Wednesday, December 27, 2023




The ‘I do’ that leads to DNA dilemma
Almost half of Pakistani women are married to their first cousins, according to the Pakistan demographic and health survey.


“I just want to have a normal child,” said 30-year-old Shazia from Jhelum. She had travelled miles across the country in the quest for a baby that would survive beyond the age of seven.

Married to her second cousin, she has experienced two miscarriages, one induced abortion, and the loss of two children who died at the ages of seven and three.

Sitting inside the air-conditioned room in one of the biggest hospitals in Karachi, Shazia looked visibly anxious. Accompanied by her sister on this long journey to the genetic counselling clinic, she shared her woes.

“All of my children die,” she said. “They appear normal during the pregnancy stage, but six months after their birth, they start exhibiting signs of abnormality and experience intense pain before passing away.”

After the birth of her first two children, who endured a life of agony, she made the difficult decision to terminate her third pregnancy, fearing another child might suffer the same fate. Following this, her next two pregnancies ended in miscarriages.

Shazia’s husband is her mother’s first cousin. Similar to many consanguineous families, hers has a prevalence of cancers among its members.

Consanguinity involves the mating between “two individuals characterised by the sharing of a common ancestor(s)”, increasing the likelihood that a child will inherit two copies of the same disease.

Simply put, we each have two copies of every gene, inherited from both our parents. If both the mother and father possess a flawed copy of a gene, the likelihood of the child inheriting both defective copies increases. Since family members share similar genes, the chances of the child receiving these faulty gene copies also rise.

Shazia visited Aga Khan University Hospital (AKUH) to inquire about the possibility of having a healthy baby in her next pregnancy. Her optimism is not unfounded because, even when both parents carry the same recessive disorder, meaning they have a faulty copy of a gene without it manifesting as an illness, the probability of their child inheriting both faulty copies is 25 per cent — there remains a 3/4th chance that their child will be healthy, albeit potentially a carrier.
Autosomal recessive disorders

Autosomal recessive disorders are a specific type of condition where both parents are carriers. “Everyone is a carrier of something or the other,” explained Dr Salman Kirmani, Chair and Associate Professor in the Division of Women and Child Health and a geneticist at AKUH.

“On average, it is believed that a human being is a carrier of two or three different diseases, but they may not be aware of it. Marrying within the family increases the likelihood of carriers coming together compared to marrying outside,” he added.


Autosomal recessive disorders — Image courtesy Rare Disorders Society



This doesn’t imply that if you have four children, one will have the disease, one will be entirely healthy, and two will be carriers. Instead, it signifies that each time fertilisation occurs — during conception — there is a 25pc chance of an unaffected child, a 25pc chance of an affected child, and a 50pc chance of a child being a carrier. Each of these probabilities is independently applicable every time fertilisation takes place.

This phenomenon explains why certain genetic diseases, such as thalassemia, cystic fibrosis, and spinal muscular atrophy (SMA), are more prevalent in Pakistan compared to Western countries, given our high consanguinity rate.

As Shazia’s children have all passed away, it is challenging to determine whether the condition they suffered from was indeed genetic. She is not the only one facing this predicament.

According to the Pakistan Demographic and Health Survey 2017-18, almost half of the women between the ages of 15 and 49 in Pakistan reported marrying their first cousins.


Infographic of marriage between relatives among women aged 15-49 years — Gallup Pakistan


These numbers don’t account for people within the same community. For example, Dr Kirmani mentioned, “If you ask a couple who come from a particular community, they may say, we don’t marry our cousins. But because they are a small, close-knit community, they share common ancestors.”

Another common practice is people marrying within the same caste, thereby perpetuating generations of consanguinity. “In Pakistan, there are geographically isolated villages where members frequently marry their first cousins for generations.”

Akin to Shazia, Akbar and Fatima walked into the genetic counselling clinic with their two children, aged three and one. Both boys exhibited stunted growth and delayed motor responses compared to average children their ages.

The parents’ mothers were siblings, making them first cousins. They were also related on their paternal side, further increasing the consanguinity level between the two.

Concerned about the health of their next child, they came to the clinic hoping to discover ways to reduce the risks of abnormalities in future pregnancies.

This wasn’t the first time they sought medical advice. They had previously consulted a doctor in Lahore who simply attributed their situation to “cousin marriage,” placing the blame squarely on their decisions.

However, dismissing the sociocultural context that contributes to cousin marriages and laying blame solely on individuals is unfair.
The blame game

Dr Kirmani strongly believes that consanguineous unions are often subjected to oversimplified criticism instead of nuanced analysis.

“In educated circles in Pakistan, especially among doctors, there is often a strong stance against cousin marriages. Couples are made to feel guilty, as if ‘you married your cousin, so this happened,’” he said.

“How heartless is that?” he exclaimed. “If I were to conduct a lecture with a hundred doctors in attendance, and I asked how many of them are married to their cousins or have parents who are cousins, half the room would likely raise their hands. Some might be so embarrassed that they wouldn’t even raise their hand.”

Consanguinity is so “culturally ingrained” in our society, he pointed out, that it does not make sense to attack individual choices.

People assume that Dr Kirmani would be more against cousin unions as he is a geneticist. However, he believes that marriage between a man and a woman is their business. “I, as a doctor or any government or religious person, should not influence what they decide to do. The basic principle here is autonomy.”

Certainly, there are risks, and doctors should educate people about them. However, it’s crucial to understand that even in a non-consanguineous union, there is a “one or two per cent chance of birth defects.” There is also always a chance that someone outside one’s family could be a carrier of a faulty gene.

Many advocate for laws prohibiting cousin marriages. In fact, in Sindh and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, provincial assemblies passed a law a decade ago making thalassemia testing compulsory for married couples.

However, like other laws, this one not only lacks enforcement but also doesn’t consider potential adverse consequences, particularly for marginalised groups. “Let’s suppose a man and a woman [in a village or a close community] get the test done, and they both turn out to be positive,” says Dr Kirmani. “There are preparations for the wedding at home, everything is happening — now what? Will you say, ‘Go your separate ways’?”

Moreover, there are no strict measures in place to keep such information confidential. “In our society, everything is often blamed on the woman, and nothing is kept private.” If the couple decides to not proceed with their union, the man is more likely to find a partner outside the family “without ever disclosing that he is a carrier”, while the woman would be “condemned in the whole community in the village that ‘iska khoon kharab hai, isse shaadi nahi karna [her blood is bad, don’t marry her]’.”

Given the potentially dire consequences of population testing, laws regarding genetic testing must be carefully considered, taking local contexts into account. Furthermore, such laws also tend to increase distrust of the medical community among groups in a society that already harbours mistrust for doctors, argued Dr Kirmani.

On one hand, “we can’t have a purely medical viewpoint and say that ‘it is stupidity, why should we let our nation do stupid things, we should enforce [laws] because people don’t have a mind of their own.’ On the other hand, we shouldn’t have a purely cultural standpoint that ‘since it is part of our culture, we should not talk about it’,” he said.


World map showing the percentages of cousin marriages in each country. — Image courtesy Alan H Bittles/ World Scientific Publishing


Educating people about the risks also comes with its own challenges. “How do you explain a disease to the couple they have never seen or witnessed? How will you truly educate them and present them with an accurate picture so they can make an informed decision?” he asked.

He finds it easy to counsel people when the disease runs in the family because those individuals have witnessed the negative impacts of the illness closely.

However, it becomes challenging when doctors must be aware of the socioeconomic disparities between their patients. “I can’t have double standards, telling someone from an educated family in Defence to ‘get this $500 test done, you will know all the diseases, then it’s your choice.’ But if I go into a [rural] community, I say ‘Khabardar! Cousin marriage nahi karna [Don’t you dare marry your cousin].’ I have to maintain the same standard.”
The good, the bad and the ugly

To further complicate the issue, Dr Kirmani pointed to some perceived ‘benefits’ of consanguineous unions. “Imagine you are a parent living in a remote area. You know all the boys because they are from your family. If you want to marry outside the family, then you will have to marry [someone that lives] like 200 km away from your own village.”

“Once that marriage is done, your daughter is gone, and you won’t be able to see her at all.” The “desire to keep the child close” prompts people to marry their children to relatives. Secondly, different villages have different customs, and some parents worry about the potential treatment of their daughter in a distant household that differs from their own.

Furthermore, studies have found that “being married to a first cousin on either the father’s or mother’s side was associated with a decreased likelihood of abuse when compared with another relationship” in Pakistan.

This perception encourages parents to marry their daughters to close relatives in the hope that if a conflict arises, they would be able to easily intervene.

In 2019, The BMJ medical journal reported the case of Javed Tahir in Islamabad, who has suffered from muscular dystrophy since childhood. The genetic condition, which ran in his family, would “lead to total paralysis” gradually. Tahir, committed to breaking the tradition, wanted to be the first in his family to marry outside.

He looked for a partner outside their family for a decade but was unsuccessful due to his condition — leading to him eventually marrying his own cousin.

Situations like Tahir’s illustrate that often it is difficult, even impossible, for individuals to break the cycle.

Similarly, women in rural areas with limited interactions with men outside their families reduce their chances of meeting potential suitors who are not related to them.

The risks surrounding cousin marriages can be understood against this backdrop. For instance, consider a family with a history of thalassemia. They had a baby who died at the age of 10 due to complications of thalassemia, as most children in this country do not survive between 10 and 20 years of age.

“Now they want to have another child. You test them and find out that they are carriers. Then you inform them that their child would have a 25pc chance of having the disease,” said Dr Kirmani.

As a doctor, he can offer them a prenatal diagnosis. Prenatal diagnosis occurs when the woman becomes “pregnant naturally and carries the pregnancy through with routine procedures until about 12 or 13 weeks of gestation.” At 12 weeks, doctors can perform a test called Chorionic villus sampling (CVS), and at 14 weeks, they can conduct another test called amniocentesis.

“Amniocentesis involves sampling the amniotic fluid around the baby, while CVS entails taking a small biopsy of the placenta, where the blood mixes between the mother and the baby. But it has baby tissue, so the baby’s DNA can be extracted out of it. The purpose of both is to retrieve the baby’s DNA.”

The extracted DNA is then examined for common genetic diseases, such as thalassemia in this case. If there is a 75pc chance that the gene for it is not inherited, the parents can be reassured, and they can choose to continue the pregnancy. However, if the 25pc chance results in a positive diagnosis for the illness, what options do the parents have?

“There is no treatment [for thalassemia]. So, their options are that they can terminate the pregnancy … It’s a personal choice,” the geneticist said.

“You can’t go on a warpath, telling parents they should suffer the consequences because they were ‘stupid’ enough to take this chance. Offer them options. Don’t dictate to them, saying, ‘You must terminate’ or ‘Oh no, it’s really wrong to terminate’. Put the options in front of them. Help them decide. This is called ‘shared decision-making’ in medical terms. Share their burden so that they don’t feel guilty.”

He went on to say that there is a great sense of guilt and responsibility, especially for mothers who often blame themselves, thinking it’s their fault or that something went wrong during the pregnancy. For both medical and ethical reasons, it is a sound decision for diseases associated with suffering, misery, pain, and a shortened life or an extremely low quality of life. Thalassemia indeed fits into that category.

In other countries, including neighbouring Iran, the survival rate has gone up to 40 or even 50 years of age, thanks to the availability of resources. “Our survival is not beyond 20, and it’s 20 miserable years of blood transfusion every two weeks,” lamented Dr Kirmani.

“If you go to any thalassemia centre, you will see something akin to an international airport. There would be a big lounge where 25 to 50 children would be sitting and watching television while receiving blood transfusions. Often, these kids become iron-overloaded, leading to major complications affecting their hearts and all their internal organs. It is a horrible existence. They cannot attend school regularly because they are constantly stuck in this cycle. It is a never-ending cycle once it begins.”

Thalassemia centres have more of a “petrol pump” approach, transfusing blood for any and every reason. The medicines to reduce iron levels are also very expensive and have various side effects.


Blood transfusion at Sundas Foundation Centre on the World Thalassaemia Day — APP/File


“It takes a lot of resources, a lot of time, and completely shatters their quality of life — yet [the children] still die. They die [after living] a very poor existence,” he added.

Even though there is now a cure for it abroad — a bone marrow transplant — it is extremely expensive and inaccessible for most in Pakistan. There are 10 million β-thalassemia carriers in the country and around 5,000 children are diagnosed with thalassemia every year.

“How many of them can receive this treatment?” the doctor asked, rhetorically.

Costs and treatments aside, it is an extremely painful experience for the parents, leading them into an “endless cycle of poverty” where, for 20 or so years, they are “financially and emotionally devastated. They have to compromise for the other children in the house because the mother cannot pay attention to them, and the father has to earn for the endless transfusions.”

He pointed towards the immense lack of awareness since these parents do engage with doctors, but no one effectively counsels them to prevent having more children with the disease. “We have seen two or three kids [with the disease] in the same family.”

“If they [people] are not listening to you, why are they not trusting you?” he asked the medical professionals. “Talk to the moulvis, talk to the community leaders, do the outreach. If we sit in our crystal palaces and imagine that we are the educated and they don’t know what they are doing, this cycle will continue.”
The $2 million cure

Similar to Thalassemia, Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA) poses a unique set of challenges to the Pakistani population due to its frequent occurrence as well as “limited resources and access to healthcare” in the country.

Even though it is a common disease in Pakistan, it seldom gets the attention it deserves. “It does not get the visibility of thalassemia because instead of 20 years, you die within two years of age.”

In SMA, the child is born healthy, but by six months of age, “parents realize that something is wrong.”

“The [baby] is not moving its head, it’s not moving its limbs, and it slowly loses power in its muscles, it stops breathing, or it has very shallow breathing, it can’t swallow, so it starts swallowing the milk that goes down its lungs, they get pneumonia, and it dies,” said Dr Kirmani.

The doctor has seen multiple families where two or three children suffer from SMA.

He proceeded to show me the first gene therapy vial for the disease in the world, framed in his office.

Novartis, an multinational company launched a “managed access programme” where essentially they would provide a hundred doses of the treatment around the world, given how expensive it is. The Zolgensma (onasemnogene abeparvovec) treatment costs a whopping $2.1 million.


The Zolgensma treatment adminstered by Dr Salman Kirmani — Author


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“They didn’t call it a lottery because they couldn’t. But that is what it was. Every doctor worldwide who has a patient enters their patient’s details and everything. After every two weeks, the lottery comes out. And the one whose name is selected gets the dose.

Dr Kirmani entered 50 names in the ‘lottery,’ but only five of them got the dose. The other 45 children passed away.


“Parents used to call and ask, ‘Doctor sahab, did we get our name in the lucky draw or not?’”

Waiting is a fatal process for most. He called two families to congratulate them that their child’s name was selected and to bring the child. The parents told him that the baby died a week prior.

“Can you imagine getting that phone call?” he asked.

Considering the dire consequences and the harsh reality of these illnesses, the debate surrounding consanguinity becomes even more intricate. On one hand, the principle of individual autonomy is paramount; on the other, the lack of resources for the majority of the country’s population cannot be disregarded.

Nevertheless, in light of the ineffectiveness of laws and policies in Pakistan, the issue cannot be simplified or resolved with a broad stroke of universal bans. A collective effort is needed, involving medical professionals, religious scholars, and local communities, to engage with each other and come up with pragmatic and realistic solutions that consider the practical challenges faced by the majority of people in the country.

Perhaps, only then we can prevent many others like Shazia from pleading to have a healthy child.

Header image: Microsoft Bing’s Image Creator


Published December 4, 2023
The author is a KAS-Dawn.com media fellow, interested in the intersection of gender, visual cultures and lived experiences.


Cousin marriages
Marriage between cousins
Thalassemia: get tested
PAKISTAN

POWER AND ITS DISCONTENTS

How do those without power, both literally and metaphorically, navigate the challenges in dealing with those that do?



Ijlal Naqvi 
DAWN
Published December 24, 2023

LONG READ 

Islamabad is a planned city, the federal capital and markedly less violent than the major metropolis of Karachi. The state, in various forms, is much more present than is the case in other Pakistani cities. State services in general are above average, electricity supply is more regular and residents have more personal connections to the state.

By studying Islamabad, one sees Pakistani state institutions at their highest level of effectiveness. If claim-making based on formal rights is going to work anywhere in Pakistan, it will be in Islamabad.

The primary site for my ethnography was at multiple subdivision offices of the Islamabad Electric Supply Company (IESCO), where I followed the employees through all aspects of their work, and observed their interactions with citizens who came to the office.

The subdivision is the lowest level of the IESCO organisational hierarchy and fulfils most of the public-facing requirements concerning electricity supply, including new connections, billing, maintenance and disconnections. In addition to working with the IESCO employees, I interviewed and spent time among the residents of Islamabad in their capacity as electricity consumers, including in the katchi abadis, such as 44 Quarter in Islamabad.

Islamabad has 34 katchi abadis, 11 of which are notified for regularisation per the Punjab Katchi Abadi Act 1992. Regularisation leads to a formal lease of the land and access to all state services for the occupants of the katchi abadi, but it is not without some drawbacks.

For the Capital Development Authority (CDA, the public agency that provides municipal services in Islamabad) to regularise the 44 Quarter katchi abadi, where I did most of the fieldwork presented here, regularisation would involve planning the housing of the katchi abadi so that it would conform to building standards and thus contain fewer housing plots.

How do those without power, both literally and metaphorically, navigate the challenges in dealing with those that do? An ethnographic study of the residents of Islamabad’s katchi abadis attempts to deal with the city’s electricity distribution infrastructure offers an enlightening view. Eos presents excerpts from Access to Power: Electricity and the Infrastructural State in Pakistan by Ijlal Naqvi, published by Oxford University Press

Which households would not be accommodated and where the surplus households would be relocated are points of contention that have stalled the regularisation process, since the proposed relocation site is much further from Islamabad. However, so long as 44 Quarter is not regularised, the residents are denied a document called a No Objection Certificate (NOC), which is issued by the CDA to certify that the applicant for the electricity connection is the legal owner of the land.

Without an NOC, the residents of 44 Quarter cannot get legal electricity connections.





MOBILISING COLLECTIVE CLAIMS


One of my key informants in 44 Quarter is Liaqat who, like almost all the residents of 44 Quarter, is Christian. Liaqat is approximately 35-40 years old, quite short and slightly built. The streets of 44 Quarter are uneven, sloping and made of packed dirt. A tiny, uncovered drain a few inches wide runs in front of the houses on Liaqat’s street. I can touch both sides of the alley at the same time.

Near Liaqat’s front door is an electricity pylon, on which I’ve seen a barefoot boy of about five climbing and playing. Children of very young ages are everywhere, usually playing unattended. I am often passed by bicycles and motorcycles on this street when I visit. Men and women are often talking in the street, frequently congregating around doorways, which seem to be open more often than not.

Liaqat’s home in 44 Quarter is a three-story brick-and-cement building that has not seen any new paint in some time. Liaqat and his wife and children live on the ground floor of their house, and other members of his extended family live on the upper two stories. The two rooms on the ground floor are a living room and a bedroom. The floor is bare cement. The ceiling is perhaps seven feet high and gives me a distinctly claustrophobic feeling when I stand.

There is a small fridge in the bedroom — that is the only visible appliance. Located in the middle of an affluent residential area, 44 Quarter is well-situated for access to employment and municipal services. The same electricity lines that serve the well-off neighbourhoods run through 44 Quarter. For most of its history, 44 Quarter was served by undocumented connections, known in Urdu as kunda.

According to Liaqat, the type of theft occurring in Islamabad’s katchi abadis occurs with the participation of the distribution company employees. Liaqat tells me, “The same money, instead of going to IESCO’s treasury, went to police and IESCO staff.”

Liaqat says that the distribution company employees were paid off to leave illegal connections alone, as were the police. Although I found no distribution company employees admitting to their participation in this specific case, many of them accepted such arrangements as being relatively common. Some 11 years prior to the time of my study — probably in 1998 — 44 Quarter’s illegal connections were forcibly taken down in an army-backed intervention.

The army’s role in power sector management came about at the invitation of the elected prime minister Nawaz Sharif. In an admission of his government’s incompetence at public administration, which foreshadowed his own government’s removal in a coup the following year, Nawaz Sharif asked the Pakistani army to take over the management of electricity distribution companies in order to reduce theft. IESCO and the other distribution companies had serving army personnel assigned to them, including at senior management levels. The chief executives of the distribution companies were replaced by brigadiers on deputation from their usual military assignments.

The residents of 44 Quarter responded to the disconnection of their electricity supply by forming a committee to approach the brigadier in charge of IESCO. The gist of the argument they put to the brigadier was that if they were not allowed kunda connections, they should be allowed legal connections.

My informants at 44 Quarter feel no qualms about the kunda connections. Liaqat tells me that, “It’s our right [to electricity]. If you won’t give it to us, then we’ll take it like this.” Another informant states that it is “inevitable, in this heat” that people will get electricity connections however they can.

The 44 Quarter residents see electricity as something fundamental for decent living, to which they, too, should have access, and their appeal to the brigadier was on largely humane rather than legalistic grounds. The meeting of the 44 Quarter residents’ committee with the IESCO brigadier went well.

The compromise reached by the parties was that 44 Quarter would be served by a few documented meters, but that all the wiring and management of the system beyond the meters would be the responsibility of the residents. This decision served IESCO by ensuring that 44 Quarter residents would pay for their electricity consumption and met the needs of 44 Quarter residents by ensuring their electricity supply.

These arrangements, however, are distinctly an exception to the rules, which define a consumer as “a person or his successor-in-interest who purchases or receives electrical power for consumption and not for delivery or re-sale to others, including a person who owns or occupies a premise where electrical power is supplied.”

The provision of electricity for delivery and resale to others is the job of a distribution company. The brigadier’s decision contravenes these rules, but IESCO’s consumer services manual limits service provision to applicants who can provide “ownership proof of the premises”, and it thus cannot be provided to individual katchi abadi residents so long as the regularisation process is incomplete.

In the absence of NOCs and legal individual connections, the committee representing residents of 44 Quarter accepted the compromise of communal metering. The residents of 44 Quarter would be allowed a single communal connection at commercial rates (higher than domestic rates).

The committee managed the process and the money for connecting the several hundred households of 44 Quarter to the communal meter. Shoaib was a member of that committee (he mentions that the brigadier was a ‘very nice person’) and tells me that his inclusion was on the grounds that he is considered educated.

Shoaib lives in 44 Quarter and is employed by the residents’ committee to manage the billing and maintenance of the electrical system. He says, “The committee met for two-three days [prior to the negotiation with IESCO]. They formed a constitution for the committee (I asked to see this later in our conversation, he smiled and said that they made it once upon a time and that no one knew anything about it now).”

The committee members are the respected elders of the community. Shoaib has, in fact, taken on many of the functions of the distribution company. He manages billing, collects the money, gives receipts, keeps records, and also handles the maintenance of 44 Quarter’s electricity system. Shoaib does many of the same tasks a subivision officer would. He also handles situations where there is difficulty in paying bills.

44 Quarter prints its own bills with instructions on the back for making payments. Paying in instalments is not unusual, and sometimes the committee can reduce the bill somewhat. Strictly commercial arrangements are also not observed for churches and those individuals whom the committee deems needy and worthy of help. Instead, the moral underpinnings of the collective organisation for service delivery are reflected in the departure from commercial logics.

Each household is charged a fixed amount based on an assessment of the household’s consumption. I ask how they determine the charges for each household. Shoaib says he knows every house on every street. They are “like a family.” He knows everyone’s name, and his paternal grandfather’s name. We have no formality in going to each other’s houses. Paying for extra facilities (fridge, a motor for pumping up water) costs up to extra 300 per month.

Shoaib is confident that he knows the ins and outs of every household. His deep local knowledge is essential to keeping the communal system going. The residents of 44 Quarter have mobilised on the basis of collective solidarity and make their claim for service delivery on a moral basis.

They do not exercise purely commercial reasoning in determining how much each household must pay. Instead, assessments are based on Shoaib’s intimate knowledge of each household. Shoaib attributes his position to his good character and reputation.


Islamabad has 34 katchi abadis, 11 of which are notified for regularisation per the Punjab Katchi Abadi Act 1992


IMAGINING RIGHTS

Sharing of a common meter is also present in 75 Quarter and 50 Quarter (two other katchi abadis in Islamabad where I interviewed residents), but their committees have been less scrupulous than Shoaib. Collection for the municipal electricity bill is handled by a leadership committee, comprised of katchi abadi residents. Neither in 75 Quarter nor in 50 Quarter was anyone able to explain how the current leaders obtained their position or describe what was entailed in being a “leader”.

Their inability to explain the nature of a leadership position suggests a lack of a formalised process for selecting and changing leaders. Rates in 75 Quarter are higher than in 50 Quarter, but 50 Quarter has accumulated arrears worth approximately two months of billing.

One resident of 75 Quarter suggested that members of the katchi abadi leadership committee were embezzling some of the money. Another informant chided me for being so naive as to think that the 44 Quarter leaders were not also embezzling the committee funds.

Even in 44 Quarter, the communal system has not always worked out well. The communal meter must be put in someone’s name, which creates the opportunity for that person to take advantage of their position. Liaqat told me the following story based on 44 Quarter’s earlier experience with communal metering, which predated the current solution:

“A committee of about 20 people got together to choose the person whose name the meter would be put in. That man had not even a cycle to his name. He was a government employee, went to work wearing slippers. Now he has cars. He’s become a big-shot. This is Pakistan. Who has money is king. 44 Quarter residents brought legal suits against him, but we’d talk and he’d use his money to get away free.”

Liaqat sees how the communal system that now serves them well was once an opportunity for a member of their own community to exploit the residents of 44 Quarter. In his eyes, the legal system offered them no recourse to justice against someone with substantial resources.

In their quest to formalise their land tenure rights and secure service delivery, the residents of 44 Quarter have engaged with various political actors in a very pragmatic manner.

Liaqat tells me, “We’re not with any political party. We work with whoever is in power.” Through their different contacts — activists, academics, politicians, and also foreign embassies — the katchi abadi dwellers bring to bear whatever pressure they can on the CDA to complete the regularisation to which they are already committed.

Liaqat proudly tells me of how the 44 Quarter residents secured a majority of votes for the candidate they backed at their local polling station. The delivery of votes is an exchange for political representation in a purely transactional sense, with no regard to party platforms.

The residents of the katchi abadis used the language of rights more than anyone else I spoke with in Pakistan. In the blunt terms of Liaqat, “With a meter you get rights.” He adds, “We’ve spent hundreds of thousands of rupees on our houses, but there’s no benefit. When you have rights, you benefit if you invest in your house. With a proper road you could get a car in. That would be very valuable.

“After plotting, only 300 houses would be possible. Some people would be moved away. The Capital Development Authority initially offered [the outskirts of Islamabad], but that is too far away. Each household has three to four earners to sustain it. Their jobs are in Islamabad, the commutes would cost too much.

“The Capital Development Authority board has the plan for approval. It’s almost done. After plotting [regularisation], everyone will get No Objection Certificates. Each plot will have value. No problems with authorities in getting gas and electricity connections on our own.”

Liaqat is acutely conscious of the material benefits that can accrue from formal land titles. He hopes that the shady dealings with state officials will cease. His approach is entirely consistent with neoliberal arguments for the importance of property rights, which draw on [Peruvian economist] Hernando de Soto. Far from challenging the status quo structures of power and domination, it is a middle-class aspiration.

In some instances, katchi abadi leaders exploit institutional failures to extract rents of their own, adding one more obstacle to service delivery for the squatters. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the world of formal rights exemplified by a personal electricity connection takes on the appearance of an escape from these webs of exploitation and patronage.

However, a more careful look at the experiences of those with established formal claims on electricity services exposes just how unreal the social imaginary of citizenship with recognised rights is.

THE CHALLENGING TRANSITION TO FORMALITY

Unfortunately, many of the 44 Quarter residents who have succeeded in getting a toehold in the world of formal rights via an electricity meter in their name, have come to regret it.

Although IESCO’s compromise with the residents’ committee to provide electricity to 44 Quarter through communal metering is a functional solution (every household in 44 Quarter has electricity), it is viewed as second-best by the 44 Quarter residents. The communal arrangements notwithstanding, the 44 Quarter residents have continuously pushed to try to regularise their katchi abadi and secure the right to have individual meters for electricity supply.

A local NGO has been at the forefront of these efforts, chiefly in engaging with politicians and activists in putting pressure on the CDA to complete the process in a timely manner. 44 Quarter has been surveyed twice by the CDA. Households identified in the survey are noted by the CDA as residences with rights to municipal services.

Liaqat tells me that, for meters approved after the second survey, the demand notices (the distribution company’s equipment orders for the connection of new premises) were issued five years later, and that it was 18 more months until the meters were finally installed.

The money for these demand notices was given by a member of the National Assembly out of their official budget for development projects. Liaqat’s explanation for the delay is that the distribution company employees resisted because it would reduce their monthly earnings from the communal meters. Nonetheless, Liaqat and the 44 Quarter residents’ fight for individual meters had partly been won by the time of our meetings.

When some individual meters were installed in 2009, 44 Quarter residents were told by an IESCO officer that they would regret it and that they would want the old shared meters back. That prediction was borne out in 44 Quarter in many cases.

An individual meter can be a mixed blessing, as it requires a greater degree of direct dealing with the distribution company. The buffer from a communal meter is gone, and so are the protections that come with it. The experience of having an individual meter for a house is described to me by Adam, a young man of about 21 who is working in a community- based organisation in 44 Quarter. Adam’s family had received an unreasonably large bill exceeding 10,000 rupees:


Katchi abadis in Islamabad, similar to the one in F-7 pictured above, sometimes also have leaders that exploit institutional failures to extract rents of their own

Ijlal Naqvi (IN): What happened in the [IESCO] office?

Adam: The first man I went to see sent me to another one. The next one sent me to another one. He told me that there was no meter assigned to our house. I said then how are we getting a bill? He told us that they’ll check it out. That they’ll come and see if the meter is working properly. They said there’s a leak in our house, that the electricity is being wasted.

Liaqat: How can you have a leak with electricity? This isn’t a gas pipe.

Adam: They are taking the money from us in instalments. And the next bill came to 7,000. So we switched back to the shared meter, which is 1,200 per month. And now our bill from the meter — which we aren’t using — is 75 rupees. We aren’t the only ones. Our neighbours have complained about high bills too.

IN: There must be a form you have to fill in to complain about your meter.

Adam: I don’t know what form it is. They didn’t give me any form. We aren’t educated enough that we can deal with IESCO.

Adam and his family were poorly equipped to handle the challenge of dealing with the state on its terms. Although Adam describes himself as insufficiently educated to deal with IESCO, he tells me that he passed his Matriculation (10th grade) and, in conversation with me, is reasonably confident and able to express himself.

Nonetheless, the opacity of the process at the distribution company office and the behaviour of the distribution company staff are enough to deter him. Adam tells me that his family is resigned to paying this bill that they cannot afford and did not incur. Their retreat to the communal system is a retreat to a system where they will be protected from state officials’ efforts at predation by Shoaib and the other committee members.

A related experience to the abandonment of an individual electricity meter comes from some households from Islamabad katchi abadis who were relocated as a result of the regularisation process. These families were given small plots of land in the residential sectors of Islamabad, including the relatively well-off area of F-10. These families took possession of the land, but most of them sold their properties and returned to katchi abadis in Islamabad.

The choice to sell the land to which they had formal title in order to return to katchi abadis throws a different perspective on the value of formal rights and also the state’s responsibility to continue to provide such regularisation programmes to katchi abadi residents.

[American anthropologist] Matthew Hull reports a related set of circumstances, with villagers on the outskirts of Islamabad being compensated when they are relocated as a result of the city expanding, only for them to anticipate city planners by moving to the next area where expansion will take place in order to seek out further compensation.

The decision of the relocated katchi abadi residents to return to informality suggests that the programme for their relocation was poorly conceived. On the other hand, these families were best placed to judge how to manage their resources, and their actions suggest that living with a cash windfall and returning to informality can be preferable to having formal rights.

Nonetheless, in all the fieldwork and other interactions I had concerning electricity in Pakistan, the katchi abadi residents were the only people to invoke regularly a language of rights.

What are rights worth in this context? Formal rights seem to be worth very little. Claim-making on the state through formal channels is an exercise in frustration. Power relations (sometimes reduced to wealth) dominate proceedings, making it difficult to claim an entitlement, regardless of the black letter law underlying the claim.

The natural right to basic necessities is more compelling in achieving a compromise solution to the impasse between the electrical utility and the squatters, who are prevented from formal access to a service they are ready and willing to pay for.

These excerpts are slightly modified from the original and are being published with permission from the author and the publishers Oxford University Press from the book Access to Power: Electricity and the Infrastructural State in Pakistan

The author is an Associate Professor of Sociology and the Associate Dean for Curriculum and Teaching at the School of Social Sciences of Singapore Management University.
He can be reached at ijlalnaqvi@smu.edu.sg1

Header image: The opacity of the process at the Islamabad Electric Supply Company’s (IESCO) office and the behaviour of IESCO’s workers (pictured above) leaves many residents of Islamabad’s katchi abadis with a sense of abandonment | All photos by White Star


Published in Dawn, EOS, December 24th, 2023
PAKISTAN

INFRASTRUCTURE: YEARS OF LIVING DANGEROUSLY

Mukhtar Husain 
DAWN
Published December 24, 2023
Plumes of smoke billow out from a multi-storey commercial-cum-residential building in Federal B Area, Karachi on December 6, 2023: the laws pertaining to fire-safety in Pakistan are inadequate and weak | All photos by White Star

I used to work on the 11th floor of a 15-storey office building off M.T. Khan Road in Karachi. Each morning while going up, I shuddered to think what would happen to me, and hundreds of other people working there, in case of a fire, and how many of us would be able to come out of the building safely in such an emergency.

Luckily, no such event took place during the 15 years I worked there, up to 1995. However, later, this building had two fires. The second fire gutted several floors, including the entire office where I used to work. The building, commonly known as the PNSC building, remained shut for repairs for at least two years.

Over the years, as much taller buildings have emerged, the overall ‘safety’ conditions in buildings in this country have been getting more and more hazardous and alarming. There have been two major building fires recently in Karachi, both of which caused not just a lot of material damage, but also loss of human lives. It emerged that more people died due to suffocation than burns. Smaller fires occur here and there all the time.

THE FAULTS IN OUR DESIGNS

Fires may be caused by, and often spread rapidly, due to the inherent design features of a building. But they may also be caused by the furniture, fixtures and contents within the building, the electrical installations, irresponsible usage and poor maintenance.

Each danger has its own peculiarities. Whereas some dangers can be checked, or at least minimised, we need to be aware of each, be prepared for an eventuality, and be assured the building is reasonably safe to enable safe exit for the largest number, keeping casualties to a minimum.

Recent fires in big buildings have resulted in more stories of tragedy. Most fires can be prevented and the damage they cause can also be minimised. But this requires architects, builders, municipal authorities and also us as users to do what is required

Fire is the prime cause of danger in buildings and of primary concern and interest to me as an architect. Most fires can be prevented, and the damage they can cause can also be minimised.

The overall layout of a building, particularly a multi-storey structure in which a large number of people live or work, has to be conceived so as to ensure alternate means of escape from virtually any point in case of a fire. These corridors, or ‘escape routes’ must be constructed of materials with minimum one-hour fire-rating, giving most people enough time to escape.

Buildings with large floor areas, such as those exceeding 10,000 sq ft at one level, must be further divided into ‘fire-zones’ or ‘compartments’ by means of fire-rated partition walls. A wall having a one-hour fire-rating can resist a fire for an hour before it collapses. All openings in these walls, such as doors or duct holes must have fire-rated shutters or dampers, to prevent the spread of fire from one zone to another.

A raging fire in one zone of a building can jump out of external windows and into another zone at the same level, which may otherwise be isolated internally. A fire may also jump to another floor. External openings and glazing, particularly at building corners, must therefore be cautiously sited, preferably with a safety-gap.

Office buildings with large occupancy ratios, as well as hotels and other heavily populated buildings, should be equipped with fire detection devices connected to an alarm system and, wherever possible, there should be a built-in fire-sprinkler system.

It is generally good practice to have clearly readable or understandable signs identifying all important rooms or spaces, including signs leading towards stairs and emergency exits.

Illuminated signs for exit in an emergency are required not just in the corridors but also within all large interior spaces where eight to 10 or more persons are at work, such as a conference room, library or lecture hall. Furthermore, signs prohibiting smoking must be put up in areas having a high fire-risk, such as a stationery store or library. Notices to prevent use of lifts during a fire should be posted at all lift entry points.

Except for an ‘emergency exit’ diagram fixed to the rear of the door in some hotel rooms, one is often quite unaware of exit routes or procedures from the most frequented of places. In addition to clear, unambiguous direction signs, written emergency evacuation procedures in English and Urdu should be displayed in prominent locations on each floor of a building.

Self-explanatory diagrams clearly showing a floor plan and indicating the route to alternate exits should be a must in office buildings, schools, apartment complexes, auditoriums, etc. Such diagrams should be affixed at two or more strategic locations on each floor. In addition to assisting staff, visitors and other occupants in escaping, such diagrams can be used subsequently during rescue efforts.

Firefighters struggle to put out a fire on the eighth floor of Rimpa Plaza, Karachi earlier this year: fires may be caused by, and often spread rapidly, due to the inherent design features of a building


FANNING THE FLAMES

Building owners and managers should be made aware of the need for safety consciousness in their maintenance routines, and users should be educated in safety-drills for evacuation. Our building control authorities and other related agencies should exercise the utmost vigilance to ensure that safety standards are being met, not only in design and construction, but also in house-keeping, particularly of commercial or other public-use buildings.

These steps would go a long way to ensure peace of mind and to guarantee the well-being and security of the hundreds of thousands of people who live and work in our fast-growing cities, a trend likely to accelerate further in years ahead.

The detailed design and architectural finishes of all heavily used areas should be determined keeping user-safety in mind. Such areas include staircases and balconies. Hand-rails should be specially designed for those buildings where children are also expected to use them. Railings and parapet walls in general have to be sturdy, but also they need to be somewhat higher on upper floors in order to convey a feeling of added security.

Raised ledges built at entrance doors of apartments, and sometimes at toilet entrances (to prevent water flowing past) can be a nuisance and cause tripping, unless they are very prominent (of a different colour). Doors of clear glass, or any other clear glass panels running down to the floor should be patterned or otherwise obscured at about eye-level and below, so as to make them clearly visible, particularly to children.

In a fire, it is usually the contents of the building which burn first and fuel the fire, rather than the building itself. The quantity of combustible materials used within any given area is known as the ‘Fire Load’ and must not exceed the ability of the building structure to contain a fire.

Various furnishings in an office environment, or even at home, are potential fire hazards. Synthetic carpets and upholstery are extremely dangerous in a fire because they give out toxic fumes. It is essential also to keep combustible materials such as carpets, wood and fabric panelling out of escape routes, corridors and lobbies, and keep these areas free of all obstructions.

WHERE THERE’S SMOKE


As important as it is to contain a fire, it’s important to contain smoke or let it out of a building. Smoke can kill by suffocating even where a fire may not have reached. Internal openings in fire walls must therefore always remain shut. Smoke outlets must be provided in external glazing. These should open automatically to prevent smoke accumulation.

A common appliance such as a gas-based room heater can prove to be dangerous. Lack of ventilation in a room where a gas room-heater has been left on through a cold night has caused several deaths. This can happen when the gas flow is temporarily disrupted and the flame is extinguished. When the gas flow resumes, it fills up the room and may cause suffocation or, if ignited, it may explode.

Lifts are a must in any multi-storey building, but must never be used during an emergency, because there is a high risk of lift failure, and the chance of suffocation of its occupants in case of fire.

Inadequate lighting in corridors, on stairs/landings and in such workplaces as kitchens, workshops, etc where sharp instruments or power equipment is used, may be the cause of accidents and injury. Poor lighting also leads to poor house-keeping standards, which may also be unsafe from a health viewpoint.
Firefighters battle a blaze that broke out on the third floor of Saddar's Hashmi Centre, Karachi: most fires can be prevented and the damage they can cause can also be minimised

GOOD EVERYDAY PRACTICE


Finally, I wish to bring to notice some of the things we as users do (or fail to do) in even the very best of buildings, which are either unsafe practices or lead to reduced safety levels over a period of time:

We do not carry out a fire-drill. Such procedures are especially necessary in a highrise or other high-occupancy building such as a school, and keep users informed about how to behave in an emergency and carry out a systematic evacuation without loss of time and without causing a stampede. This requires practice, and necessitates carrying out a trial evacuation regularly once or twice a year.

Since lifts cannot be used in a fire, the stairs are the sole means of exit, and should be kept clean, free of obstruction and in a good state of repair. We do not maintain staircases and corridors; we clutter them.

Frequently old furniture, bundles of rejected material, etc are pushed out of sight, conveniently on to the landings of the fire-stairs. This is a dangerous practice and must be avoided. Moreover, emergency lights should be installed along key exit routes and at each staircase landing, and should be maintained in working order.

Every day when we leave work, we leave behind a load of potentially hazardous materials, waste bins full of scrap paper, and loose paper lying around. This is all a fire risk. All that is required to ignite it is a cigarette butt not fully extinguished, or an electric spark. Desk tops and work surfaces must therefore be cleared each night. Drawings and loose paper must be kept to a minimum, and stored in suitable cabinets. Waste baskets must be emptied immediately after office hours.

Our maintenance procedures are usually inadequate and lag behind. We must learn to do more than just emergency repairs after a breakdown. There must be a programme for preventive maintenance of a building, just as for a machine or a motor car. This always proves cheaper and safer in the long run, and increases the life of the building, besides having it look smart and attractive all along.

When carrying out alterations, additions to or upgrading of existing premises, we frequently overlook original design features such as fire doors, alternative exits or smoke outlets, thus endangering the lives of future users.

Lastly, we do not do a good cleaning job. Inside and around our best buildings, we frequently find litter which is not only ungainly to look at, but will feed a fire, attract vermin, and can also cause an accident, such as slipping over a banana peel.

NEGLIGENCE ALL ROUND

One may well ask: Why do the building control authorities in our cities allow occupation of buildings without issuing a completion or occupancy certificate? Why do they issue a certificate without ensuring essential safety features? Why do the authorities ignore or allow changes in the plan and upkeep of buildings that make them potentially unsafe for its occupants? And why do they not ensure basic requirements such as a fire-drill?

All of us are to blame. The laws pertaining to fire-safety are inadequate and weak. They are easily and frequently violated. People are generally unaware of their responsibilities in maintaining a building, following safe practices, or of their rights when purchasing a property or seeing it being misused or abused later.

We are lucky that the most commonly used construction materials are cement blocks and concrete, which happen to be relatively fire-resistant. Otherwise, we would have burned entire cities down overnight.

The writer is an architect and urban designer, based in Karachi.
He can be reached at mukhtar.husain@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, EOS, December 24th, 2023
AI can’t be patent inventor, UK court rules

LONDON: A US computer scientist lost his bid on Wednesday to register patents over inventions created by his artificial intelligence system in a landmark case in Britain about whether AI can own patent rights.

Stephen Thaler wanted to be granted two patents in the UK for inventions he says were devised by his “creativity machine” called DABUS. His attempt to register the patents was refused by the UK’s Intellectual Property Office (IPO) on the grounds that the inventor must be a human or a company, rather than a machine.

Thaler approached the UK’s Supreme Court, which rejected his appeal as under UK patent law “an inventor must be a natural person”.

Judge David Kitchin said in the court’s written ruling that the case was “not concerned with the broader question whether technical advances generated by machines acting autonomously and powered by AI should be patentable”.


Thaler’s lawyers said the ruling “establishes that UK patent law is currently wholly unsuitable for protecting inventions generated autonomously by AI machines and as a consequence wholly inadequate in supporting any industry that relies on AI in the development of new technologies”.

Published in Dawn, December 21st, 2023
Climate affects global cotton production

DAWN
The Newspaper's Staff Reporter 
Published December 27, 2023 
Pakistan has produced 8.5 million bales of cotton against the downward revised production target of 11.15m bales for the current season.


LAHORE: Reports from major cotton-producing countries, including Pakistan, suggest that adverse weather conditions have marred white lint yield during the ongoing crop season though the phenomenon has failed to cause any impact on the cotton markets.

For the cotton year 2023-24, Pakistan had initially allocated a production target of 12.8 million bales (170kg each) which was later revised down to 11.15m bales.

However, due to the extremely adverse weather conditions and a severe attack of the whitefly in Punjab, there has been a drastic decrease in cotton production. It is feared that the total lint production in the country this year will be around 8.5m bales only.

Reports from the United States say that the total cotton production this year was initially expected to be 15.5m bales (each 480 pounds), but the estimate has now been brought down to 12.78m bales.

Similarly, the latest report of the Cotton Association of India (CAI) suggests that total domestic production this year will be around 29.4m bales (170 kg) against 31.9m bales during the cotton year 2022-23.

Indian growers had been expecting even a better harvest this year, but an unexpected heat wave coupled with a severe attack of pink bollworm badly damaged the crop.

Likewise, total cotton production in China this year is expected to be 25.8m bales, while last year the crop output touched the mark of 27.5m bales.

Cotton Ginners Forum chairman Ihsanul Haq says that China is making heavy purchases of cotton from Pakistan and the USA suggesting that there are fears of further reduction in its domestic cotton production.

Answering a question about the increasing cultivation of the ‘triple gene’ variety of cotton in Pakistan for the last two or three years, he says the new seed is gaining popularity among the growers mainly because it resists pink bollworm attack.

He, however, cautions that the herbicides sprayed on this variety are damaging soil and affecting the growth of other crops on the lands causing serious concerns among the growers as well as seed companies.

He claims that the germination of wheat in the lands freed from triple-gene cotton had been very low last season due to which some farmers had to cultivate wheat twice.

He stresses upon agricultural scientists to develop herbicides for this cotton variety that are not harmful to soil and other crops sown in the fields post-harvesting of cotton.

Published in Dawn, December 27th, 2023

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PAKISTAN

What the Baloch want
DAWN
Published December 26, 2023 

EARLY on Sunday, there were few people in the green areas in front of the Islamabad Press Club. The rows of quietly seated protesters were missing as were the cameras and visitors.

The camp was just waking up. The young men were busy fixing the tent, straightening out rugs, etc. One of them carried away a ring-light and stand used with phone cameras. Most were masked, but there was little uniformity in hairstyle or clothes. From shalwar kameez to jeans to heavy Balochi shalwars, one could see it all.

A small group of women sat in a corner. Their crumpled clothes and mussed-up hair under chadors or dupattas indicated the day was just beginning. Most were young. One was studying in a school in Karachi where her family was based; another in a university in Balochistan; a third, head on her knee as if she still had some more sleep in her, was also in school. One of her companions pointed to the sleepy one and told a visiting delegation that her father had disappeared before she was born.

Another young woman walked up. She was a housewife but had finished her schooling before marriage. Her youngest child, a toddler, was with her. I have been taking part in these protests since 2016 when my brother disappeared; he had just been married a year or so before, she said.

It was not possible for women to step outside the home in those days, she added. But now I have seen many parts of Pakistan, she said with a laugh, with more than a note of bitterness. I was here in Islamabad in 2021 also.

Most of the women were young and educated, and hailed from middle-class backgrounds. In this and their presence in Islamabad lies the changing environment of Balochistan’s politics and society. Sammi Baloch and Mahrang Baloch are not outliers, even though they have become the face of this particular march.

The protesting Baloch citizens in Islamabad and beyond are reflecting a new reality.

This longest-running insurgency in Balochistan has been led by the middle class from the province’s non-tribal areas. Those who are picked up and those who fight for their return are both from this class, and not the tribal sardars who continue to be the face of Balochistan in Islamabad.

The sardars and other MNAs are the first to be maligned when the issue of Balochistan’s development comes up and the first to be co-opted economically and politically. But more and more, it appears, they are irrelevant for the people.

Why else would they be absent from this protest camp in Islamabad where young men and women dominate, negotiating with ministers, facing the cameras and press and greeting those who come to show sympathy? The absence of those who represent Balochistan in parliament reveals the disconnect between the electoral exercise and Baloch people.

It is perhaps not an unfamiliar point to anyone interested in the issue. But circumstances of class and unrepresentative politics have led to the emergence of a form of political protest which is now prevalent in Balochistan and KP. The protests for the disappeared and those led by the Pashtun Tahaffuz Movement follow a common path; citizen protests led by young, educated Pakistanis who have mastered the art of peacefully gathering and confronting a state bent on using force against them.

Among them, young women have also come to the forefront, more so in the case of the Baloch than PTM though they are present in both. The PTM allowed for ordinary women to come forward and tell their stories of suffering at public gatherings while Baloch women stepped out of their homes to lead the protest for missing relatives.

But there is more to these protests, for they take place in a Pakistan where distances are becoming shorter, physically and otherwise.

Social media is one explanation. Smartphones have allowed dissent to be communicated in a way that the state is struggling to deal with. Take the Baloch protesters. Their protest in Turbat and entire journey to Islamabad was covered on social media as was the ham-handed manner in which police tried to disperse, arrest and ‘deport’ them.

It was social media coverage and the reaction to it (especially from diplomats) which has put the state on the back foot. It is now reduced to intimidatory tactics such as deploying police and anti-terrorist personnel at the protest point and pushing activities of alleged terrorists on mainstream media — all countered by smartphone-yielding youth.

There is more. Over the decades, Pakistan has shrunk in a way. More and more protesters from the peripheries are now reaching Islamabad where their stories are heard more widely. Contrast the Chaman sit-in with the long march from Turbat which reached Islamabad. This was not just made easier by the road network but also internal migration.

Over the years, many Baloch and Pashtuns have moved out of conflict areas to urban centres such as Lahore, Islamabad and Karachi. Many have moved for employment and others for education. This has also created networks which make such protests and visibility possible.

Journalists and researchers such as Zia ur Rehman argue this has exposed Baloch students to left-wing parties and mentors outside their own province. As the state continues with its age-old tactics such as arrests, disappearances and force, it can no longer do so as invisibly as it can in the peripheries.


Consider the FIRs against Punjab University students during the PTI tenure, which made it to the National Assembly, or the viral footage of a student being abducted from Punjab university.

The point is not to state the obvious but to argue that in a changing Pakistan, protesting Baloch citizens in Islamabad and beyond are simply reflecting a new reality. On the other hand, the state is still employing the old, ineffective rulebook.

It has to engage these young people and the middle classes, instead of silencing them. Such engagement means allowing Balochistan’s people to choose their own representatives.

Without this, people will have no choice but to turn to violence or protests, because parliamentary politics here is not providing any answers to those in whose name it claims legitimacy. Islamabad’s protest camp symbolises the failure of our politics.

The writer is a journalist.
Published in Dawn, December 26th, 2023





Kech chaos reflective of the larger Balochistan problem long ignored by the state

Balaach Mola Bakhsh's killing, allegedly at the hands of CTD officials, and subsequent protests tell what we already know about Balochistan.
Published December 6, 2023

Over the last couple of weeks, Balochistan’s southern Kech district has been gripped by mass protests following the reported killing of a young man, who was earlier taken into custody by the Counter Terrorism Department (CTD).

The CTD termed the killing a result of “armed clashes with militants”, adding that three more suspects were killed in the clash on Pasni Road in the north of Kech’s district headquarters, Turbat.

One of the deceased was identified as Balaach Mola Bakhsh. The CTD claimed to have arrested him with five kilogrammes of explosives on November 20. An FIR was registered against him on November 21, and he was presented before the Anti-Terrorism Court (ATC) on the same day in Turbat. However, on the night between November 22 and 23, Bakhsh’s body was brought to Turbat Teaching Hospital, where his family identified him.

Initially, the CTD, in a brief statement, said that four insurgents were killed in an intelligence-based operation on Pasni Road. Later in the evening, in a more detailed statement, the CTD explained that based on a tip-off provided to its personnel by Bakhsh, a CTD team raided a house where insurgents had taken shelter.

During the exchange of fire, three insurgents, including Bakhsh, who the CTD said was acting as a guide, were killed. The CTD also claimed that Bakhsh died as a result of firing from the insurgents.

Soon after, Bakhsh’s family refuted the CTD’s claims, saying he was forcibly taken away from their home on the night of October 29 and produced before a court almost a month later. They accused the CTD of extrajudicially killing him. Subsequently, the family, along with thousands of residents of Kech, staged a sit-in with Bakhsh’s body on Turbat city’s main road, demanding an impartial inquiry against CTD officials.

On November 25, a sessions judge directed the Station House Officer (SHO) of Turbat City police to register an FIR against the CTD Regional Officer, the investigation officer and the lock-up officer. During the hearing, the sessions judge also expressed skepticism over the CTD’s claim that three terrorists attacked the CTD team and the raiding party did not even sustain a minor injury, while Bakhsh, who was in their custody, died.

Despite the sessions judge’s directives, an FIR was not registered, and protests continued with Bakhsh’s body placed on the city’s main square. Subsequently, the provincial government, represented by the prosecutor-general, approached the Balochistan High Court on Thursday (Nov 30), requesting it to overturn the sessions judge’s order. The high court, however, upheld the sessions judge’s order until further hearings into the matter.

The provincial government also formed an inquiry committee, headed by Fisheries Secretary Imran Gichki, but the family rejected the committee and called for an independent judicial inquiry, while also demanding the implementation of the sessions judge’s Nov 25 order.

Meanwhile, after seven days of protests, Bakhsh was laid to rest in Turbat on Friday (Dec 1) amid a massive crowd that is rarely seen at the funerals of regular, working class youth. His family and rights activists asserted that they would continue the sit-in until an inquiry against CTD officials was launched.

Bakhsh’s funeral was not just a mere congregation; it was an expression of anger against the state’s use of brute force to bring peace to Balochistan. Kech is not known for its religious tolerance — a fact signified by the killing of a man over blasphemy allegations just this August. However, even in such a region, the locals looked beyond religious and sectarian lines and followers of various faiths an sects attended Bakhsh’s funeral, where slogans were raised against the authorities, indicating an increase in resentment among the public.

It also begs the question: is this the beginning of a new movement in Balochistan?

Unprecedented protests

Since 2013, Balcohistan has witnessed several major protest movements — such as the one in Gwadar in December 2022 and in Quetta in February this year, in July 2022, and in October 2021 — but the current wave of demonstrations in Kech’s headquarters, Turbat, particularly stands out.

The current protests, which have turned into a sit-in, are also unique due to the participation of a large number of women. While Gwadar saw similar scenes last year, the nature of those protests — where the demands centered around the lack of provision of basic necessities and civil rights — differed from the situation right now.

Today, not only is there widespread anger against the CTD’s actions, the public is participating in these protests in large numbers. It’s been more almost two weeks now that the participants have been protesting and demanding both an impartial inquiry into the CTD’s actions and the filing of an FIR against officials involved in the incident. The sit-in has already outlasted the previous ones.

The alleged targeted killings of Baloch youth by law enforcement agencies, followed by a lack of impartial inquiry into the circumstances of the said murders, have created a deep mistrust between the Baloch people and state institutions. At the same time, mainstream political parties and the media are seemingly ignorant of the issue, adopting an ostrich approach. This is exactly why such incidents keep happening in Balochistan from time to time.

This approach has also alienated the Baloch youth, heightened the already widespread sense of deprivation among the province’s residents and boosted the insurgency, which had seen a decline after the 2013 election that had led to a coalition provincial government of Dr Abdul Malik Baloch’s National Party, Mahmood Khan Achakzai’s Pashtunkhwa Milli Awami Party and the PML-N.

The waning insurgency resurfaced in 2018 following the formation of a new provincial setup when a series of incidents riled up sentiments once again, and sympathy for the insurgents reappeared in no time.

One too many times

In July last year in Quetta, several families protested in the Red Zone against the alleged killing of six people in a “fake” encounter in Ziarat by security forces. Following 50 days of protests, government officials, including then interior minister Rana Sana Ullah, law minister Azam Nazeer Tarar, and BISP chairperson Shazia Marri, met the families and pledged to address their demands. The families ended the sit-in, and the Balochistan government formed a judicial inquiry commission, but the case never reached a logical conclusion.

Similar judicial inquiries followed the mysterious death of former Senator Usman Kakar in 2021, the killing of 70 lawyers in Quetta in August 2016, and the discovery of three mass graves in Tootak, Khuzdar, in 2014. Reports of these inquiries were either not disclosed, government recommendations were ignored, or the inquiries never reached their conclusions.

Other incidents have simply been brushed under the proverbial carpet. These include the July 2022 killing of nine youths in a military operation in Ziarat, the August 2020 killing of university student Hayat Baloch in Turbat, the April 2021 alleged sexual assault of a young boy by an FC soldier, the October 2021 deaths of two children in the Hoshab area of Kech district when a Frontier Corps mortar shell exploded, and the April 2022 killing of a Baloch driver by security forces in Chagai district.

These events underscore the interconnectedness of the various untended grievances that contribute towards adverse sentiments against state institutions and the resurgence of the insurgency that has reared its ugly head in the province yet again after a brief lull.

As stated earlier, the killings in Balochistan are largely given a cold shoulder by the mainstream political parties, media, and even civil society, whose focus falls disproportionately on bigger provinces. A prime example of this disparity was between the media coverage of the Sahiwal killings from January 2019 — which garnered nationwide outcry and attention from the then prime minister — and the slew of incidents in Balochistan. The indifference to Baloch plight is clearly noticeable.

Over the past two decades, this cycle has continued, with law enforcement agencies accused of employing extrajudicial methods to curtail the violent separatist insurgency. At the same time, Baloch youth, feeling unheard and disillusioned, are increasingly drawn towards the idea of taking up arms to seek justice or exact revenge.

As wounds are left open, grievances unaddressed, and justice inaccessible, the cycle perpetuates, contributing to an alarming escalation of violence in the beleaguered province.

In the dark, the only ray of hope remains the most basic solution on offer: accountability of the perpetrators under the law of the land, and prompt and fair justice for the victims’ families.

Header image: Balochistan Times on X (formerly Twitter


Kiyya Baloch is a freelance Pakistani journalist currently based in Norway. He can be found on Twitter @KiyyaBaloch



PAKISTAN

Inclusive politics

Editorial
DAWN
Published December 27, 2023

IT is encouraging to see that in the upcoming elections, the number of women candidates filing nomination papers has surpassed the figures of 2018 and 2013.

While this is a positive indicator of the evolving role of women in politics, the fact that they constitute only 11pc of the total candidates underscores a persistent gender disparity in political representation.

This year, 3,139 women candidates have stepped forward, a significant rise from the 1,687 in 2018 and 1,171 in 2013. Such an increase should be celebrated, yet when viewed in the context of over 28,000 candidates overall — in itself a record — the figure is starkly disproportionate.
Rohait Bhagwant

This discrepancy highlights a missed opportunity by political parties to promote a more balanced representation. The expectation was for parties to this time around actively encourage and support a greater number of women candidates, yet this has not materialised to a satisfactory degree.

The situation within the PML-N offers a microcosm of the broader issue. The discord among women candidates in the party, who feel sidelined in favour of a select few — primarily from influential backgrounds — raises questions about the criteria for selecting candidates for reserved seats.

This practice not only discourages dedicated party workers but also undermines the essence of reserved seats, which should ideally serve as a platform for diverse and representative female participation.

So, what could have been done differently? First and foremost, political parties need to establish and adhere to transparent and equitable criteria for selecting candidates, especially for reserved seats.

This process should prioritise merit and dedication to public service over familial or socioeconomic connections. Additionally, there should be a concerted effort to scout and mentor potential women leaders from various walks of life, ensuring more inclusive and representative choices.

Moreover, political parties and the ECP must work together to remove barriers that deter women from political participation. This includes addressing societal prejudices, ensuring the safety of women candidates, and providing the necessary resources and training to potential women politicians.

The current state of women’s participation in national politics underscores the need for urgent action. Political parties, civil society, and government institutions must shoulder the responsibility to foster an environment where women’s political engagement transcends tokenism and becomes a cornerstone of our democratic fabric.

This is not just about meeting quotas or surpassing previous statistics; it is about fundamentally redefining the political landscape to be truly inclusive, equitable, and representative of diverse voices.

The journey towards this goal is arduous but essential for the health and maturity of our democracy. It is time to embrace a vision where women’s voices are not just heard but are instrumental in steering the course of our nation’s destiny.

Published in Dawn, December 27th, 2023
Obliterating Gaza

Mahir Ali 
Published December 27, 2023 





IT took several days of diplomatic negotiations for the Security Council to come up with a sufficiently bland Gaza resolution that the US would not feel obliged to veto. Even after it had been diluted to a meaningless plea for unspecified measures that “create the conditions for a sustainable cessation of hostilities” — which Israel would interpret as a green light to persist with its genocidal military campaign — the wretched Biden administration could only bring itself to abstain.

The resolution also called on all parties to “facilitate and enable the immediate, safe and unhindered delivery of humanitarian assistance at scale” to the Palestinians in Gaza — almost 90pc of whom have been displaced, pushed into ever-diminishing ‘safe zones’ that are often promptly targeted by the Israel Defence Forces (IDF).

Even if by some miracle the Security Council had managed to clearly demand a ceasefire, Israel would have ignored it, as it has routinely done since 1948, without facing consequences. The protection of its American godfather is paramount. Western media outlets have lately been promoting the impression that the US is striving to persuade Israel to reduce the intensity of its onslaught.

That’s the equivalent of requesting a serial killer to be less indiscriminate, while supplying him with weapons to accomplish his aims. Had the US seriously wished to halt the slaughter in which entire branches of Palestinian family trees are being hacked off, it could have done so by cutting off the military, diplomatic and financial supply chains crucial to sustaining Israel’s capacity for monstrousness. But don’t hold your breath.

After all, it took decades, plus the relentless efforts of activists, for the US to recognise the horrors of South African apartheid (propped up with surreptitious Israeli bac­k­ing) and endorse sanctions against Preto­ria. Going further back, the Nazi regime enjoyed the sympathy of key components of Western elites, from the British royal family to American captains of industry.

Long before that, the US King-Crane commission was dispatched to the Levant in 1919 to solicit popular opinion about the region’s future following World War I. It found vast support for a united Syria encompassing latter-day Lebanon and Palestine. Facts on the ground shifted the erudite commissioners’ views from backing the Zionist project endorsed by the Balfour Declaration to pointing out that it would entail “a practically complete dispossession of the present-day inhabitants of Palestine” and “the gravest trespass upon the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine”.

It presciently reminded the then US president, Woodrow Wilson, that “if the American government decided to support the establishment of a Jewish state in Palestine, they are committing the American people to the use of force in that area, since only by force can a Jewish state in Palestine be established or maintained”.

By then, the US Congress had effectively endorsed the Balfour Declaration, and the State Department decided that publishing the report “would not be compatible with the public interest”. It had little effect when eventually published by Editor & Publisher magazine in 1922, and continued to be disregarded when US backing for Israel went into high gear following the 1967 “pre-emptive” Israeli assault against its neighbours. A Palestine Liberation Organisation pamphlet noted that the population density “jumped in a few weeks from 208 to more than 6,000 persons per square kilometre”.

Gaza’s population has more than quadrupled since then, and the conditions have deteriorated. The IDF has lately been renewing the status of long-standing refugees — often from territories adjacent to the Gaza Strip, the areas violated by Hamas and its associates on Oct 7 — by casting them into the wilderness. The atrocities committed in the kibbutzim cannot be denied, while acknowledging that some of the deaths and damage can be attributed to the manner in which the IDF response unfolded.

The precise details may never emerge, but the century-long context of repression and dispossession in occupied Palestinian territories cannot be ignored in contemplating today’s dire realities as the seeds of hatred are sowed anew. Benjamin Netan­yahu’s response to the UN resolution was to visit his troops in Gaza on Christmas Day and declare that his war would be intensified, even as Bethlehem marked the occasion with a rubble-strewn Nativity scene.

Reading about a Children’s Happiness Centre levelled by the IDF in its scorched earth campaign alongside hospitals, homes and schools, I was reminded of Northern Irish freedom fighter Bobby Sands’ prison diary entry shortly before he succumbed to the privations of a hunger strike: “Our revenge will be the laughter of our children.”


mahir.dawn@gmail.com
The writer is a journalist.
Published in Dawn, December 27th, 2023

Remembering Benazir

SIXTEEN years ago this day, Benazir Bhutto became the highest-profile victim of terrorism. The wound inflicted by the assassination of one of Pakistan’s most charismatic leaders has not yet healed.


Zahid Hussain 
DAWN
Published December 27, 2023


With the country facing what is perhaps the most difficult and testing time in its history, the loss of Benazir Bhutto is felt more than ever. The long shadow of despotism is hanging over the country yet again.

Benazir galvanised a people wary of a long period of authoritarian rule and gave voice to the dispossessed and disenfranchised masses. Even her bitterest political opponents gave her credit for her courage and defiance, which may have ultimately cost her her life.

The controversy over how Benazir was killed exposed the chasm of trust between the Pakistani state and its people. It is still not known who plotted her assassination.

Benazir undoubtedly had her weak points but her sincerity to the cause of democracy was beyond doubt. I was a witness to the era that marked her epic struggle. As a journalist, I was privileged to be with her at various stages of her political struggle.

During that period, I had numerous on- and off-the-record conversations with her, giving me a rare insight into her political evolution. She was a fighter all the way.

She began her political career as the daughter of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto but turned out to be a leader in her own right. She had the intellectual capacity to engage with even her strongest critics, a quality rarely found in our political leaders. Her loss is more than that of a political leader. She came to symbolise the unity of an uneasy federation. Her death exacerbated political divisions and polarisation.

Benazir served twice as prime minister but both her terms were short-lived. Her first stint came after the PPP swept the polls in 1988 following the death of Gen Zia in an air crash. It was apparent that the generals conceded reluctantly to the people’s verdict. The handing over of power to the PPP was not unconditional.

Sixteen years after the death of Benazir Bhutto, Pakistan once again finds itself at a crossroads.

It was fairly obvious that the powerful generals had never reconciled with the idea of a Bhutto government. But she accepted the challenge. “I am a fighter and fighters don’t give up,” she told me in her first interview as prime minister. And that she was.

The generals waited for an opportune moment to strike. After just one and a half years in power, the PPP government was removed in August 1990 in what was described as a constitutional coup.

Benazir was implicated in a number of cases. Every effort was made to rig the elections. Against this backdrop, the 1990 election results did not come as much of a surprise. “Elections have been stolen,” a shocked Benazir said as the elections results were being announced on television. She was in tears.

That was darkest period for Benazir. She spent her time going from one court to another. It was, perhaps, the most testing of times for the former prime minister with demoralisation gripping her party. There was also a move to disqualify her and force her to leave the country. However, all that failed to break her determination.

Her triumphant return to power in November 1993 marked the culmination of another period of struggle. With a majority in the National Assembly and a president from her own party, she felt comfortable. She also seemed to have learnt from her past mistakes and was much more chastened. She wanted to move forward and leave behind the treatment meted out to her.

There was a much better environment for her new government to function in. She was more familiar with the system of government. But the challenges were no less. Despite an extremely favourable political situation, the second Benazir government started floundering midway through her term.

The fate of her fledgling government was sealed when her brother Murtaza Bhutto was killed in September 1996 at a police shootout outside his house. The tragedy shook Benazir. She believed that her brother’s murder was the result of a larger conspiracy to destabilise her government.

It summarily brought to an end the three-year-long second Benazir Bhutto government. There was a sense of déjà vu as an elected prime minister was sent packing yet again. She was implicated once more in multiple cases and she left the country to escape persecution.

Benazir finally returned to Pakistan on Oct 18, 2007. As her procession proceeded, suddenly, in quick succession, two huge blasts struck her truck. Mayhem ensued, with mutilated bodies littering the street. It was the worst terrorist attack in the nation’s history. Benazir survived. But the assassins pursued her. On Dec 27, 2007, a second attack on Benazir in Rawalpindi succeeded. She became a victim of the same terrorism she had vowed to fight.

Pakistan is once again standing at a crossroads as it observes the 16th anniversary of her death today. It is a nation maimed, its very existence threatened by growing internal fissures and rising extremism. Social and cultural divides have become more pronounced, with growing economic disparity, and increasing discontent in the ranks of the new underclass.

A major question before us now is whether the country can continue on a democratic path or whether it will be ruled by the forces of authoritarianism. The country needs political reconciliation. It needs another charter of democracy on the lines of the 2006 document that Benazir Bhutto signed with her arch-rival and another former prime minister Nawaz Sharif. There has to be a charter of economy to take the country out of the present crisis as well as a new social contract recognising the democratic rights of all nationalities in order to keep the country united under a federal system.

But the main question is whether such reconciliation is possible with the widening political divide. The security establishment is now far more deeply entrenched in all aspects of the country’s power structure, turning Pakistan into a quasi-military dispensation. The challenge to democracy today is no less than what it was when Benazir was alive.

The writer is an author and journalist.

zhussain100@yahoo.com

X:@hidhussain

Published in Dawn, December 27th, 2023


PPP’s path

Editorial 
DAWN
Published December 27, 2023 


ON this day in 2007, Benazir Bhutto was killed at a time when her party needed her most. For the PPP, as it gears up for general elections next February, the trajectory it has taken since Ms Bhutto’s untimely death should be of particular concern. Arguably, even in 2008, its popularity was not at its zenith — the kind witnessed under Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and during the Zia era when the party, then led by Ms Bhutto, was directly targeted. There were reasons for this, not least among them the corruption alleged during the 1990s when the party was in and out of power and the rise of political rivals. However, it remained a national party. Today, while its ethos still draws supporters from across the country, this has not translated into the numbers needed for a government at the centre. The memory of Ms Bhutto’s populist appeal has not been enough to cancel out the unpopularity of the present leadership: without her charisma and knack for populist politics, the party’s top tier under Asif Ali Zardari has grown disconnected from both party workers and ordinary people. The PPP was nearly wiped out in Punjab after the 2013 elections, and has since found itself limited to its stronghold of Sindh.

Yet, the PPP did pull off some major achievements after Ms Bhutto. The 18th Amendment to the Constitution, the renaming of NWFP, the creation of a legislative assembly in Gilgit-Baltistan, and the introduction of the Balochistan Package were all laudatory moves — though implementation was scant. In provincial politics too, the PPP government in Sindh garnered plaudits for progressive pro-women, children and minority policies and legislation, the Sindh Child Marriage Restraint Act and the Sindh Protection of Communal Properties of Minorities Act amongst others — but again, poorly enforced. Moreover, as the ruling party in Sindh, the PPP has been shying away from empowering local bodies, resulting in strengthening the provincial government’s hold on civic bodies. It is no surprise then that Sindh has become unlivable. There is rampant street crime, a corrupt police force, unemployment, illegal contracts, unscrupulous land dealings, poor sanitation and healthcare, broken roads, abysmal schooling, shoddy building control, encroachments and the like. Today, the party faces a moment of truth: it must either rectify its mistakes or resign itself to a diminishing role in national politics.

Published in Dawn, December 27th, 2023
Unprepared for pandemics
DAWN
Published December 27, 2023


ONE of the most terrifying things about the Covid-19 pandemic was that the world was very unprepared for a global pandemic of its nature and scale.

Until it struck, it seemed unfathomable that a country like the United States would run out of things such as masks and basic protective equipment.

Or that all the warnings that doctors in Italy — that, along with the medics, was hit relatively early by the pandemic — would not be heeded by a large part of the world. In those early days, ventilators were in short supply but sometimes when one country tried to help another, half the things with half the parts would be sent and the body bags would continue to pile up.

It was because of the alarming lack of preparedness of the world to deal with the pandemic that, in 2020, the United Nations decreed Dec 27 as the International Day of Epidemic Preparedness.

The idea behind the annual commemoration is for countries to take stock of their level of preparedness for epidemics and pandemics.

Every year, the day can serve as an assessment point that make institutions and governments see where they stand in terms of preparedness before the next epidemic strikes, whether on a large or limited scale.

While it is easy to scoff at such things, it bears mentioning that in the US, the National Security Council unit that oversaw this sort of preparedness was disbanded by then president Donald Trump.

There was no international check point that could spur decision-makers to consider what would happen if the world suddenly had to be shut down for months on end.

In the Global South, the terror of the Covid-19 pandemic did not end even when a vaccine had been developed. The mRNA vaccines, including Pfizer and Moderna, that led the charge were developed in the Global North where cash-and resource-rich governments had been funding such vaccine research for many years.

Once the pandemic began and scores of people were dying in places such as London and New York, governments began to pour hundreds of millions of dollars into the exercise of speeding up vaccine development and then after that ensuring that their laboratories had the capacity to produce vaccines as fast as possible.

This was the reason that people in the US were some of the first to receive the new vaccine. For many months, this was the status quo with no real plan of how the best vaccines could be procured by the Global South.

One of the big problems was that the drug companies and governments that had funded the development of the mRNA vaccines were not particularly eager to share the data that would have allowed the same vaccine to be developed at a much cheaper cost and made available for the publics of the poorer countries.

This is why India, itself a major producer of vaccines, saw the large number of casualties that it did. The low availability of the vaccine in that country meant that the vast majority of the population had not been able to get vaccinated against Covid-19 because the government had not been able to procure enough supplies for the population.

The consequence, with thousands dying daily so that even the crematoriums could not keep up with the pace of death, is imprinted as an indelible catastrophe on the nation’s psyche.

Countries in the Global South had to rely on the goodwill of wealthier countries to obtain the most effective vaccines against Covid-19.

While Pakistan was relatively more fortunate in that there was never a mega surge of the same proportions, it is also true that the country relied for quite a while on supplies of Covid vaccines from wealthier countries.

Indeed, it was through the US that Pakistan was able to get the first Pfizer vaccine while China provided the first shipment of the (non-mRNA) vaccine. Other countries also sent vaccines to Pakistan.

The point of this is that most countries in the Global South had to rely on the goodwill of wealthier countries to obtain the most effective vaccines.

There was no agreement in place that would allow the vaccines developed in the West to be easily and cheaply mass-produced and be made available to the Global South, despite the fact that their absence was causing tens of thousands of casualties in many countries.

Because of this ongoing impasse, many middle-income countries in Latin America and Africa have started to expand their own research and development capacity to produce vaccines.

Beyond this, it is worthy to note that the International Federation of Pharmaceutical Manufacturers Association based in Geneva has opposed any effort to relax intellectual property rights during pandemics because they insist that this will actually hamper the fast and effective production of vaccines.

Instead, it has signed on to the Berlin Declaration, which is a non-binding document that promises to try and allocate ef­­fective vaccines for priority populations located in the Global South. The Berlin Declaration does not get away from the problem of leaving availability to the goodwill of the richer countries.

Whether it is individually or through multilateral efforts, Pakistan must make it a priority to develop and publicise epidemic preparedness so that it has a better plan in place than relying on the goodwill of rich countries.

On the national level, an assessment needs to be carried out of the plans that are already in place both in public and private institutions. It is important to remember that some of the economic morass in which the country finds itself can be attributed to the unpredictability of closures, such as during the Covid-19 period.

Planning ahead to minimise the effects of any large-scale disease could ensure that Pakistan is better prepared and less vulnerable to a human and economic catastrophe when the next epidemic strikes.

The writer is an attorney teaching constitutional law and political philosophy.


rafia.zakaria@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, December 27th, 2023