How Pakistan uses US military aid as a cover

The US is withholding $800m in military aid. This money - ostensibly funding anti-Talbian operations

As sardars, or princely chiefs of Balochistan, they were the Sean Connery-look alikes: gentlemen of smart moustaches, clipped tones, an Enfield rifle under their arm, as at home on a horse as in a battered Mercedes, and educated at Aitchison College, Pakistan's (and prior to 1947, India's) Eton, where the western subcontinent's old-fashioned, non-military ruling elite got their grounding.

Time was also when you couldn't be a hip young radical Pakistani of the 60s and 70s unless, like commentator Ahmed Rashid, you were involved in the Marxist Balochistan liberation movement. But since the murder of Nawab Akbar Bugti in 2006 by Pakistan's agencies -- his grandson was killed in Karachi at the end of June -- the sardars and the ageing lefties have no longer been able to protect their people and their dreams of a self-governing Balochi state.

The Pakistan army offensive around Quetta, funded by the US with the stated purpose of defeating the Taliban, is cover for a more far-reaching policy of ethnic cleansing of Balochis.

Put bleakly, it is a question of which is more valuable to the Pakistan's military state. On the one hand is the 12.5 per cent increase in their military budget, which is umbilically tied to Washington ($800m of which is to be withheld, it was announced today) for taking on the Taliban in south Waziristan and around Quetta. On the other is the opportunity to exploit long-term the mineral wealth of Balochistan -- gas, oil, copper, coal -- with Chinese partners, in a highly strategic area close to the Straits of Hormuz, perhaps on the proviso that the tactics used in the region will not be too disimilar to those used in Tibet. That is to say, the destruction of nationalism, and the repression of a 150 year independence movement.

Wild, beautiful and eccentric, Balochistan has always had an edgy history. It is a vast area west of Sindh and south of Afghanistan that occupies just under half of Pakistan's landmass and about 4 per cent (just under 7 million) of its population. Like the princely nizam state of Hyderabad in India, it held out under the Khan of Kalat against the central governments of newly founded Pakistan and was absorbed under intense military pressure (hangings and killings) in 1948.

The full strategic importance of the region became clear when the Soviets invaded Afghanistan in 1979. In a rare display of US interest to prevent a Soviet advance to the "warm waters" of the Gulf, it became a destination of World Bank projects and developments, even if projects were just a brief respite in what can only be described as "terror". An insurgency against the sacking of the left-wing Balochi government in 1973 by Zulfikar Ali Bhutto resulted in the army being brought in to suppress an insurgency in which 10,000 Balochis were killed.

In the last ten years, an estimated 14,000 Baloch men have been spirited away by the Pakistan intelligence agencies, their mutiliated bodies turning up every few days in the mountains passes around Quetta, in the barren deserts that lie north of the Makran coast and in urban Karachi. Many are considered to be the cream of Balochi society, and the carriers and bearers of its culture: professors and teachers, lawyers, political activists, sportsmen, student leaders, singers and poets. A report by Zofeen Ebrahim for IPS News shows the action is tantamount to ethnic cleansing. It has also included media blackouts.

Pakistan Telecommunications Authority blocked the online news service the Baloch Hal in Pakistan at the end of 2010, having banned another Baloch newspaper, Daily Asaap, and harassed the staff of Daily Azadi and Balochistan Express. The Human Rights Commission of Pakistan (HRCP) has been petitioning the Supreme Court on missing persons since 2007. Some have been returned safely to their families, but there is a lack of resolve in the state to deal with the thousands of cases of torture and murder. Balochistan's chief minister, Aslam Raisani, said in a BBC interview last year that Pakistan's security agencies were behind the abductions and killings. A recent report by the HRCP found that "agents of the state, as well as the insurgents and extremists operating in the province, share a common disregard for rights of the citizens".

For organisations such as Unrepresented Nations and People Organisation (UNPO) and Crisis Balochistan, the concern is that China -- which is expanding the deep port close to the Iranian border at Gwadar for both naval and merchant berths and is thought to be reconnoitering the area for mineral deposits outside the Sui gas fields -- may recommend to Pakistan's state that methods similar to those employed in Tibet be used to suppress the people and destroy their culture.

In the last month, high profile murders have included Professor Saba Dashtyari of Balochistan University, a distinguished scholar and teacher and the third member of the staff of the university to be shot, the boxer Abrar Hussain, who represented Pakistan at the Olympics, 22-year-old Shafi Baloch, leader of the Baloch Students Organisation, whose body was found two weeks ago in the area of the Bolan pass, and Sanghat Sana Baloch, the leader of the Balochistan Republican Party. Ordinary Balochis are being kidnapped by Pakistan's state agencies in their hundreds each week, tortured and their mutilated bodies left in the wild landscapes for families and relatives to reclaim.

The loss to the Baloch people of their cultural torchbearers as well as their husbands and sons is devastating. Pakistan's ordinary citizens, fed a diet of media misinformation that India and Afghanistan are funding Balochi nationalism, simply wash their hands.

It is high time that the persecution of Balochis is taken up again at the United Nations. Of secondary importance only is that a complicated melee of military Pakistan, Chinese and Iranian interests are swirling around the borders and the Makran coast. Those "warm waters" are up on the international agenda again.

 

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The struggles of Huma Abedin

On the behind-the-scenes story of Hillary Clinton’s closest aide.

In a dreary campaign, it was a moment that shone: Hillary Clinton, on the road to the caucus in Iowa, stopping at a Mexican fast-food restaurant to eat and somehow passing unrecognised. Americans of all political persuasions gleefully speculated over what her order – a chicken burrito bowl with guacamole – revealed about her frame of mind, while supporters gloated that the grainy security-camera footage seemed to show Clinton with her wallet out, paying for her own lunch. Here was not the former first lady, senator and secretary of state, known to people all over the world. This was someone’s unassuming grandmother, getting some food with her colleagues.

It might be unheard of for Clinton to go unrecognised but, for the woman next to her at the till, blending into the background is part of the job. Huma Abedin, often referred to as Clinton’s “shadow” by the US media, is now the vice-chair of her presidential campaign. She was Clinton’s deputy chief of staff at the state department and has been a personal aide since the late 1990s.

Abedin first met Clinton in 1996 when she was 19 and an intern at the White House, assigned to the first lady’s office. She was born in Michigan in 1976 to an Indian father and a Pakistani mother. When Abedin was two, they moved from the US to Saudi Arabia. She returned when she was 18 to study at George Washington University in Washington, DC. Her father was an Islamic scholar who specialised in interfaith reconciliation – he died when she was 17 – and her mother is a professor of sociology.

While the role of “political body woman” may once have been a kind of modern maid, there to provide a close physical presence and to juggle the luggage and logistics, this is no longer the case. During almost 20 years at Clinton’s side, Abedin has advised her boss on everything from how to set up a fax machine – “Just pick up the phone and hang it up. And leave it hung up” – to policy on the Middle East. When thousands of Clinton’s emails were made public (because she had used a private, rather than a government, server for official communication), we glimpsed just how close they are. In an email from 2009, Clinton tells her aide: “Just knock on the door to the bedroom if it’s closed.”

Abedin shares something else with Clinton, outside of their professional ties. They are both political wives who have weathered their husbands’ scandals. In what felt like a Lewinsky affair for the digital age, in 2011, Abedin’s congressman husband, Anthony Weiner, resigned from office after it emerged that he had shared pictures of his genitals with strangers on social media. A second similar scandal then destroyed his attempt to be elected mayor of New York in 2013. In an ironic twist, it was Bill Clinton who officiated at Abedin’s and Weiner’s wedding in 2010. At the time, Hillary is reported to have said: “I have one daughter. But if I had a second daughter, it would [be] Huma.” Like her boss, Abedin stood by her husband and now Weiner is a house husband, caring for their four-year-old son, Jordan, while his wife is on the road.

Ellie Foreman-Peck

A documentary filmed during Weiner’s abortive mayoral campaign has just been released in the US. Weiner shows Abedin at her husband’s side, curtailing his more chaotic tendencies, always flawless with her red lipstick in place. Speaking to the New York Observer in 2007, three years before their marriage, Weiner said of his future wife: “This notion that Senator Clinton is a cool customer – I mean, I don’t dispute it, but the coolest customer in that whole operation is Huma . . . In fact, I think there’s some dispute as to whether Huma’s actually human.” In the film, watching her preternatural calm under extraordinary pressure, you can see what he means.

In recent months, Abedin’s role has changed. She is still to be found at Clinton’s side – as the burrito photo showed – but she is gradually taking a more visible role in the organisation overall, as they pivot away from the primaries to focus on the national race. She meets with potential donors and endorsers on Clinton’s behalf and sets strategy. When a running mate is chosen, you can be sure that Abedin will have had her say on who it is. There’s a grim symmetry to the way politics looks in the US now: on one side, the Republican candidate Donald Trump is calling for a ban on Muslims entering the country; on the other, the presumptive Democratic nominee Hillary Clinton relies ever more on her long-time Muslim-American staffer.

Years before Trump, notable Republicans were trying to make unpleasant capital out of Abedin’s background. In 2012, Tea Party supporters alleged that she was linked to the Muslim Brotherhood and its attempt to gain access “to top Obama officials”. In her rare interviews, Abedin has spoken of how hurtful these baseless statements were to her family – her mother still lives in Saudi Arabia. Later, the senator and former Republican presidential candidate John McCain spoke up for her, saying that Abedin represented “what is best about America”.

Whether senior figures in his party would do the same now remains to be seen.

Caroline Crampton is web editor of the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 26 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit odd squad