On 29 Nov 2022 Gen Bajwa skulked away into what, he must have been praying, would be oblivion. But he had already donated his name to the lexicon of metaphors. And so he is not fated to find oblivion in life nor in death. He will continue to live on, and for all the wrong reasons. When Gen De Gaulle’s most well-loved child, a daughter who was a special child suffering from of mental retardation, passed away in her teens and he buried her, he put his arm around his wife’s shoulder and said: “Come my dear, now she’s like all the rest.”
Had Bajwa gone before the “no confidence motion”, he would have slid into the sunset before the worst about him had gained exposure. He could then have hoped to be like all the rest before him. But not anymore. He will remain the subject of relentless castigation, and much speculation and abuse. People will wonder at what stage his loyalties were first suborned, and at what stage of his service did he change masters. And which of his generals stood where at which time. It will be good for Gen Asim Munir to think ahead and anticipate these questions which will land up on his desk as well.
The damage done to the army has been terrible beyond the range of assessment.
It will also be speculated if and how much Bajwa “accepted” to let Nawaz Sharif take flight from Pakistan and from whom? And if the Sharifs had proof of this transaction to keep Bajwa hostage? And how much of Bajwa’s fall from grace was directly due to the threat of blackmail?
When Bajwa became Army Chief, many of his course mates whom I chanced to know, spoke uniformly well of him. Though there was unanimous opinion among them that the late Gen Ashfaq Nadeem, whom he had superseded, far exceeded him in every professional grace and aspect, Bajwa was nevertheless expected to make a fine Chief.
They said of him that few were given to sheer hard work as he was, and that this was certain to help him keep all professional bases covered; that he was said to be better read than most of his peers; that he was gifted with a large and warm heart and a positive mind; and that his first instinct was that of a man who would like to lend a helping hand to all who needed it.
After my two meetings with him, I came away with the impression that I had seldom met a senior officer so comfortable in his skin; one so far removed from arrogance as him; and one so ready to listen. I had no doubt that he would be one of our best-liked Chiefs.
And this he was. And I have no doubt that he made significant contributions to the cause of his country where his effort was required. But ultimately, he proved to be too weak to stand up to his mentor in chief [his father-in-law] in whose hands he proved to be putty. How the pair of them could lead Pakistan to where they left it, and to believe that the people of Pakistan would be accepting of thugs like Zardari and the Sharifs, boggles the mind.
The only flight of fancy which equals this one is that of the neocon establishment in Washington which instigated the Ukraine war in the pious belief that just as the Afghan War had brought down the Soviet Union, Ukraine victory would bring down the Putin regime in Russia!
All that one may tragically say today is that not all the enemy generals combined could have wreaked the havoc that Bajwa and his mentor, his father-in-law [Gen Ejaz Amjad] have inflicted on Pakistan and its once proud army.
What I have written above is in grief, not joy. There is no gloating here. I did not wish to see Bajwa fall this way, because the fall has not been his alone, but of a whole institution built over centuries, and because he once held promise which we needed.
In the end I cannot help recalling a conversation with my father, with him alternately cajoling and intimidating me into joining the army, and with me putting up stubborn resistance to the idea. Ultimately, he told me that almost daily he had to address men and officers deployed near the Cease Fire Line, many of them no older than me, and that he had to inspire them to be ready to fight and die for their country. How, he asked, could he do this in good conscience, when his own son will not join the colors?
” But,” I rejoined, ” you have three other sons. Surely one of them would be willing to join?” And he responded that when the eldest ‘slinks’ away, how could he expect any of the others to do what was right? And then came his “piece de resistance” which was not to be parried: “You know everything that you or I own, we owe to the army, even the english you speak”; and this was the time to pay back; the only way families like ours could pay back was to send their sons to join the colors and hope they would serve with honor and that there was no more befitting way to pay back than this.”
In the next fortnight I filled out my forms and sent them in. Eventually three of us brothers joined. The fourth one was awaiting his final call from GHQ to report to the Academy, but things did not quite transpire the way we were hoping, and thus we had our first civilian of the family!
The hope that there would be service with honor used to be about the only thing that mattered at that time.
It is for Gen Asim Munir to do the honorable thing now. What he needs to do is not intricate at all.
- He must, within legitimate limits, push for fresh elections which should be fair.
- He must redefine national security imperatives in a manner that never again would Pakistan be put to the economic sword by internal enemies.
- He must hound out of the army thieves occupying its highest perches.
If he cannot bring about the firmness to do this, he should consider himself irrelevant to what the situation demands and should be prepared to have his requiem being played out well before his retirement.
There is too much riding on what he will do. And there is much opinion weighing in his favour, or is this hope? And if it is, with due caution, a timid reign of hope may be in order.
At a time of little mercy, any hope means a lot.