You can’t pin your heart on something until it’s a completely done deal and Pakistani politics has a penchant for throwing up nine-day wonders, but from the looks of things, the sullied rags of the memo have come together in a patchwork quilt of all the dull colours – khaki, black, pale shades – spread out across one big happy bed. The crisis stands resolved, it seems.
The federal government had called the memo a “pack of lies.” The DG ISI said the “unadulterated truth” was the right of the people of Pakistan. Mansoor Ijaz claimed nothing could stop him from visiting Pakistan and putting the facts on record. Nawaz had happily volunteered to play petitioner-in-chief. Justice Khawaja quoted his biblical cliché and said “ye shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free.” And of course, many in the media said the memo was treasonous before anyone even had a chance to read the full text.
Fast-forward to a few weeks later and the grand crisis is proving to be damn squib.
Mansoor Ijaz is no-show. Last we heard, Nawaz is in Germany en route to the UK. The prime minister says there’s nothing unlawful about the generals’ previously ‘unconstitutional’ replies before the court. In fact, he’s all palsy-walsy with the bosses now and their Tuesday meeting ended on quite the happy note. The spy chief who personally travelled to London to collect ‘evidence’ from Mansoor Ijaz is not willing to personally take on his security now. Mansoor Ijaz could have had the safest arrival and departure in Pakistan but the indispensables seem ready to dispense with him now. Even the judicial commission refused to give express directions vis-à-vis the army taking charge of Ijaz’s security and thus allowed him to play the ‘I don’t trust Rehman Malik’ card.
So how did this apocalyptic crisis abate? The government was smart. It knew it couldn’t take on the khakis, or the robes for that matter, on the question of the contents of the memo. Saying there was nothing wrong with the idea – no matter how fantastical – of disbanding the ISI’s S-wing, sacking the generals and stealing the nuclear programme from right under their noses, at the behest of the Americans at that (!), wouldn’t have gone down too well.
So what did the government do instead? It made an issue of ‘form.’ Everyone knows that in affairs of government, an order from the prime minister becomes a request from the defence ministry, then a recommendation from some minister of state, and finally just a suggestion from a random federal secretary running around with a summary. If it ever gets that far. In essence, “A unique situation in which things were overlapping and there was no clarity,” as our dear prime minister explained.” Which is why the defence secretary said the government had no operational control of the army and ISI. And here are his marching orders, thank you very much.
The government’s problem with the army’s response was also couched in the language of ‘procedure.’ The boys didn’t follow the proper protocol, we were told; they submitted their replies directly to the Supreme Court Registrar instead of routing it through the ministry of defence as per “rules of business.” No worries that the boys had pushed for the ‘reality’ of the memo to be interrogated or accused that it had directly affected the morale of the armed forces. That wasn’t important. What was important was that the substance hadn’t been transmitted following the proper procedure.
In sum, the government’s exit strategy has been all about form. It’s much easier, after all, to haggle over process than open the front over the contents of a ‘treasonous’ memo that has already seen the sacking of one of Zardari’s darlings.
In the end, here’s the principle that prevailed: in government, ultimately, the hornets’ nests should be left unstirred, cans of worms should remain unopened, and cats should be left firmly in bags and not set among the pigeons. Translation: do everything in your power to keep things going and still be here tomorrow. If that means backtracking on a statement or two, then so be it.
So this is what we’re left with: a prime minister who must be allowed to panic because that’s his only substitute for achievement. An opposition that isn’t really an opposition but just the government in exile. A government that couldn’t care less about the truth and only wants something it can tell the president. And an army and judiciary acutely aware of the dangers of telling the whole truth.
And so, for now, there is respite from confrontation.
Should we be grateful? Maybe. But the traitors are still moving among us freely, their sly whispers heard in the highest halls of the state itself.
Let’s never forget that treason is often an excuse made by the winners to hang the losers.
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