful
of miscreants that are undermining peace and development. The Bangladesh
war was a particularly stark example of the state being able to lull
almost the entire political class in West Pakistan into false complacency
or worse, an unpardonable apathy towards the great national tragedy being
enacted in the other half of the country.
Constituting almost 44 per cent of Pakistan’s land mass
and a good part of its coastline, Balochistan cannot simply be relegated
to similar oblivion. It is undoubtedly an existential situation too great
for the spin doctors; without Balochistan there is no Pakistan. This does
not however mean that efforts to obfuscate issues there will not be made.
It is important to maintain a sharp focus by recalling historical,
economic and political factors underlying the current disorder. In each
case, it is of utmost importance that facts are not used selectively to
reinforce preconceived notions and judgements.
If Balochistan’s history since 1947 is a narrative of
neglect, which was the turning that the state missed and thus embarked
upon a dictatorial approach to the province? An article published by this
newspaper on September 6 wanted us to believe that in delivering his
speech to the Sibi Darbar on February 14, 1948, Quaid-e-Azam Mohammad Ali
Jinnah was "laying the foundation of direct central authority over the
province" as it led to the governor general running the affairs of the
province with only an advisory council representing the people. It is a
classic case of ignoring the precise historical context of a decision and
of applying a future framework of analysis retrospectively. In any case,
no Baloch narrative begins with this dig at the Quaid. This is certainly
not the fountainhead of the Baloch political struggle.
In fact, it is almost certain that without the iconic
status that the Quaid enjoyed, Balochistan would not have "acceded" to
Pakistan as smoothly as it did. On the eve of independence, the Khan of
Kalat dreamt of restoring his sovereignty over the territory covered by
the Mastung agreement and perhaps beyond. Afghanistan had revived
revanchist claims on parts of Balochistan and Nawab Sahib Jogezai wondered
what would be the best option for the Pushtuns. Addressing the Sibi Darbar
on a mere 184th day of independence, the Quaid could hardly have brushed
aside these cross-currents and pulled this sprawling province, which still
has a 77 per cent rural population, by the bootstraps to the complexities
of the Government of India Act of 1935 with a single semantic jerk. This
presumptuous power to solve extremely complicated problems by an overnight
fiat of policy belonged to the later military rulers of Pakistan.
In any case, the political process snapped in 1958. For
Balochistan it had in any case languished once the fiction called a united
province of West Pakistan was created to offset Bengali aspirations. In
any honest comparative analysis, the roots of Baloch alienation and rage
are to be found in the use of the Pakistan military in 1956, 1970 and
2004-06 to put down Baloch sub-national movements.
Balochistan is not only the largest province of Pakistan
but also the one with the greatest natural resources. Pakistan’s elitism
has left a large percentage of population in each and every province below
the poverty line. In Balochistan’s case, the situation has always been
particularly unpropitious as it was at a disadvantage when it came to
asserting its needs. In Pakistan, needs have been asserted mostly through
powerful civil and military bureaucracies and this is where Balochistan
was least empowered to articulate itself.
It is not a case of Punjab throwing its weight around in a
meeting or two of the Finance Commission; the injustice is inherent in the
power structure of a state which can be differentiated from its civil
bureaucracy or army only at peril. A cosmetic division of Punjab into
three Punjabs will not usher in a revolutionary change. The chances are
that each new Punjab will employ available instruments of power to secure
higher allocations and the aggregate allocation of the Punjabi provinces
would end up even higher than at present. Meanwhile, consider how an
analyst from Balochistan with a strong attachment to the idea of Pakistan
regards the scene: "To a Baloch, development means dispossession – cattle
never changing into motor cars, ‘gidans’ never changing into houses
and thumb impressions never into signatures. They have to remain content
with crumbs like a job of a chowkidar, a peon and a mali
(gardener)."
This deep distrust of development has played a major role
in fuelling the present fires. In the best of circumstances, the opening
up of tribal lands to a major developmental effort produces more heat than
light at the beginning. The sardari system in Balochistan has always been
alarmed by economic enterprises that would inevitably threaten their
historic hold on the people. What is often not realised is that the people
themselves experience modernity as a shock and that the resultant
confusion can easily be exploited by interest groups. The year 2004
witnessed a wave of unrest in Balochistan brought about by these and other
factors. This wave swept area after area as the state failed to explain
the purpose of development programmes and mega projects. The pain of
development quickly got transformed into resistance.
The Baloch could not find much in the history of Pakistan
to reassure them that this sudden upsurge in the development of their
province was meant to improve their lot. It seemed to them that the state
was once again advancing into their impoverished sanctuaries on behalf of
interest groups and potential colonists. It was not difficult to
misrepresent the mega projects as the final bid to convert the Baloch into
a hapless minority in their own homeland.
There is nothing unique about this kind of resistance; it
has surfaced in numerous other cases in similar interventions by a
modernising centralising state. What has clearly aggravated the situation
in our case is the unshakeable faith in the application of brute force.
Our inability to live with a problem while political processes smooth the
rough edges goes far back into time. In 1969-70, the most liberal of the
civil and military managers of East Pakistan sat in Dhaka and debated the
number of Awami Leaguers whose purge in one form or another would bring
about a collapse of the populist agitation against the centre. In the end,
the hardliners terminated the debate by launching a massive assault on
Pakistan’s own people.
Before we go to the drawing board for a poor man’s
Marshall Plan to resolve the Balochistan crisis, we need a change in our
mindset. The armed forces have been repeatedly entrusted with unfair tasks
in Balochistan. The result is that the establishment of cantonments in
that highly sensitive province has become a controversial issue. The state
must do sufficient introspection to find out ways and means to convince
our own people that it is not a predatory animal. Economic plans will have
a much better chance of success if people are persuaded that they are for
their good. To do that, the country needs an easily discernible shift from
military policy to constructive politics.
We do not have limitless time. Apart from internal
dynamics, there are external factors now at play. The peace process with
India has been reduced, in the words of an Indian friend with whom I have
just shared a regional workshop in Sri Lanka, to a cumbersome slow glacial
movement. Islamabad is repeatedly talking of Indian involvement in
Balochistan. If centrifugal forces develop momentum, they will pose a
problem even for friends like Iran and the United States. The potential of
Gwadar is large enough to generate an equal measure of hopes and fears in
the world beyond. There is a great game afoot and it will be yet another
crime in our chequered history if we do not read it accurately.
