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court reporting Baig’s last
exit Yeh Woh control Reaction
to action Tweet
a strike
court
reporting There has been a
time when as a thumb rule media in Pakistan was consciously cautious about
reporting matters that were sub judice. Take the cases of the judicial
validation and implicative (and devastating!) endorsement of martials law
(including when Pervez Musharraf took over in 1999 and Iftikhar Chaudhry
promptly assented to this act sitting robed in the Supreme Court), or the
trial of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto that sent the first elected leader of the
country to the gallows. Or the clinical ISI-sponsored dismissals of Benazir
Bhutto and Nawaz Sharif, the first elected prime ministers born after the
country’s foundation and therefore owned by post-Partition generations and
signifying the zeitgeist of a new Pakistan post-break up in 1971. These monumental events
have shaped Pakistan’s souring history, casting a chequered impact on every
single citizen and millions not even born yet. It doesn’t matter if the
number of journalists in the country was less than 2,000 when the last of
these events happened (Justice Chaudhry, along with other judges, not only
calmly validating General Musharraf’s putsch but, unbidden, formally giving
him carte blanche to amend the Constitution for a period of three years!)
while now it is over 17,000. Between the last of the above described cases in
courts — judicial endorsement of yet another martial law — and now, other
similarly epochal national events have occurred and landed in the superior
court for resolutionary judgment. From Musharraf’s strange
second coup against his own establishment, assault on the judiciary,
Benazir’s heartbreaking assassination, holding of two starkly contrasting
elections of 2002 and 2008, Musharraf’s humiliating resignation and the
simultaneous stellar rise of Asif Zardari to the presidency (the first time a
non-Establishment politician was in the office in 40 years), the astounding
treason allegation against Hussain Haqqani, the missing persons cases, the
case against ISI of macabre manipulation of politics filed by a former air
force chief, the case against holding of two offices by Zardari, the clinical
taking out of Osama Bin Laden by American military in Pakistan, the messy NRO
case, and the stunning disqualification of elected prime minister Yousaf Raza
Gilani — have all meant that the ‘court reporters’, as they are called
in Pakistan, have had no rest for years. Or, for that matter, the myriad
political commentators who style themselves as talk show hosts and merrily
confuse themselves as journalists. Five days a week, four
weeks a month and twelve months a year these media practitioners of Pakistan
either tasked with reporting on court-related issues or who assign to
themselves the task on commenting and analysing on what goes in the hallowed
precincts have been kept busy by the Supreme Court and the high courts in
their stretched out bout of judicial activism and aggression. The period in Pakistan’s
history starting with 2007 in general and the afternoon of March 9 when
Musharraf force-removed Chaudhry for the first time in particular, “court
reporting” has become a full-time profession with a pride of place within
the media establishment. Reporters even have a Supreme Court Reporters
Association whose members get feted by the justices and the registrar. The
steep ascension of court reporting is a direct outcome of judicial activism
of the past few years starting with the movement for ‘independence of
judiciary’ in 2007. While media organisations in Pakistan including TV
channels, newspapers and radio stations are not exactly noted for emphasizing
professionalism and seeking to train their staff to exercise restraint while
reporting matters pending adjudication, in this case the industry seems to be
struggling to cope with the push from the judges themselves for high profile
in the ‘stake of the soundbite’. In the competition to
report judicial activism aimed at the parliament and politics, the media is
offering more debate than ever before. When it comes to opinions, at times it
is difficult to ascertain where the judges begin and journalists end. There
is no restraint on reporting on court matters except when it comes to
criticising the judiciary. In this, the media and its reporters seem to be
catering the mood of the public (for more information about which judge has
taken action against which government politician) rather than public interest
(putting the judicial activism in context and questioning its
disproportionate hostility towards the parliament and executive). So if the media is tempered
by the restraint of Article 19 which prohibits undue criticism of the judges
(in addition to that of Allah and Army) and yet is forced to fill in the gaps
for analysis left blank by angry yet ambiguous legalese of court, the media
is then a victim of judicial activism itself. As judges in Pakistan take the
mantle of politics and behave like politicians, media has by default taken
over the mantle of judiciary and are behaving like judges, endorsing patently
partial positions and passing judgments on questions that promote a distorted
understanding of justice. By opting to, in general,
side with the controversial stance of the judiciary vis-a-vis the other
pillars of state (the prime minister disqualified by the judges when he
enjoyed a majority in the House, the unabashed assertion that judiciary not
parliament is supreme, or implying that the will of the representatives of
180m people is subjective to the opinion of 18 judges), the media is
betraying its profession instead of staying neutral and making an effort to
generate context, firming up the blurring line between fact and opinion, and
steering clear of mixing opinion and analysis. All this is not substitute for
clarity on issues that both judiciary and parliament seem to profoundly
differ on. The judges hold forth in
the court of law and the media in the court of public opinion. The irony is
that by their acts the judges in Pakistan are actually holding forth in the
court of public opinion, trying to mould it through shrill pronouncements and
unrestrained acerbic statements while journalists are, by default, holding
forth in the court of law by endorsing the views and opinions of judges
without impartial scrutiny in public interest and passing judgments on the
government’s performance.
Baig’s
last exit I heard the news of
Obaidullah Baig’s walkabout to the other side when I was sitting in Gilgit,
marvelling at the dark inky clouds floating through an otherwise blinking
starry night. I looked at the shadows of the rugged mountains all around and
imagined his spirit soaring above the great Karakorams, riding the clouds of
romance, travel, intellect and mindful freedom. He had made his last exit. Being a Hindko speaker from
the town of Mansehra, my Urdu is always punctuated with mispronounced words
that I speak with a slight Hindko accent. About a couple of years ago when I
was in Karachi, I told my friend Maheen Zia that I wanted to meet
‘Abaidullah’ Baig. At first she corrected my pronunciation, teaching me
the right way of pronouncing ‘Obaidullah’ with a big O and then very
kindly arranged a meeting for me. I was overjoyed. Finally, I was going to
meet the writer, the historian, the scholar, the TV personality, and for me
most importantly, the first travel documentary filmmaker in Pakistan. Growing up in the eighties,
I only knew Obaidullah Baig from his famous television quiz show “Kasoti”
where he sat with his signature glasses and a cultured mind, solving puzzles
for a delighted audience. He radiated intellect and wisdom and even at that
young age I knew he was a voracious reader for he seemed to know about
everything. I was in total awe of him and wanted to read a lot of books
myself so I could be like him, cerebrally brilliant. He became a role model,
someone I could relate to. Later on when I started
presenting a travel show on Pakistan television and started making my own
travel films, I learnt about Obaidullah Baig’s travel documentary series
called “Sailani kee Diary” (diary of a traveller) that he used to produce
for Pakistan television back in the seventies. He was the pioneer of travel
filmmaking in Pakistan and this revelation made me ecstatic. I was following
in the footsteps of my role model of yesteryear. He suddenly became more
important for me. I wanted to meet the man. But he lived in Karachi, far away
from Islamabad and I don’t think I was really that hot on his trail either.
So it took me a few years to finally meet him in person. It was to be our first and
the last meeting. On the way to his house, a
friend of Maheen who was accompanying us kept telling me about Obaidullah’s
physical strength despite his old age. “He is in his mid-seventies but is
built like a solid rock.” He kept saying, “You will know what I mean when
you will meet him, but you know, a few months ago he has had a heart attack
and he is recuperating from that. I hope he is good.” Somewhere in Clifton, we
turned onto a leafy boulevard and parked. It was an old white house emanating
an aesthetically sound architectural character. We were led through an open
courtyard into a sitting room. The décor of the room was simple yet tasteful
and of course there were books on the shelf. He entered the room clad in a
shalwar kameez, sporting a big smile, his eyes gleaming from behind those
familiarly big square glasses. Despite his ailment, he looked fresh and
robust, bursting with youthful energy. When we had settled down,
he straightaway asked me about my travel and film plans. I was pleasantly
surprised to know he had been following my travel shows on television and
wanted to know more about my projects. And then we kicked up a talking storm.
I asked him and he talked about his early life in Moradabad, India, before
partition, his Turkic ancestry, his time in Pakistan television and radio,
his travel films and environment related documentaries that he shot on 16 mm
cameras while travelling all over Pakistan, his scholarly pursuits, his love
for books and history, his two historical novels and finally about a travel
series that he had recently produced for Pakistan Television. He became more animated and
relaxed as the evening progressed. I
told him I wanted to see his old work that was gathering dust in PTV archives
and he became very excited and reassured me he will help me get my hands on
that old film stock. As we talked more my
admiration for this brilliant man grew manifold and I thought to myself, now
here is a truly evolved human being, someone who is amazingly content from
within and surely at peace with the world outside. During this time, we were
plied with a lavish high tea and also had a brief chat with his wife Salma
Baig who was also a well-known television show host for PTV. She was charming
as ever and sat with us on and off throughout the evening. For many years, I had
harboured this desire of jointly producing and co-hosting a travel show with
Obaidullah Baig and now at this most opportune moment as he sat right next to
me in person, I felt jitters on proposing such a venture to him. And towards
the end of the evening, when I finally put forth the proposal, he was simply
delighted at the prospect of doing a travel series with me. Even though we
made plans of meeting up again, exchanged emails and phone numbers and I
promised to email him the brief of the proposed show, somehow I had this
feeling I was never going to see him again. Obaidullah Baig then rose
from his chair, went inside the house and came back into the room holding a
copy of his novel, “Aur Insan Zinda Hai”. “I have signed it for you.”
He smiled as he handed me the book and I thanked him profusely. He came outside in the
courtyard to see us off and as I embraced Obaidullah Baig for the first and
last time, I realised I was saying goodbye to one of the last few giants
standing tall among many little men. Zygotepoet@hotmail.com
Missing a flight
could be socially enriching and possibly a life changing experience.
Doesn’t always happen, but it could. It happened at
Islamabad’s tiny, crowded and thoroughly mismanaged airport the other day.
The Karachi flight was to leave at 10 am. At 9.20 when the check-in counters
were at their busiest, it was announced that the flight was full and
therefore the rest of passengers could go take a walk … to Karachi if they
wished. Pakistanis have come to
expect only the worst when dealing with a government-run organisation but
this was beyond worst; this was obscene. A bunch of full fare paying
passengers with a confirmed reservation status was being told their seats had
already been taken! Who took our seats? How? Why? All hell broke loose.
Alarmed passengers abandoned queues and pushed and shoved their way forward
to plead their individual circumstances. As minutes passed the crowd became
more agitated and accusatory. Those who could not get close to the counter,
launched an assault of their own by shouting at anyone in uniform. Anger has
its own momentum, and it provides its own justification. A woman calmly approached
me, asked me if I was one of the confirmed passengers who were denied
boarding, and then told me what was coming. She’d been to the ticketing
office and was told she’ll have to have an endorsement that the
cancellation of ticket is due to no fault of the passenger, to avoid a fine
equal to half the ticket price. She seemed concerned and I suspect mildly
excited too. She was tall and had the easy grace of a born leader. She
recruited me as her first troop and we presented ourselves to the pink-clad
check-in clerk who had refused her a boarding pass ‘before’ the official
closure of the flight. The pink clerk plainly refused to testify. The leader
persisted until pink’s supervisor intervened: ‘It is our fault, why
should they pay a penalty for it. The least you can do in compensation is to
write the endorsement,’ he addressed his colleague earnestly. Pink clerk signed her name
on the back of 18 tickets that morning. These passengers were all leader’s
find. They were men and (majority) women who didn’t have the means or the
inclination to shove and shout. They were sitting and watching and waiting
for things long after the flight and the angry protesters had departed. We
became a group. Without an apparent leader and without a budget or
constitution, but with one clearly defined purpose: we had to make the
airline admit it was at fault and not us. It meant not having to pay a fine,
and be given seats on the next available flight on preferential basis. Those who have tried it
know government servants can’t be made to talk sense. Every official
started by accusing us of missing the flight because we were late. We would
present our arguments and evidence to prove the opposite. They would pass us
to the next high official and the same conversation will start all over
again. The middle managers were most offended by the fact that a lowly staff
member had written on every ticket what they were denying forcefully. The shift in-charge crossed
out all endorsements before returning us our tickets, and reported the matter
to the big boss. Not the matter of ‘chance passengers given seats ahead of
confirmed passengers’, as we learnt in the course of the day, but the
matter of unsuitable behaviour of pink who was promptly marched into the big
boss’ office where she was reportedly given a proper dressing down and her
supervisor was suspended. ‘It’s time for
action,’ chanted a female student brimming with energy harvested from a
week long trekking expedition in GB. We had an operational meeting to decide
how we were going to tackle the big boss. Our information was our ammunition
and we had plenty of it, thanks to the honeymoon couple and leader’s
trusted source — her husband — who had access to civil aviation records.
We knew the last passenger boarded the plane at 9:55, half an hour after some
in our group were refused boarding. We had all the details of the manifest
according to which 69 chance passengers were accommodated … Before the big showdown, a
family of five left the group. We pushed ahead and managed to persuade the
station head into accepting fault and taking remedial action. Thirteen strangers took
five hours to achieve a goal together. A majority of us had never done this
before. But may often do it in future. masudalam@yahoo.com
control Senator Farhatullah
Babar, who is also spokesperson for the president of Pakistan, submitted a
19-page draft of a bill in his individual capacity in the Senate a few weeks
back to make the ISI answerable to the prime minister and the parliament. The bill explains the
reason to have such legislation. It says that the absence of
appropriate legislation regulating the functioning, duties, powers and
responsibilities of the agency is not consistent with the principles of
natural justice and accountability of authority and power, and has given rise
to resentment against the premier national agency. The proposed ISI
(Functions, Powers and Regulations) Act 2012 suggests that the agency shall
be controlled directly by the prime minister and its director general (a
serving or retired civil servant or an armed forces official) to be appointed
by the president on recommendations of the prime minister for four years. The
bill also suggests forming a parliamentary committee comprising nine members
from both the houses of the parliament to look into matters related to
administration, expenditure and policy of the agency. The proposed bill also has
some clauses which aim to empower the ISI to deal with terrorism as it
proposes that the DG ISI may issue written orders for taking into preventive
custody any person who, in his opinion, is acting or has acted in furtherance
of a terrorist act or in a manner prejudicial to the security of Pakistan, or
has aided or abetted any such act. The ISI chief should fix the period of
custody, not exceeding 30 days, in the order of preventive detention and this
can be extended up to 90 days on special grounds. The bill furthers suggests
an accountability mechanism and a better discipline system to end enforced
disappearances and victimisation of political parties and appointment of an
ombudsman to address service complaints of the employees of the ISI and any
complaints of misuse of authority by the ISI or its employees. The bill, which according
to many was a serious effort to restructure the ISI which has always remained
under criticism, surprisingly was withdrawn by Farhatullah Babar on July 9,
2012, only a day before discussion in the Senate. The PPP circles say the
bill would again be put up and it was withdrawn only because Farhatullah
Babar did not get approval of the special committee that look into all
private members bills. “Private members bills must be vetted by the
committee. It is a very sensitive bill and needs a lot of discussion and
deliberations before tabling in the parliament,” a senior leader of the PPP
tells TNS. He says Pakistan is among
the few countries of the world where no law exists to govern the intelligence
agencies. “All intelligence agencies in Pakistan, including the ISI, were
set up by executive orders and no legislation was made later to bring them
under the law, so their acts cannot be scrutinised by any law in Pakistan.
There is a dire need to bring these agencies under the law.” Senator Haji Adeel, senior
vice-president of the ANP, says that he has not read the proposed bill, but
the ISI works as a state within the state. “Its political wing has been
misused, while its role to guard the state was questioned after events like
OBL episode, attacks on the GHQ and Naval Headquarters and many other such
incidents. It should be answerable to the prime minister and the
parliament.” This is not the first
effort of this government to bring the ISI under civilian control. In 2008,
ex-premier Yousaf Gilani issued a notification to place the ISI under the
control of the Interior Ministry, but he had to withdraw the notification
within hours after the powerful army objected to the move. Opposition political
parties, including the PML-N, also opposed that action of the government and
sided with the establishment on the issue. According to some PML-N sources,
Mian Nawaz Sharif, who is considered the strongest anti-establishment voice
in Pakistan these days, repents his decision to support an independent ISI at
that time. “The PML-N strongly
believes that the ISI should be brought under the civilian control, but the
PPP needs to create consensus on the issue before taking it to the
parliament. It is a serious issue and needs serious deliberations,” a
senior leader of the PML-N says. “This is not the right time to fight with
establishment. The PML-N believes that Farhatullah Babar had tabled the bill
on the behest of President Zardari. Babar withdrew it after facing extreme
pressure from all sides, including political and military opposition,” he
says. Security and political
analysts term it an immature move. “All the major political groups should
have been brought on the same page before tabling such a bill,” says Dr
Hassan Askari Rizvi. “It is true that all political parties believe in the
supremacy of parliament, but the timing of this move is very crucial. No
political party would like to annoy the military establishment when general
elections are only a few months away.” He suggests that political
forces need to have dialogue with the military establishment regarding these
changes. “Without taking the military establishment on board, it will be
too difficult for the government to work on such legislation.” He says it is true that it
was a private members bill and there is no indication that the party was
consulted at any level before tabling this bill, “but Farhatullah Babar is
also spokesperson for the president and there is a strong perception that the
bill was tabled on the behest of the presidency.” PPP Senator Saeed Ghani
says it is a private members bill and was not discussed in the party. “But
I believe that this is the right time to put intelligence agencies under the
control of civilians. It would also help the ISI and other agencies to reform
their image inside and outside the country.”
Reaction
to action Blood stains on the
walls of the rooms of a two-storey building with a grey façade in Rasool
Park, Lahore, reminded its visitors of last Thursday’s bloodbath, when six
terrorists entered this rented building early morning on July 12, 2012, and
indiscriminately opened fire on the young jail warders, killing nine and
injuring around a dozen. The victims, all in early
twenties, were the new recruits of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa jails. They were
undergoing their first training session in Lahore’s Jail Staff Training
Academy for the past few weeks, which was scheduled to end on July 28, 2012. The warders, around 32,
hosted in small hostel rooms in a congested part of the city with shops and
houses on both sides of the street, were mostly from different jails of the
KP province. They used to walk the one kilometre distance between their
hostel and the training school on foot everyday. They became easy prey of
Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) militants in the recent wave of terrorism
that has gripped the country. The TTP, claiming
responsibility for the attack, said it was done in retaliation. “Policemen
are brutally torturing our men inside prisons in Punjab,” a TTP spokesman
said, adding, “Taliban never forgive or forget.” Warning of more attacks in
future, the TTP spokesperson said, “There is no place our men can’t
reach.” This is the third major
attack by terrorists in the populous province of Punjab. They have also
attacked a Pakistan Army search camp on the banks of River Chanab near Gujrat,
killing seven soldiers, and targeting one security personnel of the Punjab
chief minister. “These strikes are not
new,” views Muhammad Amir Rana, executive director Pakistan Institute for
Peace Studies (PIPS). “These groups of Taliban were dormant in the past few
months after the deaths of different key leaders of Taliban like Badar
Mansoor and Qari Hussain. These leaders had been killed in drone strikes,”
he says. “Now it seems they have
trained a new batch of activists and jihadis, especially in Punjab, with some
new leaders,” Rana says. “These groups will try to hit security forces
wherever they find an opportunity, especially the places where these forces
are exposed and vulnerable.” Rana explains, “They are
following the same pattern of attacks with some changes. Previously, they
were sending suicide attackers or besieging the forces. This time, they come,
spray bullets and run away.” Rana says that terrorist
activities across Pakistan decreased in 2011. “Even in Punjab, there was
significant 65 per cent decrease in terrorism in 2011 as compared to 2010.
How much this wave of new violence is linked to the Nato supply is yet to be
seen?” Living in a miserable
condition in the rented hostel, most of the trainees used to sleep on mats on
the floor. Many used to sleep on the rooftop in summer and humid weather.
Those sleeping on the rooftop managed to escape the well-planned attack.
Eyewitnesses say they saw six masked attackers on three motorbikes who
completed their operation in 10 to 15 minutes before escaping. Khawaja Khalid Farooq,
former Inspector General Police of Punjab, who is heading Islamabad’s
National Counterterrorism Authority (NACTA), says lack of coordination,
political will and weak administration are major reasons behind these
attacks. “We still need a comprehensive counterterrorism policy. We have
guidelines, but no policy.” He says the offshoots of
Lashkar-e-Jhangvi are involved in attacks in Punjab and there is no effective
crackdown against them. “Local administration is not responding actively to
counter the activities of these elements.” vaqargillani@gmail.com
Tweet
a strike “Everyone must
subscribe. The government officials are trying to break our Facebook networks
so that we may not convey our messages to our fellow doctors. Pages may be
removed or blocked. Add or subscribe to this profile. It’s a must,” reads
a Facebook page called ‘YDA Docs’. In this age of social
media, nothing is more than a click away. With revolutions and movements like
the ‘Occupy Wall Street Movement’ being planned over social networking
websites like Facebook, and with Youtube serving as a tool for the
revolutionaries to communicate with the outside world during ‘The Egyptian
Revolution’, it is safe to say that it only takes a few seconds to
communicate with millions around the globe. Such is the story of the
recent Young Doctors’ Movement, which was organised through widespread
social media campaigns over Facebook, Youtube, Twitter, text messages (SMS)
and the much popular Blackberry Messenger. “Various junior doctors
were assigned the task of communicating to other members of the association
via text messages and Facebook. The task of communication was not only
limited to the executive members and college representatives. While most of
the executive members and representatives faced police lockdowns, members of
the Young Doctors Association’s student wings as well as those prospective
members pursuing degrees in medicine abroad were responsible for updating our
pages,” explains Dr. Nasir Abbas, spokesperson for the Young Doctors
Association, Punjab. The YDA claims that its
network is spread across every medical institution in Punjab. “Dear All.
From tomorrow onwards, we are going to start a series of protests on
different days in different teaching hospitals of Lahore,” said a text
message and Facebook wall post on June 24, 2012, detailing the protest plan. Such text messages,
Facebook and Twitter posts are circulated and updated on a regular basis by
the members of the Young Doctors Association to keep every member of the
movement informed. When asked how did the
receivers of such text messages and posts respond, Abdullah Abbasi, a senior
at the Rawalpindi Medical College and a member of the Young Doctors
Association’s student wing, says: “It was very simple to get everyone
together once we received these alerts. The YDA members had to send texts to
one person in every ward and one class representative in every class. All
wards and classes were officially divided into various clinical batches as
per their clinical rotation in various departments. So the representative in
that ward or class would send the text to the batch representative and the
batch representative would then send it to the whole batch. It was very
simple and easy since everyone had to inform 15-20 people.” Abbasi adds that the
response to such messages and posts was always overwhelming. He says: “The
reason as to why everyone responded promptly and showed up at each procession
was because all of us believe that we were being treated unfairly. The
government sent us a written notice last year promising us a proper service
structure. However, we are still awaiting such a reform.” The YDA has divided its
social media campaign into several chapters. They have several groups and
Facebook pages operated by various members of the hierarchy. While Closed
Groups and Profiles are specifically operated to inform the young doctors
about various protests, the ‘Young Doctors Association (YDA)’ page is
liked by over 11,000 Facebook users all of whom are not members of the
medical fraternity. This page is specifically designed to update the
followers about the developments made during the ongoing doctors movement.
Furthermore, every medical institution has its own Facebook group and page. The role of the social
media isn’t only limited to communication during movements like that of the
Young Doctors Association. Social groups, politicians and media personalities
prefer using networking websites to voice their opinions. Abbasi adds: “We were
severely criticised on television channels, which reported false information
fed by government authorities. Our presence on Facebook and Twitter allowed
us to bounce back and spread our version of the story to the people.”
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