Style, not sincerity, is vital —Zafar Hilaly

Much depends on not only who gets to formulate policy or implement it but also, crucially, who gets to present it. The case or cause often needs no fixing, although the presentation does

It is a common myth that the endemic hostility between Pakistan and India, and indeed partition itself, can be ascribed to the mutual hatred of the Muslim for the Hindu. And that India and Pakistan can only continue to exist as long as their people are nourished on this mutual hatred.

For a while, the Indian leadership subscribed to this view and even today this theory is still very evident in the utterances of Hindu extremists, which encourages equally misguided scribes of Islam to preach their litany of hate, completely oblivious of the tolerance and compassion Islam enjoins towards other faiths.

Inevitably, such communal elements in both India and Pakistan made capital out of the indelible impression that the carnage of 1947 had produced in the minds of the two communities and exploited the Muslim fear of domination or subjugation by the majority community. Moreover, the war in Kashmir and the frequent eruptions of communal violence in India robbed the early efforts of our leaders of their conviction, and vindicated the people who regarded their attempts to promote a policy of amity with India as wholly contrived.

The treatment of the minorities in both countries and the shameful performance of successive governments when it came to alleviating their misery, reinforced the impression that such hate not only existed, it thrived. Although judging by the way these governments pauperised the country and enriched themselves at the cost of the populace, Hindu and Muslim alike, they clearly hated everyone. In that sense, they were free of prejudice.

But, perhaps because the minorities were weaker and disadvantaged elements of society, their continued neglect took a heavier toll on them, so much so that it appeared to their co-religionists across the border as if they were being deliberately targeted on account of their faith.

In the case of Pakistan, such an interpretation was wrong for three important reasons. First, it ignores the sanction that Islam imposes on religious persecution; second, it discards the elemental opposition of the founder of Pakistan to religious bigotry, which had earned him the sobriquet of ‘the Ambassador of Hindu-Muslim unity’; and third, it is a slur on Jinnah’s vision of friendly relations between the two countries.

Jinnah’s concept of India-Pakistan relations was clearly articulated in Delhi on May 21, 1947, when he called for a “friendly and reciprocal alliance with India”. Explaining this, he stated: “I have been urging that we separate in a friendly way and remain friends thereafter.” A week later, he again said: “I do envisage an alliance, a pact or treaty between Pakistan and Hindustan, in the mutual interest of both.”

Even while the massacre of innocent refugees was at its height, he declared on August 14, 1947, “Yes we are parting, as friends, and I sincerely hope that we shall remain friends. I assure you that we shall not be found wanting in friendly spirit with our neighbours.” Again on August 15, 1947, he said: “Our object should be peace within and peace without. We want to live peacefully and want to maintain cordial friendly relations with our immediate neighbours.”

Liaquat Ali Khan was no less clear where he stood. He proposed, and Pandit Nehru accepted, that their Joint Statement issued on September 21, 1947 contain, inter alia, the following: “Any conception of conflict between India and Pakistan is repugnant not only on moral grounds, but because any such conflict will result in disaster for both.”

How this fund of goodwill was dissipated in the years following independence and how the sceptre of war loomed over the impoverished masses of India and Pakistan, and eventually war itself, is among the saddest tales that history recounts. Sorting out this relationship, which remains bedevilled by mutual hostility and suspicion, remains by far the most important foreign policy issue that we confront today.

Leaving aside the nature of these disputes, the manner in which they are approached, the style, is crucial. “In matters of grave importance,” said Oscar Wilde, “style, not sincerity, is the vital thing.” And an example of how important style is can be seen in the contrasting approaches of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and Pervez Musharraf when negotiating with India and the very different outcomes of their meetings.

The latter arrived to ‘settle’ Kashmir at Agra in 2001 puffing, strutting and bent on an ‘in your face’ approach when dealing with his Indian counterpart. Prior to his arrival, he had gotten himself declared president lest the Indians, led by the amiable but shrewd and immensely experienced Vajpayee, should miss the point that Musharraf was the ‘top dog’ in Pakistan. And to make absolutely sure that they did not, he revelled in telling a group of Indian editors, in so many words, that while he, the maximum leader, could decide there and then and pledge Pakistan irrevocably to whatever he decided, their leaders had no such power.

True or not, such a statement could hardly have endeared him to any Indian, let alone a group of hard-bitten editors, what to say of Vajpayee and his cabinet. His abrasiveness and arrogance was clearly off-putting. And even if that was not the reason why the talks failed, those opposed to an agreement must have discovered that their task had been made much easier by Musharraf’s insufferable boastfulness.

On the other hand, ZA Bhutto arrived at Shimla accompanied by his daughter and several elected politicians and fortified by a parliamentary resolution expressing confidence in his leadership. His well chosen remarks on landing set the stage for the talks. His exchanges with Indira Gandhi, both official and private, made an extremely plausible case why they should agree on the wording of an agreement and not part disunited. In fact, so much so that Indira, who was being urged by her hawks to extract more from a defeated Pakistan, chose not to do so. And even if we are to believe that she had not been persuaded by the arguments of Bhutto, even then his demeanour and obvious commitment to peace in their parleys must have had an impact.

Hence, much depends on not only who gets to formulate policy or implement it but also, crucially, who gets to present it. The case or cause often needs no fixing, although the presentation does.

The writer is a former ambassador. He can be reached at charles123it@hotmail.com