Where Were They?

By Dr M S Jillani

A peculiarity of the October 8 calamity was the collapse of the administrative machinery in most of the quake-ravaged areas. What followed was equally amazing and ignominious: the nazims and councillors of the area were also missing from the scene as if they did not exist. The mystery of the missing civil administration was soon unravelled. The quake occurred at a time when offices had just started their day and most officials were in their offices. Since the majority of public buildings in the quake-affected towns perished in the tragedy, those under their roofs were buried alive or were hit by the debris. A majority of officials disappeared, creating a huge void. Survivors became preoccupied with the destruction of homes and deaths in the family. Many rushed to their ancestral villages to inquire about their parents and other relatives. They started returning to their offices only after they had attended to their near and dear ones. Administration gradually returned to normal, assisted by officials from other provinces and the army.

The conspicuous absence of elected local public representatives in the quake-affected areas days after the quake remains inexplicable, however. The argument of attending to close relatives in remote areas does not fully apply to local representatives as practically all of them were supposed to be residents of the locality. An explanation forwarded by nazims and councillors is that the quake struck at a time when the newly elected council members and office bearers had not taken over and the old one’s had become lame ducks. This alibi raises a plethora of questions regarding the nature and duties of grass root representatives. The local government system was initiated to promote public-minded persons in the community who would apply their sense of community service to create a better life for the people. Callousness during a national tragedy, whatever the reasons, amounts to gross dereliction of duty as a community leader and a negation of the moral obligation to help those in distress.

A disgusting argument for the inactivity of the elected local government members is the contention that the lack of ‘power’ of the nazims and councillors discouraged them to surface during the rescue and relief operations. If this line of argument is accepted, none of the thousands of volunteers and philanthropists from all over the country would have been there. Does one need somebody’s permission or authority to serve humanity in an emergency? Elected officials, by the very nature of their duties, are expected to lead a campaign to muster support to providing relief to the people. They have not done any service to themselves, their voters or the system they stand for by keeping a low profile.

The local government officials, however, were not the only one’s who did not come out to perform their duties. Political parties, especially the ruling Muslim League, also could not mark their presence as they should have. The Muttahida Qaumi Movement, on the other hand, came all the way from Karachi and Sindh to participate in rescue and relief operations. Religious political parties, especially the Jamaat-e-Islami and parts of the Majlis-e-Amal, started their operations almost immediately after the earthquake. The most surprising participants in post-earthquake activities were members of banned religious groups known as jihadis who ran some of the best organised and most effective services for displaced persons. It goes to the credit of the people of Pakistan that they ran emergency and relief services comparable with those of the most prestigious international organisations. But the bane of the situation was the half-hearted involvement of celebrities, who as epitomes of the will of the people should have been in the forefront of public service.

It can be conceded that many of the nazims, councillors and political workers might have been busy caring for their own families or chose to shun publicity. But authentic media reports have indicated that many of these ‘notables’ used their influence and connections to waylay relief goods to distribute them among their relatives and cronies rather than taking them to the survivors at large. In one of the worst-hit districts of the Mansehra area, an ex-nazim did not allow even a blanket or water bottle to reach the needy; the bulk of the consignment landed in his vast mansion. Some other representatives’ stores were raided by the army to retrieve usurped relief goods. A good deal of food and warm clothing did not reach remote areas because they were hijacked on the way. How much should one lament this attitude during a massive tragedy? And how much of the relief material made its way to the market through these ‘personal storages’? Avarice is an established human weakness. But there exists a system of justice unique to humans. Although we have a dismal record of punishing wrongdoers, especially the corrupt, yet will it not be a valuable deterrent in society to take strict action over the deviant activities of a group that is supposed to serve as a base for the local government system? It becomes all the more important for the image of Pakistan as foreign NGOs and relief organisations will carry stories home.

The real problem that the nation should ponder is the probable lack of will among the members of the local government, and definite failure to inspire the local population to engage in rebuilding lives in the quake-hit areas. If the gap created by the dismemberment of the old administrative machinery at the district level is taken into consideration, the role of the local government functionaries becomes crucial. Experiences of the aftermath of October 8 have not been promising. Report after report has indicated that the local population opted to act as spectators rather than participate in relief operations carried out by outside teams; their plea was that they had already done their part of rescuing and entombing, now others should do it on their behalf. Deplorable as this attitude was, it reflected a lack of leadership which could guide and control. Emergencies usually bring forth leadership. In the case of the devastated districts, the potential leadership shied away. Instead it sprouted in Karachi, Lahore, Peshawar, etc, and the army rather than Muzaffarabad, Bagh or Alai. The leadership that materialised gradually comprised senior civil servants who survived and the army, besides throngs of politicians and ‘merit-makers’ who visited these areas for photo sessions and to dispense pearls of wisdoms.

Since we, as a nation, suffer from a dementia of sorts, we will forget most of what could constitute lessons for the future. The aftermath of October 8 calls for a serious review of the devolved system that we are trying to establish, especially the role of the administrative set-up left by the British: After all, why did not India, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh feel the need to change it? And why did not local community development programmes enunciated over the years suggest major changes in the administrative set-up, even theoretically? Mid-term reviews, anyway, are a standard practice.

The writer is a former federal secretary with an academic background in economics and sociology.

Source: The News

Date Created: 12/13/05

Date/Time Last Modified: 12/13/2005 2:33:49 PM

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