Pakistan: A Censored Democracy

*Disclaimer: The views expressed in articles are entirely that of the writer. PLUMS does not necessarily mirror these views.

Censorship and democracy are in their truest selves incompatible. Article 16 and 19 of the constitution of Pakistan unequivocally confer respectively, the freedom of assembly and of speech upon the Pakistani population. One institution that these provisions however, have failed to exert their authority upon is the military. For the entirety of this nation’s 71 years of existence, the venerated, almost holy status of the armed forces has allowed it to dictate, both overtly and covertly, how the country is run.

 

Manzoor Pashteen is a Pashtun man in his late 20s who commands the confidence of thousands that form part of the Pashtun Tahafuz Movement (PTM). The PTM is a very explicitly peaceful organization of protests and rallies against the extra-judicial killings and abductions that the army has become famous for in FATA and Balochistan. Pashteen and his protestors’ fame was short-lived due to a total media blackout of the movement. However, the real crackdown on these demonstrations took place just prior to the PTM’s plan to stage a rally at Mochi Gate in Lahore, when several leaders of the PTM and the Awami Workers’ Party were arrested.

 

Cyril Almeida, a Lahore University of Management Sciences alumnus, has also been targeted for straying away from this narrative of censorship. On the 6th of October 2016, Dawn published the infamous piece that landed him in the trickiest of situations. His article not only implied that the military was in bed with Jihadi Groups, but also intensified tensions between the civilian government and the military. Regardless of what it implies however, the story infuriated the army, which resulted in Almeida being placed on the Exit Control List, barring him from leaving the country.

 

An exciting angle to this discussion may be to analyze what one has to lose in the political arena by being a staunch adversary of the army. Enter the notorious, not sadiq and not ameen, Nawaz Sharif. By trying to claim control over foreign and defense policies, the army’s strongholds, Sharif put one foot out of the door early on. Trying to improve ties with our infamous neighbors and allegedly accusing the army of sheltering terrorist groups obviously didn’t work in his favor either. Come election time and marching comes the army. Rana Iqbal Siraj, a candidate for the legislature in the Punjab Province, running on a Pakistan Muslim League Nawaz ticket claims that the military raided his warehouse, robbing him of his wealth and security. Imran Khan on the contrary, our flamboyant new Prime Minister, being a consistent proponent of the armed forces, won a 114 more seats than he managed to 5 years ago. Well, one may also attribute that to his flowery speeches.

 

The question that lingers still is, how does the military push this narrative of moral untouchability. One explanation for the insidious appeal that militarism carries is the depiction of those who lose their lives in the service of the nation. The commemorative ceremonies where the families of the deceased affirm their support for the military and hence construct themselves and the martyr as driven by a sense of nationalistic duty allow the army to perpetually extract emotions of loyalty and sympathy from the public. The Youm-e-Shuhada (Martyrs’ Day) ceremonies may serve this ulterior purpose. However, as a deliberate consequence of this, a false interchangeability is created between criticizing the military’s interference in the political sphere with disrespecting the foot soldiers that gave their lives in the army’s service. Also in relevance to this, gender is an important tool that the military can exploit to assert its paternalistic governance. In these orchestrated spectacles of grief, the helpless wives and mothers of the deceased are depicted as needing protection from the masculine institution that is the army. Moreover, families that lose their members in war also tend to maintain their friendly relationship with the military and promote the narrative of national sacrifice. This may be explained through a need to justify and attach value to the death that has occurred which transcends the guilt that comes with sending one’s child into the military out of economic desperation.

 

Although the non-coercive instruments of censorship represent only half the picture, they are important to consider in that they are often internalized by the larger part of the population, and hence not recognized. We should hence commit to memory the words of the recently departed, outspoken lawyer and activist, Asma Jahangir who once said; “If the army gets itself involved in politics, fingers will be raised. We will continue to stand against their weapons with pens in our hands and we will not stop raising our voice for the rights of people”.

 

 

 

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