Controversy over uniform
By A.R. Siddiqi
Dawn, April 17, 2007
DECEMBER 16, 1971, was the darkest day in Pakistan’s military and national history. Following a humiliating military surrender, the country stood dismembered.
The nation was in mourning. While the rest of the country was stunned, angry protesters hit the streets denouncing General Agha Mohammad Yahya Khan and his coterie of generals, but hardly a voice was heard against the army as such; and not a stray case of torching the uniform.
Such was the respect and regard for the army that a BBC documentary on the Fall of Dhaka telecast by the PTV had to be hurriedly withdrawn by the government after a massive public outburst against it. While the loss of Dhaka was deeply mourned, the army was admired mainly for the valour of its jawans and officers against overwhelming odds in an unequal war.
Images of the anti-army, anti-uniform and anti-Musharraf protests telecast last month by various TV channels were quite shocking. The clips of the effigy of the army chief’s uniform being burnt was the ultimate disgrace to the nation’s most valued and hard-earned change of garment --- the soldier’s uniform --- next only to the national flag as the symbol of national honour and sovereignty.
The sorry spectacle reminded one of the footage showing the victorious Indian general, Jagjit Singh Aurora, striping the vanquished Pakistani general Amir Abdullah Khan Niazi’s badges of rank, his medals and his personal weapon and making him stand in shame and disagree before millions of viewers.
That was in Dhaka 36 years ago --- the terrifying wages of defeat in war. What happened in Islamabad and elsewhere in the country was by our own people traditionally edifying the army and hero-worshipping the soldier, sailor and airman.
The March 2007 anti-uniform outburst might have been the sort of an epilogue to the sordid play in evidence since the president had second thoughts about his pledge to shed his uniform by the end of the year 2004. He still dons it. Its most awesome aspect, perhaps, came into the media limelight at the Army House in an eyeball-to-eyeball standoff between a perplexed Chief Justice and the president of Pakistan in khaki on March 9, 2007.
Regardless of the unhappy circumstances of the meeting, the exalted status of the CJ and his standing as a guest of the president, even if self-invited, could hardly be questioned. The prime minister, supposed to be in attendance at the crucial president-CJ meeting, was significantly missing from the TV footage. Was that one of those PR aberrations or a planned black-out?
I have had the privilege of wearing my service uniform for nearly a quarter of a century. And once you are in uniform, you are subject to the same discipline and service regulations as any regardless of the nature of the armed services you may belong to. A doctor, an engineer, a PR man or anybody else would be put on the mat for any breach of the MPML (Manual of Pakistan military Laws). The princlings of the armoured corp and swash-buckling infantarian, even a relatively sombre looking gunner enjoy the same perks and privileges as a member of the Army Service or Ordnance Corps.
A captain with three pips was admired for his three ‘phools’ (flowers) as much as a senior officer. How fondly I remember the heady days of 1965 war in Lahore when young officers moving back and forth between the front lines and the rear were greeted enthusiastically by bystanders along the way wishing them the very best of luck and ‘victory’ in the war. There was such euphoria and love and respect for anyone in uniform --- jawan or general.
Even through the depressing spell following the 1971 debacle, the uniform was still an object of respect as the country’s major security shield. When in uniform one could move about freely unarmed without an armed security escort. Even the agonising reappraisal of the tragic events that led to the fall of Dhaka was enlivened by the resolve to salvage and save the honour of the uniform.
Could we, in all fairness, claim to be as proud of the uniform today and as sure of ourselves as its once self-assured wearers? Is it at all edifying to see generals in their star-plated staff cars being escorted by armed soldiers? Let alone the ordinary commuter caught in the nerve-wrecking traffic jams caused by VIP visits, what might be its impact on the psyche of the common soldier protecting his general?
It reminds one painfully of General Yahya Khan’s last drive (March 25, 1971) from the President’s House (behind Dhaka’s Inter-Continental Hotel) to the airport in the Kurmitola cantonment to take the special flight back to Karachi. The motorcade comprising about half a dozen vehicles or so included two cars, one carrying the VVIPs and the other a decoy. In the civil-war like situation obtaining in Dhaka then, such deception and camouflage might have been unavoidable. Things are fairly normal in today’s Pakistan to justify formation commanders driving home-to-office under armed escort. Is it?
All talk about national defence being supreme acquires a hollow ring by the street spectacle of generals being driven under heavy armed escort. Thus runs a headline ‘Musharraf regrets Kharian suicide bombing, says the country’s defence is impregnable.’
What really hurts is to find the uniform becoming an object of negative comment by international media and governments. The US Congressmen and senators would want the general to shed his uniform to ensure the fairness and transparency of the coming electoral process. Commonwealth secretary-general was almost rudely vocal about it.
The writer is a retired brigadier.
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