The Baloch predicament
By Tanvir Ahmad Khan
Mon, 25 Sep 2006, 10:05:00

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 landmass 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 judgments. 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-i-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 that still has 77 per cent rural population by the bootstrap 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 the 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." 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.

(The writer is a former foreign secretary.) Source: The Dawn