Who will blink first?
In 2015, a chess match played out in Sindh, one which just might escalate into something far more serious than the current passive-aggressive barbs flying between the two sides. By as early as March 2016.
On one side, the PPP, which runs the province. Though the party has been all but decimated in the rest of the country, it has further entrenched itself in Sindh; as the local elections have proved, it would be next to impossible to challenge the party in the province.
On the other side, the military-run Rangers. Deployed initially by the PPP in 1989, they have been given special policing powers every now and then, powers that have to be extended every two months by the provincial government. Under the Protection of Pakistan Ordinance of 2013, however, whenever the Rangers are given special police powers, they become a disproportionately powerful force. Powerful enough to make the provincial government nervous.
The 2013 ordinance cast a wide net against terror, including catching facilitators and abettors. A liberal interpretation of this aspect virtually gives the Rangers the run of the place. A city as large as Karachi, with some political parties patronising criminal gangs and other parties being criminal gangs themselves, virtually everything under the sun can be tied to terrorism.
Consider water. If they say that the financial spoils of the tanker mafia funds terrorist activities (it is going to one party or the other, after all) the Rangers can go ahead and raid the city’s water board. The possibilities are endless. Waste disposal, health, education, land development… if it involves money, a connection can be made. Most famously, in the case of the PPP’s Dr Asim Hussain, who is accused of treating terrorists at his hospital, and therefore, liable to be held by the Rangers.
So why is the Sindh government nervous? It still has the right not to extend the Rangers’ powers, doesn’t it?
Well, the political consequences of not renewing the powers will be great for the PPP.
Why? Because the Rangers’ current drive in the city seems to be popular. The media, ever-ready to aggrandise anything the military does, has painted a good picture. The Taliban-infested areas have ostensibly been cleaned up. The MQM has been cut down to size, though there is a feeling that they have been placated in exchange for a smooth local bodies’ poll, thereby appealing to both pro- and anti-MQM demographics in the city. And the last and biggest problem for the PPP: the federal government also seems to be on the Rangers’ side.
The Sindh government only just extended the powers but they would be up for renewal early next year. A game of chicken has started. The political cost of not renewing would be heavy for the PPP, but on the other hand, the Rangers are toeing the waters regarding just how much it can push the party before it snaps back. If it does snap, the federal government, which already has a precarious relationship with the military, would be in a difficult position.
In 2015, we saw glimpses of the tripwire that lies beneath the delicate dynamic between the Qaim Ali Shah administration and Gen Bilal Akbar’s Rangers. Talk of Governor’s Rule, casually thrown about by pundits on TV, should be publicly given shut up calls by both the federal government and the military’s spin doctors.
It has been a while, so the powers that be might have forgotten how the PPP gets when it is angry.
