Public Unites Against Taliban in Pakistan

Mustafa Qadri | 16 Jul 2009

KARACHI, Pakistan — There has been a perceptible shift in the battle against militancy in Pakistan. The massive army operations that recently concluded in the Swat valley, the largest ever conducted by Pakistan against the Taliban, are but one facet of it. For the first time, the government is also winning the propaganda war.

Ordinary citizens and political parties from across the spectrum — including religious ones — have rallied around the army. At a series of government-organized religious conferences in May, scholars denounced the Taliban as a perversion of Islamic teachings.

While stopping short of apologizing for their role in stoking the Taliban in the past, mainstream religious parties have had to tailor their rhetoric to reflect the change in popular sentiment. Where once parties like Jamaat-e-Islami would all but openly support the Taliban, they have now been forced to denounce the current spate of suicide bombings and other insurgent attacks against the army, government institutions and ordinary citizens as the work of “enemies of Pakistan” and Islam.

As part of its effort to rally its troops and the public, the Pakistan army has even set up a YouTube channel juxtaposing pop music with images of its soldiers engaged in operations against the Taliban. The nation’s satellite television channels are also broadcasting music videos decrying the spiraling violence.

Other efforts to shape public opinion include “Yeh hum naheen (This Is Not Us),” a movement set up by a number of Pakistani pop stars to combat terrorism and extremist interpretations of Islam, such as those preached by the Taliban and other groups.

It hasn’t always been this way.

Ever since the Taliban launched its insurgency against the Pakistan state in 2003, the population has oscillated between outright denial of its existence and resentment towards army operations seen as pitting countrymen against countrymen for the sake of foreign powers — especially the United States. Many have questioned whether it is really the Taliban that is committing atrocities in Pakistan, like the massive suicide bombing of the Marriot Hotel in September last year, or the destruction of hundreds of girls schools in the former resort area of Swat.

Given the high-stakes great-power politics of this region — Pakistan is a vital crossroads between Central and South Asia and the Middle East — conspiracy theories in the country abound. Yet ordinary Pakistanis remain largely ignorant of the extent to which their own army has for decades supported the Taliban and other militant groups, an issue that remains the “great white elephant” of Pakistani politics. That ignorance has led many to suspect an Indian, American or even Israeli hand in the almost-daily insurgent attacks mounted across the country — and especially in the North West Frontier Province that sits along Pakistan’s largely unguarded border with Afghanistan.

Yet even that ignorance has slowly started to be challenged. There has been no more dramatic example of this than President Asif Ali Zardari’s admission last week that militancy had been “created and nurtured” by the state with the help of the international community in the 1980s.

For years, there have been a minority of commentators and citizens, especially among the liberal educated elite, that have warned of the threats posed to Pakistan by extremism. Their voices have in recent months been joined by the broader community and politicians. What has caused this significant shift in perceptions? The answer lies in the Taliban itself.

There was country-wide support for the government when, in February, it announced a peace deal with the Taliban in the Swat valley, via a local cleric sympathetic to the movement. But when the Taliban continued its violent insurgency in neighboring districts like Buner and Bajaur, and when its spokesmen publicly justified the violent execution of those, like policemen and dancers, considered enemies of Islam, the public began to wake up to the threat.

There has been widespread outrage over Taliban attacks on fellow Muslims, such as the frequent bombing of mosques that have killed hundreds in the last three years alone. When a video of Taliban members flogging a young woman for allegedly eloping with a man went viral, ordinary Pakistanis were shocked into the realization that the Taliban did not reflect their experience of Islam.

Of course, even with the welcome shift in opinion, the situation remains dire in Pakistan.

The conflict has been a humanitarian disaster for the now 3.5 million Pakistanis displaced since last August, when the army commenced its latest major offensives. From close to the border with Afghanistan at Peshawar to the foothills above Islamabad, in Mardan and Swabi, a sea of human grief has been streaming down since the army started a massive, often indiscriminate bombing campaign on May 8.

The U.N. believes the mass exodus of civilians is the greatest since the Rwandan genocide of 1994, and possibly even since the bloody partition of the subcontinent in August 1947. Few preparations were undertaken before the army started firing its mortars, although relief efforts from the government and the private sector have now begun in earnest. Welfare and political organizations, both secular and religious, have been involved in the massive relief effort, while appeals for donations have proliferated on shop windows and on television.

Those crammed into the squalid conditions of the displaced persons camps of the North West Frontier Province all speak of the need for relief and support from the government. A coherent policy is needed to provide humanitarian, economic and social rehabilitation to the displaced. Otherwise, as with previous army excursions into Taliban strongholds over the past four years, militancy will return, fueled by the unmet grievances of frustrated civilians. Without a coherent strategy, even the current wellspring of popular support will dry up.

Mustafa Qadri is Middle East and South Asia correspondent for The Diplomat and newmatilda.com. He also writes a weekly column on Pakistan for The Guardian newspaper’s Web site.

[Originally published at: http://www.worldpoliticsreview.com/article.aspx?id=4082]

Mustafa Qadri

As Pakistan announces it has cleared 90 per cent of the country’s north west of Taliban militants, Mustafa Qadri visits the refugee camps sheltering civilians who have been forced from their homes by conflict.

“The displaced harbour deep resentment towards the Taliban for its role in destroying their once peaceful neighbourhoods.”

I travelled recently to camps and villages in Pakistan, from Mardan in the north to Peshawar in the south, where those displaced by the war with the Taliban have sought refuge.

Since the beginning of May the Pakistan Army has been engaged in its largest ever operations against Taliban forces in the troubled Swat valley in the country’s north-west.

Up to 2.5 million are believed to have fled the once quiet, scenic mountain ranges.

One of the places I visited was Risalpur, an industrial zone 80 kilometres below some of the fiercest fighting in the Swat valley.

“We travelled by foot from Mingora to Kokkari, then we went to Sangar… some 14-15 kilometres,” says Mohammad Yahya, former mayor of a village near Mingora. Entire communities including women, children and the elderly made the journey through high mountainous terrain. Almost all were forced to travel on foot because public transport out of the war zones was either too dangerous or expensive.

“One night there was a series of explosions on the outskirts of the village,” says school girl Mannu. “There was shelling before, but this time it was so close. Everyone was in a panic.”

Mannu’s entire village, around 13 families or 200 people, decided to flee their homes the next morning. They made most of the journey – men, women, children and the elderly – on foot from Mingora to the outskirts of army-controlled Mardan, a distance of around 30 miles through mountainous terrain.

Adding to the woes of those fleeing their homes are the many, often randomly announced army curfews that meant villagers risk being shot on sight by soldiers as they travel towards safer regions.

Because of this, some are too scared to leave their homes despite the risk of being caught up in massive Army bomardaments if they remain in their villages.

“There are a few people I know who cannot leave [because of the curfew]… they are still stuck in Swat,” says Mohammad Yahya. “There is no system, no doctors or electricity, no one to take care of the people.

“One man spoke to us the other day, he climbed up a mountain and managed to get a signal [for his mobile]. He told us that we are eating leaves here, there is no other food,” says aid worker Fazal Maula who is coordinating relief for the displaced at Risalpur.

“This is how bad things have become. Another man told us he bought one egg for 100 rupees (around 75 pence).”

The displaced communities live a rudimentary life typically huddled in cramp dwellings or tents without running water or electricity. They are mountain people uncustomed to the extreme heat of the lower lying areas, like Mardan, Nowshera and Peshawar, where most have been forced to seek sanctuary. As a result, many, especially the old and young have suffered gastric diseases like diarrhoea.

This life of destitution stands in stark contrast to their lives in Swat, typically as farmers, teachers, tradespersons and homemakers, in an alpine region famed for its rich harvests of fruits and vegetables. Many have been doubly affected by the war because, along with losing their homes, the fighting that forced them to flee occurred at the peak of the harvesting season leaving them without a source of income.

But farmers are not the only ones affected by the turmoil.

“I had a small rubber factory in Mingora,” says father of three Purmadari. “This battle for Islam and the state being waged by the Army and the Taliban has made us homeless.”

Mingora, the largest city in Swat and one of the epicentres of the clashes between the Taliban and army, was transformed into a fortress by the insurgents. It was only recaptured after devastating Army bombardment that, according to locals and unofficial Army sources, killed overwhelmingly more civilians than militants.

“Swat was the most beautiful place in the world, people are welcoming, the best fruit,” he recalls. “But because of the Taliban everything has been devastated – our businesses, our communities… we have had to leave everything because of the Taliban and the Army. Both have brought us many problems.”

The displaced harbour deep resentment towards the Taliban for its role in destroying their once peaceful neighbourhoods.

“These Taliban people say they fight for the rule of Islam,” adds Purmadari. “They say there is no Islam in Swat. But what, are we not Muslim? That is why the Taliban spread propaganda saying there is no Islam here. What they called a peace agreement [in February this year between the government and a pro-Taliban religious cleric] was just a ploy for letting the Taliban take control.”

School girl Mannu says: “The Taliban say they want Sharia [governance under the laws of Islam], but what kind of Sharia is this – killing and looting? It is just a game to them.”

On the strong urging of her parents, Mannu had dared to seek an education in a region of Swat where the Taliban openly forbade women from doing so.

“I’m not afraid of going to school,” she says defiantly when asked about her studies. The Taliban often threatened girls like Mannu with death or other violence, as evidenced by the over 200 schools destroyed in Swat. Yet Mannu kept going to her school, the Al Azhar College, one of the few that remained open as the Taliban swept into Swat.

Many of those I interviewed expressed similar resilience despite their collective tragedy.

“The situation right now is so bad, we don’t know when it will improve,” says former village mayor Mohammad Yahya. “But God willing we will return, it is our home, our village.”

(c) 2009 Australian Broadcasting Corporation

[Originally published at: http://www.abc.net.au/unleashed/stories/s2620214.htm]

19 Jun 2009 12:39:00 GMT

Written by: Mustafa Qadri

Reuters and AlertNet are not responsible for the content of this article or for any external internet sites. The views expressed are the author’s alone.

The Pakistan Army is in the middle of its largest ever operations against Taliban forces in the troubled region bordering Afghanistan. Up to 2.5 million are believed to have fled the once quiet, scenic mountain ranges. At a camp in Risalpur, 50 miles south of some of the fiercest battle zones in the Swat valley, I talked to schoolgirl Mannu.

Among the bare dwellings of Risalpur’s industrial area, buildings donated to the displaced by local businessmen that have been transformed into miniature cities, I met eleven-year-old Mannu, a fearless young student unfazed by the traumas that have, for the time being at least, destroyed her ancient village community.

“We have been here now for five to six weeks,” she tells me, at first shy. “My father is a farmer, he tends (peach and apricot) orchards … just like his parents did.”

Swat is famous for its rich array of fruit and other cash crops. People here have been doubly affected by the current conflict. Not only has the fighting made them homeless but it started at the height of the harvesting period.

Mannu is from a village near Mingora, the largest city in Swat and one of the epicentres of the clashes between the Taliban and army. Although the conflict has been going on for some months, it was only recently that Mannu’s family decided to leave.

“One night there was a series of explosions on the outskirts of the village,” she explains. “There was shelling before, but this time it was so close. Everyone was in a panic.”

Mannu’s entire village, around 13 families or 200 people, decided to flee their homes the next morning. They made the journey – men, women, children and the elderly – on foot from Mingora to the outskirts of army-controlled Mardan, a distance of around 30 miles through mountainous terrain.

Adding to their woes were the many, often randomly announced army curfews that meant villagers risked being shot on sight by soldiers.

Mannu and her family managed to reach Mardan unhurt.

This wasn’t the first time Mannu had risked her life. On the strong urging of her parents, Mannu had dared to seek an education in a region of Swat where the Taliban openly forbade women from doing so.

“I’m not afraid of going to school,” she says defiantly when asked about her studies. The Taliban often threatened girls like Mannu with death or other violence, as evidenced by the over 200 schools destroyed in Swat. Yet Mannu kept going to her school, the Al Azhar College, one of the few that remained open as the Taliban swept into Swat.

“The Taliban say they want Sharia [governance under the laws of Islam], but what kind of Sharia is this – killing and looting? It is just a game to them.”

I ask her whether she hopes to return to her village and complete her studies.

“There is a poem we recite now, it is the only way we can express our grief,” Mannu says, suddenly animated.

Then she starts to sing.

“Lord of the world, oh God, I would like to tell you something.

My sweet Swat has caught on fire, not just from one side but from everywhere.

The fire has engulfed everything – our people, our customs, our schools, our markets.

But no one knows how to douse these flames.

My beautiful Swat, with its valleys and peaks, its perfumed flowers, all have lost their lustre.

In every direction there is war. The people who laughed, who sang, are now silent.

The once majestic and peaceful River Swat has dried up.

The beautiful and pure landscapes, the trees and the plants. They have been burnt too.

The beautiful town of Mingora, your markets all lie destroyed.

Our hopes and dreams, our way of life, all has been lost in the flames.

I pray to you God, bring back the paradise, the peaceful Swat I remember.”

The displaced communities live a rudimentary life typically huddled in cramp dwellings or tents without running water or electricity.

Their present fate stands in stark contrast to their former lives, typically as farmers, teachers, mothers, tradespersons and students.

The people of Swat and the Bajaur tribal areas, where most of the displaced come from, are mountain people not used to the extreme summer heat of the lower lying districts of Mardan, Nowshera and Peshawar where the largest camps have been established. Diahrroea and water borne diseases, exacerbated by the heat, are very common, particularly among the young.

Yet the resilience of these people who have lost so much is as powerful as their collective tragedy.

Reuters AlertNet is not responsible for the content of external websites.

(First published at: http://www.alertnet.org/db/blogs/54127/2009/05/19-123919-1.htm)