BY PERVEZ HOODBHOY
Drones, machine and human, have drenched Pakistan with the
blood of innocents. On the one side are US-made drones such as the MQ-1B
General Dynamics Predator – a remote-controlled, self-propelled,
missile-bearing aerial system. On the other side are the low-tech human
drones, armed with explosive vests stuffed with ball bearings and nails.
These lethal engines of destruction, programmed by remote
handlers, are very different. But neither asks why it must kill, nor cares
about the death and suffering it causes.
On January 13, 2006 a bevy of MQ-1Bs hovering over
Damadola launched a barrage of 10 Hellfire missiles at the village below.
They blew up 18 local people, including five women and five children. Such
cold statistics say nothing about the smashed lives of the survivors or
the grief of the bereaved. The blame was put on faulty local intelligence.
Then, on October 30, 2006 a Hellfire missile hit a
madrassa in Bajaur, killing between 80-85 people, mostly students. Even if
those killed were allegedly training to become al-Qaeda militants, and
even if a few key al-Qaeda leaders such as Abu Laith al-Libi have been
eliminated, the more usual outcome has been flattened houses, dead and
maimed children and a growing local population that seeks revenge against
Pakistan and the US.
The human drone has left a far bloodier trail across
Pakistani cities.
From six suicide attacks in 2006, the tally went up to 62
in 2007. According to the South Asia Terrorism Portal, at least 1,523
civilians were killed in terror-related violence in 2007 and more than
twice that number injured. The average is now more than one per week – the
last week (early March) saw three in a row. Those praying in mosques,
imambaras or at funerals have been no safer than others at political
rallies or while crossing a road.
It is possible to imagine how an American soldier or CIA
operative controlling a Predator drone can distance himself from the death
and destruction it causes in a remote country on the other side of the
world that they imagine is full of enemies. For them it is a job and a way
to defend their country. What is harder to understand is how the Pakistani
suicide bomber can kill people who are so close to him in so many ways.
A spine-chilling suicide bomber training video, one of the
several videos that freely circulate in Pakistan’s tribal areas, offers
the beginning of an explanation. About 30 masked fighters are filmed in
this video, speaking a language that is not any of Pakistan’s regional
languages, Arabic or Persian. They are training in some barren mountainous
area.
One fighter, randomly selected by their leader, proceeds
to climb a huge rock, perhaps 100 feet high. He reaches the highest point
and then stands motionless. His arms are outstretched as though on a
diving board. On a signal from the leader below, without hesitation and
without closing his eyes, he hurls himself into the void.
The camera cuts to the body lying on blood-soaked ground.
It slowly pans over the faces of the other masked fighters. Their eyes
betray no emotion. A second signal from the leader and they trot,
military-style, to the body, dig a shallow grave, toss their dead comrade
into it and cover it up.
Then, amazingly, they march over the grave several times,
chanting Koranic verses. This is astonishing because to trample a grave is
the ultimate mark of disrespect in a Muslim culture.
Why sacrifice a human life for a few minutes of footage?
English subtitles reveal that this is obviously a propaganda video. Its
message: the group’s fighters have overcome the fear of death and have
willingly surrendered their lives to the group leader, and their
individual powers to reason and decide.
As troubling as the murders is the response of Pakistanis.
While the murder of innocents by the MQ-1B has rightly led to condemnation
in Pakistan, the even greater carnage by suicide bombers has provoked less
criticism. Some editorials, mostly in English language newspapers, have
been forthright. But there are few full-throated denunciations to be found
in Urdu newspapers.
On the other hand, implicit justifications abound. In
January 2008, 30 leading Deobandi religious scholars, while declaring
suicide attacks ‘haram’, rationalised these as a reaction to the
government’s misguided polices in the tribal areas. They concluded that "a
peaceful demand for implementing Shariah was not only rejected but the
government was also not willing to give ear to any reasoning based on the
Koran and Sunnah in support of the Shariah demand. Apparently, these
circumstances led some minds to the frustration that manifested itself in
suicide attacks."
What are these ulema telling us? That we should adopt the
Shariah to avoid being attacked? This amounts to encouragement and
incitement, not condemnation of the suicide bombers’ actions. But even
civil society activists, who have bravely protested against the dismissal
of the chief justice by General Musharraf, have not held any street
protests against these ghastly crimes.
Why do so many Pakistanis who should know better suddenly
lose their voice when it comes to condemning suicide bombings? Is it
because the bomber kills in the name of Islam? Are people muted in their
criticism lest they be regarded as irreligious or even blasphemous?
Or is the silence political? Many choose to believe that
the suicide bomber is a consequence of Pakistan’s acquiescence to being
America’s junior partner in its war against terror. Conversely, there is a
widespread opinion that suicide attacks will disappear if Pakistan
dissociates itself from this war. But few admit the brutal fact that even
if America retreats or an elected government calls off the army, the
terror of jihadism will remain.
It is true that suicide bombings were a rarity in Pakistan
until the army acted against Islamic militants in the tribal areas on US
prodding. Army action against the Lal Masjid militants was another turning
point. But the majority of today’s dead and wounded are perfectly ordinary
people. Many were pious Muslims and some were killed in the act of prayer.
They had absolutely nothing to do with American or Pakistani forces.
Even with evidence staring them in the face, most
Pakistanis seem locked into a state of denial. They refuse to accept the
obvious fact that more and more mullahs have created cults around
themselves and exercise control over the lives of worshippers. An enabling
environment of poverty, deprivation, lack of justice and extreme
differences of wealth is perfect for demagogues.
As the mullah’s indoctrination gains strength, the power
to reason weakens. The world of the follower becomes increasingly divided
into absolute good and absolute evil. Doubt is replaced by certainty,
moral sensibilities are blunted. Reduced to a mere instrument for murder,
the bomber-to-be is left with no room for useless things such as judgement,
doubt or conscience. As other human beings become mere objects rather than
people deserving of love and compassion, the metamorphosis from human to
drone becomes complete.
The last thoughts of a suicide bomber cannot be known but
remorse or doubt is unlikely. There is no lower depth to which humans can
fall to.
Except, perhaps, those who control them – and towards whom
we still dare not point a finger at.