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Mr Montefiore writes in his latest, Titans, “In the last half-century, many history teachers seem to enjoy making history as boring as possible, reducing it to the dreariness of mortality rates, tons of coal consumed per household and other economic statistics, but the study of any period in detail shows that the influence of character on events is paramount.”
He drove his point home: “In the 21st century, no one who looks at world history after 9/11 would now claim that the character of US President George W Bush was not decisive in its contribution… .”
From his father, Mr Bush inherited friends (Cheney), foes (Rumsfeld), demigods (Reagan) and demons (Saddam). And as a preppy Yalie from Connecticut, Mr Bush lost his first election — he succeeded only as a Texan who spat tobacco and enjoyed executions. Today, we live in his ruins.
For Mr Montefiore, character makes the man, and the man moulds the event. A theory that fits well with Pakistan — in a land of faltering institutions, it’s hard not to feel the tread of individuals.
For better or for worse: this time three years ago, the state was sagging under the combined load of President Zardari, PM Ashraf, and Justice Chaudhry.
But by the time 2014 rolled around, things were better than before: we had PM Sharif, General Sharif, and Justice Jillani. With the Supreme Court having gone clear off the rails, Justice Jillani brought back judicial restraint. But he also healed the land he’d been charged with, authoring a landmark judgment on minorities with breathtaking bravery.
The new army chief, too, turned the page — and what a page it was. General Raheel Sharif’s appointment came at the end of 2013, a year we saw bombs rip through Hazaras in Quetta, All Saints Church attacked in Peshawar, and mountaineers massacred in Nanga Parbat. The Quaid’s residency in Ziarat was set alight, and bombs went off in bazaars from Qissa Khawani to Anarkali.
And those were just the flashpoints. North Waziristan had been written off: badlands overrun by militias of all shapes and sizes. Down below, Karachi had become a blur of armed wings galore, with the blessing of our liberal parties. Southern Punjab, too, had fallen to sectarian mania, while Balochistan continued its silent sail adrift.
Everywhere, the state was in retreat. And the military, it was whispered, was complicit. Which is why, when General Sharif was awarded his fourth star in November 2013, the job carried more risk than reward.
Twenty months in, there is no precedent for what we are seeing: Chief 15 has stared back into the abyss and is pulling Pakistan out. As our conservatives now rally around Operation Zarb-e-Azb, it’s easy to forget the atmosphere last July. “Mazloom bhai,” Munawar’s JI cried. “Peace through talks,” Nawaz League’s negotiators said, even as the Taliban bombed our courts and stormed our airports.
It becomes evident to all now that North Waziristan was the mother ship — a reserve basement of maniacs waiting in the wings. General Sharif understood that, and the results have been striking. Civilian casualties are at their lowest since 2007; fatalities from suicide attacks are less than a tenth of what they were in 2013.
And that was Phase I. As the war in the north reached full throttle, Phase II saw the military rush headlong in Karachi.
The Rangers’ Karachi operation has thus far been big, controversial — and effective. According to data collected by the Citizens-Police Liaison Committee, killings have dropped by 60 per cent during 2015’s first seven months (as compared to last year). Kidnap-for-ransom has lessened by 83 per cent, bank robberies by 80 per cent, incidents of extortion by 70 per cent, and car hijacking by 50 per cent. Forced fitra collections in Ramazan have fallen from 134 last year to 18.
General Sharif, to borrow a line from the doomed General Petraeus, has put short sticks in a lot of hornets’ nests. And it’s time they swat the biggest hive of them all: Punjab. Phase III must start today — bashing our sectarian Satan in the south.
Only, it’ll take the civilians. Thus far, space ceded by the centre seems hilariously consensual. Like it or not, Islamabad has seldom been this pliant: it was this parliament that pushed through military courts, with not a thought towards reforming our civilian justice system. And it was Karachi’s lefty parties that lorded over ethnic bloodletting for five long years — Qaim Ali Shah extended the Rangers’ tenure himself last July.
This is distressing. It’s high time — in Pakistan’s eighth year of uninterrupted democracy — that the civilian leadership steps up. Our first line of defence, too, is the police in urban centres, not the military.
But by outsourcing all security issues to the armed forces, Islamabad contents itself with what’s close to its heart: how best to stall local bodies elections, how best to build a Metro in any place that’s left.
That’s no way to act when civilian heroes — the bravest and boldest — are already leading from the front, and sacrificing their all. As the shocking news pours in, Shuja Khanzada now joins the ranks of our Safwat Ghayurs and Bilal Omers, shaheeds who — towards the end of their lives — were driven by a higher calling.
In the time since he’d assumed the home ministry, Mr Khanzada was a man on a mission — drawing up some of the most ambitious plans in southern Punjab’s history, to put down militancy. His shahadat, and that of 18 others, must push the rest to this war’s most vital undertaking: curing Punjab for good.
And that’ll take more than just an all-out offensive (though that’s a start): the press that eulogises Mr Khanzada today must not obstruct madrassa reform tomorrow. The state that hems and haws over Punjabi militancy must also try facing the inequities (as well as the Gulf financiers) that fuel it.
To return to the thesis — that the man makes the moment — Mr Montefiore ended his intro by quoting Plutarch, “It is not histories I am writing, but lives … indeed a small thing like a phrase or jest often makes greater revelation of character than battles where thousands die.”
A day before he passed, Mr Khanzada said, “Countering sectarian militancy is my mission.” His words will not be in vain.
Published in The Express Tribune, August 18th, 2015.
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