
As Sunday's spectacular attack in Kabul showed, the war in Afghanistan may be winding down in Washington, but it is heating up on the ground with spring's arrival.
And in Foggy Bottom and, to a lesser degree, on Capitol Hill, a battle is on for American hearts and minds even as calls for immediate withdrawal grow louder. The objective: to keep Afghan women from falling off the political agenda while Washington and its NATO allies hunt desperately for a diplomatic solution to America's longest-ever war. As the NATO summit in Chicago approaches - and women to date still have no formal role - that fight gets more urgent.
"Any peace that is attempted to be made by excluding more than half the population is no peace at all," said Sec. of State Hillary Clinton at a luncheon for the U.S.-Afghan Women's Council, an organization started under President George W. Bush to support programs benefiting Afghan women. "We will continue to stand with and work closely with Afghan women. And we will be working closely with the international community as well, because we all need to be vigilant and disciplined in our support and in our refusal to accept the erosion of women's rights and freedoms."
Former First Lady Laura Bush echoed the Secretary's comments.
"The failure to protect women's rights and to ensure their security could undermine the significant gains Afghan women have achieved," said Mrs. Bush. "No one wants to see Afghanistan's progress reversed or its people returned to the perilous circumstances that marked the Taliban's rule."
Clinton, Bush and their allies face an uphill fight. Today a record-high 69 percent of Americans say the war in Afghanistan has not been worth fighting. And the recent alleged killing of unarmed Afghan civilians by an American soldier has cemented public desire to call an end to the war that began just after the attacks of September 11.
President Obama did not once mention Afghan women in his 2009 speech at West Point, and members of his administration have been quoted as likening the country's women to "pet rocks."
It wasn't always this way. In 2001, Washington leaders regularly invoked the plight of women, who had just endured years of Taliban rule that barred them from school and work. Afghan women became something of a cause célèbre worldwide, and the return of women to public life was seen as among the most positive byproducts of the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan. Then-First Lady Laura Bush spoke out in support of Afghan women during a weekly presidential radio broadcast in 2001, and made high-profile visits to women's projects while visiting the country.
A decade later, members of Mrs. Bush's team acknowledge the challenge they face convincing the American public that supporting Afghan women on the way out of the country matters.
"It is hard for people to see the endgame and that is what I think contributes to the frustration," says Mrs. Bush's former chief of staff, Anita McBride. "This is not high on the radar screen because it is challenging and the solution seems so far away."
Those working closely with Sec. Clinton acknowledge the battle to keep women front and center is not easy. But they say they see an increased acknowledgment throughout the State Department and in the president's recent executive order on U.N. Resolution 1325 that women matter when it comes to peace.
"While clearly there is a strong, strong desire for the end of this (war), the big concern is the state of the women -- what happens to Afghan women and that they not somehow be forgotten," says Ambassador-at-large for Global Women's Issues Melanne Verveer. "There is a recognition that for the genuine end of conflict and for the ability to reconcile with whomever it is possible to reconcile with, that the women have to be a part of that."
Those who have spoken out about the need to end the war swiftly say they agree.
"I came away strongly feeling that as we do draw down there that we have to retain a focus on these gains and whatever is necessary diplomatically or through our aid, that we can't neglect women," says Rep. Niki Tsongas of a recent trip to Afghanistan. "You have to publicly continue to raise the issue. That is the very least what we can continue to do, to publicly raise the issue and the importance of just trying to protect and secure those gains."
Tsongas
did just that at a recent House Armed Services Committee hearing with Gen. John
Allen.
"The question is, as we draw
down from Afghanistan over the next several years, what can we do to make sure
that we don't lose the hard-fought gains for the rights of Afghan women, 50
percent of the population? And what, if any, leverage will we have as we go
through this process and after our withdrawal is complete?" she asked.
But is more than rhetorical support from those who support Afghan women's progress even possible?
"It is difficult, because I think that even for those who care very deeply about the status of Afghan women there is a little bit of schizophrenia, because I think some of us recognize that whatever the future is for Afghan women, the kind of military footprint that we have in Afghanistan can't go on another decade," says Rep. Donna Edwards, who co-chairs the Afghan Women's Task Force in Congress. "I believe that it is possible for us to construct a strategy where we make those kinds of civilian investments that will enable investments where it is possible to support women entrepreneurs, to support women in education, to support women as parliamentarians, I think it is possible to do that and I don't think we have too many more options left."
So what do the women at the center of all the discussion think of all the discussion of their future? Most say they simply want to be part of the conversation about their own country, particularly as they work to elbow their way into the discussions in Chicago next month. And they want to know what, exactly, leaders of the international community means when they say to women that "we will not abandon you," as Sec. Clinton has repeatedly.
"We
women are no more the priority for the world, that is true," says Samira Hamidi
of the Afghan Women's Network. "The
international community is in a rush for withdrawal, but at the same time they
keep repeating and pushing the theme that we will remain with you."
Hamidi says women want clarity on what, exactly, those assurances mean. Says Hamidi, "in ten years whatever has happened for women is because of the struggle and participation of women. We are still fighting for our rights, for our inclusion, to be part of decisions and to be decision makers."
What Hamidi and other women leaders say they seek are assurances that any Taliban negotiations will keep in tact the Afghan constitution of the past decade, with its guarantee of equal opportunities, including the right to work and go to school, as well as a set-aside of a quarter of parliamentary seats for women. More than two million Afghan girls are now in school, with thousands in university, and civil society leaders want them to stay there. Women also want to be at the table, not outside the room, in any diplomatic discussions that will decide their country's future shape. That starts with Chicago next month.
Women say they are not asking for favors, but to be part of their own societies. They can speak up for themselves, and they are, but they could use the backing of big-dollar international donors who will be funding their government's security forces for years to come.
"The worrying part for me in 2014 is not that the international community is leaving -- troops are leaving, they have to leave this is a reality. We can't expect them to stay in Afghanistan for years and years, but for me what is important is how powerful our own security forces will be in 2014, how responsive they will be to women's needs. Those are things that the international community can really make their funding conditional on."
Those who support Afghan women say that if the world wants to see any progress achieved in Afghanistan continue, it will support civil society leaders like Hamidi - between now and 2014, and beyond.
"Increasingly, across the board, people get the fact that this is pragmatic, that you can't get from here to there on the items all of us want to see [in Afghanistan] without women," Verveer says. "Is it a guarantee? Well, we can't write the future. None of us knows exactly what is going to happen. We are dealing with a hypothetical and the best we can all do is to make sure that everything is in place as best as it can be as this continues to go forward."
Gayle Tzemach Lemmon is a fellow at the Council on Foreign Relations and the author of The Dressmaker of Khair Khana.
MASSOUD HOSSAINI/AFP/Getty Images

In 2014, Afghanistan is scheduled to hold its third presidential election since 2004, just 18 months after the next U.S. presidential inauguration, and at the height of the withdrawal of the international military presence. Then, just a year later, they are supposed to hold a legislative election in 2015. There is little prospect that either election will be adequately funded or competently administered. But even if, by some miracle, they come off without a hitch, they will only serve to entrench the corrupt, over-centralized administration in Kabul, and do little to improve governance in the localities. Holding elections in Afghanistan in the midst of its long-running political crisis is a lose-lose situation.
The United States and United Nations should work with the Afghans instead to push for a grand political bargain that could actually make a difference in the counterinsurgency against the Taliban: a new Loya Jirga to amend the constitution, devolve power, adjust the electoral calendar, change the voting system, and invite the Taliban to form a political party. Neither Kabul nor the international community stands to gain from holding another round of elections, but a new political bargain can break the paralysis in Kabul and break the logjam in talks with the Taliban.
I. Devolve Power
Afghanistan's slow-burning political crisis began in 2003, when a Loya Jirga convened in Kabul in December to ratify a new constitution. The new document was modeled closely on the 1964 constitution, itself following closely in the footsteps of constitutions in 1923 and the 1890s. That a new democratic constitution was modeled on the older constitutional monarchy is telling: the new system simply replaced the hereditary Afghan monarch with an elected President and retained on paper many of the centralized powers that the Afghan kings had claimed (though not always exercised) since the late 19th Century. The new constitution was unanimously ratified by acclamation in January 2004.
The United States and the U.N. are often blamed for creating or forcing a centralized system onto the Afghans at the Bonn Conference in 2001. The accusation is wrong - the centralized system came from the Afghans themselves, stemming from the century-old practice of Afghan rulers, and readily accepted by the Loya Jirga. But the point remains true that Afghanistan has one of the most highly centralized systems of government in the world. Provincial governments are not independent governments, like U.S. states, but implementing agencies of Kabul. Provincial councils are advisory, not legislative, bodies. Provincial governors and district chiefs are appointed by the president, not elected by the people. Provincial and district police chiefs are also appointed by the president, not by governors. That makes the President personally responsible for hiring and firing every governor and police chief in 34 provinces and nearly 400 districts nation-wide.
The centralization is almost completely unsuitable to Afghanistan's culture, economy, and society. According to Thomas Barfield's magisterial book, Afghanistan: A Political and Cultural History (arguably the most intelligent thing written on Afghanistan in a decade), the Afghan government has always claimed centralized powers, but has been most successful when it exercises those powers sparingly, or in cooperation with local elites like tribal elders and landowners. Efforts to use centralized government to compel social change tended to provoke resistance, as it did under the reign of the modernizing king Amanullah Khan (1919-1929), who was overthrown by a coalition of rural tribes and conservative mullahs; the communizing efforts of the People's Democratic Party of Afghanistan (1978-1989); and the Islamizing efforts to the Taliban (1994-2001), the two most recent of which sparked civil war.
Despite the potential lessons of that history, the ten-year reign of Hamid Karzai looks more like Amanullah in his efforts to centralize power and push social reform, than that of Zahir Shah (1933-73), who took a more relaxed approach to the provinces and whose rule was marked by relative stability. Devolving power, for example by making governors elected and giving them the power of appointments in their province, giving provincial councils legislative power, and enabling provinces to levy their own taxes would bring the formal government into closer alignment with the informal practices that worked in the past.
II. Adjust the electoral calendar
Afghanistan's political dysfunction gained a new complication in 2004 when the nascent Afghan government and the U.N. Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (UNAMA) first decided to separate presidential and legislative elections. They were supposed to be held simultaneously under the original Bonn Agreement, but the latter were delayed a year because of logistical difficulties. That immediately saddled Afghanistan with the burden of hosting not one, but two expensive national elections every five years. The 2004 election and voter registration drive cost in the neighborhood of $200 million; the decision to separate the elections simply doubled the cost of Afghan democracy and delayed the day Afghanistan could pay for its own government.
The first round of split elections in 2004 and 2005 were relatively successful: Afghans turned out to vote in large numbers and the results were widely accepted. The success masked a deeper problem, however: the elections were not held by the Afghan government. The international community, primarily the United States, paid the entire cost of the elections. And the U.N. administered the elections through the Joint Electoral Management Body (JEMB), a hybrid U.N.-Afghan organization in which the international community could ensure the elections did not fail.
The weaknesses were exposed by the second round of elections in 2009 and 2010, which the U.N. turned over to the Afghan government to administer. The elections were notoriously marred by logistical problems, fraud, and low turnout. Although the Afghan Electoral Complaints Commission (ECC) took the accusations of fraud seriously, launched a credible investigation, and eventually disqualified over 1 million votes (facts almost always overlooked by critics of the Afghan government) it is nonetheless true that that the elections were a disaster for the legitimacy of the Afghan government and the Karzai administration. The international community's and the Afghan people's disenchantment with Karzai accelerated dramatically after 2009.
III. Change the voting system
Afghanistan's political crisis is not simply a matter of over-centralization, expensive elections, and fraud. It also stems from the absence of the one institution that is essential for the basic functioning of any democracy: political parties. As any political scientist will argue, political parties are essential for aggregating and articulating voters' grievances and demands, translating them into a political agenda, mediating political participation, moderating extremism, and linking citizens to their government. Without political parties, democracy cannot thrive.
Political parties exist in Afghanistan, technically. But they play no role in the political system, thanks to the (frankly) bizarre voting system that President Karzai settled on in the Electoral Law in May 2004. The system, called the single non-transferable vote (SNTV), is used almost nowhere else in the world. Just three other states (Jordan, Indonesia, and Thailand) use versions of it for part or all of their legislative elections. The reason is that it is blatantly undemocratic and hostile to political parties.
In a normal parliamentary system, seats are allocated to parties in proportion to their share of the vote: if a party wins 35 percent of the vote, it is awarded 35 percent of seats. In the SNTV system, by contrast, the individual who wins the most votes in a given constituency is awarded the first seat; the candidate with the second-highest vote tally is awarded the next seat, and so on down the line until all seats are awarded. Regardless of how many votes the candidate wins, he is awarded one seat. In theory, the top candidate could win 90 percent of the vote and win one seat, while the fifth-place candidate might win two percent of the vote, and also win one seat.
The result is obviously undemocratic, but it also results in a highly fractured legislature composed of a few extremely popular, well-known (or feared) candidates with an independent political power base - the first-place finishers in each province - and scores of unknown, often extremist candidates who have no connections or loyalties to established political groupings. Political parties have no entry point into this system, and so play almost no role in Afghan political life. Without parties, there is nothing to structure debate or formulate competing agendas, and the result is a fragmented, disorganized branch. Americans have grown jaded about the U.S. Congress, but it is a well-oiled machine compared to the Afghan legislature.
IV. Invite the Taliban to form a political party
Counterinsurgency is competitive state-building. The counterinsurgent must build a government that is more attractive to the people than what the insurgents offer. Kabul will not win a counterinsurgency against the Taliban with a government that is distant, over-centralized, disconnected from the population, and in which the only opportunities for participation are periodic elections that are too expensive to succeed and marred by fraud.
But most importantly, Kabul will not end the war and stabilize Afghanistan until the insurgents and the constituency they represent believe they have an opportunity to participate in Afghanistan's political life. Afghanistan needs a Taliban political party.
The Taliban were the only faction not represented at the original Bonn Conference. That is their fault: they were still actively fighting a shooting war against the Northern Alliance up until the day after the conference closed, and they almost certainly would not have accepted an invitation to participate if one had been extended. Regardless, the Taliban do have a constituency, and represent a view of Afghan political life that a small minority of Deobandi Pashtuns still find compelling. Their exclusion from Afghan life feeds resentment, and gives the insurgents a potent narrative with which to sell their rebellion. Karzai knows that, which is why he has consistently and aggressively sought to reach out to the Taliban ever since his 2004 inauguration.
The Taliban as a whole are not going to surrender, lay down their arms, and peacefully convert into a political party. The leaders, if no one else, are true believers in their brutal theocratic system, in which elections and compromise have no place. But the average Taliban foot soldier is probably more flexible in his commitments, so long as he believes he is secure and respected. Holding talks with the Taliban and creating a way for them to participate in Afghan political life will not end the insurgency, but it can weaken the movement, sow disarray in their ranks, incentivize defections, and bolster Kabul's legitimacy. Reconciliation with some Taliban could be a potent weapon in the counterinsurgency campaign.
V. Convene a Loya Jirga
Each of these problems - centralization, the disjointed electoral calendar, the wonky voting system and weak political parties, the exclusion of the Taliban - exacerbates the others. The weakness of parties make it hard for an authentic local voice to be heard in Kabul, while the over-centralization gives Kabul little incentive to seek such a voice out. The electoral calendar has driven the cost of elections up, while fraud and corruption is making the international community ever more skeptical about providing the money necessary to keep the democratic charade going. The exclusion of the Taliban fuels the insurgency, but Kabul's incompetence and political paralysis cripple its own counterinsurgency efforts, and weakens the will of its international backers. Under these circumstances, new elections in 2014 and 2015 offer nothing good for Afghanistan or the international community.
Afghanistan has a mechanism for dealing with the "supreme interests of the country": the Loya Jirga. The Loya Jirga, a grand council of elders, is the supreme authority in Afghanistan, higher than any branch of government and the constitution itself. It is perfectly legal and constitutional: Chapter Six of the Afghan Constitution describes the Jirga and its powers. It is also a relatively democratic gathering, consisting of the National Assembly and chairmen of provincial and district councils, almost all of whom are elected (only one-third of the upper house of the Assembly are appointed by the President). The Afghans held an Emergency Loya Jirga in 2002 to ratify the Bonn Agreement, and a Constitutional Loya Jirga in 2003-4 to ratify the new constitution. Karzai has called "mini" loya jirgas in the years since to ratify specific decisions or agreements, including the U.S.-Afghan Strategic Partnership in 2005.
Many of the political changes needed would not even require constitutional amendments. Chapter Eight of the Afghan Constitution actually mandates that the government "delegate certain authorities to local administration units for the purpose of expediting and promoting economic, social, and cultural affairs, and increasing the participation of people in the development of the nation." The President's power to appoint governors and police chiefs is nowhere mentioned in the constitution. The voting system was created by statute, not by the Constitution. Changing the Afghan political system to be more decentralized, more democratic, and more responsive to the people could probably be accomplished even without the two-thirds vote of a Jirga required for constitutional amendments.
But the biggest potential benefit of the Jirga would be the inclusion of Taliban representatives. The Jirga could itself be an important medium in the ongoing efforts to hold talks with the insurgency. Kabul would have to be flexible about the Jirga's composition - the Constitution does not exactly have a clause about representatives from an active rebellion sitting in on a Jirga. But there are ways to skirt this, for example by allowing Taliban "observers" to attend without voting rights or, even better, through an understanding that district council representatives from southern provinces would be speaking for the Taliban. Regardless of the modality, the presence of Taliban spokesmen or their proxies would be an important symbolic step in the effort to incorporate willing Taliban into Afghan political life, catalyze talks with the insurgents, prompt defections, split the insurgency, and edge closer to peace.
A Loya Jirga in 2014 would be a more cost-effective use of international money. More elections at this point will accomplish little to stabilize Afghanistan or bolster Kabul's legitimacy. A Jirga, by contrast, has a greater chance of being seen as legitimate and accomplishing something worthwhile. An election will only pick the next person to head the corrupt and incompetent administration in Kabul. A Jirga, by contrast, would be empowered to tackle the full range of problems that plague Afghanistan's political system. Elections, held just as the international military presence is winding down, would be a dangerous nation-wide event for which security would be a major challenge. A Jirga, by contrast, would be a smaller, easier affair to secure.
Of course, a Jirga would be unwieldy and unpredictable. The international community would not be able to control it. Even with the substantial aid international donors continue to give Afghanistan, the international community has much less leverage over the course of events in Afghanistan than it did in 2001-2. But that is probably a good thing. The heavy international hand guiding events in Afghanistan ten years ago was perhaps necessary, but it was also abnormal. A new Jirga, this time under unquestioned Afghan leadership, could be the step needed to restart normal Afghan political life.
Dr. Paul D. Miller is an Assistant Professor of International Security Studies at the National Defense University's College of International Security Affairs. The views expressed here are his own, and do not reflect those of the U.S. government.
SHAH MARAI/AFP/Getty Images

The roots of Pakistan's inhospitality towards its minorities can be traced back over three and a half decades to the military dictatorship of Ziaul Haq - the man singlehandedly accountable for the rise of fundamentalism and retrogression in the country. Today, however, a different narrative runs through the progressive steps being taken within Pakistan's legal system - a trend exemplified by the ongoing Supreme Court case against the powerful Inter-Services Intelligence Directorate (ISI) concerning missing persons, and even more so in the issue of transgendered Pakistanis.
In most parts of cosmopolitan Pakistan, something adds color to the busy traffic- and pedestrian-swarmed streets besides glossy cars and oversized billboards. Batting their mascara-drenched fake eyelashes, prancing about in gaudy Indian-soap inspired attire around every posh traffic light in Karachi, hijras - as Pakistan's transgender population is known - turn many a frown upside down after a hard day's work.
Going car window to car window ‘demanding' money, clapping their hands, flirtatiously twirling their hair while humming a popular Bollywood tune, these powerfully persuasive hijras entertain with a kind of street comedy unique only to them. But not all are entertained or amused; some are even offended by their presence.
It has never been easy being a minority in Pakistan and matters are bound to get worse if the minority is a sexual one. In a Muslim society, where patriarchal orientation reigns supreme and we are constantly battling gender discrimination, the transgendered obviously have little or no space in the social setup of things.
For the past six decades, hijras in Pakistan have been isolated and denied any form of identity, along with basic human rights such as education, employment, and healthcare. Disowned by their families and mocked and ridiculed by the rest, hijras find shelter among their kind under gurus - leaders of small scattered transgender communities - who give them food and wage in return for their service and contribution to the group. With not many open doors in sight, they beg, dance and engage in prostitution as their only means of livelihood, becoming soft targets for harassment, violence, abuse and rape, mostly in the hands of the local police.
Their story is, or one could easily say ‘was,' painful until the summer of 2009. Today, despite all of Pakistan's supposed intolerance, its long-oppressed transgender minority not only has an identity under which they are recognized as lawful and respectful citizens of the state, but they also have civil rights, the most groundbreaking being the right to vote - unthinkable just a few years ago, especially in a country like Pakistan. The landmark move has not only paved the way for hijras to vote in the upcoming general elections, but also to nominate their own candidates for parliament. In its wake, popular hijra leader and a prominent member of the Pakistan She-male Association, Shahana Abbas Shani, has announced that in the upcoming general elections, she will run as an independent candidate for the Muzaffargarh constituency of the provincial assembly in southwestern Punjab. Topmost on her agenda is the demand for reserved seats for hijras in the Pakistan National Assembly. And why not? For now, more than ever, it is very much possible.
Very few could have fathomed that Dr. Muhammad Aslam Khaki - an attorney specializing in Islamic law and probably the most unlikely defender of hijra rights in Pakistan - would turn out to be the man behind it all. Stirred into action in 2009 after an atrocious incident in Taxila, near Islamabad, where local police reportedly attacked and raped a group of transgender wedding dancers, Khaki filed a private case in the Pakistan Supreme Court. He persuaded the court to officially recognize hijras as a third gender under the Pakistani Constitution, a major step towards giving them their due stature and respect in society.
In 2009, Khaki estimated the transgender population in Pakistan to be around 80,000. However, a Reuters report in December the same year put the figure at around 300,000. The conflicting numbers further reinforced the Supreme Court's orders to the government, given in June that year, to set up a commission to conduct a census of hijras, so that a more precise figure could be obtained.
The Chief Justice of Pakistan, Iftikhar Muhammad Chaudhry - a "hero" of the transgender minority - took this unlikely revolution forward. Following his orders, the Supreme Court for the first time in the history of Pakistan, granted the transgender community their own gender category under Pakistan's National Database and Registration Authority (NADRA). This means that hijras can now, per their own will, have male transgender, female transgender or intersex written on their national identification cards - a landmark headline coming out of retrogressive, conservative Muslim Pakistan.
The Chief Justice's decision spurred a series of successful follow-up rulings by the Supreme Court. Various judicial, law-making and enforcing committees were formed, and orders were released to both national and provincial authorities to safeguard the hijras' newfound rights in matters of inheritance, employment and election registration. The police, all the way down to the district level, were especially warned to cease harassment and intimidation or be subject to serious prosecution.
Bearing in mind that having its own gender label will not solve all of the hijra community's problems, the Supreme Court made further recommendations, the most revolutionary being in the professional field. Per official orders, if qualified, hijras were now to be given preference for civil service jobs for affirmative-action reasons. According to the ruling, a transgender applicant with a 10th-grade education was now deemed to have the same qualifications for government work as a non-transgender person with a bachelor's degree.
But that wasn't all. In 2010, hijras were also appointed as tax collectors to utilize their "special" persuasion skills. They now knock on the doors of people who haven't paid their taxes and ask them to pay up. To deal with those who aren't willing, they make what they are infamous for making - a scene, which works like a charm every time. The experiment has been judged something of a success by the local authorities, too, with several teams collecting hefty amounts of unpaid dues.
Monitoring the progress of Khaki's case through periodic hearings -- about 20 of which have been held so far -- both the Pakistan Supreme Court and Chief Justice Iftikhar Chaudhry still have a cumbersome task at hand -- acceptance, implementation and rehabilitation. The challenges of eliminating stereotypes from the minds of common Pakistanis, providing equal opportunities to everyone in all professions and in all spheres of life, is much easier said than done. This series of landmark rulings undoubtedly constitutes the first step in the right direction, but there still remains a long list of problems that cannot be resolved by legislation; problems like stigma. The recent surge of positive activity means there's definitely hope beyond the traffic light for the beleaguered hijra community in Pakistan.
But the fight has only just begun. Khaki and those working alongside him have received death threats from various Pakistani fundamentalist Islamist groups including Shabab-e-Milli - a branch of the youth wing of Pakistan's main religious political party, Jamaat-e-Islami - for promoting homosexuality in the Islamic state. The Supreme Court decision has undeniably come both as a shock and a blow to all such elements promoting intolerance and violence in the country. But nothing seems to be holding this group back.
"The chief justice says we are God's creation," says Almas Bobby, President of the Pakistan She-male Association and one of the key frontrunners of Khaki's case. God sure helps those who help themselves.
Rabail Baig is a Pakistani journalist based in Boston.
ASIF HASSAN/AFP/Getty Images

On the intersection of Dr. Ziauddin Ahmed Road and Club Road -- one of the busiest traffic lights in Karachi housing two high-end five-star hotels and the head office of the biggest English newspaper in the country -- I often ran into a beggar woman who almost no one looked directly in the eyes.
My mother without looking straight at her disintegrated acid-burnt face would nod her head and recite "Astaghfirullah," Arabic for "I ask Allah forgiveness," roll down the window and place whatever change she could find in her purse on the woman's palm. Our driver, Rustam, a 20-something from Swat, would nod his head for an entirely different reason. "They bring this upon themselves for money, madam. I assure you she makes more than you do at your newspaper," he would say without a hint of empathy. But even he flinched while catching a glimpse of her deformed face.
Throwing acid on women's faces is a form of terrorism that has, with time, become accepted as part of the background noise in Pakistan -- already ranked as the third-most dangerous country for women in the world due to a barrage of threats ranging from rape and violence to dismal healthcare and honor-killings. In Pakistan, the majority of acid-attack victims are women, perpetrated against by male counterparts including husbands, fathers, sons and other male relatives for reasons as trivial as domestic disagreements to more complicated issues such as bringing "dishonor" upon the family.
Though no concrete numbers or statistics exist, independent women's rights and welfare organizations in the country have estimated that over 200 Pakistani women fall prey to acid-attacks every year because hydrochloric and sulfuric acid is widely and easily available and is very cheap. However, organizations that have used a more active method of data collection have yielded much higher rates. The Islamabad-based Progressive Women's Association has documented over 8000 deliberate acid-attacks on women just in and around the Pakistani capital of Islamabad over the past decade. Even though these attacks left their helpless female victims mutilated and scarred for life in a matter of seconds, only two per cent of the cases were successfully prosecuted in a court of law.
This not only highlights that this atrocious act of terrorism is at an all-time high in Pakistan but also how the misogyny that creates the climate for such acts can and does bleed over into the country's judicial system, which continues to fail to provide justice for the victims of acid-crimes, as the reported assailants are usually let go with minimal punishment.
But there's hope, hopefully. Pakistani Emmy Award-winning documentary filmmaker, internationally acclaimed for her 2009 film Pakistan: Children of the Taliban and the 2007 Channel 4 series Afghanistan Unveiled, Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy just brought home her -- and Pakistan's -- first Academy Award. Her documentary short-film Saving Face revolves around the stories of two women - both acid-attack survivors making arduous attempts to bring their attackers to justice with the help of the groundbreaking charitable work of London-based, Pakistani-born plastic surgeon Dr. Mohammad Jawad. Through the course of the short-film, Dr. Jawad strives to help these women put their horrific pasts behind them and move on with the rest of their lives.
Going on to make Oscar history by becoming the first Pakistani to win the coveted award, Chinoy and co-director Daniel Junge's Saving Face saved the day for Pakistanis both at home and abroad. The country's prime minister has announced the highest civilian award for the filmmaker for helping Pakistan make headlines for the right reasons, for a change, and for serving as a catalyst for social progress through her work.
But amidst the fanfare, one cannot help but think how unfortunate it is that it took such a shameful subject to bring Pakistan its first Oscar, and whether this historical win and the resulting global limelight on the subject of acid-throwing in Pakistan will help bring this heinous act to an end. One cannot be certain but one can hope, for that is something this international acclaim brings for acid-victims in Pakistan fighting injustice for very many decades.
Encouragingly, efforts to fortify women's rights in Pakistan have been afoot even prior to this award. A few months back, the parliament of Pakistan adopted harsher penalties for perpetrators involved in acid crimes as the Senate passed the historical Acid Control and Acid Crime Prevention Bill along with the long-awaited Prevention of Anti-Women Practices Bill. Both bills were introduced and carried through by female members of the National Assembly of Pakistan, which itself is quite a mean feat for the women of Pakistan.
The acid control bill sentences perpetrators of the crime a minimum of 14 years to a lifetime of imprisonment and levies fines of up to Rs 1 million [~$11,000]. The bill also enlists major steps to control the import, production, transportation, hoarding, sale and use of acid to prevent misuse and promises acid-victims legal security.
Post-win, Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy and her team are using their website to formally launch a movement to raise awareness about acid attacks to further strengthen this newly developed legislation against acid-crimes. Posting on their website, co-director Junge says the film must be "more than an expose of horrendous crimes, it must be a recipe for addressing the problem and a hope for the future."
Saving Face is set to air on American television in the first week of March, while Chinoy and Junge also plan to screen it in Pakistan, after figuring out "the best possible way to show the film while ensuring that the women in the film are safe," said Chinoy talking to a Pakistani newspaper.
The fight to eliminate acid-crime in Pakistan has only just begun. But with the Pakistani Senate passing two crucial bills before stepping into the new year and the recent Oscar win through Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy's Saving Face, there is tremendous hope for the women of Pakistan and the country itself. By showing that there is a Pakistan with great potential, different from how it is generally perceived, through a short documentary, Chinoy has pulled this nation out of a blackhole of dejection -- even if for just this little while.
Rabail Baig is a Pakistani journalist based in Boston.
Jason Merritt/Getty Images

As Yogi Berrafamously put it, "It's déjà vu all over again." Amid a looming budget standoff,a presidential election cycle in full swing, and the popular dissatisfaction ofboth the left and the right, the United States has arrived -- yet again -- at acritical juncture in its war in Afghanistan, with key decisions being debatedconcerning the post-surge scenario and the prospects of political reconciliationwith various militant groups. The tragedy is that, much like its previousiterations, the current round of the Afghanistan debate in Washington isriddled with a staggering number of mischaracterizations. While the Cold Warproduced a cohort of able Soviet specialists, the decade-long war inAfghanistan has so far failed to produce sufficientregional expertise in the United States (this reasonably comprehensive list, for example,identifies just 107 Afghanistan-watchers in the United States).
Consequently, anumber of questionable assumptions about the Afghan people -- concerning theirattitudes to foreigners, their history, their society, and their values -- gounchallenged. Historicalanalogiesand socioeconomicdata are regularly manipulated by various parties to validate their ownbiases and preconceptions, and readingsof Afghan historyare, when not completely erroneous, unapologeticallyWestern-centric. For example, onecommon view that has gainedcirculation among think-tankers, policymakers, and congressional staffersis that a majority of Afghans are inherently hostile to the United States. Yet this viewpoint is not borne out by polling data, however imperfect. Thelast pollconducted by ABC News, the BBC and, ARD German TV, for example, says that nearlyseven in 10 Afghans support the presence of U.S. forces in their country.
Another and perhapsmore damaging misperception is of Afghanistan as the "graveyardof empires": a historically insignificant strategic backwater where greatcivilizations -- inevitably European ones -- ended up mired in ruinous war. Buteven a cursory examination of the region's history makes a mockery of this nowentrenched concept. During his conquests, Alexander of Macedon spent about twoyears solidifyinghis control of what is today Afghanistan and Central Asia, referred to inhis day as Bactria and Sogdiana. In fact, his army chose to reverse its coursein today's Punjab, over 200 miles to modern Afghanistan's east, afterthe Battleof the Hydaspes. The 19th-century British Empire, despitean initial setback, wonsubsequent engagements against the Afghans in its bid to create a bufferzone to British India's northwest. And the defeat of the Soviet military in the1980s was only made possible with American,Pakistani, and Saudi support.
The "graveyard of empires" canard also largely ignores non-Western history. Ancient and medievalAfghanistan was in fact at the heart of a number of major civilizations,including the GreekBactrian states; the KushanEmpire, which was a contemporary of imperial Rome; and, from the 10th to 12th centuries, the Ghaznavidsultanate, whoserulers made regular military forays into the subcontinent. The great MughalEmpire, at its zenith perhaps the most prosperous realm on Earth, had itsfoundations in what is today's Afghanistan, when its progenitor Baburestablished a presence in the region between Kabul and Peshawar. Count, on topof all this, several centuries of sustained Persian rule over the region.
In addition topopular misconceptions of Afghan xenophobia and historical backwardness, argumentsare regularly setforth about theincompatibility of Afghan societywith democracy.Although Afghanistan does have a history of underdeveloped democraticinstitutions, there are many reasons to question this blanket assessment.Definitional problems certainly persist: For many rural Afghans, democracyconnotes unlimited freedoms, rather than responsible and self-determinedgovernance. During the 1970s and 1980s, Soviet forces and their Afghan clientsoften called themselves democrats, further adding to confusion about the termin the minds of many Afghans. At the same time, there are mechanisms -- shuras,jirgas -- that, though hardly Jeffersonian, are analogous to the town hallsthat formed the bedrock of early American democracy. In this year's edition ofthe reasonably reliable Asia Foundation surveyof Afghanistan -- which polled 6,348 Afghans from all 34 provinces -- anoverwhelming 69 percent of Afghans polled say they are satisfied with the waydemocracy works in Afghanistan.
Ethnic politics isanother common source of confusion, with regular calls now heard inWashington for a soft partition of the state, creating a Taliban-dominated "Pashtunistan" separated from a confederation of provinces dominated by ethnicTajiks, Hazaras, and Uzbeks. Soft partitions, which were also advocatedin the case of Iraq not that long ago by U.S. Vice President JoeBiden, may appear to be easy and seductive solutions to pacifying complexpost-colonial societies overrun by civil war. But among otherproblems, they present a moral quandary, implicitly (thoughunintentionally) opening the door to ethnic cleansing. A cursory look athistory tells us that the partition of mixed political entities has almostalways been accompanied or preceded by ethnic cleansing or immense sectarianviolence: Consider India, Palestine, Bosnia, or Cyprus. Afghanistan'spopulation is heterogeneous, and given the commitment to establishing apluralistic and democratic state, calls for the country's de facto or de jurepartition appear both irresponsible and impractical.
Just as there areseveral peculiar narratives about Afghan society and history in steadycirculation, thereis also growing skepticism aboutthe United States' abilityto prosecute theAfghanistan war, with enormousdivergences between official U.S. and Afghanperspectives. One reason often cited for limiting the United States'involvement is the financial burden that the Afghanistan war represents in an era ofausterity. But according to the Congressional ResearchService, the war in Afghanistan will cost the United States an estimated$114 billion this year, a mere 3 percent of the federal budget, and a muchsmaller fraction of the American economy. This appears to be a small investmentrelative to the importance to American foreign policy and national security ofgetting Afghanistan right.
Somecommentators make theargument that the Afghanistan war is a sideshow to other forms of securitycompetition, particularly in East Asia -- that, in essence, the continued U.S.involvement in Afghanistan distracts from looming threats to U.S. securityposed by other great powers such as China. This is questionable for at leasttwo reasons. Firstly, other major powers -- including China, India, Russia, andIran, all of whom see Afghanistan as part of their extended neighborhoods -- areclosely watching developments affecting the U.S. position there. Americansuccess or failure will resonate in Moscow and Beijing, as well as New Delhiand Tehran. Secondly, the United States is not confronted with a binary choicebetween prosecuting the Afghanistan war and retaining a military presence againstmajor state threats. The United States has faced multiple security challengesbefore; the resources required to tackle them are quite different from oneanother; and U.S. military resources dedicated to securing Europe and theAsia-Pacific region have been steadilydeclining regardlessof investments in Afghanistan.
Finally, it is widely believed today inWashington that the Taliban enjoy popularpublic support, particularly among the ethnic Pashtun population ofAfghanistan. If true, it is certainly not reinforced by extant survey data. Noris the Afghan public weary of the United States' intensified involvement. Accordingto the Asia Foundation survey, aplurality of Afghans (46 percent) believes that the country is headed in the rightdirection, compared with 35 percent who believe otherwise. What is even moreencouraging, only 11 percent of Afghans have a lot of sympathy for armed opposition groups,half the proportion who expressed similar sentiments two years ago. In that sameperiod, those who have "no sympathy at all" for the Taliban have almost doubledto 64 percent of the population. Despite frustrations with the ability of the currentgovernment to deliver, Afghans express optimism about democracy as a principle,associating it most closely with peace and freedom. The United States, suchpolls clearly reveal, should not fool itself with undue pessimism. Its effortsare gradually beginning to bear fruit.
Currently,Afghanistan's fledgling state, though challenged frequently by security, governance,and development problems, has an elected government and an internationalpresence to contribute to the work of nation-building. Despite the ongoinginsurgency, widespread corruption, and the daily risk of arbitrary orextrajudicial killing, the Afghan people continue to strive for normalcy intheir day-to-day lives and hope for peace and prosperity in the future. Withthat in mind, the pontification of a few pundits and the exigencies ofnear-term politics should not lead to poor or rash decision-making. A balancedview of Afghan public opinion, history, culture, and politics -- and, just asimportantly, of the United States' ability to shape these factors in advancingits national security interests -- is crucial as Washington debates a decisionthat will have important regional and international implications for decades tocome.
JavidAhmad, a native of Kabul, is program coordinator and Dhruva Jaishankar is program officer with the Asia Program of the German Marshall Fund of the UnitedStates in Washington, D.C. The views reflected here are their own.
Brendan Hoffman/Getty Images

My article criticizing certain rituals in the Shi'a Muslimtradition in Pakistan's Express Tribune on December 8 spurred a firestorm ofcontroversy, as a number of commentators deemed it inappropriate or worse. Myargument was that religious adherents need to repudiate rituals that infringeon collective rights, and which can escalate sectarian conflict; these includethe rituals during the commemoration of Muharram, that can involve men and evenchildren flagellating themselves withknives on chains, and processions of bleeding men as a display of adoration forthe martyred Imam Husain (this is byno means reflective of all Shi'a practice, but is widely practiced amongSouth Asian Shi'a).
The controversy grew more intense on Twitter, and evennotable commentators such as NasimZehra asked for an immediate apology from the Tribune on grounds that thearticle was "outrageously offensive."To her credit, Ms. Zehra later noted thatafter the apology the matter should be closed. However, hate mail from all over followed,including several messages to the president of the University of Vermont (whereI teach) asking for my dismissal, a surprising torrent against free speech evenfrom highly educated writers. The university noted that the article was wellwithin the confines of free speech and was in fact condemning violence. Insteadof admonishing me, the university offered me police protection.
Under pressure from sponsors and amid fears that other mediahouses would use this episode to spur a consumer boycott, Tribune decided tofirst edit and then completely remove the article, and noted that I was"banned" from writing in their pages again. My intention was never to rebukeShi'ism itself, but rather such rituals whose practice further leads toacrimony between Shi'a and Sunnis. Furthermore, a ritual with so much bloodbeing spilled in a procession can be a public health issue, and has been repeatedlyquestioned and curtailed in Iran, Syria, and Lebanon.
Ireposted the article on my site with a clear apology for specificstatements which were, in retrospect, inflammatory for Pakistan's religioussensibilities. The newspaper's "ban" on my writing was later edited out of the apology statement posted onthe Internet, but this episode left me deeply troubled about the state ofjournalistic independence in Pakistan. The country has a vibrant civil societyand promising career track for journalists and independent writers, but therehas been a rapidrise in abductions and murders of journalists whose views were consideredantithetical to certain religious perspectives.
This episode highlighted for me a larger issue of mediafreedom in a country which often prides itself in having private TV channelswith fiery talk shows blasting politicians. Yet religious debate, often socontentious and even violent in Pakistan, remains off limits. Pakistan as asociety needs to understand that the right to offend in journalism is afundamental right. I don't mind getting hate mail despite the norms of freespeech, but what surprised me was that educated people questioned my right tocriticize a cultural practice by referring to it as "hate speech." I wasrepeatedly asked what my point was if criticism could further cause conflict. Stillanother asked, "could you criticize Jewish rituals the same way in America?" Thiskind of reaction could have taken place in many Muslim societies -- and Sunnisare equally culpable on such matters as Shi'a.
Pakistan's infamous blasphemylaws are a result of exactly this kind of oversensitivity and pattern ofraising ire following any hint of criticism about religious rituals or edicts.The valorization of extreme religious edicts by the State has unfortunatelybeen successful in co-opting the sensibilities of even many educated citizens. Thisin turn has strengthened the religious establishment's efforts toinstitutionalize a radical inertia within the political system. Perhaps unwittingly, liberal commentators whowould rather avoid tougher issues of dissent scorned my article, and by doingso strengthened the same kinds of arguments that fanatics use to marginalizeminorities or their opponents.
Ironically, in my article, I clearly stated that lawsagainst hate speech must be enforced. Speech that directly urges violence towardsany particular person or group of people must be avoided at all costs. Yet tounderstand sectarian conflict, which is often compared to "cancer," we have tolook at both proximate and systemic causes. Just as one treats cancer withchemotherapy, groups like Lashkar-e-Jhangvi(LeJ) need to be hunted down for terrorist crimes. But we also need to searchfor systemic causes of sectarian strife, which in Pakistan can be traced totheology in both Shi'a and Sunni doctrines as well as political interventionand alleged statesupport for sectarian groups like LeJ or Sipah-e-Sihaba Pakistan (SSP).
In a pluralistic society, the limits of what is allowed insuch cases can be debated and questioned, and laws can be passed and changedthrough democratic processes. For example, there are laws in some Europeancountries against questioning the historical validity of the Holocaust, but inthe United States, such historical questioning is protected by the firstamendment to the U.S. constitution (despite the repeated accusations by many Pakistanisthat American law and politics reflect undue Jewish influence). While Idisagree with the limitations on free speech in Europe, there is at least aworkable legislative pathway for repeal of these laws. In Pakistan, the prospectof any legislative change to errant laws is stifled by precisely the kindof bullying about religious sensitivity exhibited in this episode.
The duty of any socially conscious writer is to push theenvelope and challenge people to question their assumptions. This will makepeople uncomfortable, but incremental social change always happens through sucha dialectical process. If people were always trying to stray from controversy socialchange would never take place. Cultural sensitivity is far too often used as anexcuse for maintaining the status quo in places like Pakistan, and this needsto change if the country is ever to overcome the polarization that continues toimpede communitarian peace.
Saleem H. Ali is professor ofenvironmental studies at the University of Vermont's Rubenstein School ofEnvironment and Natural Resources and the director of the Institute forEnvironmental Diplomacy and Security at the James Jeffords Center for PolicyResearch. He can be followed @saleem_ali
MOHAMMED SAWAF/AFP/Getty Images

We often see thearts as only fit for museums, galleries, and film festivals, cloistered inhalls only for the intellectual elite. But the arts can help build anation, or in the case of Afghanistan, are rebuilding a nation, employing itspeople, and recalling a history forgotten in recent decades of continuousconflict. And a small group of social scientists, architects, and entrepreneursare using culture as a vehicle to restore Afghanistan, challenging theconvention that the arts are only for aesthetics.
"Culturalconservation is directly linked to development and livelihoods here. Thehistoric sites that we're rebuilding are functioning places, generating revue,providing jobs, and are self-sustaining," says Ajmal Maiwandi, anAfghan-American architect who returned to the country nearly a decade ago totake up a post with the Aga Khan Trust for Culture (AKTC) to help rebuildAfghanistan's most historic sites. In that time, Maiwandi explains thatAKTC has preserved nearly a 100 sites, even during tense periods of conflict.
For WashingtonD.C.-based Dr. Cheryl Benard, the desire to revive the arts in Afghanistan cameout of seeing the destruction of Europe following WWII, where monuments werepillaged, destroying not only beautiful edifices but also erasing history withthem. As a young child, growing up in post-war Germany and Austria, shethen saw the resurrection of what had been knocked down and pillaged-- anexperience she explains has made her more sympathetic to those living inconflict-ridden societies. Benard, who founded the Bamiyan Project, anon-profit dedicated to cultural preservation in Central Asia, wants to seethat same movement in Afghanistan.
"[The arts] arenot taken so seriously. It's something that people think about much later, whenthe tourists arrive. But they're fundamental to the process ofreconciliation and reconstructing the nation," she says with urgency.
Maiwandiagrees. As CEO of the AKTC in Afghanistan, he's led numerous successfulprojects, such as the restoration of the gardens of the Mughal emperor Babur, the Mausoleum of Timur Shah, and urban regeneration initiatives in the Asheqan wa Arefan neighborhood of Kabul. In the old city of Herat, the Trusthas revived five notable historic houses, seventeen public buildings, and thegravesite of the Sufi poet, Abdullah Ansari, in Gozarga.
This flurry ofactivity has created a local demand for labor. In Herat alone, therestoration has provided for 60,000 work days of employment. And theapproach to restoration is "holistic," Maiwandi notes, meaning that not onlyare old, crumbling building attended to, but drainage systems are put intoplace, pavements are laid down, and waste is removed. In short,these efforts are not just about beautifying but also redevelopingneighborhoods, investments that have long-term impact, he explains.
AKTC couples thishistorical preservation with more hands-on training, offering courses in tradessuch as carpentry, teaching students how to craft doors, windows, woodcarvings, items that go beyond the classroom and have local demand.
Turquoise Mountain, a social enterprise created by Britishauthor and parliamentarian Rory Stewart, takes the training a step furtherthrough a global market place for handmade Afghan crafts, having sold nearly $1million worth within the country and abroad. While Turquoise also tends tourban regeneration in old Kabul, its Institute of Arts and Architectures givesstudents year-long lessons in calligraphy, woodworking, ceramics, jewelry, andgem cutting -- trades that give them employment in addition to carrying onage-old traditions.
Such pragmaticart is coupled with large-scale preservation, akin to AKTC's work on Bagh-e-Babur,which fuels tourism. Benard's non-profit, for instance, is restoring thelegendary poet Rumi's birthplace in northern Afghanistan. The restorationprocess, Benard explains, has generated not just local employment during andpost construction, but also created an oasis for locals and tourists that willbe sustainable in years to come. And in remembrance of Rumi's poems, whichoften featured lyrical descriptions of nature, the site houses a number ofgardens, something that will keep the locals coming after they've seen thetouristy bits. Benard notes that the Rumi Gardens are located in one ofAfghanistan's "safe pockets," and have never been attacked by militants; evenif security deteriorates in Afghanistan after the withdrawal of troops in 2014,her NGO does not feel particularly concerned about security threats.
Benard originallystarted the non-profit in 2010 to help preserve an expansive site in Bamiyanprovince, one that once housed housing two colossal-sized Buddhas from the 6thcentury, remnants of the country's more pluralist past that were destroyed bythe Taliban in March 2001. Yet in the meantime, another threat arose,diverting her attention again.
In 2007, TheChinese Metallurgical Group Corp, backed by the Chinese government, leasedone of the world's largest untapped copper mines, estimated at $3.5billion, with intentions to begin mining in 2009. A profitable deal forthe Chinese who aspire to tap into Afghanistan's rich minerals, it marks thelargest foreign investment in the country, one that could reap nearly $1.2billion from the mine and the jobs it creates. But the mine sits onanother piece of Afghanistan's Buddhist history: Mes Aynak, home to a 5thcentury Buddhist monastery, whose crumbling statues dot the hilly landscape. To allow for excavation, which would removethe delicate ruins from the site to be placed in a nearby museum, the Chinesehave delayed mining until the process is completed.
Though a reminderof the country's Buddhist past, Bernard says that she was impressed by howlocal Afghans have made an effort to preserve it. Being an Islamic nationhasn't stopped them from expressing their support for the preservation of theBuddhas, she says, illustrating that the arts can be a catalyst in redefining acountry's story.
Benard continues,explaining that "one piece of the story that doesn't get covered is the risksthat people go to save their cultural heritage. For example, earlier,when the locals realized that that Taliban were coming to destroy the [NationalFilm Archives of Afghanistan], they erected walls to break up the collectionand reduce the damage. In museums, the staff concealed so many items, taking abig risk on their own safety. This simply shows that the arts are important tolocals -- even in war when more basic needs are at stake."
Benard is nowcollaborating with other preservationists to develop a plan for some of theBuddha statues to remain in their original form at Mes Aynek, and not bewhisked away to museums, so that the site can be visited and admired in itsnative state. The Chinese will still be able to access the site formining, though they may need to use a more "gentle technology" to extract thecopper without damaging the Buddhas, Benard says.
Hamid Naweed, anAfghan art historian, has been working closely with Benard and recentlytraveled with her throughout the country, talking with locals on the BamiyanProject, Mes Aynek, and the cultural heritage of Afghanistan more broadly.
"What amazed mewas the response of the Afghan people," said Benard. "They were moved bythe discussions, crying even, to hear their history presented in a coherent,positive way. The Afghans have a history rich with achievements as well. So,it's a real game changer for them to hear it first-hand."
With morepreservation projects under way for Benard, Turquoise, and AKTC, the Afghanswill not only be hearing it, but will see it unfold in front of them, as thearts becomes a means of employment and a way to reconstruct their nation.
Esha Chhabra is a writer who focuses onsocial innovation and social enterprises. She was recently the RotaryAmbassadorial Scholar at the London School of Economics, where she specializedin Global Politics and Social Enterprise. This piece was completed in partnershipwith Dowser.org.
SHAH MARAI/AFP/Getty Images

Intolerant,
fundamentalist and extremist. This is the general impression of Pakistani
society in the world outside Pakistan, though a deeper look would lead the
observer to discover another layer - altogether different than the one visible
from Europe and America. Following the Urdu-language Pakistani media, one is
easily brought to the conclusion that there exists widespread radicalism and
fundamentalism among Pakistanis. The television anchors and their repetition of
‘national interests' aside, the key question is: Is the Pakistani society
really extremist? A cursory look at the events of the past few years can tell
the answer.
Following the highly-rigged
general elections
in 2002 in favor of the now defunct religious alliance, Muttahidda
Majlis-e-Amal (MMA), Pakistan's
religious parties looked poised to assert their newfound power in the country.
But just six years later, in the February 2008 general election, Pakistanis
overwhelmingly supported
secular political parties such as the ruling Pakistan People's Party (PPP)
and the Awami National Party (ANP), while the religious parties managed to
retain only seven seats in the country's National Assembly. The religious
parties and their affiliates also failed on several occasions to start a political
movement by using issues such as the jailing of Pakistani doctor Aafia Siddiqui,
the US drone strikes in Pakistan's tribal northwest, the Raymond Davis episode,
or the U.S. Special Forces raid in Abbottabad and killing of al-Qaeda chief
Osama bin Laden.
Pakistan's security establishment also contributes to the West's fundamentalist
and extremist image of Pakistani society. Over the years, the Pakistani state
has supported the armies of Kashmir-focused jihadists in order to gain leverage
over its more powerful and several-times-larger rival India, as well maintain a
Pakistan-friendly government in neighboring Afghanistan. To achieve these goals,
the establishment willfully encouraged a number of elements within its own borders,
ranging from pro-jihadist religious parties to extremist literature in schools,
colleges and universities, in order to generate support for the jihadist cause.
Within Pakistan, the armed forces are often presented as heroes and the true
custodians of Pakistan's ideological and geographical frontiers, while the
liberal political forces are labeled (albeit with some truth) as vested
interests, too corrupt and inefficient to run the country and ensure its
defense. Pakistani youth are flooded with hardliner propaganda and find
attraction in extremist views because of the stance of the esteemed military,
the jihadist literature in classrooms, government-controlled electronic media,
and a state policy of encouraging certain jihadist organizations.
This policy approach, although it dates back to the creation of Pakistan,
was institutionalized during the 10 years of military rule under the dictator
General Zia ul-Haq, who championed jihad and the Islamization of society. The majority
of the secular leaders at that time were either won over one way or another, forced to keep
silent, or pushed into exile, thus leaving room for the fundamentalists to come
forward and "purify" the society by holding mass gatherings in cities, speaking
on the official electronic media, becoming involved in educational institutions
and spreading jihadist literature. Zia and his rightist support base thus
maneuvered hard, and the ultimate result was the emergence of a hardliner
approach among the upper layer of the Pakistani society to Muslim causes - be
it Kashmir, Afghanistan,
Palestine, Bosnia,
Chechnya,
Kosovo or any other place in the world. The support for extremists and
jihadists did not end with the death of Gen. Zia. Elements in The state security apparatus continued the same
policies, eventually resulting in the emergence of the Taliban in Afghanistan
who converted areas of the country into a safe haven for extremists and
jihadists all over the world.
However, this is only one side of the picture. A few thousand miscreants
fighting in the tribal areas, or some baton-wielding madressa students marching
a street in Punjab, in no
way represent the majority of the 180 million-strong Pakistani populace, who
disapprove of the Taliban's terrorism and vandalism. Today, the tribal areas
are being presented to the world as a tinderbox where everyone is a radical fighter
or suicide bomber, only to convince the western world to shower more money on
the Pakistani elites in order to avert this purported threat to global peace. In
fact, this is a well-orchestrated plan in which the tribal people are the real
victims. Victims in the sense that they are presented to the world as the
trouble-maker while in fact, they are hostages at the hands of the Pakistani
security agencies (and the militant groups), who over the years have supported
or ignored the presence of jihadist and terrorist groups on Pakistani soil.
To understand the state's approach to the tribal areas, one must look at a few
simple but thought-provoking questions: Why have the Federally Administered Tribal
Areas (FATA) been discriminated
against over the past 60 years? Why are they being run under the
colonial-era Frontier Crimes Regulation (FCR) laws, and why were political
parties banned from the area until very
recently?
How many schools, colleges, universities, hospitals, roads, canals, dams, power
projects, and agriculture projects have been launched in FATA over the years?
There are many other such unanswered questions, and the motive is clear: Keep FATA
residents in the dark and mold their image as and when needed.
Despite
all of this, a vast majority of FATA residents are still in favor of education,
development, political reforms and (no doubt) peace. We are hearing more and
more accounts of tribal Pakistanis spending their hard-earned money to send
their sons and daughters to colleges and universities to become doctors,
engineers, teachers and scholars. Would a person sending his son or daughter to
university support the Taliban's jihadist agenda?
In
Pakistan's cities meanwhile,
despite the fact that the secular political leadership is often rendered
useless by criminal elements and their supporters, the vast majority of people
disapprove of militancy and extremism. The once popular religious political
parties are usually not able to gather more than a few hundred people at
rallies, even for flashpoint issues such as price hikes, power outages, fuel
shortages or foreigners' alleged disrespect of Islam. Anti-Americanism exists
in many countries and Pakistan
is no exception. But being anti-American does not necessarily mean being a
jihadist or a Talib. Protests in the United
States and around the world against the U.S. military campaigns in Iraq and Afghanistan
are non-violent examples of this sentiment.
Now is the time for the western world to understand the situation by looking
deep into Pakistani society instead of judging things on the basis of protest
demonstrations by a few hundred bearded young men, or some gun-wielding men in
videos from FATA. The key point to understand is that the real Pakistani
society lies under the superficial layer of radicalism being presented as a
serious threat to Pakistan
and the peace of the world at large.
We need to know that despite security threats, hundreds of thousands of
students are attending schools, colleges and universities; new private sector
educational institutions are being opened; new think-tanks are being launched;
the NGO network is spreading; and music, art and culture are flourishing. These
developments are even occurring in areas presented as the most conservative to
the outside world. It is high time for the world to look beyond the surface and
see the vast majority of Pakistanis, who have been taken hostage by the
few armed thugs who are propped up by
the state to achieve the foreign policy goals.
Extremism is without a doubt a serious issue confronting the state of Pakistan and the region. But the approach should be to take it head on with the support of the bulk of Pakistanis who disapprove of terrorism and believe in political dialogue as a resolution to issues both inside and outside the country.
Daud Khattak is a journalist currently working for the Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty's Pashto-language station Radio Mashaal.
S.S. MIRZA/AFP/Getty Images

This installment of AfPak Behind the Lines looks at Pakistani television and the Pakistan-U.S. relationship with Luv Puri.
1) USAID recently announced that it is funding a remake of Sesame Street for Pakistan. How unique is this effort to bring American television to Pakistan, historically?
Sesame Street was first aired in Pakistan in English in the late 1980s and early 1990s, though it was far from the only exposure Pakistanis got to American television and culture. Interestingly, Pakistan Television (PTV) became one of the key instruments through which the U.S.-Pakistan civil alliance during the Afghan jihad gained a popular acceptance at the civil society level in Pakistan. In the 1980's, television viewers in Pakistan were also exposed to the saga of African Americans' arrival to the United States of America through the broadcast of televised version of the famous novel of Alex Haley, "Roots: The Saga of an American Family", which gave Pakistani viewers an interesting and vivid exposure to the brutal history of the slave trade and struggles of the African American community in the United States, from the 18th-century until the present.
On a lighter note, Pakistani viewers were also treated to episodes of Star Trek, as well as Full House, which for many gave a sense into the complex aspects of parenting in the West. This heavy dose of American entertainment was going on simultaneously with and at the end of then-dictator Gen. Zia ul-Haq's government-sponsored Islamization drive in Pakistan, which ended with Zia's mysterious death in 1988. Every evening, PTV news displayed the shots of the mujahideen fighting the Soviets in Afghanistan. In fact, Zia's Islamization drive and American entertainment often had their own followers even within the same family, as it was mostly urban, English-speaking families who had access to and could understand shows like Full House (which went on the air at the tail end of the Islamization drive). There was no contradiction between the two parallel trends at the time, because of the political alignment between America and Pakistan and even with the Muslim world at large. There was instead a kind of acceptance of both, a feeling that the American value system and Islamic worlds view could live side by side.
The two strands began to diverge as political alignments and coalitions began to fracture in the 1990s, after the anti-Soviet jihad was finished and the U.S. moved on to other issues, such as nuclear non-proliferation and a post-Soviet Europe. This change in focus put the United States at odds with Pakistan, whose interests and concerns remained firmly rooted in South Asian politics, namely India and the emerging chaos in Afghanistan.
2) How does Pakistan's English-language entertainment media compare with the Urdu options, both in the past and today?
In the 1990's, after the United States imposed sanctions on Pakistan for its nuclear program, there was a sudden transformation even with respect to the content of the media, as American programming became minimal. However, the short-lived democratic government of Benazir Bhutto (who was Pakistan's prime minister from 1988 until 1990 and again from 1993 until 1996) brought about a golden age of Pakistani Urdu theater broadcast on PTV.
This theater engaged with the societal problems of the day. Urdu dramas such as 1989's Neelay Haath (literally "Blue Hands," meant to represent the appearance of hands after torture or abuse) raised the issue of injustices perpetrated against Pakistani women by both the state and society during Zia's regime. There were also programs which accommodated the ethnic diversity of Pakistan, such as televised theater productions that educated the audience about various aspects of Baluch and Pashtun history and culture, with a heavy emphasis on the historic Pashtun resistance to British occupation (though unsurprisingly no concurrent focus on Baluch nationalism or separatism). The progressive spirit of theater was lost as democracy became more and more tenuous in the country with every passing day, and Pakistani society became more and more disappointed in the failure of Benazir Bhutto's government to bring about the change and improvements that many thought were sure to come from her leadership.
By the time Gen. Pervez Musharraf took over, Pakistan had
been infected by the crass commercialism of TV programming, something that had already taken place in neighboring India. This goldgen age of Urdu drama was over. PTV had to compete with
other private satellite channels, and the market dictated the agenda, leaving
little space or even resources available to socially relevant or educational
entertainment.
3) Then-Pakistani president Musharraf
oversaw a dramatic expansion of electronic media in Pakistan beginning in the early
2000s. What has the impact of the spread of an independent media been for Pakistan?
Musharraf made the decision to open up electronic media in 2002; a total of 83 licenses for satellite TV channels were issued during the Musharraf era, including about 38 for news and current affairs channels. Around 47 percent of the Pakistani population watches television, and over 60 percent of the total population lives in rural areas. But in the absence of strong civil society institutions, the Pakistani airwaves have become a platform for forming public opinion on geo-strategic issues. Unfortunately, there is little socially relevant content on some of the critical domestic challenges facing the country.
Pakistan in many ways fits the typical pattern seen in the democratization process of many developing countries, as discussed in in the seminal work of American political scientist Samuel P. Huntington, Political Order in Changing Societies. The political and civil society institutions in Pakistan are too few and too weak to provide space to politicized sections of the society to vigorously participate in debate on everyday issues. TV in Pakistan is a rare medium where politicians and civil society actors can reach out to the masses and engage with the issues; however, the structure of popular TV debates, with the exception of a few cases, is such that they have to simplify complex political and social problems, leading to increased populism that results in some of the relevant details being missed or distorted. In such an environment, developments are seen through a simpler, but more starkly divisive, lens.
Luv Puri is a political analyst, who has written two books on South Asian political and security issues. He recently published Across the Line of Control based on field work in Pakistan and Pakistan-administered Kashmir.
RIZWAN TABASSUM/AFP/Getty Images

The bad news from Pakistan since the beginning of the year has seemed relentless: the assassinations of two senior officials by Islamist extremists. The nosedive in U.S.-Pakistan relations over the Raymond Davis affair. Escalating political violence in Karachi. Mounting economic hardships.
That's why the Pakistani excitement and sense of national unity generated by this week's historic Indian-Pakistani cricket match was so striking, even though Pakistan lost the match.
Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh demonstrated leadership and vision when he seized on the moment and spontaneously invited Pakistan's leaders to the face-off. Pakistani Prime Minister Yousaf Raza Gilani's attendance, combined with Islamabad's forward movement on the Mumbai attack probe earlier this week, provides hope that both sides see merit in forging ahead with dialogue.
INDRANIL MUKHERJEE/AFP/Getty Images

Long-distance arrest
News agencies reported yesterday that earlier this month a senior figure in the al Qaeda-linked Indonesian militant group Jemaah Islamiyyah (JI), Umar Patek, was arrested in Pakistan, though his location, conditions of his detention, and reasons for being in Pakistan remain unknown (WSJ, BBC, AP, AJE, AFP, Reuters). Indonesia has sent officials to identify and possibly take home Patek, who allegedly spent time in training camps in Afghanistan during the 1980s and 1990s, and is believed to have played an important role in the 2002 Bali nightclub bombings that left 202 dead, including seven Americans (NYT, AP).
DARMA/AFP/Getty Images

Forget cricket diplomacy. A sporting event of the stature of an India vs. Pakistan World Cup semi-final is too important to allow diplomacy to get in the way. To get a sense of what is about to happen tomorrow, when Pakistan faces off against India in the cricket World Cup semi-final in Mohali, India, consider this: Over a billion and a half people in India, Pakistan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka will likely be watching. That is one quarter of all of humanity glued to television screens. The ones that don't own TVs-and with astronomical poverty levels in the region, there are millions that don't-will be watching on large public screens, at neighbors' houses, in town squares, at restaurants and at tea stalls. Sure, the peaceful and conciliatory proclamations from politicians are nice, but neither Indians nor Pakistanis are going to be watching the match in order to help deepen relations between the two countries - they'll be watching to cheer their team to victory. And that is a good thing.
ROUF BHAT/AFP/Getty Images

"If you wanted to add to the vast fund of ill-will existing in the world at this moment," George Orwell wrote in 1945, "you could hardly do it better than by a series of football matches between Jews and Arabs, Germans and Czechs, Indians and British, Russians and Poles, and Italians and Jugoslavs, each match to be watched by a mixed audience of 100,000 spectators." Certainly, international sport has all too often amplified the worst aspects of jingoistic behavior, but this Wednesday's Cricket World Cup semifinal between India and Pakistan, to be held in a suburb of Chandigarh, the capital of the Indian state of Punjab, promises to prove Orwell wrong, much as previous such encounters between the two teams have done. Cricket, in fact, perhaps best illustrates why the India-Pakistan relationship may be among the world's most misunderstood.
Daniel Berehulak/Getty Images

The ongoing Cricket World Cup being played out in the Indian Subcontinent has had its share of interesting matches and story lines (for a primer on cricket rules and terms, look here). But none has been more gripping and fascinating than the very unlikely march of Pakistan, who just trounced the West Indies by a record margin, to become the first team to reach the semifinals. They have gotten to this stage in considerable style, having previously beaten the reigning world-champions, Australia, and one of the tournament favorites, Sri Lanka, in the group stages. Pakistan won their quarterfinal without losing a single player out of eleven in what commentators are describing as the most resounding drubbing ever delivered in the World Cup knockout stage.
And yet, as ominous as Pakistan's progress in this World Cup has been, this is a team that emulates its country's ability to generate controversy. In just the last four years alone, Pakistan has lost its best players to a match-fixing scandal last summer, faced an international ban on domestic games that started after the armed terrorist assault on the visiting Sri Lankan team in 2009, suffered the mysterious death of their coach during the previous World Cup in 2007, lost a budding player to death threats from a country-wide gambling mafia, suffered the ignominy during the recent Middle East crises of having their largest stadium named after a certain Libyan despot, and had their best players resort to constant infighting, faking injuries and getting caught for using opium, marijuana and anabolic steroids. With a squad short on superstars, confidence and credibility, Pakistan's cricket team entered this tournament as a freak show of sorts. And yet, as is historically true of the Pakistani cricket team, "the most interesting team in the history of sport" in the words of Guardian writer Rob Smyth, their raw talent has overcome all controversy and surpassed just about every opponent so far.
Pakistan's date with destiny has set up what could be one of the most highly anticipated matches in recent history. If India beats Australia in their quarterfinal tomorrow, which they are favored to do, then these two archrivals will face each other in the semifinals to be played on Mar. 30 in Mohali, India. Pakistan last played on Indian soil in 2007; however, following the Mumbai terrorist attacks in 2008, India's team cancelled their tour of Pakistan, and Pakistani players have been barred from participating in the lucrative Indian Premier League.
Even in the event that Australia defeats India and this potentially epic match does not take place, concerns about Pakistan's semifinal appearance have already been raised. In previous tours, Hindu fundamentalists have dug up pitches where Pakistan was scheduled to play, and threatened to disrupt matches involving Pakistan in India before this tournament even began. Reflective of these concerns, in a press conference held immediately after Pakistan's victory, the chief executive of the International Cricket Committee assured journalists that the venue would not be changed and confirmed Pakistan's match in Mohali.
For a country where cricketers enjoy incredible celebrity status, the current Pakistani cricket team is devoid of many superstars. However, losing a few to match-fixing and a great one to age might well have been a blessing in disguise. Led by a man who embodies all of Pakistan in his boisterous, inconsistent, emotional, and occasionally self-destructive persona - Shahid Khan Afridi - adversity has brought this erratic band together in a way that reminds the nation of the last time this team won the World Cup in 1992. While his brash and haughty celebrations have put off some of the old guard, like Australian Ian Chappel, Afridi brings a rare honesty to play that is devoid of the regimental professionalism of modern cricket.
Cricket is more than a trivial pursuit in Pakistan. It unites Pakistanis in a way that nothing else does. With a mix of players from all provinces, Punjabi, Pashto and Urdu, come together in a way they do at few other forums. With an identity split on religious, lingual, geographical, cultural, political and ideological lines, cricket is the only thing that truly brings out a national identity in Pakistanis.
The story of the 11 players that will take to the coliseum in Mohali on March the 30th mirrors that of the 180 million who await the next twist on their plate. In Pakistan, the absurd and tragic events appearing in the sports pages reflect a grotesque caricature of the problems Pakistan experiences every day. But this evening, by the millions, Pakistanis are hoping that the fortunes of Pakistan, the country, will follow the blossoming ‘taqdeer', of Pakistan - the team.
Haider Warraich, MD, is a research fellow at Harvard Medical School. He is a graduate of the Aga Khan University in Karachi, Pakistan, and the author of the forthcoming novel, Auras of the Jinn.
AAMIR QURESHI/AFP/Getty Images

In December 2010, frustrated, irate, and depressed at the uproar around the case of Aasia Bibi and the reticence of the Pakistani government in amending the Blasphemy Laws that had condemned her to death, I interviewed Pakistan's Federal Minister for Minorities and the ruling Pakistan People's Party (PPP) national assembly member Shahbaz Bhatti on the telephone. Bhatti, the man responsible for protecting Pakistan's minority groups, told me, "Many people are facing death threats and problems. They're in prison and are being killed extra-judicially. This law is being misused." Bhatti had just been named by President Zardari as the head of a committee to discuss the country's blasphemy laws. "They have their own opinion and they are free to express it, we have our own," Bhatti calmly replied to a query about the stance taken by the religious right-wing against amending the Blasphemy Laws, or pardoning Bibi.
Perhaps Bhatti himself didn't know that three months later that "right" would take the shape of an assassin's bullets that claimed his life outside his Islamabad residence.
JEWEL SAMAD/AFP/Getty Images

Not many women can say that Nawaz Sharif,Pakistan's troubled former prime minister, tried to set her up on a date with aPakistani man. Kim Barker, the author of TheTaliban Shuffle: Strange Days in Afghanistan and Pakistan, can do thatone better: she can say Sharif tried to set her up with Asif Ali Zardari, the presidentof Pakistan.
Barker, appropriately, declined Sharif's kindinvitation; she also had to decline, sometime later, Sharif's invitation to behis latest mistress. Her surreal book is chock full of such ridiculousexperiences, whether the grabby, eve-teasing crowds ofPakistani men in Peshawar or the uncomfortably flirtatious former Afghanattorney general, Abdul Jabar Sabit. Barker, a former Chicago Tribune correspondent now with ProPublica, recounts nearlya decade of soul-wrenching zaniness, perpetrated in equal parts by the Afghans,Pakistanis, and the white people moving amongst them both, with a good sense ofhumor. This is funny stuff, it's true. But it's also very sad.
DMITRY KOSTYUKOV/AFP/Getty Images

Drones have been the tactic of choice in targeting al-Qaeda and Taliban-linked militants in Pakistan’s Federally Administered Tribal Area (FATA) in the past few years. The strikes have increased significantly under President Obama’s administration, with the New America Foundation noting 79 reported attacks in 2010 so far compared to 53 in all of 2009. In September alone, the CIA reportedly conducted 22 drone strikes, “the most ever in a single month and more than twice its monthly average.”
ANWARULLAH KHAN/AFP/Getty Images

Afghan President Hamid Karzai has come under considerable criticism in the U.S. for his emotional outbursts and cantankerousness. Foreign Policy managing editor Blake Hounshell mocked Karzai recently for crying over the prospect that his son, Mirwais, might leave the country to live a better life. Bob Woodward’s newest book alleges that Karzai has received treatment for manic depression and smokes marijuana -- leading commentators to speculate that the Afghan president has lost the ability to lead. However, Hamid Karzai remains the only real option for crafting a political and institutional framework that will stabilize the country, and the sooner the U.S. realizes it, and stops wishing for a perfect leader to fix an imperfect war, the better off we’ll be.
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Yesterday, the Pew Research Center's Global Attitudes Project, which conducts public opinion surveys around the world, released a new poll on Pakistani perceptions based on face-to-face interviews conducted from April 13 to April 28, 2010. However, the sample size is relatively small -- 2,000 Pakistani adults out of a population of 180 million -- and admittedly "disproportionately urban." Moreover, while Pew polled people in Punjab, Sindh, Balochistan, and Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa (formerly NWFP), portions of Balochistan and K-P were not included because of instability. Pakistan's tribal areas (FATA), Gilgit-Baltistan, and Azad Jammu and Kashmir were also not included in the survey, leading me to question how reflective Pew's poll results are of Pakistan's entire population.
The results were, for the most part, unsurprising, and paint a grim picture of Pakistani attitudes in the wake of militancy, military operations, a worsening economy, and political instability. For example, an overwhelming number of Pakistanis polled continue to have a negative view of the United States (68 percent), and a majority of Pakistanis (53 percent) see India as the greatest threat to the country, over the Taliban (23 percent) and al-Qaeda (3 percent). Much like last year's Pew survey, the majority of Pakistanis polled say they are dissatisfied with the way things are going in the country, citing terrorism, crime, and a lack of jobs as very big issues.
Some of the most interesting results relate to attitudes toward religion, law, and society.
Daniel Berehulak/Getty Images

It has all the makings of a comic riot: a Karachi-based reporter finds an Osama Bin Laden look-alike and decides to shoot a video of him to get worldwide fame (and an elusive U.S. visa).
This is the plot of the film Tere Bin Laden, which stars one of Pakistan's most popular musicians, Ali Zafar, and was produced and primarily filmed in India.
However, the film will release tomorrow in India but not in Pakistan. The film was not given clearance for a cinema release by the Central Board of Film Censors. The case has forwarded to an appellate board for review.
The reasons for the ban have been vague at best. While one report said that the ban was due to fears of a terrorist attack, another stated that the film was bound to create controversy. While the move by the censorship board has drawn ire from fans of the film, it has contradicted the current practices in place in the country. Foreign and local films releasing in the country's cinemas are barely touched by the censors, and questions about censorship rules are often met by with scoffs by distributors.
Censorship in Pakistan has usually been for religious reasons, such as the ban on films like The Da Vinci Code, or the recent move to block Facebook, which is why the censor board's decision was unexpected. Promotion for the film has primarily taken place in India, but there was a great deal of buzz about it in Indian and Pakistan film circles.
As a cautionary move, Zafar (who was distributing the film in Pakistan) had changed the film's title earlier this month to Tere Bin (Without You, in Urdu) for the country. At that time, he said, "The sensibilities in Pakistan are somewhat different from the international market and our main intention was to ensure that people do not conceive it was a spoof of Osama Bin Laden or the Taliban because it is not; it is a very pro-Pakistan comedy about a Pakistani journalist wanting to go to the U.S."
The title change itself did not make much sense, given that Pakistan would be the last place in the world where people would be unfamiliar with the name bin Laden. Posters of the film had already been placed in cinemas in certain cities and the name Tere Bin Laden was well-known.
But that move was in vain. The fate of Ali Zafar's film now lies in the hands of the government, and as with any other Indian film that is released in Pakistan, the film will undoubtedly be pirated and sold in DVD and CD stores.
Saba Imtiaz works for The Express Tribune, an English-language newspaper in Pakistan.
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The peace jirga has left the older generation of factional leaders nicely split: a few (Sayyaf, Rabbani, Mujadddidi) have been honoured by the president and treated like long-lost brothers by the world's diplomats; others (Dostum, Mohaqiq, Abdullah) are sitting, Achilles-like, sulking in their tents; while just a couple from the 80s generation of mujahideen stalwarts (Hekmatyar, Haqqani) have been left, issuing curses from the wilderness. Meanwhile, in the jirga tent itself, delegates have told the Afghanistan Analysts Network (AAN) there has been real, lively debate about what to do with those relatively new kids on the block, the Taliban.
As
the camera of Afghan television panned over the Afghan notables sitting
in the front row of the jirga on the opening day, familiar faces from
the Afghan war were prominent. It felt like an old boys' club, as
Sebghattullah Mujaddedi -- head of the Jebha-ye Nejat-e Melli, (the
National Salvation Front), Head of the Senate, former president and
head of the Strengthening Peace Programme (Program-e Tahkim-e Solh)
which has done so badly, since 2005, in luring disaffected Taliban over
to the government's side (see New Bureaucracies
to Welcome ‘Upset Brothers') -- said he was too old to take the
chairmanship of the jirga and nobly gave it up to his youthful (?)
mujahideen comrade, successor president, MP and head of the Jamiat-e
Islami party, Ustad Burhannudin Rabbani.
SHAH MARAI/AFP/Getty Images

Over the past four decades, the name Bhutto has come to symbolize --depending on which version of history you believe -- Pakistan. It has become our lot inlife to obsess over the Bhuttos, discuss their macabre deaths -- Zulfikar washanged, Shah Nawaz poisoned, Murtaza and Benazir shot -- and wonder how manymore Bhuttos will come to rule over Pakistan.
The latest author to chronicle the Bhuttos is Fatima Bhutto, Murtaza'sdaughter and the much-fawned over columnist and poet whose book, Songsof Blood and Sword: A Daughter's Memoir, was recently released in Pakistan,India, and the United Kingdom. Songs of Blood and Sword is Fatima'sattempt at writing a memoir of her father, Mir Murtaza Bhutto, who died in 1996when the Karachipolice fired on his convoy while his sister, Benazir Bhutto, was primeminister.
On first read, this memoir often feels like a rehash of Daughterof the East, Benazir Bhutto's 1988 autobiography that documented herlife in prison under General Zia ul-Haq's regime and the events that precededit, including her father being hanged by Haq's administration, simply becauseFatima is as defensive of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto's domestic and foreign policies asBenazir was.
But Fatima Bhutto's grief is palpable on every page -- anyone who haslost a parent can empathize with her pain, and anyone who hasn't will stillcommiserate. But in her attempt to document her father's life from his birth tohis years in exile in Syria from the early 1980s and eventual return toPakistan in 1993, Fatima tries to wipe the slate clean and goes down the sameroute that Benazir did in Daughter of theEast: selectively using quotes from those who agree with her worldview.
Fatima traces Murtaza's history and finds witty gems and beautiful ex-girlfriendsas she travels to Boston and Athens to discover her father's life. Shefinds professors reminiscing about their talented young student, and oldfriends sharing anecdotes and letters written by Zulfikar to Murtaza.
She writes at length about their shared memories, their bond as fatherand daughter, strengthened further by the fact that he brought her up almostsingle-handedly,since her parents divorced shortly after Shah Nawaz Bhutto's death. Fatima's accountof their life in Damascusis poignant, peppered with their shared interests, anecdotes of Murtaza'sboisterous sense of humor and conversations about life and love. These partsare engaging, make for a compelling read and deserve to be documented. Hewrites a poem to her in a letter while he was in jail, excerpted here:
Here is a small one on Wadi [Benazir] and Slippery Joe [presumably Asif Ali Zardari, Benazir's husband]
Inky, Pinky, Ponky
Her husband is a donkey
Both loot the country
Her husband is a monkey
Inky, Pinky, Ponky.
Fatima also paints a chilling narrative of thenight Murtaza was shot dead along with several of his supporters, an accountthat explains why this book is laden with not-so-quiet rage. In the epilogue,she writes of an occasion when President Asif Ali Zardari and his entouragewere being received at the British consulate, close to Fatima'sresidence, as she stood at the same spot her father had been shot. "Here I was,standing where my father was murdered, and the man who I believe was in partresponsible for the execution was across the road from me, being receiveddiplomatically. I felt my knees buckle. I sat down on the curb."
She transports the reader back to the streets of Karachi and the frenzied scenes in thehospital where doctors tried to save Murtaza's life. It is the story of yetanother Bhutto trying to come to terms with yet another strange and unexpected death,the fourth in as many decades. These are the losses that have shaped Pakistan'shistory to a great extent and will be an influential factor for the foreseeablefuture.
But given that this is a grieving daughter's memoir of her father whowas killed at the young age of 42, it is clear that she does not intend tocriticize his actions in any way. Fatima Bhutto glosses over the time he spentin Libya as a guest of Colonel Gaddafi or in Kabul, as the alleged head of theAl-Zulfikar Organization (AZO) that was set up to avenge the death of ZulfikarAli Bhutto. Unsurprisingly, Murtaza is absolved of all responsibility for AZO.The famed 1981 hijacking of a Pakistan International Airlines plane in Kabul that AZO tookcredit for is explained differently. Fatimaquotes a friend of Murtaza's extensively, who claims that the hijacker,Salamullah Tipu, was not a member of the AZO and that Murtaza was actuallynegotiating with the hijackers to release the women and children on board. Itis an account that is widely disputed by former members of the AZO (RajaAnwar, The Terrorist Prince, 1997).
But in this new episode in the saga of the Bhutto dynasty that Fatima has chronicled, the blame -- as well as theacerbic barbs and the retorts -- are all directed at her aunt Benazir Bhutto. Fatimacriticizes Benazir from her choice of room décor at the Bhuttos' Karachi residence to Benazir's decision to wear a headscarf and her wit -- anecdotes all dissected to form a portrayal of a self-centered,power-hungry woman who Fatima squarely holdsresponsible for everything that has gone wrong in the Bhutto dynasty.
In her quest to absolve Murtaza of lingering criticism surrounding hisname and paint Benazir as the "bad guy," Fatima blames her aunt for everythingfrom Murtaza's incarceration after he returned from exile, to alienating NusratBhutto, Benazir's mother and Fatima'sgrandmother, from the PPP and being hungry for power. She does share anecdotesof her memories with her aunt, but writes that "since we returned to Pakisan Ihad seen a different, ugly side of my aunt," citing an incident where Fatima asked her to visit Murtaza in jail with her andBenazir refused, saying "I couldn't get permission from the jail to come." Fatima couldn'tfathom this, given that Benazir was prime minister at the time, and writes, "Icouldn't shift the blame from her any more. She was involved. She was runningthe show." The final blow came after Murtaza's death, when Benazir reportedlycalled his widow, Ghinwa, a ‘bellydancer' from the ‘backwoods of Lebanon.'Fatima writes, "After Papa was killed, I neversaw that old Wadi again. She was gone."
In her quest though, Fatima even attempts to hold Benazir responsiblefor the death of Shah Nawaz,Benazir and Murtaza's brother, who died under rather strange circumstances in Francein 1985. (While the Bhutto family was on holiday in Cannes, where Shah Nawazlived with his wife and daughter, they was alerted by his wife one morning thatShah Nawaz had "taken something" (p.250, Daughter of the East). They discoveredhe was dead, allegedly having taken poison, but the Bhutto family believes hewas murdered while his wife was charged (and then cleared) of not assistingShah Nawaz in time.) Her source? The observations of the lawyer Murtaza andBenazir engaged to fight the case in French courts, Jacques Verges. Theinsinuation that Benazir may have ordered Shah Nawaz's killing and the remarksshe chooses to include by Benazir (such as indulgent postcards she sent toMurtaza at university) sour the book. It no longer feels like a memoir, but yetanother blame game in the history of the Bhutto family that is still at oddswith each other. Their conflict shows no signs of dissipating or staying withinthe family. Last week, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto's nephew Tariq Islam senta letter to the Dawn newspaper disputing at least one account in Songs of Blood and Sword by quotingconversations he had with Zulfikar before Zulfikar was executed in 1979.
Fatima Bhutto's rage at Benazir, who she believes was either involved inor complicit in covering up the killing of her father, Murtaza-- the woman she once thought of as her favorite aunt -- isunderstandable. But it is a niece's anger, not a historian's or a memoirist's.
Songs of Bloodand Sword is not, and should not be treated as, a chapter in the Bhuttos'history. It is a self-serving charade discounting other versions or charactersbecause they do not fit with Fatima's take onevents that occurred in Murtaza's life.
The book has reportedly sold well in Pakistan (ExpressTribune), but the reviews in the Pakistani press have been rather scathing(TheNews, Dawn,ExpressTribune). It is hard to gauge Pakistani public approval or disapproval ofthe book, given that Fatima Bhutto flew out of Pakistan for a book tour after itlaunched and has reportedly refused to sit down for face-to-face interviewswith Pakistani journalists. Conventional readings and Q&A sessions wouldhave given insights, but this is no conventional book. It will continue to sellwell -- anything with the Bhutto name does -- but whether it can spark any negativepublic reaction to Fatima or Zardari remains to be seen.
Ultimately, Songs of Blood andSword is yet another in the series of books written by the Bhuttos abouttheir versions of history as they see it. Mark your calendars: 22 years fromnow, another Bhutto will be penning a memoir. As Tariq Islam says Zulfikar AliBhutto told him in jail, "Iwill go down in history. Songs will be written about me." He probably didn'texpect the songs would be written by members of his own family.
DIBYANGSHU SARKAR/AFP/Getty Images

Pakistan has a habit of conferring the title of "daughter" on women. There was Benazir Bhutto, the daughter of the East, a title the late prime minister was recognized by until the day she died. Then there was Aafia Siddiqui, a neuroscientist who was dubbed the daughter of Pakistan by a country outraged at her alleged abuse at the hands of coalition forces in Afghanistan.
Pakistan just welcomed its new favorite daughter -- albeit a daughter-in-law -- Indian tennis player Sania Mirza. Mirza became a pin-up girl in India when she debuted on the world stage, and everything from her tennis attire of short skirts to her fiancé were analyzed breathlessly.
But this week, Mirza dropped a bombshell with the announcement that she was engaged to Pakistani cricketer Shoaib Malik. India and Pakistan -- countries that have been at war and share a deep rivalry when it comes to sports -- erupted with the news. After all, Mirza, whose career has been marred with injuries and varying degrees of success, is one of India's most recognizable names. When she broke off her engagement to childhood friend Sohrab Mirza this year, Indian news media outlets analyzed why she had decided to call it quits. Clearly, as Pakistan's Interior Minister Rehman Malik would have said, a "foreign hand" was at play.
STR/AFP/Getty Images

By Alex Strick van Linschoten
For outsiders, Kandahar was never really somewhere you could fall in
love with. You know the kind of thing I mean: places people went to
honeymoon, places with a certain ineluctable quality to them ... Back in
the seventies, when Kandahar was a popular stopover city on the hippy
trail to Kabul and India, one such traveller even described it as "a
gentle oasis."
These days, Kandahar is the city of nobody's dreams.
Pace Farnaz Fassihi,
living in Kandahar is like being under virtual house arrest. Most days
I stay at home, travel somewhere only when I have something specific to
do there -- a meeting, something I want to see -- and am forced to enjoy
Kandahar at a distance. True, I'm lucky enough to have a great balcony
view over the town and all the way down to where the desert starts.
This
also isn't to say I don't get out at all. Arghandab is a regular stop
for a picnic or a swim on the weekends, and within the city most travel
is more or less going to be OK. Nevertheless, caution pays dividends
(as stencilled letters on one taxi here informed me); the two big risks
for foreigners in the city are kidnapping and being in the wrong place
at the wrong time when a bomb goes off.
This happens increasingly often. Those who follow my Twitter
postings -- an easier way to get news out when there isn't enough
information to justify a full blog post -- will have noticed the upward
trend this past year in pictures of post-explosion clouds of debris, or
holes in the ground where IEDs were laid.
Occasionally a troupe
of journalists make their way into the city, but only for three or four
days, and almost always working on a specific story; no more time to
leisurely get to know Kandahar, no time for picnics...
When did
it turn sour? 2006 was probably the turning point for the province,
with all out battles in the districts and all sorts of mess within the
city. To the average observer abroad, Kandahar must seem rather
stable. Reports from the city describing the atmosphere and downward
spiral are scarce to be found, and generally it takes the death of a
foreign soldier or at least a dozen Afghan casualties to qualify for a
Kandahar dateline.
I compile a list of violent incidents in the
greater Kandahar area from open source and local sources each day. A
year ago, that list would hardly ever exceed one page. Nowadays, it's
not unusual to reach three pages: a list of bombs, murders, executions,
attacks and threats. It's enough work keeping up with all of that, but
then there's all the personal stories of how people get through their
days.
It's nearly impossible to get a decent sense of what's
going on in the districts. The international media stick exclusively
(with some reason, albeit qualified) to embeds to get a sense of
southern Afghanistan. I heard rumours the other day that a well-known
American journalist is thinking of repeating the success of a book that
he wrote reporting in Baghdad: this time he's doing one on Kandahar,
though this time exclusively from time spent doing embeds...
Local
journalism -- despite the best efforts of a dedicated group -- is
reactive for the most part, responding to some bomb blast or
assassination rather than actively generating content or a sense of
what it means live in Kandahar.
In fact, the only way to get a
sense of life in the districts is to step into the shoes -- albeit
briefly -- of those that live there. You want to find out how safe the
roads are between the city and the districts: step into a taxi and run
the gauntlet for yourself. I'll be writing more about my attempts to
get a sense of what's going on in the western district of Maiwand in
the coming weeks, but this is the kind of thing that you have to submit
yourself to if you really want to get an accurate handle on what is
going on and how things are for people living there.
I've always
advocated that journalists ought to be writing more about Kandahar, and
writing more from outside military bases or press conferences. Despite
the danger, southern Afghanistan is an incredibly important locus of
what's going on in the country right now -- with the elections, with
the Taliban, with Pakistan, with the US military, with NATO forces --
and it seems morally indefensible to my mind not to be paying close
attention to all these causes and effects jumbling up against each
other.
The population in the city and the outer villages brace
themselves against all these manifestations of violence. A common
saying these days upon parting company is, "I'll see you soon, if we're
still alive." Educated Kandaharis are scared; many leave for Kabul, or
abroad if they are lucky (or rich) enough to have visas for foreign
travel.
Tribal elders remain mute, or also depart for Kabul. The elders or religious figures of authority (mullahs and so on) in the
districts are forced to tread a firmly non-committal line, not annoying
NATO, not annoying the Afghan government, not annoying the Taliban, not
annoying the drug dealers...
Election gossip is all the rage
these days, even in some of the worse-off districts. The posters of
provincial council candidates are all over town, and "the bazaar is
warm" (as the local saying goes) for the (illegal) purchase and
exchange of voter cards. As one prominent local figure put it to me
yesterday: "The election has to happen, one way or another. The
foreigners have spent so much money in our country already. They're
paying another $130 million for this round of elections. What would
they say if we couldn't at least give them some elections?"
So
the elections will take place. It's a good opportunity to shuffle the
cards and jiggle the networks of power all over the country, but nobody
-- at least not anybody living here -- has any illusion that these
elections will be free or fair.
Alex Strick van Linschoten is a journalist based in Kandahar. His post was originally featured on his blog at Frontline.
Photo: HAMED ZALMY/AFP/Getty Images