The Tribune, Chandigarh, India

Uniform development
Hooda can’t afford bias in allocations

Haryana Chief Minister Bhupinder Singh Hooda called it a “Vikas Rally”. It was an occasion to announce development schemes for the backward district of Jind, which in any case should have been granted many of those initiatives — road upgrades, colleges and veterinary facilities — long ago, given the overall progress of the state. While the government may seek credit for paying attention to the district now, it cannot deny the fact that Jind, along with five or six other large districts of the state, has been neglected for long. Leaving motives of attention or neglect aside, what needs to be seen is if the projects — which have as yet only been “announced” — would materialise. The cash-starved state has often had trouble completing even projects that have been launched, including a few prestigious ones in the NCR region.

Geography is a factor that has played a major role in the distribution of funds in the state. There are districts that are served — and thus boosted — by GT Road, while nine come under the NCR region, for which there are special funds available from the Centre. That leaves out the western and central Haryana, which has vast stretches devoid of any industrial or infrastructural development. No wonder then, these are also the districts in which the Opposition has gained ground, something the government seems to be now realising as it gets into the second half of its tenure. Hints of rift within the ruling Congress over these issues also does not bode well for Hooda, who may want to regain the party’s hold.

To blame the present government alone for the state of the backward districts may not be fair, as this is the result of neglect over decades. The result is not just lack of economic but also social development. Some of the ills, such as feuds and atrocities fuelled by caste issues, are particularly rampant in these very districts. That is not a coincidence. Where there is destitution, there will be unrest and a bigoted approach. The Hooda government seems to be realising this, if only it would deliver on its word.

Patnaik’s tough stand
Dissidents at bay for now

THE recent suspension of Pyarimohan Mohapatra from the Biju Janata Dal by Chief Minister Naveen Patnaik and the sacking of three ministers who were deemed to be close to Mohapatra marks a watershed in Odisha politics. For nearly 12 years Mohapatra was Naveen Patnaik’s closest adviser and confidante. The IAS-turned personal secretary of the Chief Minister who is now a Rajya Sabha member had been drifting from Patnaik for some time. That he organised a meeting of over 30 BJD legislators, including three ministers, ostensibly in a bid to topple the Naveen Patnaik government when the Chief Minister was away to London propelled Patnaik, to cut short his visit and deal with the looming crisis. Though Mohapatra denies that he was conspiring against Patnaik, his claims sound unconvincing. In that light, Patnaik can be credited with decisive action that has perhaps nipped the incipient revolt in the bud at least for now. Whether Mohapatra was acting at the behest of the Congress only time will tell. But there is no doubt that the Congress has scores to settle with Naveen Patnaik who has increasingly been hobnobbing with anti-Congress forces.

Clearly, as the battle between Patnaik and Mohapatra rages, much dirty linen would be washed in public. Already, while Patnaik’s supporters are alleging that a whopping Rs 200 crore had been generated to fund Mohapatra’s rebellion by the mining lobby in Odisha, the rebel leader has claimed that despite repeated requests in the past, Patnaik had not consented to probe the role of politicians in the mining scam. A verdict on whether the CBI should be allowed to enquire into the mining scam has been reserved in the Odisha High Court. If the court rules in favour of a probe more skeletons could tumble out of the cupboard.

For Naveen Patnaik the Lok Sabha and assembly elections in 2014 will be a test of his charisma and organisational skills. Not only would he be without his closest aide but he would also have to fight anti-incumbency. The Congress is a distant second in the present Assembly with 27 seats against the BJD’s 103, but it would do everything possible to defeat the ruling party, including seeking help from BJD dissidents. The BJP, which got a mere six seats with 15 per cent of the votes, could be a crucial factor in a close contest.

Thought for the Day

The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire.

— Ferdinand Foch

ARTICLE

The changing face of Egypt
It is regaining its traditional role
by S. Nihal Singh

THE Arab Spring is at a tantalising point in Egypt, with former President Hosni Mubarak sentenced to life imprisonment for his complicity in the killings in the 10 days of unrest that brought him down. His Interior Minister, Habib el-Adly, was given a similar sentence, but his sons Ala and Gamal were acquitted of corruption as were a string of senior Interior Ministry officials for their roles.

Initial celebrations over Mubarak’s sentence turned to fist fights in the Cairo courtroom with disappointment turning into frustration with the acquittal of most officials and Mubarak’s deeply unpopular sons. Expectedly, the protesters found their way to Tahrir Square to give vent to their anger. Mohamed Morsi, the Muslim Brotherhood candidate slated to face off with Ahmed Shafik, the last Prime Minister of Mubarak, in the second round of the presidential election later this month made most of the public mood.

Two questions arise. The sentencing of Mubarak, historic in its symbolism in the Arab world, is only the beginning of a long process of appeals and perhaps reversal of sentences amidst suspicions that the legal system, traditionally bent to favour the autocratic ruler, remains compromised. Second, events in Egypt reveal how difficult it is to change a system of autocracy honed over generations to a more democratic dispensation.

There is little fear that Egypt and the Arab world can go back to the bad old days, but the realisation is growing that the road ahead is full of obstacles and even temporary setbacks as the old order tries to retain its powers and privileges. In Egypt, the major factor is the military establishment, the power behind the throne since at least the deposition of King Farouk. The respectful manner in which candidates campaigning in the first round of the presidential election treated the armed forces was a striking revelation that no candidate wished to invite the wrath of the powerful military, with its vast economic power.

It is well recognised that despite the promise that the military would hand over power to a civilian dispensation by the end of this month, it has no intention of giving up the many levers of power it enjoys. As it happens, a new constitution has still to be framed demarcating presidential powers vis-à-vis parliament in which the Muslim Brotherhood has secured roughly half the seats. In fact, the Brotherhood’s decision to go back on its promise not to contest the presidency was probably determined by the fear that the military might give the presidency vast powers to defend its own interest thus downgrading the potency of parliament.

Shafik, Mubarak’s last prime minister, remains the only candidate facing Morsi in the presidential election and the growing popular antipathy to him would imply an easy win for the Brotherhood. But the fact that Shafik was able to defeat a whole string of competitors, including a liberal who came close to beating him, signifies that a person or party promising law and order and stability has a constituency. In fact, more than a year of turmoil, killings and often uncontrolled protests have taken their toll on ordinary Egyptians and their ability to earn their livelihood, and both Shafik and Amr Moussa, the former Mubarak foreign minister, sought to exploit this feeling.

The lessons of Egypt, the essential contest between the old forces often coalesced into the military establishment and the new forces, in the main represented by different degrees of Islamist tendencies, are applicable in different degrees to the Arab world. Tunisia, the precursor of the Arab Spring, has made its peace, with the main Islamist force co-opting other more liberal tendencies into a coalition. But Tunisia is a relatively small country, which has had liberal independence leaders with the foresight to modernise and humanise the traditions of Islam.

Other Arab states’ problems are grittier and the main modernisation that has taken place is through the armed forces content to let the religious establishments function under strict limits and suppressing forces such as the Muslim Brotherhood, which found its vocation in looking after medical and food needs of the poor. In Egypt, what is now shaping up is a contest between the Brotherhood and the military, with the liberal forces having no option but to side with the former in the short term.

Syria represents a special case. The minority Alawite family dynasty of the Assads rules over a diverse religious and ethnic map, and considering its strategic location vis-à-vis Israel, joined at the hip with the United States, brings several geopolitical factors into play. Adjoining Lebanon is already feeling the tremors of the turmoil in Syria. Rebel fighters and interested neighbours and outside powers are fighting it out in streets and towns of the country, with mediator Kofi Annan’s observers providing a thin dividing line between anarchy and a nebulous peace.

Syria and other countries are on the boil in the region as the Gulf monarchies try to build a cordon sanitaire around themselves, also taking in vulnerable Bahrain and Jordan. The question is not merely of change but the kind of change on offer.

One aspect of the battle represents the contest between the power of the armed forces and Islamist forces. The other is how far modernising and liberal forces can make their mark in a new Arab world of greater freedom.

Egypt is at the heart of this argument because, after losing its primacy in the Arab world through the compromises it had to make on the issue of Israel for domestic reasons, it is regaining its traditional role as it has followed quickly on Tunisia to give the Arabs the prospect of a brave new world. One problem is the primacy Islamists will seek and enjoy, and the other the battles the military establishment will fight to retain their privileges. The outcome of this battle will determine the shape of the Arab world for many years to come. It promises to be an arduous battle. The old guard might be down, but it is not out. History tells us that vested interests will fight for their privileges till the bitter end.

MIDDLE

Behind the shades
by Rajbir Deswal

IT is not necessary that you wear those shades or goggles and you may not be thought of as one from the CID. However, one thing is sure to happen --- you will not be considered as one of those who look or seem to be normal if you have ‘coloured vision’ of any shade.

We Indians have not till date adapted ourselves to wearing sun-glasses, blinkers or aviators as need be. We use these only when want to show off, or to express flamboyance, confirming ones fukrapan — the happy-go-lucky attitude!

In a Haryanvi setting, if you accompany a ‘barat’ — a marriage party — you need the shades to ogle at girls on the other side of the bridegroom, to avoid strict glances by elders. It is, therefore, not surprising that the label on the glasses is not removed, for it gives added shine to the frame which simple villagers cannot part with.

Those assigned the job of VIP security, without being watched by anyone, also use these blinkers to keep a watch on undesirable elements. It’s a different matter that they grab all the eyeballs — sometimes more than the VIP himself or herself.

Apart from your choice of frames, you need to measure up to your size of the nose also, to have the bridge of the shades rest gleefully and comfortably on it. Otherwise a mismatch of an ill-fitting frame shows more than what it is trying to hide — your lousy style in particular.

A strange thing in the Indian bureaucracy is that it is considered to be an affront to an officer if you are wearing shades. You cannot talk to your senior donning those blinkers, for it amounts to indulging in indiscipline. In the West, all service-rendering employees wear shades, from drivers to firemen — mostly need-based.

Wearing stylish blinkers in discotheques or during stage performance in night parties is quite in vogue in the West. We too have it in our Bollywood flicks.

If only he wore those black blinkers, Dhritrashtra would have looked less confused in the Mahabharta serial and would not have time and again exclaimed, “Ye kya ho raha hai! Ye kya ho raha hai!” Also he could have got one Gucci brand for his better-half Gandhari so as to make her ‘look’ more presentable to him than she looked after wearing a band on her eyes.

Goggles in Bollywood movies have made a different sense to people at different times. But these have always added glam. Rajesh Khanna in Andaaz had a typical style of wearing his goggles on the middle glen of his nose. It was a hit style with the youth of those times. And remember Raj Kapoor in Mera Naam Joker who sang, “Chashma utaro fir dekho yaro, duniya nayi hai chehra purana.”

And here is one of the most misunderstood Bollywood numbers – Teri pyari pyari soorat ko kisi ki nazar na lage, chashm-e-bad-door. Which just means that the evil eye be damned and should not affect the beauty of the beloved.

Shades, blinkers, goggles, aviators, sunglasses or sunspecs, whatever these are called, have a mystery of sorts attached to them.

OPED — PAKISTAN

Drivers of religious militancy
In today's world, many of the religious militants do not necessarily come from war zones. But like many fighters foreign to the conflict theatres to which they gravitate, they see images of injustice, or have friends or family ‘there’, and feel it obligatory to help out.
M. Zaidi

IN a report titled “The Sociology and Psychology of Terrorism,” published in 1999 by the Federal Research Division of the Library of Congress, social scientists had warned that “Al-Qaeda's expected retaliation for the US cruise missile attack against Al-Qaeda's training facilities in Afghanistan on Aug 20, 1998, could take several forms of terrorist attack in the nation's capital."

Thus, even before 9/11, social scientists had come to grips with the etiology of terrorism, but 9/11 accelerated the process. The PsycINFO database, the largest psychology database in the world with entries dating back to the 1880s, shows that post-9/11 research on the phenomenon surpassed that of all the past years combined.

Several findings now find currency in social science, which suggest that compared to the ordinary citizen, terrorists do not exhibit unusually high rates of clinical psychopathology, irrationality, or personality disorders. Indeed, as shown by John Horgan in “Terrorists, Victims and Society: Psychological Perspectives on Terrorism and Its Consequences”, which has been edited by Andrew Silke, the archetypical "terrorist personality" is misconceived on shaky empirical grounds. In fact, sustainable terrorist activity requires a certain amount of ingenuity in evading the law, choosing targets, ensuring supplies of explosives and improvisation, and indeed a supply-chain management capability of a level not incomparable to a successful corporate manager running a successful company which also evades taxes, an analogy to the terrorists also evading the law in their own context.

Nasr Hassan put it succinctly during a 2002 lecture: "What is frightening is not the abnormality of those who carry out the suicide attacks, but their sheer normality."

Another report, the American National Research Council's “Terrorism: Perspectives from the Behavioural and Social Sciences”, says: "There is no single or typical mentality - much less a specific pathology of terrorists. However, terrorists apparently find significant gratification in the expression of generalised rage."

This rage sometimes relates to events close to the terrorist's perception horizon. Researcher Ariel Merari, for instance, found higher incidences of terrorist tendencies in Palestinian suicide bombers that had at least one relative or close friend killed or injured.

There is also a demographic profile. It has been shown time and time again that terrorists tend to belong to a male cohort between 15 and 30 years of age, the same that is likely to commit general crime, and the one least likely to be daunted by use of coercive force by the other side. Thus, it is not a coincidence that most commanders and diehard cadres of the Taliban in Pakistan tended to be within the same cohort.

Beyond that, there is no other template into which we can fit terrorists or their behavioural patterns. However, ideology has a definite part to play. The influential thinker Nichole Argo argues that ideological beliefs such as religious extremism do not "go out" to mould individuals, but exist as "sets of ideas that 'are there', as if on the shelves of a supermarket waiting for someone to make them their own". Individuals who are not able to interpret their environment, or in other words do not find solace in the material world without these ideals, adopt this available ideology. It is not just the adoption of extremist ideas which comforts such individuals, but core values such as fighting for life, and giving it up for dignity and equality also bestow an emotional reward which is critical in itself.

"We need to be asking new questions," she writes. "For what are normal individuals able to kill? A plausible answer is: their community, under threat. When does a person make costly sacrifices to do so? Within a social structure - a terror cell, a military unit, a family, or group of friends - that continually regenerates conviction to a cause, a feeling of obligation to do something about it, and a sense of shame at the idea of letting each other down. Whether one lands in a social group with religious-militant tendencies may be random. But the prerequisite for this path is perceived injustice.

We live in a connected world no matter where we are, and religious militants are no exception. Argo narrates an interview with a militant who had joined the intifada because of television , reaching a conclusion that the ummah was threatened: "The difference between the first intifada and the second is television. Before, I knew when we were attacked here, or in a nearby camp, but the reality of the attacks everywhere else was not so clear. Now, I cannot get away from Israel - the TV brings them into my living room…And you can't turn the TV off. How could you live with yourself? At the same time, you can't ignore the problem - what are you doing to protect your people? …We live with an internal struggle. Whether you choose to fight or not, every day is this internal struggle."

How many times have we seen programmes on television and inadvertently thought "this has happened to me". What we see on television will be tinged with more reality if we relate to it to begin with, even if we were watching fiction. Thus affective reactions and cognitive appraisals shape our perception of reality after experiencing media such as television. We tend to interpret characters on the screen compared to how we feel about the topic to begin with. Thus, if you felt an empathy with the images of what you perceive as your group under attack, there are bright chances that you would interpret these images as the truth.

In today's world, many of the religious militants do not necessarily come from war zones. But like many fighters foreign to the conflict theatres to which they gravitate, they see images of injustice, or have friends or family 'there', and feel obligated to help out. Such is the alluring appeal of group solidarity.

By arrangement with Dawn, Islamabad.

Need for local responses
Huma Yusuf

LAST week, the Gilgit-Baltistan Legislative Assembly issued a “Code of Conduct” aimed at stemming sectarian violence in the region.

The first of its kind, the law is a good example of what the state response to soaring sectarian violence should have been all along. There are indeed considerable difficulties in enforcing such a code and ensuring that violators are prosecuted. But the symbolic weight of the legislation is significant in a country where militants belonging to sectarian outfits roam free, convene rallies and prop up politicians of mainstream political parties.

Moreover, the fact that the code was enacted at a regional level is important - given the various incarnations of sectarian tensions across Pakistan, it is essential that the issue be addressed at a local level.

The 15-point Gilgit-Baltistan code prohibits imams from issuing fatwas against other sects or using mosque loudspeakers for any purpose other than sounding the call to prayer. All manner of hate speech, particularly during the Friday and Eid sermons, has also been outlawed. In fact, the code compels clerics to declare that the killing of members of other sects is haram. Further, religious leaders are banned from harbouring terrorists, collecting funds on behalf of sectarian organisations and demanding government jobs and other state resources along sectarian lines. Those who violate the code will be tried under the Anti-Terrorism Act.

The issuance of this fairly comprehensive code at a local rather than federal level sets an important precedent. The fact is, that sectarian tensions are fuelled by a variety of hyper-local factors in addition to ideological differences, including ethnic, economic and political dynamics. The specific provisions of the Gilgit-Baltistan code seek to address issues that fuel sectarianism in the region. Similarly tailor-made codes are urgently required at the provincial (or even district) level elsewhere across the country.

This column focuses on the dynamics of Sunni-Shia violence in various parts of Pakistan, but the same principle - the need for local legislation to counter religiously motivated violence - could equally apply to other forms of religiously motivated violence against Ahmadis, Hindus, Christians and Barelvi Sunnis.

Given the social, geographic, ethnic and linguistic heterogeneity of Pakistan's Shia population, it would be difficult to coin an effective, one-size-fits-all legislation against sectarian violence at the federal level. The first challenge would be the differences in the relative social capital of Shias in different parts of the country: in the urban centres of Sindh and Punjab, Shias - most of whom are immigrants from northern India - are affluent, literate and well-integrated into political, bureaucratic and corporate hierarchies.

In the rural areas, on the other hand, the perception is that Shias are often poor and have a lower literacy rate than the national average. Such distinct populations would obviously need different sorts of protections from sectarian violence.

Each part of Pakistan also has unique ethnic, political and criminal dynamics within which sectarian tensions play out. For example, sectarian violence in Karachi is compounded by the city's ongoing turf wars over land resources. Members of rival sects are targeted on ideological grounds, but also as part of broader tussles. Sectarian violence in the city is further fuelled by the high levels of urban weaponisation, a factor that also influences other kinds of violence.

In Balochistan, anti-Shia sectarian violence has an ethnic dimension. Currently, Hazaras are persecuted for their beliefs, but long before this sectarian aspect flared up, they were ostracised for their ethnicity. Discernable by their Asian features, Hazaras have been treated as members of a de facto lower caste since the 19th century and — barring some exceptions — forced to do menial jobs and denied social mobility. They have been branded 'outsiders' owing to their Mongol lineage. In the present context, their ethnicity also makes it easier to identify and thus target them along sectarian lines.

Criminal dynamics has also been known to fuel sectarian violence. The current resurgence of Sunni-Shia violence can be traced back to the mid-2000s, when the Taliban, who subscribe to the Deobandi school of thought, began instigating violence against the Shias of Parachinar in the Kurram Agency. No doubt, elements within the Taliban, especially the so-called Punjabi Taliban, were motivated by anti-Shia ideology, but there was also a pragmatic element to their sectarianism.

At the time, the emerging Fata-based Pakistani Taliban movement was seeking connections to the Punjab-based militant groups that had long promoted an anti-Shia mandate. Moreover, the Taliban wanted access to routes into Afghanistan via Kurram, which the local Shias were blocking. By 2010, Taliban fighters from North Waziristan were participating in local sectarian clashes in Kurram in the hope of securing safe passage across the Durand Line.

In addition to social, ethnic and criminal dynamics, legislation seeking to stem sectarian violence should accommodate for the different sources of funding for militant groups. Some receive international support, others rely on charitable donations collected in mosques and madarsahs, and still others resort to extortion, kidnapping and other criminal activities. Arguably, legislation that tackles specific forms of fundraising is likely to be more successful in clamping down on sectarian violence rather than general, federal-level edicts banning sectarian groups.

Finally, local laws should take account of the broader political context in which sectarian groups operate. In southern Punjab, the consolidated power of Shia landlords had led parties seeking political inroads into the area to link up with anti-Shia militant groups. And in Karachi, broad Shia support for the MQM has been used as a way to influence the city's overall power dynamics.

By arrangement with Dawn.