No Thanks, But Thanks

By the standards of Himalayan earthquakes the one that hit Kashmir and northern Pakistan was not an especially ferocious one. Of course, 7.6 on the Richter scale is a very powerful quake. But it pales before the monster quakes, reaching 8.5 on the Richter scale, that the Himalayas have known every thirty to forty years since records began to be kept. Since the Richter scale is not an arithmetic but a logarithmic scale, those quakes were a hundred or more times as powerful as the Muzaffarabad quake of October 8. Yet this much smaller earthquake was sufficient to take 25,000 lives and the toll is still rising as I write.

Tragedy on this scale brings a sense of proportion to human affairs. It is therefore only natural that people all over the world have begun to hope that it will persuade India and Pakistan to put aside their mutual mistrust, and work together to help the survivors. That will, in turn, give a fillip to the peace process. All this did eventually happen: India and Pakistan are at last working together. But it did not happen before revealing the large gulf of mistrust that divides the two countries, and the fears and divisions within Pakistan that are hampering the peace process.
I
ndia offered its help to Pakistan on Saturday, within hours of the tragedy. A planeload of blankets, medicines and other survival gear was kept ready for despatch. But Pakistan initially expressed a reluctance to accept aid from India, citing a variety of ‘local sensitivities’. It did not change its mind until two days later, long after aid had begun to arrive from the US, the UK, and other countries.

Pakistan changed its mind on Monday, but made it clear that it would accept material aid but not take part in any joint relief operations with India. What it was saying ‘no’ to was an Indian offer to use its helicopters to locate and reach isolated villages, many of which were more easily accessible from the Indian side of the LoC. But the dam had broken. India responded by sending no less than 25 tonnes of relief supplies in a giant Ilyushin 76, and President Musharraf singled out Dr Manmohan Singh and India to thank during his 45-minute address to the nation on October 12. 

Musharraf was careful, however, to assure his people that he had accepted aid only in ‘certain forms and format’. Indian helicopters were still a no-no, despite Gen Musharraf’s admission that relief operations were severely hampered on the first two days because Pakistan did not have enough helicopters in the area.

At first sight Pakistan’s decision to put politics ahead of humanity looks heartless and discouraging. But its reasons are understandable. There’s always been a strong school of thought within Pakistan, fed by the likes of Syed Ali Shah Geelani from Kashmir, that India’s goal in opening the border between the two Kashmirs is to take the steam out of separatism. That would automatically reinforce the case for a solution based upon the status quo. The last thing adherents to this school want Kashmiris in ‘Azad’ Kashmir to see are Indian choppers dropping life-saving food packets, blankets and medicines to them and air-lifting them to safety. That would destroy, in a single stroke, the preconceptions about ‘Hindu India’ that have sustained hostility in that part of Kashmir towards India.

Against this background, the fact that Pakistan has accepted the aid—the first time it has done so since 1971—is far more important than the fact that it has put restrictions upon the type of aid. In fact, the sequence of events surrounding its change of heart are of far greater significance than the change itself, for it tells us a great deal about the internal tug of war going on in Pakistan, as it edges closer to India.

Pakistan’s initial refusal mirrored its dismissal of India’s offer to open the road between Srinagar and Muzaffarabad two years ago. Its subsequent acceptance of aid also mirrors the change of heart that took place in Pakistan over the opening of the road in the next ten days. In both cases the change had the full support of Pakistan’s newly empowered liberal, democratic community. In both cases it required a deliberate act on the part of Pakistan’s decision-makers to overcome reflexive behaviour patterns born out of decades of hostility. And in both cases it is fairly easy to trace the change back to Musharraf.

Musharraf’s limitation of aid and singling out of India to thank are therefore part of a single strategy. The former took cognisance of the Pakistani establishment’s fears, the latter was designed to dispel them and, in particular, to go over the establishment’s heads and inform Pakistanis where help was coming from. There is an immensely important lesson in his behaviour for India’s policy planners. Ever since Condoleezza Rice ‘dropped in’ on the prime minister in New York to plead for a hastening of the peace process in order to help Musharraf overcome domestic opposition to his policies, the Indian security establishment has argued that Musharraf has never been in such a strong position as he is today, and that Rice’s visit was intended to bring pressure on India to make more concessions on Kashmir. 

Musharraf’s actions show this is not the case. He clearly doesn’t have the support of the establishment hawks in Pakistan, but he is equally determined to push for peace. They also show that he is firmly in control, but that like all authoritarian leaders he has to maintain his control by making tactical concessions to his opponents. In these circumstances if Delhi drags its feet over engaging Pakistan on Kashmir’s future, it will only strengthen Musharraf’s opponents. That is the last thing we want to do.