Jan 12, 2015
LONDON: After Taliban gunmen massacred dozens of schoolchildren in Peshawar last month, Pakistan's two most powerful men convened an emergency meeting at army headquarters. Their body language, captured in a government-released photo, was revealing: Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif looked glum and ill at ease, while the man beside him, Gen. Raheel Sharif, the army chief, lectured confidently.
To many Pakistanis, the symbolism was rich and unambiguous. After a tumultuous year, Mr. Sharif's government may still be hanging on, extending a nearly seven-year stretch of civilian rule. But otherwise, Pakistan's generals are back in the driver's seat.
Under General Sharif, who took his post in late 2013 and is not related to the prime minister, the army has transformed its fortunes: triumphing over the government in a series of bruising public clashes, bringing unruly critics in the news media to heel, and winning broad support for a drive against Islamist militants in their tribal stronghold.
Now, the military has claimed a victory that may turn out to be the most significant of all, allowing the generals deep inroads into an institution that has hounded them in recent years: Pakistan's judiciary.
A constitutional amendment passed by Parliament on Tuesday empowered military courts to try suspected Islamist militants, opening the way for a rapid but rough-hewed judicial process that could move defendants from arrest to execution in a matter of weeks.
The military, responding to public anger over the Peshawar killings, is moving fast: On Friday, it announced the establishment of nine new courts, with a promise that they would start work soon.
"The optics are very clear," said Salman Raja, a prominent lawyer who said he was hastily brushing up on military law. "The military is calling all of the shots."
Among analysts and legal experts, the military courts have raised a slew of worries about the erosion of fundamental rights, the sidelining of the civilian judiciary and the prospect of soldiers' wielding untrammeled power in a country with a long history of military takeovers.
But this time, Pakistan's generals have not grabbed power from the politicians. It was practically handed to them.
Save for a handful of religious parties, much of the political system supports the military courts — even the opposition Pakistan Peoples Party, which has long presented itself as a bulwark against an overbearing military.
Many party stalwarts looked anguished as they voted against their consciences to support the military courts on Tuesday; some wept openly. "A little bit of me died today," said Aitzaz Ahsan, the party's leader in the Senate.
Yet the vote went ahead — a powerful indictment, critics said, of a political class that seemed to be admitting not only that the country's judicial system was broken, but also that it was incapable of fixing it.
"They seemed to capitulate with a sigh of relief," said Mr. Raja, the lawyer. "They feel the need to fight another day — or maybe not."
The military has promised that it will not abuse its new powers by prosecuting politicians, journalists or rights activists, as happened in the 1980s. The mandate of the new courts is set to expire after two years, and the trials are subject to civilian oversight.
Still, much depends on the army chief, General Sharif, whose prestige has grown sharply in the past year, and who now looms as a commanding presence on the public stage.
He has shaken off the aura of humiliation and controversy that was the legacy of his predecessor, Gen. Ashfaq Parvez Kayani, and has purposefully sought to portray himself as a leader of integrity and action and as a galvanizing force in the war against militancy. Thanks to a slick public relations machine, he is regularly seen visiting remote military outposts, talking to wounded soldiers in hospitals and meeting with civilian officials.
That good will has extended overseas, with General Sharif's leadership of the military drive into the North Waziristan tribal region winning him a warm reception from Obama administration officials in Washington last month.
His popularity is partly a product of external factors. Pakistan's relations with the United States have warmed somewhat as a result of the troop drawdown in Afghanistan, for instance. But principally, he has capitalized on a cascade of blunders by the prime minister, who has been frequently wrong-footed in his dealings with the army.
Mr. Sharif's insistence on pursuing treason charges against the former military ruler Pervez Musharraf led to a clash with the military that he appears to be losing. And since August, he has struggled to contain a growing threat from his political nemesis, Imran Khan, who is seen as an army favorite.
"I don't think General Sharif has ambitions to take direct control," said Zaffar Abbas, editor of the English-language newspaper Dawn. "But he does want the army to play an active role in the running of the state."
Few doubt the need to reform Pakistan's sclerotic criminal justice system, which has almost entirely failed to bring militant leaders to justice. The new military courts offer a short, sharp solution: cases decided within one week, using lower standards of evidence than in civilian courts. Mr. Sharif has said that convicted militants could be hanged in 15 days or less.
But legal, political and militancy experts warn that these courts are not a panacea for terrorism, and that Pakistanis may be making a grave mistake in treating the rule of law as a negotiable commodity.
Although the precise regulations of the new courts have yet to be made public, the International Commission of Jurists has warned that military justice in Pakistan falls far short of international standards.
Militancy experts question whether such strong measures are actually needed. After all, Taliban attacks fell 30 percent in Pakistan last year as the movement was hit hard by factional disputes and the army operation in North Waziristan.
More pressingly, the military's poor human rights record hardly recommends it as a guardian of justice. It has imprisoned hundreds of suspected militants in secret jails across the country where torture and extrajudicial executions are common, according to rights groups. Similarly harsh tactics have long been the hallmark of the army's crackdown on separatists in Baluchistan Province.
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And there is no guarantee that the resentment generated by a rapid but heavy-handed judiciary will not result in reprisals as fierce as the attack in Peshawar.
"Remember that every action has a reaction," the Pakistani Taliban leader, Maulana Fazlullah, said in a video statement last week that cast the Peshawar massacre as a reaction to army abuse of Taliban detainees. "You have taken our prisoners from jails and killed them in a cowardly fashion."
Even if they avoid political censure, the military courts may face a challenge from their civilian counterparts. The Supreme Court could rule against them, legal experts say, although the weight of military and public support for the parallel court system may cause judges to move cautiously.
There are also worries that military judges will apply the law selectively, continuing a pattern of inaction against Islamist groups that share the military's strategic goals, like Lashkar-e-Taiba and other groups fighting in Indian-administered Kashmir.
Amid the clamor for revenge for Peshawar, experts worry that the focus on quick-fire justice is avoiding an urgently needed debate about a fundamental issue: the deep-rooted support for militancy in significant pockets of Pakistani society.
"The courts can sentence people to jail," said Mr. Abbas, the newspaper editor. "But they don't have an answer for that."
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