The challenge of Chotus and Chotulands

It is not unusual for the mighty Indus to throw up sandy islands that it can take back at its will. Kacha Jamal is one such island, located some 80 km from the city of Rajanpur and 40 kilometres from Rahimyar Khan. On this small island, a group of gangsters has killed seven police officials and taken 25 hostage in a skirmish that has bloodied the nose of the Punjab government, forcing it to call in support from the army. The Kacha Jamal battle carries many lessons that can help us understand similar problems in other areas of the country without the need for any grand theory.

Located on Punjab’s border with the Sindh province, Rajanpur is the poorest district of the province – poverty in the Lahore district is estimated at seven percent, while in Rajanpur it stands at 70 percent. Rajanpur is largely a peaceful area, except of course for a small riverine belt on the banks of Indus where a criminal gang led by fifty-five year old Ghulam Rasool Mazari aka Chotu has ruled for more than a decade. Though the boundaries of Chotuland are not fixed, at its maximum the area is 50 km long and 15 km wide. At the moment, the gang is fighting its last ditch battle at the core of its territory – a 10 km long and 2.5 km wide island formed inside the Indus river, separated from it banks through a kilometre wide span of water.

Over the last one decade, thw Punjab government has tried to deal with Chotuland in the way the British tried to deal with their tribal (Fata) problem – through occasional incursions. Chotuland has been invaded by the police seven times, mostly in April when the wheat crop is ready and farmers in the riverine belt can be made to share their income with their guardians. However, every attack ended with some unwritten agreement between Chotu and the administration, leaving the gang stronger than before.

To make sense of this situation, one can theorise on local tribes and their culture, the peculiar geography and temperament of the people of Rajanpur and the need for special administrative arrangement etc, but the facts appear pretty simple. Both Rajanpur and Rahimyar Khan are amongst the most peaceful districts in the country. It is also the land of the great Sufi poet, Khwaja Ghulam Farid, whose shrine is located in the Rajanpur district. The Salafi influence is limited and most members of the gang may be also be affiliated with the Barelvi sect.

This is clearly a case of the existence of an ungoverned space within the over-governed province of the country. The existence of such areas is a clear sign of a weak state, which in security terms is marked by two characteristics. First, the inability or unwillingness to provide the fundamental political goods that are associated with a state. These goods include physical security, legitimate political institutions and social welfare. Secondly, presence of physical territory and the non-physical space where effective state sovereignty and control is either missing or is partial as formal state institutions and rule of law serve little or no function.

Chotuland shows us how easy it is to create a Fata-like situation even on a small tract of land without any need for Pakhtun culture, tribal customs, religious ideology or international borders. It is not hard to imagine what kind of situation can emerge if a similar experiment is carried out on an area that is spread over 27,000 square kilometres of land, has daunting geographical features, and where arms are aplenty and a porous border is always available to escape the state authority. Seen this way, if Chotuland is small Fata, Fata is a large Chotuland.

However, ungoverned spaces are not established on riverine belts or tribal territories only. Through the state’s weakness or complicity, such spaces can emerge in the heart of the most thickly populated of cities. Pakistan’s largest city, Karachi, was itself a sort of Chotuland (or should I say Motuland) till recently where alternate authorities existed with their own system of taxation (bhatha) and law enforcement (abduction, torture and murder). Lawless areas are never truly ‘lawless’. Some kind of law is always there. It may be the Shariat as defined by the Taliban or the rules set by Bhai in Karachi or Chotu in Rajanpur.

The real weakness of governance in the country lies in the fact that it has failed to keep pace with the change in society. Much of Pakistan consisted of alternately governed spaces at the time of independence, where the state’s writ was limited and the British, like the Mughals, liked to rely on traditional authority at local levels. However, the old structures of authority have eroded over time and became insufficient to cater to the needs of contemporary societies.

Though inefficiently, the state has tried to fill in the vacuum left by erosion of traditional authority in most places. In this the state enjoys the support of the people, who do not show any nostalgia for the old mechanisms of justice. Instead they want more of the state and want the state institutions to be more efficient and effective.

Unfortunately, Fata remains an exception. The state and its functionaries, despite all the evidence to the contrary, like to believe that societies in Fata are frozen in time. When the British laid out the current system of administration in Fata between 1871 and 1876, they did rely on their Machiavellian understanding of the local culture, but the system was based on their own colonial needs, not on the needs or welfare of the local population.

For a long time, the biggest challenge to reforms in Fata came from the people themselves who had bought stereotypes imposed on them and liked to wear them like a badge of honour. As a result, any hint at changing the status quo met resistance. Luckily this situation has changed and there is almost a consensus within Fata and KP regarding these reforms

Although a commission is working to thrash out recommendations for these reforms, the pro-reform lobby in KP and Fata fears that the process may result in something that amounts to nothing more than symbolic relief. The word gradualism is often heard from the authorities again and again. Gradualism was indeed needed in the last 67 years, and such gradualism might have saved the people of the area and the whole of country from a lot of pain and suffering. The time for gradualism is gone; the government must cut the Gordian knot through a new social contract, making the people of Fata full citizens enjoying all rights and responsibilities.

The current generation of politicians, who were able to pass the 18th Amendment, can easily solve Fata’s constitutional crisis as well if they can manifest a similar political resolve. The bipartisan consensus on Fata reforms may not last forever. Good policymakers never waste a crisis and never fail to use the narrow window of opportunity that is available to them.

And can we ask the Khadim-e-Ala to tell us why there is such a stark difference between Lahore and Rajanpur? The fault, in all probability, is not in the stars but in the budget books of the Punjab government.

The writer is a social anthropologist and development professional.

Email: zaighamkhan@yahoo.com

Twitter: @zaighamkhan