The secret war in Balochistan

The Pakistani province is beset with violence.

On 10 January, two bomb blasts ripped through a snooker hall in Quetta, Balochistan, killing 86 people and injuring 120. Most of the dead were Hazara Shias, an ethnic and religious minority. The militant Sunni group Lashkar-e-Jhangvi claimed responsibility. Earlier that day, an unrelated blast at a security checkpoint in the same city had killed 12; that bomb was planted by the United Baloch Army, a nationalist group.

The two attacks shone a light on the troubled province, which was placed under federal rule soon afterwards. The following week, as a warrant was issued for the prime minister’s arrest and speculation mounted that the forthcoming general election could be delayed, Balochistan was forgotten once again.

The state makes great efforts to keep Balochistan out of the international news: often foreign journalists’ visas are restricted so they cannot visit the capital city, Quetta, and if they do get permission they are closely monitored by security agents.

Balochistan is Pakistan’s largest province, making up 44 per cent of the country’s land mass, but it has the smallest population, just half that of Karachi, capital of the neighbouring Sindh. Its vast mineral riches, including gold, copper, oil, gas, platinum and coal, are largely untapped, while its deserts and long borders with Afghanistan and Iran make it an attractive terrain for unsavoury characters. Between Islamist militants, an aggressive separatist movement and a crackdown by the central government, the province is beset with violence.

The separatist movement stretches back to the 1920s, long before Pakistan was created in 1947. It considers anyone not ethnically Baloch to be a “settler”, even though some of the Punjabis, Hazaras and Mohajirs have been in Balochistan for the best part of a century. Nationalists target civilians with shootings and bombs. They also target schools and universities, which are seen as symbols of the state and are mostly run by the so-called settlers. The attacks on schools resulted in a bloody riposte from the military and the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), a secret war that has brought Balochistan to its knees.

“Nationalists are destroying any prospect for the future of the children of the province,” says Ali Dayan Hasan, Pakistan director of Human Rights Watch. “But the viciousness with which the military has attacked nationalists has increased the violence.”

I recently spoke with a local official in Quetta. He was reluctant to speak on the phone because his line is tapped by the ISI. Attempts to speak on Skype proved abortive. The rebels had blown up the main pylon near his office, so there was no electricity.

Over the past few years, a grisly series of YouTube videos has shown the mutilated bodies of young men. They are found at the rate of about 15 each month. Their deaths are barely reported on or investigated, but Human Rights Watch claims there is “indisputable” evidence that the ISI and its sister agencies are responsible.

A 2012 Freedom House report on internet freedom found that Baloch nationalist websites were the most systemically censored in Pakistan. Baloch Hal, the first English-language Baloch news service, has been blocked since November 2010.

It remains to be seen what difference the imposition of governor’s rule is having on the province. The devolved government had been widely criticised for failing to control the violence. Yet the local writ in Balochistan has always been limited. The heavy ISI and military presence has corroded provincial authority to the point where it barely exists.

Such lawlessness creates a terrifying environment for minorities. Thousands of Hazaras have already fled to Australia. “This is an ethnic tinderbox,” Hasan tells me.

A girl holds a placard during protests following the bombing in Quetta. Photograph: Getty Images

Samira Shackle is a freelance journalist, who tweets @samirashackle. She was formerly a staff writer for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 28 January 2013 issue of the New Statesman, After Chavez

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The investigation into Australia’s “Abu Ghraib” could neglect wider abuses in the Northern Territory

Footage from a youth detention centre in the Northern Territory capital, Darwin, may not be enough for authorities to finally address endemic discrimination in the region.

It isn’t Abu Ghraib, but you could be forgiven for making the mistake when you first see the picture of the hooded 17-year-old.

In shocking footage made available to the public for the first time on Monday night, guards at a juvenile detention centre in Darwin are seen apparently systematically abusing the teenager Dylan Voller in a horrific timelapse.

The Australian investigative series Four Corners aired CCTV footage showing guards body-slamming him to the ground, punching him in the head, violently stripping him naked, and pinning him to the ground in a hog-tie position.

It continues, piling atrocity on atrocity from when he was a 13-year-old detainee in 2010, until he is shown shackled to the chair in the already infamous photo from footage this year. It is understood that Voller has long been the object of special animosity from the guards.

Voller was not the only child suffering in the Don Dale facility over the years; tapes also showed six boys being tear-gassed in August of 2014. They had reportedly been kept in tiny isolation cells for 23 hours a day, some of them for weeks, though laws limited such confinement to 72 hours.

At the time, the press was told that there had been a riot at the prison in its maximum security cells but the newly-released footage shows a markedly different set of events. Guards had left one of the boy’s doors unlocked, and he slipped out of his cell and broke a window. Just as he appeared to be surrendering, guards took the decision to gas all six boys in the wing, five of whom were in their cells.

This situation would be shocking enough, but attitude shown by the guards – who laughed when the would-be escapee soiled himself, calling him unprintable names – has sent the whole country into an uproar.

Australia has a complicated justice system; it is technically governed by the Crown and it’s made up of both states and Territories. Policies shift wildly between them, and the Northern Territories are governed by what Australians call The Intervention, a series of paternalistic policies meant to cut back on crime and violence in Indigenous communities.

In 2007, then Prime Minister John Howard announced that pornography and alcohol would be banned for Aboriginal peoples in the Northern Territories, and welfare spending restricted by item.

Though only 3 per cent of the general population, Indigenous people make up 28 per cent of Australia’s incarcerated adult population, and 54 per cent of jailed youth nationwide. In the Northern Territories that youth number nearly doubles to 97 per cent

John Elferidge, who until yesterday was the NT Minister for Corrections, said that the trouble was due to a “lack of training”.  Adam Giles, the NT’s Chief Minister, has sacked Elferidge and personally taken over the portfolio, saying he was kept in the dark about these events Giles has pledged to appoint a permanent Inspector General for the Territory.

Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull has called for a Royal Commission into the allegations of abuse and torture by prison workers, to be completed by early next year.

This is in itself controversial, because Turnbull has taken the decision to limit the Commission’s scope to the Don Dale facility alone – in the interest of speed and efficiency, he says – instead of investigating the whole of the Territory. Given that some of these guards have since transferred to other facilities, many people are concerned that this narrow investigation will fail to remedy the horrific problems.

Dylan Voller remains in isolation in an adult prison. Peter O’Brien, solicitor for both Voller and another of the boys, has called for his immediate release, saying that three of the guards from Don Dale are still in charge of his welfare.

It is unclear how much of this abuse is actionable. In most of Australia the statute of limitations to allege abuse by staff is three-six years. In the Northern Territories, it is a mere 28 days.

Linda Tirado is an author and activist who works in America, Australia, and the UK.