THE deadly terrorist attack in Quetta has reignited debates surrounding the security situation in Balochistan. Predictably, hawkish voices have sought to discredit advocates for political reconciliation. This knee-jerk reaction merits a nuanced response.
There is no question that the escalation of violence by Baloch separatists has resulted in appalling attacks against innocent civilians, notably labourers, coal miners, truck drivers and others. These acts warrant unequivocal condemnation, and it is imperative that we stand united in denouncing violence against citizens merely seeking to work and live in peace.
Nonetheless, during such tragic situations, we must also guard against those who push their agenda for intensified repression of the Baloch people. Here’s why we should not adopt their hawkish narrative.
First, the Baloch insurgency is rooted in a deeply entrenched popular grievance stemming from decades of systemic political exclusion and socioeconomic marginalisation and exploitation. This grievance is pervasive, resonating across the spectrum of pro-state Baloch leaders, nationalists, and insurgents alike. Baloch grievances have historically been met with a combination of political engineering — co-optation and installation of pliant political voices — and coercion. This dual strategy may have produced an illusion of stability, but it has reinforced the underlying resentment and perception of disenfranchisement.
The reality is that insurgents have drawn strength from the very policies intended to curtail them.
The post-18th Amendment period presented a critical opportunity to foster political reconciliation and stability. Yet this opening was largely squandered. While the amendment was inadequate in its ability to address the underlying institutional drivers of Balochistan’s marginalised status, it still represented a major step towards federal harmony.
Through political and fiscal decentralisation, the amendment briefly pacified tensions, as Baloch nationalists largely engaged in the parliamentary process with renewed hope. However, this optimism was short-lived. The establishment’s de facto power at the provincial level not only endured but expanded.
Indeed, political developments since the 18th Amendment have only amplified grievances. Over the past decade, the province has seen a rapid turnover of six elected chief ministers (excluding caretaker leaders). At least two exited through the threat of no-confidence votes, allegedly backed by powerful elements in the establishment. The irony is that, despite the frequent reshuffling, the principal actors have remained nearly the same, though the political parties involved have changed because this cohort of ‘electables’ shifts political allegiances every five years at the behest of the state. This cycle of political musical chairs has left governance and public service delivery in a shambles, with little accountability.
Public procurement, jobs, and development funds have become prime conduits for rent-seeking and corruption. Street-smart politicians have adopted a simple formula for securing and retaining the chief minister’s post: the development budget is effectively parcelled out to MPAs, with the largest shares allocated to key ministers, heads of coalition partners, and non-elected ‘notables’. This approach has proven so effective that MPAs have often disregarded party lines to support the treasury benches, even when in opposition. Hence an elite class of ever-green politicians, along with their allies in the military and civil bureaucracy, have allegedly accumulated wealth and influence.
In the past, my critique of the corruption and misgovernance in Balochistan has been used by some to argue against the 18th Amendment and the seventh NFC Award. However, these issues are not a failure of decentralisation per se. Rather, the situation is an indictment of elite capture perpetuated primarily by state-sponsored political engineering.
The practice of political engineering has only intensified. The current provincial government, brought to power after the widely criticised elections of February 2024, arguably stands as one of the least legitimate coalitions in the last three decades. This persistent installation of pliant figures has eroded the legitimacy of parliamentary politics in the eyes of citizens. At the same time, state heavy-handedness has grown more pronounced: enforced disappearances of Baloch students and activists, mistreatment of peaceful protesters, and the recent strong-arming of BNP-M senators have fuelled distrust.
What state officials fail to realise is that such tactics serve only to bolster the Baloch insurgents’ narrative, who adeptly exploit these actions to portray the federal parliamentary system as ineffective and indifferent to Baloch grievances. Akhtar Mengal’s resignation from parliament stands as a striking illustration of this unfortunate reality.
In light of these realities, any strategy for peace that fails to address the foundational grievances underlying the insurgency is bound to fail.
Secondly, those advocating a more aggressive response appear to suffer from political amnesia. This hawkish stance has been the prevailing strategy for over two decades. The outcomes speak for themselves. The bitter reality is that insurgents have drawn strength from the very policies intended to curtail them.
Genuine political reconciliation, with few exceptions, has rarely been given a chance. One notable instance was the short-lived efforts of Dr Abdul Malik Baloch, whose tenure as chief minister saw an attempt at reconciliation undermined by the establishment, whose reliance on their Baloch protégés took precedence over fostering an authentic dialogue with Baloch nationalists.
The oversimplified question posed by hawks —‘how can one negotiate with those who don’t want to talk?’— obscures a more complex reality. In the climate of alienation, we may be approaching a point of no return. The situation has been compounded further by the changed character of the Baloch insurgency, where a younger, educated and more radical cadre calls the shots. The insurgency’s increasingly urban and decentralised nature renders traditional reconciliation efforts insufficient, even if all other factors were conducive.
Clearly, there are no simple solutions or quick fixes. However, confidence-building measures could help lay the groundwork for future political engagement. At a minimum, such CBMs should achieve these objectives: ensuring genuine political representation, ending enforced disappearances, and reducing the reliance on force. CBMs along these lines could open the door to a path of political reconciliation. Short of such CBMs, the future of Balochistan looks bleak.
The writer is a public policy and development specialist from Balochistan.
Published in Dawn, November 16th, 2024
