Two goose steps back

Over the last few days, Pakistan8217;s military establishment has been working hard to bring Pakistan8217;s brief encounter with a free media to a premature end. It has been a calibrated tightening of the gag over the last few days. The Pakistan Electronic Media Regulatory Authority PEMRA banned all live talk shows on Thursday. The next day saw a ban on live coverage of the Abbottabad public meeting of suspended chief justice, Iftikhar Mohammed Chaudhry. Saturday brought strictures asking cable operators not to air programmes that brought the army into disrepute or encouraged an anti-state attitude. Monday saw an ordinance that enhanced the powers of the PEMRA. This body, statutorily accountable to the federal government, comprises a chairman and nine members, all of whom, unsurprisingly, are appointed by the president of Pakistan. It already had the power to issue or withdraw licences 8220;for the establishment and operation of all broadcast stations including cable TV networks8221;. From Monday, it was empowered to seal the premises of broadcasters and suspend transmission. The fine for any violation has also been raised from Rs 1 million to Rs 10 million.

These developments need to be seen in conjunction with the March 16 attack on Geo TV in Islamabad by uniformed policemen, even as President Pervez Musharraf began to witness 8212; possibly on his TV screen 8212; hordes of black-coated lawyers rioting on the streets of Pakistan8217;s cities and towns in support of the suspended chief justice. He, and indeed Pakistan, had never experienced anything like this. In an earlier era, coups could be comfortably staged, journalists quietly bumped off, media houses discreetly threatened with shutdowns. The average citizen got to know about these developments only when he or she saw tanks on the street; or listened to pre-censored, pre-scripted bulletins broadcast many hours after the event on the state-run Pakistan Radio and PTV; or perhaps caught up with some BBC and AIR/DD coverage. But all this changed over the first half of the present decade, with a policy of media glasnost ushered in by Musharraf himself. It was the liberalisation of the electronic media that had the greatest impact, given the fact that only about one-third of the population of 160 million can be considered literate enough to read a newspaper. In fact, total newspaper readers in Pakistan today hover around a low 5 million or so.

But why, in the first place, did Musharraf liberalise the media sector? Reasons could range from the need to appear modern and acceptable to the West, to a desire to wean Pakistanis from a drip-feed of information and news emanating from New Delhi or London, given the arrant lack of credibility of state-owned media. Suffice it to say that today there are some 50 TV channels, some of which have their transmitters safely located in places like Dubai. This ensured that, for the first time in Pakistan, people could witness for themselves significant political developments that impacted directly on their lives, and do so in real time. If the chief justice8217;s suspension on March 9 is seen as a watershed moment in Pakistan8217;s history, this was also in part because, for the first time, it was the subject of public scrutiny and debate, thanks to a freer electronic media.

The point is that a 8216;free media8217; in the abstract 8212; and Pakistan has had a fairly independent print media for quite a long while now 8212; may have been an irritant to the army establishment, but never beyond tolerable limits. It was easy enough for the army to ignore a handful of articulate men and women, committed to freedom of expression, speaking to each other in a hollowed-out public sphere. But when a 8216;free media8217; are coupled with an assertive judiciary, a mutinous bar and an increasingly restive population tired of years of relentless military rule, they can act as a remarkable force multiplier. Then even the scattered bits in a watered-down constitution 8212; like Article 25 which states that 8220;all citizens are equal before the law and are entitled to equal protection of the law8221; 8212; can assume the proportions of a sledgehammer for the country8217;s rulers.

The big question is, what will Pervez Musharraf8217;s survival strategy be in the days ahead? For him, it is a bit of a Catch-22 situation. His game-plan, it is believed, is to seek re-election in the current assembly before November, when its term ends, and get to rule for another five years 8216;legitimately8217;, at least in the eyes of his patrons in the West, especially in the US. To achieve this, he would need to keep the idea of democracy alive, which would also mean allowing the media to function in a free manner. If, however, he chooses to impose martial law, or something close to martial law, he risks losing his perceived legitimacy and western support although he would no longer have to contend with anger on the streets.

Thus far Musharraf has chosen to play it both ways: appearing democrat and dictator, by turns. The attack on Geo TV in March saw him submit to an unprecedented live interview broadcast soon after, in which he projected the attack as the work of the enemies of Pakistan and Musharraf to 8220;sabotage what we stand for8221;. An inquiry was also duly ordered and some lowly policemen suspended. Yet, a little over a month after this apology, the PEMRA issued a show-cause notice to the private channel, Aaj TV, charging it with inciting violence by covering the proceedings of the chief justice8217;s case before the Supreme Judicial Council, and threatening to shut it down in three days. The Sindh high court had to intervene and temporarily suspended the PEMRA notice.

And now comes the PEMRA ordinance which has sent people out to demonstrate once more on the streets in this summer of Pakistan8217;s discontent. They wore black gags strung through locks around their mouths and remembered their Faiz: 8220;Speak, 8216;cause the truth is not dead yet,/ Speak, speak, whatever you must speak.8221;