The rebel patriot

“Graveyards are full of indispensible men” is the rule that proves exceptions such as Asma Jahangir. Can there be a more precise measure of a life fully lived than an ephemeral being forcing the world to take note of her passing? The death of loved ones always leaves the family aggrieved. But there are titans who touch almost everyone they pass by. You can love them or hate them. But being indifferent is no option. Asma jee’s funeral brought together a plural Pakistan, mourning her death, celebrating her life and resolving to the carry forward the torch she lit up.

No one can define for others the legacy of someone as refreshingly irreverent, fearless, principled, emphatic and kind as AJ, in a land afflicted by self-righteous elites, amoral ambition, sycophancy, expediency, intolerance and misogyny. She stood out in visible contrast and was a breath of fresh air. Those acquainted with or inspired by her will continue to draw their own lessons from her life, based on personal experiences of interacting with her and the public narrative she weaved together and advocated to the chagrin of our power elites.

I first met her during the lawyers’ movement. But three subsequent interactions stand out. The first was when as Husain Haqqani’s counsel she was critical of the Supreme Court’s exercise of 184(3) jurisdiction over Memogate. I was invited by my paper to opine on the matter. I wrote a piece ‘Supreme Court on trial’ presenting the counterview from a legal perspective. I got a call from AJ at 9.30 am and this is what she said: “I enjoyed reading your article that criticises my position. Never mind that we disagree. Just keep writing what you believe in.”

The second was after I wrote an article entitled ‘Hubris as justice’, critiquing CJ Iftikhar Chaudhry’s overreach and populist suo-motu drive that I had argued was undermining due process. This was when our love affair with him wasn’t quite over. The piece found traction and was covered prominently by Kamran Khan in his show. I had used the EOBI case as a peg to make the point and the unpleased CJP insinuated in court that I had been EOBI’s counsel and was thus tainted. His comments were ‘breaking news’ those days. I was also told I should expect a contempt notice.

Peeved by CJ Chaudhry’s strictures impugning my integrity, I considered filing an application before the SC to clear my name. So I sought advice from AJ. She was at Justice (r) Tariq Mehmood’s house. After I passionately pleaded how I had been wronged, she turned to Tariq sahib and said with a chuckle, “It’s happened to him for [the] first time.” She said she’d support me in whatever I decided but that going before a hostile SC would consume energy without being helpful. And that if one chooses to speak against holy cows, one should grow a thicker skin.

The third time was after receiving a contempt notice for writing about irregular appointments in a high court. She called and asked what I was planning to do. I told her that I wished to contest and that Makhdoom Ali Khan had kindly agreed to represent me. She said she’d come with me for the hearing in any event. She came especially from Lahore in the (uncomfortable) bulletproof twin cabin she had been advised to use due to security threats. In court, she politely but firmly argued that courts mustn’t use contempt powers to fetter free speech.

The court was gracious and the notice was discharged. Coming out of court, I thanked her for taking the trouble for me. She laughed and said: “Yes, you should be thankful, not because I have come along, but because I’ve never flattered my husband in all these years as much as I had to flatter the court today to get you off the hook.” That was quintessential AJ: generously committing her time when it came to fighting for principles she believed in, unwavering like a rock, underplaying her help and accepting complements with a quick sense of humour.

One learns from AJ’s life that her allegiance was to principles not people. It was these principles that guided positions she took in relation to institutions and people. She was a constitutionalist and a rule of law proponent. She unequivocally supported the restoration of judges after Musharraf ousted them in 2007. But she expected no dividends post-restoration. Instead, she was the SC’s most vocal critic during CJ Chaudhry’s heyday, as she believed that the SC was exercising authority such that it was undermining representative institutions and due process of law.

Informed by our chequered political (and judicial) history, she had no patience for the judiciary perceived as acting in concert with khakis or being used by them to cut civilian government to size. That’s what she thought Memogate was about. She pointed out that if the SC was so determined to protect fundamental rights in relation to matters of public importance, wasn’t the missing persons issue a more glaring abuse of guaranteed rights and rule of law, and which should concern a court that is all too eager to investigate Memogate.

She was a vocal critic of the MQM’s fascist ways. But when it came to challenging the gag order against Altaf Hussain, AJ accepted the brief. She attracted criticism for representing a ‘traitor’ who had chided the military. She was also criticised for representing missing persons who were allegedly terrorists and traitors. Her argument simply was that if someone were a terrorist, why not try him in court in accordance with due process and in full public eye? In short, her resolve to defend fundamental rights and due process trumped the fear of being labelled anti-state.

As a lawyer and activist, AJ was committed to defending the vulnerable against predators, notwithstanding whether predatory behaviour emanated from the state or from society. She fought for women victimised by misogyny and honour crimes, defended the indigent enslaved as bonded labourers, children subject to abuse as child labourers, religious minorities persecuted in the name of the blasphemy law, and ethnic minorities who went missing demanding equal rights. She didn’t care whether the oppression was backed by state or societal elites.

While defending the rights of women against forces of bigotry, she could expose our religious elite. While speaking for the due process rights of the missing or the Baloch, she could criticise our military elite. When it came to the inaction of the state in defending the rights of citizens, she didn’t pull any punches – no matter who was in power. And as an advocate and officer of the court she never shied away from calling out double standards in the actions or omissions of the court. Speaking truth to power, AJ naturally got under the skin of our power elites.

AJ had a coherent consistent worldview. She spoke for Kashmiris and against India’s repression in Kashmir, but she supported peace and opposed the perennial conflict between India and Pakistan. She paid tribute to soldiers who laid their lives defending Pakistan but opposed the good-Taliban bad-Taliban distinction and similar misplaced national security policies that continue to claim the precious lives of citizens and soldiers alike. She never supported separatism but censured our state’s heavy handedness that fuels Baloch grievances.

We have an entrenched code of acceptable conduct that encourages deference to authority – however abusive it may be – that demands blind allegiance to state-sponsored notions of national security and patriotism, that counsels against challenging established norms and traditions no matter how repressive, that discourages calling out the hypocrisy of those in power, that is blind to the vice of flattery and the virtue of candour, and that favours going with the flow and making hay while the sun shines in the name of pragmatism and expediency.

AJ was a rebel to this malicious code, and thus a true patriot invested in the longevity of this state and in nurturing a healthy thinking society.

The writer is a lawyer based in Islamabad.

Email: sattar@post.harvard.edu