Ahmad Rafay Alam

A kite-less Basant? by Ahmad Rafay Alam

5 March, 2010 (0) Comment   |   Print This Post   |   Email This Post   |    Share on Facebook

Urban/Urbane

Friday, March 05, 2010
Ahmad Rafay Alam

Recently, I heard an advertisement for a Basant festival being organised in Lahore. Visitors to the festival were going to have the option to enjoy sheesha and other forms of entertainment. Meanwhile, the Parks and Horticulture Authority is going ahead with a full itinerary of events to celebrate the jashan-e-baharan. Of course, kite flying is prohibited, and so it is possible to think of this year’s Basant festival/jashn-e-baharan events in a new light.

Basant is, of course, a cultural festival to welcome in the spring season. It was celebrated by wearing bright colours and flying kites as early as the 12th century when it was brought to Lahore from Delhi by the poet Amir Khusro. Lahore being an entirely walled city, more or less, until the British showed up in the middle of the 19th century, Basant was celebrated within the city’s walls, on the rooftops of homes.

Basant remained very much a tradition of the Walled City during most of the 20th century. Even as late as the 1980s, Basant was a private affair; something celebrated with great fervour and passion predominantly by the residents of the city. It was this passion that lured suburban Lahoris to the Walled City to participate in the atmosphere and to soak up the history of the city so glaringly missing in those suburbs.

In the 1990s, Basant’s popularity grew and the festival began to attract visitors from other cities of the country. This was also the time, however, when the first few objections to the festival were made. The first was that Basant was, somehow, a Hindu festival at odds with the Islamic traditions of Pakistan. The second was that Basant caused a loss to the national exchequer because kite-strings often short-circuited LESCO’s ageing transformers.

These challenges were sometimes litigated upon. Our own Guinness Record Holder for most number of cases ever filed, the late M.D. Tahir, made it a point to file a writ challenging, on one point or the other, the government’s decision to “celebrate” Basant. None of these cases got anywhere, though in one, Justice Aqil Mirza observed that Basant was welded to the soil of Lahore.

By this time, Basant had become a major event in the city’s calendar. It was attracting tens of thousands of tourists a year, generating millions of rupees in income for as many as a hundred thousand people. Also, by this time the city of Lahore had burst forward from the confines of the Walled City, grown by leaps and bounds beyond the English “Donald Town” of Krishinagar, Sanda and Mall Road, connected with the far-flung Model Town via Gulberg, Garden and Muslim Town and scaled past the University of Punjab’s New Campus and the small villages of Charrar and Amir Sidhu (where the present DHA is located). By this time, cracks in the city’s infrastructure and ability to deal with Basant had begun to appear.

When a city’s infrastructure starts to crumble, that’s when people start to get hurt. More and more stories began to appear of people dying due to “Basant-related activities”. Some would fall from rooftops not properly secured with parapets. Others would be killed carelessly crossing streets because they didn’t have neighbourhood parks to play in. These tragic incidents would get plenty of space in the print media and the fledgling electronic media of the time, but it wasn’t until a new type of kite-string, a metal string coated with shards of glass, appeared on the scene that Basant faced a challenge it could not answer.

The provincial government of Pervaiz Elahi and the District Government of Amir Mahmood made a full attempt to “nationalise” Basant by making the kite flying event a centrepiece of their jashn-e-baharan programme. Those were the days of Pervaiz Musharraf’s enlightened Pakistan, and Basant was very much a part of the “soft image” that was being peddlled. However, they could not overcome the sad fact that every time the festival took place, metalled kite-string would take its toll on human life. The chief justice of Pakistan took notice of the matter and directed the government of Punjab to do something about it. The court was not moved by arguments put forward by the then Attorney General Malik Muhammad Qayyum that banning the festival would harm the economy of the city.

The government of Punjab then passed a series of legislation, the latest of which prohibits kite flying unless the permission is granted by the relevant authorities. Basant as a kite flying festival was killed by these legislation, as no elected government would like to be on record as giving permission to kite flying in case the blood of even one innocent is deemed to be on its hands.

While it’s simple to put all of this into a box titled “Basant Kills People” and file it away somewhere, consider the fact that this centuries-old cultural festival has come to an end in the rather short period of a decade and a half. Consider that, in many ways, this festival was doomed to one bleak end or the other on account of another, often overlooked, factor: the suburbanisation of Lahore.

The entire point and pleasure of Basant was the electric atmosphere of the Walled City on a crisp spring evening and afternoon. Such an atmosphere simply can’t be recreated on a rooftop of a house in a private housing scheme. The children growing up confined to their houses and without proper recreational space have no link with the pleasure of flying a kite, and no sympathy to the loss of a cultural festival like Basant. Basant has gone the way of the Pak-Tea House: the new city of Lahore – suburban, crowded and automobile dependent – simply has no place for it.

However, the fact that one can’t fly a kite can’t stop one from enjoying the great weather. So be prepared, in the upcoming years, to see changes in the way Basant is celebrated. The advertisement I heard on FM radio was promoting Basant as a sort of a day out. That’s exactly what jashn-e-baharan is as well. The new Basant will remain a festival to call in spring, but it will be celebrated by participating in the other great aspect of the festival: public recreation. This, too, is crucially important for the sprawling city of Lahore. It gives its residents something they can connect to each other with. The novelty of kite flying may give way to kite flying exhibitions organised under the tight scrutiny of the local administration. It may become another one of the things that Lahore gives up. The loss of kite flying is sad, but it is part of the changes our uncontrollably growing cities are making on our lives.

The writer is an advocate of the high court and a member of the adjunct faculty at LUMS. He has an interest in urban planning.

Email: ralam@nexlinx.net.pk

Digging deeper by Ahmad Rafay Alam

12 February, 2010 (0) Comment   |   Print This Post   |   Email This Post   |    Share on Facebook

Friday, February 12, 2010
Ahmad Rafay Alam

Just before the Beijing Olympics in 2008, the city of Beijing had to take drastic measures to reduce the air pollution in the city. Because of its immense population, industrial activities and the wide use of private automobiles by its citizens, Beijing was termed as the “Air Pollution Capital of the World” by the UK’s Guardian newspaper as early as 2005.

The city took drastic steps to ensure a cleaner environment. For example, the industries in the city were ordered shut at least a week before the games, to let the air quality improve so that the participants of the marathon did not suffer due to the air pollution. Though it was temporary, the solution nonetheless worked and the visitors to the Olympic Village suffered no injury on account of the city’s pollution and were treated to a relatively clean city horizon.

In fact, the temporary solution worked so well that the city fathers are now considering reverting back to the traditional manner in which Beijing residents got around for most of the 20th century: the cycle. The city fathers are thinking of promoting the use of cycle over private automobile in order to improve the air quality. Knowing our Sino-brothers’ capacity to go after a goal they have set for themselves, if ever implemented, the return to cycling campaign will be an example for other cities to follow.

For the Chinese, however, the cycling initiative is no walk in the park. Poor air quality is blamed for over 400,000 premature deaths a year. If one were to look at this from a different angle, one might ask what took the Chinese authorities so long to take this action.

In Tokyo, many city residents do not own cars. Yet they get their weekly and monthly supplies delivered, via internet, regularly. As a result, many a Tokyo neighbourhood is free from convenience stores and pollution and congestion-causing automobiles. Instead, neighbourhoods have shops catering fresh produce and the like. As a result, neighbourhoods are not just clean and vibrant, the land saved by knocking out general stores (think shelf and inventory space) and cars means that residents often live next to work or, if not, commute using the extensive public transport system.

Toronto-based urban planner Ken Greenburg cites the Tokyo model as an example of what the future of cities might be like. The link between technology and planning is being explored to find ways to improve urban living. But Greenburg also mentions that a new world-wide campaign to reduce the use of private automobiles is filtering into the urban planning world. Cities are now being designed (in China, to meet the needs of the growing population and increasing industrialisation, a new million-person city crops up every month and will continue to do so for the next 20 years!) not just to minimise the need for polluting and congesting automobiles, but to cater to the needs of the people living in them. For example, it makes no sense, in a country like Pakistan, to spend billions of rupees of foreign aid on the development of inner-city roads when only a fraction of the population actually uses cars.

As an aside, it is interesting to note that ever since the World Bank gave up building dams (the political opposition from environmental groups was too great), about 40 per cent of its loans go to providing highway infrastructure to developing countries like Pakistan.

Planners are also taking up the issue of energy use as well. Around the world, about half the energy produced is consumed in and by buildings. I’ll repeat that: half the energy produced in the world is consumed by and in buildings. I won’t argue with this figure because it makes sense in a place like Pakistan; here, over 35 per cent of the population lives in urban areas (this figure is expected to rise to above 50 per cent in the next ten years), which is where most of the buildings in the country are physically located. Over 40 per cent of the electricity consumed in the country is attributable to ‘domestic use’. Also, urban areas are where the vast majority of manufacturing and allied industrial and commercial activity is conducted. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that urban areas, which comprise a fraction of the total land mass of this country, consume almost all of its electricity.

As environmental concerns about finding clean and sustainable energy sources become stronger and stronger, what planners around the world are doing is figuring out ways to make cities less energy intensive. On conducting a bit of research one finds that in a relatively short period of time – say 30 to 40 years – most cities replace or renovate as much as half of their buildings. This replacement or renovation is the time and place urban planners have pointed to as their opportunity to introduce building energy efficiency codes and retrofitting requirements.

Cities in Pakistan fare no better or worse. In Lahore, for instance, the residential area of Gulberg was planned in the early 1950s. Now, just over half a century later, a glimpse of the fabric of the area will confirm that many old houses have been torn down and replaced by high-rises and smaller housing units have sprung up. I mention this only to illustrate that even in Pakistani cities, the opportunity to introduce new energy efficiency requirements for old buildings (let alone introducing energy efficiency requirements for all new buildings) exists. The fact that given the present energy crises, we have no building energy codes and that, with the commercialisation of Gulberg, we’ve missed a golden opportunity to retrofit old buildings with energy efficient technology is another matter altogether.

With all this bright, innovative and out-of-the-box thinking happening all around us, let me mention some of the urban news in our part of the

world: in Islamabad, drinking water has run out and our Minister of Environment, Hameedullah Jan Afridi, has informed the National Assembly that the Capital Development Authority continues to violate even the most basic of our mandatory environmental laws. Yet, to date, not a single voice has been raised questioning the use of drinking water to clean their cars by the city’s residents. In Karachi, the Sindh Environment and Alternative Energy Minister, Shiekh Muhammad Afzal, has informed the Sindh Assembly that the “posh” urban managers of DHA and the city’s numerous Cantonments burn their solid waste rather than having it removed to the designated dumping site outside the city. In Lahore, the Government of Punjab is trying to deal with the fallout of their decision to tear down a number of high-rise buildings constructed in violation of by-laws. That it is not doing the same for the hundreds of other buildings has opened them up to criticism. At the same time, the Lahore Development Authority and its associated traffic management agency, TEPA, are hell bent on chopping down thousands of trees in the city to make way for yet another road widening project that will cater to an elite minority that uses private automobiles.

One would think that from such a juncture, the only way is up. But urban planners in Pakistan have an unshakable belief that the hole they’re digging will miraculously lead them to the Promised Land.

The writer is an advocate of the high court and a member of the adjunct faculty at LUMS. He has an interest in urban planning. Email: ralam@nexlinx .net.pk

The London non-conference by Zafar Hilaly

5 February, 2010 (0) Comment   |   Print This Post   |   Email This Post   |    Share on Facebook

Friday, February 05, 2010
Zafar Hilaly

America entered Afghanistan eight years ago to drive out the Taliban. Last week in London the Taliban were being invited, actually importuned, to return and share power. And, what is more, offered $1.5 billion over a five-year period to inveigle them to do so. Nations are entitled to change their minds, but when they adjust their principles some explanation is necessary. There was none in London.

Likewise, eight years ago we were regaled with grainy newsreels of executions of adulterous women by the Taliban in Kabul. Those who wished could also view amputations interspersed with stomach churning accounts and photographs of Taliban beatings and beheadings. Indeed, such was the revulsion generated by the constant projection of these events that even if the Taliban had not suckled Al Qaeda the American invasion seemed justified. Hence, NATO and America were fighting a “just” war and only the most unfeeling could withhold support.

But in London last week, there was hardly a reference in the speeches of Western leaders to the barbaric practices associated with Taliban rule. Nay, these devilish practitioners of perverted Islam were being invited to “reintegrate,” “reconcile” and break bread with the rest of civilised society. It was a volte face that left many speechless. It amounted to the second kind of hypocrisy, the kind that some practice but do not preach, as opposed to the usual variety, which is what some preach but do not practice.

Only last March Obama spoke of an “uncompromising core of the Taliban which must be defeated.” But in London there was no such talk, only an unspoken admission, in the words of one observer, that “the Afghan jihadist movement — in one form or another – will be part of the government in Kabul.” A good example of a truth that was once in favour now being out of favour, which is how Washington defines a complete somersault in policy.

Similarly, it was not long ago that Mr Karzai had scarcely a good word for Pakistan. Just about every major act of terror in Afghanistan was traced back to Pakistan and the ISI. Only the drought in Afghanistan was not our fault. But what did we hear from Karzai in London? The politest of references to Pakistan, and in a mien that was oh-so-gentle and pleasing. And which included an invitation, “particularly (to) Pakistan,” to help in the “process of peace and reconciliation.” A reversal of policy achieved without the slightest inconvenience.

Of course, American officials pretended that they had no idea that Karzai would be making such offers. “We did not know he was going to do it,” said one. “We are not here to discuss reconciliation.” He added: “We are (nevertheless) very happy about ‘reintegration.’ ” And to prove his point he alluded to the fact that “reconciliation” was not mentioned in the final communiqué.

Considering that Karzai does not stir without a phalanx of American minders, and was selected and taught only to think America’s thoughts, the explanation stretched credulity. It also suggested defiance, a quality not usually associated with stooges like Karzai.

According to a prestigious US publication the outcome of the London Conference was “the beginning of the end of the war in Afghanistan.” Perhaps that’s an exaggeration, because there is much ground to traverse, in the form of fighting and also difficult negotiations. However, the London meeting did mark a watershed in the war in Afghanistan — America wants out.

American presidents are ever fearful of doing the sensible thing. The domestic political consequences can be devastating. But Obama has wisely chosen to bite the bullet on Afghanistan because, to quote one of his heroes, Martin Luther King, “Nothing in the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.” Both of which were on display in generous measure in the manner that George W Bush conducted policy. No one told Bush that greatness lies not in being strong but in the right use of strength.

Of course, it is far too early to write “finis” to a war that will continue and perhaps intensify as the “surge” gets underway. And by refusing to engage with Karzai the Taliban have ensured that it will be prolonged; so too the Americans by omitting to set a date for their departure. Moreover, an Al Qaeda attack on America, if the attack is traced back to Afghanistan, will complicate the situation and the American occupation may get a second wind. However, Al Qaeda is greatly weakened in Afghanistan. Their leaders are barely operational. An attack on America, therefore, is more likely to be the handiwork of other Al Qaeda platforms, for example, in Yemen, Somalia and Europe.

For Pakistan the days ahead are replete with danger, but also opportunity. The danger springs less from the situation we confront and more from our inner workings, that is, from our meddlesome nature; our yearning to have, if not control of Afghanistan then a decisive say in Afghan attachments; our penchant for one-upmanship and for outwitting other players in Afghanistan.

Already retired soldiers are rubbing their hands with glee at the prospect of Pakistan once again acting as a mentor of the Afghan Taliban and becoming a major player on the Afghan scene, even a game changer. Refusing to accept that they cannot play the role of an arbiter between different groups or opinions in Afghanistan they, nevertheless, relish the opportunity of showing off their absent diplomatic skills. Their pretext is as always “securing our national interests,” their reasons are very different and more sordid.

The fact is that Afghanistan is another country; its people belong to a different society with mores and customs similar but, in many important ways, very different to ours. Islam is less of a binding force between Pakistan and Afghanistan than many concede. In fact, the Islam of the Taliban and that of Pakistan cleave us apart rather than bring us together. Besides, few who have delved in the melange of nationalities and tribes that comprise Afghanistan and all that divides them emerged well off for their efforts.

Our interference in the past earned us nothing but the unremitting hostility of the Tajik dominated Northern Alliance, a proxy war with Iran, the distrust of the Central Asian Republics and Russia and, eventually, the re-emergence of Indian influence at the initiative of those who had resented our interference and the support we extended to their opponents.

On the other hand, acting as a facilitator, providing help and logistical support as needed — or counsel, if and when requested — and showing impartiality when it comes to dealing with the Afghan protagonists, is a better course. But offering our good offices before the Afghan Taliban have agreed to engage in negotiations is clearly out of the question. It was, therefore, gratifying to learn that Mr Gilani had rejected Karzai’s offer for mediation on the grounds that “Pakistan does not believe in meddling in the affairs of other countries.”

Pakistan’s Afghan policy would best be formulated, conducted and implemented by a mixed civilian-military team, and not exclusively, as in the past, by the military. Leaving it solely to the military arouses every feeling except trust. Besides, on their own, neither has the requisite knowledge or skills; hence, neither should have exclusive say in the counsels of government.

Similarly the success of the army in warding off the extremists will be of no avail if it is not accompanied by a jointly agreed civil-military strategy to engage with the TTP. It should be one that knows the limitations of force, because “one must know when to blend force with a manoeuvre, a blow with an agreement.” Winning the peace is more important than winning the war.

The writer is a former ambassador. Email: charles123it@hotmail.com

The right choice on climate by Ahmad Rafay Alam

25 September, 2009 (0) Comment   |   Print This Post   |   Email This Post   |    Share on Facebook

September 25th by Ahmad Rafay Alam.

Earlier this week, UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon convened a one-day summit on climate change and invited nearly 100 world leaders to participate in the run-up to the anticipated new ‘climate deal’ in Copenhagen this December. In his opening address, the UN Secretary-General warned the participants from around the world: “Failure to reach broad agreement in Copenhagen would be morally inexcusable, economically short-sighted and politically unwise. Now is the moment to act in common cause.”

The summit was a day before the annual UN Assembly, which is otherwise an opportunity for countries to make promises with no intention to keep them, and our President to spend some time in New York.

The effect of man’s rapid industrialisation and unending consumption of natural resources has seriously damaged our earth’s ability to repair any damage to itself. Greenhouse gases unleashed all over the world trap ultraviolet rays from the sun within the earth’s atmosphere, changing climate patterns around the globe. What’s expected is nothing short of the greatest challenge faced by our species.

Rapidly melting glaciers in the Himalayas threaten the water supply of nearly one-sixth of humanity. Lack of water here and elsewhere in the world will mean facing food shortages as arable land is lost to draught or desertification. Continuing industrialisation and urbanisation have already brought the energy crisis to the doorstep of our country, and climate change is sure to take it to others. The destabilisation of the Delicate Balance of Nature will increase in incidents of natural epidemics and increase disaster risks. The degradation of the ecosystem will mean the loss of a livelihood to millions and, as a result, will see forced population migrations (we are already witnessing this phenomenon in rural Sindh).

According to this Islamic Republic’s own assessment of the impacts of climate change, found in the Initial National Communication on Climate Change issued by the Ministry of Environment in 2004, glaciers are expected to melt faster and less snow is expected to form in the mountains where our freshwater comes from. This will change the flow of our rivers and the entire system which depends on them. Our country’s breadbasket is going to be affected. The increase in temperature will also put heat stress on crops, including ’severe stress’ on our cash crops: cotton, wheat and sugar. Any effect on crop yields will have the obvious effects on our food supply and agriculture sector. It will also wreak havoc in rural society, where families have no other means save the fruit of the soil that they till. The communication also expects that deforestation, coupled with shifting water resources, will cause landslides. The fragile ecosystems, flora and fauna sustained by what remains of our forest resources are also under threat. Changing water resources and crop patterns are also expected to result in mass migrations as rural populations follow better climactic conditions.

Even though Pakistan is not responsible for global climate change it will be one of the countries worst affected by it. Worryingly, far too many people still harbour the incorrect notion that, because Pakistan is not responsible for climate change, it has no reason to do anything about it. According to this line of thought, since climate change is due, largely, to the industrialisation of western countries, it is these countries that should come to the aid of those who are suffering from their actions.

According to the 2005 World Bank assessment on how climate change is affecting Pakistan, an estimated 20,000 infants die prematurely each year because of our polluted air. An estimated 45 million respiratory diseases are reported annually. Every year, the failing environment and the inefficiencies it creates cost the exchequer an estimated $6 billion. In other words, climate change or not, environmental degradation means we experience a national tragedy of the scale of the Oct 5 earthquake on an annual basis. The environment and climate change are simply not issues that can be ignored. One would be mistaken if they thought that the government was doing something about these issues.

According to the environment chapter in the 2009-2010 Economic Survey issued by the Ministry of Finance, Pakistan’s response to the challenges of poor air quality has been (i) the implementation of an air quality monitoring system in five cities; and (ii) the presentation of a road-map to implement Euro-II quality standards on automobiles (other countries have advanced to the protection of an Euro-IV quality standard and Euro VI is set to be implemented by 2014). To meet the challenge of poor quality water (responsible for 60 per cent of Pakistan’s already high infant mortality), (i) the Ministry of Environment has prepared a National Drinking Water Policy; (ii) a National Sanitation Policy has been launched (where it is hoped that all Pakistanis will have access to sanitation facilities by 2025); and (iii) apparently water filtration plants are to be set up. Several programmes have been implemented to increase Pakistan’s forest cover. We were recently inducted into the Guinness Book of World Records for the most number of trees planted in one day (we broke the record set by India earlier this year, and the trees planted were actually replacements for the hundreds of thousands of acres of mangrove forests lost due to environmental degradation). And, to tackle climate change, the government set up a task force.

Given the challenges of climate change and the threat environmental degradation poses to the lives and property of millions, our government’s response to climate change is simply not up to the mark.

This is tragic because, more than anything else, a thoughtful and well-executed response to climate change is a great opportunity for Pakistan to lead the new ‘green’ global economy. Strategies to implement adaptation and mitigation measures can bring jobs and arm our workforce with the vocational skills that can be exported to aid other countries facing the challenges of climate change. Conservation measures in water and electricity (and especially electricity since conservation is the single largest source of electricity in Pakistan at this moment) can also generate a new economy and create tens of thousands of new jobs.

Frankly, I would prefer my tax rupees be put into combating climate change to pretending to provide security. Investing in military adventures, a foray into a war on terror and even the bomb has not made this country and its people any richer or more secure. It’s now time to invest in something that will.

Poverty alleviation and microfinance by Ahmad Rafay Alam

18 September, 2009 (0) Comment   |   Print This Post   |   Email This Post   |    Share on Facebook

September 18th by Ahmad Rafay Alam.

A jurisdiction war is playing out in the unlikeliest of places. It’s been reported that the governor of State Bank of Pakistan has written to the planning commission, “raising objections” against the “active persuasion” of a planning commission social sector committee for formulation of recommendations on microfinance. Not really exciting stuff to have a turf war over.

There’s a world of difference between poverty alleviation and microfinance, especially microfinance banking. The success of the Agha Khan Rural Support Programme has spawned at least a generation of “I’ve-seen-poverty-alleviated-before-my-eyes” types, and there are many who deserve to be mentioned for the outstanding results but a few other grassroots poverty alleviation schemes. However, the truth is that poverty is a real and pressing issue for every Pakistani. The poverty rate is (thanks to a dispute between the World Bank and PC) anywhere between

17.2 to 37.5 per cent and, according to the Economic Survey 2009-2010 (Chapter 13.4), “assessments point towards a strong likelihood of a sharp increase in the poverty incidence in Pakistan as a result of food inflation and transmission of international energy prices to domestic consumers.”

The problem with poverty alleviation programmes – and this is not to say they don’t work – is that they presume behind every poor farmer is an entrepreneur waiting for a Rs25,000 loan to start that agri-business of his dreams. The fact is that, too often, it’s convenient to think that throwing money at a problem – in this case, poor people or ‘awaam’ – will solve it. It won’t. When it comes to development and poverty alleviation, there’s simply no substitute for things like schools, nearby medical facilities, a trustworthy police force and, of course, the vision and leadership required to prioritise these over all else.

I was at a meeting some time ago where representatives of the Pakistan Poverty Alleviation Fund and the Pakistan Microfinance Network spelt out in unequivocal terms that the motive behind microfinance banking was not poverty alleviation. It was to make money by increasing the number of banking customers and providing them cheap credit. Apparently, poverty alleviation happens as a result of a good microfinance system giving loans to poor and often illiterate farmers who seldom have the money to pay them back. But I wouldn’t know, as this was the point in the proceedings where statistics were dragged out to divert one’s attention from the questionable logic employed.

But, like I said, there’s a world of a difference between poverty alleviation and microfinance banking.

According to the State Bank of Pakistan (SBP), the regulation of microfinance banking is solely their domain. This cannot be disputed, but I point readers to the fine print in Section 3(2) of the Microfinance Institutions Ordinance, 2001 which says that a microfinance institution “shall not be deemed to be a banking company”. Strange for the SBP to claim jurisdiction over something that isn’t really a bank. Nonetheless, the SBP of Pakistan is the regulator for the microfinance sector. It has the power to issue directions, call for information about and the power to investigate the affairs of microfinance institutions. It can launch investigations against them and even remove their directors. It’s even framed the microfinance rules and the prudential regulations for microfinance banks.

The above requires microfinance banks to constantly update the SBP of their activity through quarterly and annual reports. The problem is, and it’s a big problem, the SPB, Pak Poverty Alleviation Fund, Pakistan Microfinance Network and everyone in the business all treat microfinance banking as a profit-motive driven industry. Let me explain how this problem often plays out.

Because microfinance banks aren’t “real” banks, they don’t need to comply with the laws that “real” banks need to comply with. As a result, there’s no credit information bureau that keeps tabs on microfinance institutions giving more than one loan to a person or to members of the same family. This would be normal if ordinary, day-to-day banking, where businesses routinely avail of multiple financial facilities at the same time and credit information bureaus, ensure that nothing untoward is taking place. But it means something totally different when it comes to microfinance. There has been an increase in anecdotal evidence that suggests that obtaining multiple microfinance loans isn’t difficult and that, as a result, many poor families have fallen victim to crippling circular debt.

The other thing that the normal banking system has is a complaints redress system. Not only is there legislation that helps banks get their money back, there’s a banking Ombudsman who receives complaints against banking practices. But this is not so with microfinance industry and, as a result, the rural poor are left with no forum to air their grievances but the expensive and time consuming formal legal system. And if the formal legal system is not in the reach of a microfinance customer – and this is often the case – there is no protection for them if a microfinance lender misuses its powers when enforcing recovery. There is also increasing anecdotal evidence that heavy handed techniques are used to recover defaulting microfinance loans. The irony here is that there are many tales of the rich in this Islamic Republic having their debts “written off” while there are none of a microfinance customer getting the same treatment.

Clearly, there’s room for improvement in how the SBP is regulating the microfinance banking system. For example, there are no social sector indicators on any of the reports microfinance banks are required to submit to the SBP. The statistics may show increases in the number of customers, but there’s nothing telling us whether more than one loan is being given to the members of the same family (a recipe for disaster as each debtor secures the loan with the product of the same land, and that land simply can’t yield enough to repay all the loans). The statistics may tell us that recovery rates are high, but there’s nothing telling us whether such figures were strong-armed or not. There’s no credit information bureau or a system of monitoring complaints (though, to be fair, a representative of PMN has told me that these reforms are in the pipeline).

Is there a chance to amend the SBP’s regulation of microfinance so that these institutions aren’t treated purely in financial terms? The role of microfinance in the larger scheme of poverty alleviation must not be forgotten. There is a critical need to introduce social sector indicators into the microfinance regulations system and to ensure that microfinance isn’t taking place in a vacuum; that the government is also shouldering its responsibility to provide the infrastructure necessary to make these small loans worthwhile. But, for this to happen, the SBP will have to realise that engaging in a tug-of-war benefits no one.

Leasing out land and food security by Ahmad Rafay Alam

5 September, 2009 (0) Comment   |   Print This Post   |   Email This Post   |    Share on Facebook

September 5th by Ahmad Rafay Alam.

One of the conspiracies brewing on the internet is turning out to be frighteningly real. It has been reported that the Government of Pakistan is in negotiation with the Saudi and other Arab governments over the lease of as much as 700,000 hectares of Pakistan’s agricultural land to these foreign countries. The Ministry of Investment claims these leases will “pave the way” for improvements in agricultural technology. But everyone knows the truth: facing food security issues that will keep most of us awake at night. Many Arab countries are investing in agricultural land in poorer countries as a means of securing future food supplies to their own populations.

It is common knowledge that growing populations, sprawling urban areas that eat up valuable agricultural land, water shortages and climate change mean that the availability of food is becoming a political reality. Rich but arid Arab states are, for obvious reasons, looking outside their borders for opportunities to secure their future food requirements.

According to last year’s figures from the Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO), undernourishment in Pakistan increased from 24 to 28 per cent of the population, and the number of people deemed to be “food insecure” increased from 60 million to 77 million. Incidentally, the definition of poverty is the dollar per day quantification of the minimum nourishment a human requires.

Pakistan is also fast becoming a water-stressed country. At partition, our water resources were over 5,000 cubic metres per capita. They are now below 1,500 cubic metres per capita and fast heading below the 1,000 mark – officially the water-stress limit. Pakistan’s water comes from the glacial melt of the Himalayas, which are themselves fast melting due to climate change. Experts predict a 30 to 40 per cent drop in glacial melt in the next 30 years. Remember, over 90 per cent of our water is used in the agricultural sector and that too, not economically. The remainder is needed for drinking and related purposes. A future without water is one of the most pressing issues facing this country.

True to form, the political circus is busy in the mind-numbingly irrelevant politics of accusing one another of corruption. The current political atmosphere reflects either a total abdication of responsibility or a Machiavellian scheme to divert attention from the real issues this country faces. One doesn’t know which is worse.

Pakistan’s Initial National Communication on Climate Change was issued by the Ministry of Environment in 2004, and is our first official assessment of the effects climate change will have in our country. Based on an assumed, but minimum expected increases in temperature and changes in climate, the state itself realises that glaciers are expected to melt faster, and less and less snow is expected to form in the mountains where our freshwater comes from. This report is evidence that the state knows that this will change the flow of our rivers and any system which depends on them. The increase in temperature will put heat stress on crops, including “severe stress” on our cash crops: cotton, wheat and sugar. And, without a doubt, our country’s bread basket will be affected.

The canal irrigation system that the colonial rulers put into place in South Asia is the most significant event in the region, eclipsing in importance even the partition. On this assertion, as I was told by Dr Ali Tauqeer Sheikh, I have complete belief. The canal system meant that the potential of the land of five rivers was harnessed and, for a first time, the population wasn’t dependant on rain as a means of irrigation. Instead of the limits of barani/land, fields could be irrigated throughout the year, increasing not just food supply for the region, but boosting the output of cash crops and making colonial England a player on the world arena. When canals were introduced, the colonialist opted to confer land grants to friends and favourites – usually retiring soldiers or others of valued service – as a means of populating the newly arable regions of the province. In this way, an entire feudal social system grew that still exists today and there is the clear hand of the military establishment.

The Initial Communication also predicts that, as a result of climate change, there will be population migrations to other arable lands. However, this will also be accompanied with increases in poverty caused by the destruction of the well-settled rural economy. Some of these effects are being felt now, as tens of thousands of families in Sindh have relocated as a result of the salinity caused by creeping seawater. Water shortage and climate change means such relocations will soon spread elsewhere.

We have 160 million mouths to feed now and should expect to feed over 300 million by 2050. Clearly, climate change and our impending water shortage crisis are going to affect our own food production. In such an environment (pun intended) it’s certainly questionable whether the lease of agricultural land to foreign countries for the purposes of their own food supply is in the best interests of Pakistan, even if it brings in agricultural technology. What do the Arab farmers have that our agricultural universities don’t?

There may well be technological innovations that the foreign countries that that intend to lease our agricultural land will bring to our agricultural practice. As one newspaper report boasts, the use of agricultural land will give employment to poverty-stricken farmers and introduce large-scale mechanised farming techniques. But it’s not for nothing; as such leases — like the proposed 40,000 hectares Qatar is negotiating to lease from Kenya — attract criticism. The entire enterprise is accused of being neo-colonialism, and it isn’t difficult to see why. It follows exactly the same template of the colonialist — tapping the resources of one country for the benefit of the population of another. The only difference between the British and the coming experience will be that this time the colonialist will be a Muslim brother.

We may be indebted to our Saudi and Arab allies – after all, the Saudi Government did grant the Islamic Republic of Pakistan a four billion dollars plus oil on “soft terms” not too long ago – but we must not let this be a reason for them to take advantage of us. It is attractive but terminally short-term to think that a step, such as leasing nearly three-quarter of a million of arable land to foreigners, will bring much-needed foreign investment into the country. But the fact is that at this moment in Pakistan, there exists the expertise, motivation, desire and manpower to bring and introduce water conservation practices into place, to introduce smarter irrigation and farming techniques. What is strange is that given these opportunities for Pakistan’s agriculture sector to become more productive and sustainable, the government is choosing to dispose of the same agricultural land to someone else.

‘Running on empty’ by Ahmad Rafay Alam

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August 28th by Ahmad Rafay Alam.

If there is one terrifying prospect of the future it is the shortage of water. This point was driven home in book review of Pakistan’s water crisis. Late last year, the Woodrow Wilson Centre in Washington DC hosted “Running on empty: Pakistan’s water crisis,” a day-long conference about our dwindling water resources. The papers delivered at the conference have been compiled and published under the same name as the conference.

At the time of Partition, Pakistan’s water resources worked out to about 5,000 cubic meters of water per capita. Now, it is less than 1,500 cubic meters per capita, and this figure is expected to drop, as early as 2020, to less than 1,000 cubic meters per capita, making Pakistan a “water-scarce” nation.

Our water resources predominantly originate from Himalayan glacial melt that drains through the Indus Basin. So far, the Strategy of harnessing our water resources has focused on water storage – that is, the construction of dams and reservoirs – rather than water conservation.

Dams are environment issues of great complexity. They are expensive to build, involve destruction of habitat and heritage and relocation of whole communities. They also need water, and the one thing the Strategy does not touch upon is where the water to fill the dams and reservoirs will come from.

Because of climate change, the Himalayan glaciers are melting at an alarming rate. For our water resources, this means an increase in water, in the form of flooding. Within the next 50 years, however, experts believe there will be a 30 to 40 percent drop in glacial melt because, well, the glaciers will have dwindled and receded. While our strategy to create more storage capacity for water may appear to be the only option available to us, one has to remember that glacial melt isn’t all water. It’s also full of silt that will effectively reduce the capacity of the reservoirs we intend to build.

Meanwhile, no one’s really talking about the other option available:

conservation. Most of Pakistan’s water, nearly 90 percent, is consumed in irrigation and other agricultural needs. One expects a high figure in a predominantly agricultural economy. But water losses, caused by an inefficient canal system and theft and water-logging and salinity caused by poor farming practices, means that nearly 40 percent of the water used in irrigation is wasted and vast tracts of farmland has been rendered infertile. Sensible water management practices abound, and some of the most efficient, like spate irrigation, are based on local practice. It’s time for the strategy to harness our water resources to change from being large-scale capital- and technology-intensive and environmentally degrading to management-intensive and ecologically balanced and relying on indigenous technology. Of course, there is deafening silence from the government and the public sector when it comes to large-scale water conservation policies. It’s as if the only options are binary: either water storage and nothing else, or water conservation and nothing else, and that they cannot be exercised simultaneously.

The shortage of water has deep political, economic and social effects.

For example, farmers in Sindh point their fingers at Punjabi landlords and accuse them of “stealing their share” of the Indus’s water. In some parts of Sindh, according to Michael Kugelman, the editor of “Running on Empty,” the “mighty” Indus is little more than a canal; in others, it’s no more than a puddle. Interestingly, the 1991 Water Accord–in which the provinces, in a rare show of political equanimity, agreed to the apportionment of water–is based on the actual system uses for the 1977-1982 period. One wonders whether the apportionment remains fair if those underlying actual system use figures are, because of diminishing water resources, no longer the case.

Water shortage also affects the availability of drinking water and water for sanitation. As it is, less than 10 percent of our water resources as left for our 160 or so million awam. Our urban areas, which are where the majority of the population will live and work in the next fifteen years, will face drinking water shortages. As it is, most of Karachi has water available, on average, for four hours a day. Some experts suggest that Quetta may not have any water supplies within the next decade. Islamabad, the Federal Capital, which has no water conservation practices in place, is facing a water crisis of its own, and the Capital Development Authority has had to resort to environmentally questionable methods of diverting rivers and canals to provide residents. But, as yet, not a word has been uttered about water conservation practices.

Dwindling water resources also destroy rural and agricultural economies. Under the 1991 Water Accord, Sindh asked for a minimum of ten million acre feet of water below Kotri. The request was never formally agreed to and, today, only about two million acre feet flows through. As a result, the Indian Ocean, no longer kept at bay by the flow of the Indus, is creeping inland and destroying hundreds of thousands of acres of farmland. Because of diminished water flow below Kotri Barrage and seawater intrusion, tens of thousands of Sindhi farming families have had no choice but to relocate. Their land rendered useless, they are forced to look for work and sustenance elsewhere. More often than not, they are rendered into appalling poverty. This is happening, with alarming frequency, not just in Sindh, but in rural Punjab and elsewhere in Pakistan. In fact, our Initial Communication on Climate Change, issued in 2003, predicted large-scale relocations and rural to urban migrations as a result of the changes in water availability brought about by changes in the environment.

One isn’t suggesting giving up water storage strategies. But there needs to be awareness that water storage and water conservation are not mutually exclusive. The benefits of rolling out both the strategies would be huge. If government threw its weight behind conservation, the opportunities water conservation presents would result in massive investment in new practices. This would be the creation of new jobs and the foundations of a new, sustainable agricultural economy.

The water shortage is serious business. We must all prepare for a future where our grandchildren will not know of a shower; only the rationed use of a wet towel.

What is true of water is, incidentally, also true for electricity. The federal government has announced its approval of 14 new rental power plants that will provide the much-needed 1500MW of energy. But no one asks of the full 25 percent of electricity lost due to an inefficient transmission and distribution system. No one seems to care that Pakistan’s single-largest source of energy – enough to see us through the next five years – is in conservation, not in adding more capacity to the grid. It is considerably cheaper to save 1MW of electricity through conservation than it is to pay for a rental power producer to generate the same.

Cars: subsidising the urban elite by Ahmad Rafay Alam

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August 21st by Ahmad Rafay Alam.

The American astronomer Carl Sagan once observed that if Aliens were ever to land on earth, they would quickly conclude that the human race was enslaved by the automobile. Why else would humans spend so much time and money on them, buying expensive fuel and laying down billion-dollar expressways for them? The situation in Pakistan proves this observation.

In Status of the Oil Sector in Pakistan – A Review, published in Oil and Gas Business last year, Adeel Ahmad and Mithilesh Kumar Jha of the Asian Institute of Technology report that the transport sector is the biggest user of petroleum products in the country. About 50 per cent of all petroleum used in Pakistan is consumed by the transport sector. In comparison, 35 per cent is consumed by the energy sector. Pakistan’s oil imports have grown from 100,000 bb/day to well over 300,000 bb/day since 2000. Because local oil production isn’t more than 10 per cent of demand, last year we spent some $9.5 billion on the import of oil into Pakistan (and, thanks to high oil prices, $11.462 billion the year before). In the past two years, we have spent approximately $10 billion on oil consumed by the transport sector. There is no reason for a developing country to do this. Unless, of course, it was enslaved by the automobile.

Many would point out that these figures are for all of Pakistan, and that sub-sectoral petroleum consumption in the transport sector is heavily dominated by commercial transport. Fair enough. But last year, if one recalls, Pakistan was given over $4 billion worth of oil on ‘soft terms’ by the Saudi government. The fact is, commercial transport notwithstanding, we hardly have the money to purchase the oil to run the transport sector. In such circumstances, we should focus on how we wastefully consume this commodity. Let us look, therefore, at how the urban elite’s use of the automobile is subsidised.

Transport in our cities is dominated by the private automobile. However, only a small percentage of urban-dwellers have access to a private automobile. Most people walk, cycle, take a bicycle or take their chances with what is euphemistically referred to as ‘public transport’. Nonetheless, it is because of this automobile elite that our cities suffer from traffic congestion and the pollution caused by the engine emissions. The influence of this automobile elite is as immense as it is invisible. But ask yourself, for instance, whether it makes sense for city fathers to invest billions of rupees in underpasses (as they have this past decade along Lahore’s Canal Road) and not a single rupee in public transport. Ask yourself whether it makes sense for the owner of an automobile – by definition well above the poverty line – to pay only Rs10 per day to park 0000000000 fee of Rs10 is a huge subsidy. Meanwhile, in countries where the pro-automobile mindset has been challenged, city fathers look towards using parking fees as a means of raising revenue as well as an incentive for the taxi industry. Consider this: if office or commercial parking in our cities was raised to Rs100 a day, immediately one would find entrepreneurs taking the initiative and setting up taxi services. After all, who wants to pay Rs3,000 a month for the privilege of sunning their car when, for less, they could get from home to work and back again using a taxi. Meanwhile, the revenue generated by the 100 per cent increase in parking fees could be used by local governments for much-needed urban uplift projects.

The automobile elite does not work alone. It is catered to by urban developers and politicians. Urban developers have preyed upon our fascination with the internal combustion engine. Since the automobile is thought of as a means to overcome great distances with ease, urban planners in Pakistan have allowed cities to sprawl outwards. How many people realise that one of the largest hidden costs behind purchasing property in a new housing scheme is petrol for their cars? In most new housing schemes, provisioning for milk and eggs now involves a car journey. Meanwhile, politicians, as a rule, treat roads as icons of development. This can only happen in a place where the development caters only to the urban automobile elite.

The idea that roads in cities are icons of development is ludicrous and it shows just how effective the perception altering properties of automobiles are. Consider: if a hungry naked child were to stand before anyone, it would be traumatic. But this can happen two feet outside a car parked at an intersection and no one seems to mind. Reality and priority are so distorted for those who use automobiles that it is almost impossible to reason with them.

Recently, the news editor of the Vancouver Sun responded to an editorial in his newspaper criticising the city’s Critical Mass. Critical Mass is a monthly cycling event that takes place in over 200 cities around the world and aims to raise awareness about cycling as a healthy, environment-friendly form of transport (there’s even a Critical Mass group in Lahore that meets the last Sunday of every month). Cyclists take to the streets in large numbers and often take over automobile traffic. For this, the Vancouver Sun editorial suggested that the members of Critical Mass should be jailed for causing traffic congestion.

In his response, news editor Gary Engler defended Critical Mass and said that if anyone really wanted to penalise and arrest the people who caused traffic, they could start by arresting all the developers responsible for sprawl-inducing housing; all the politicians and urban planners who agreed to the sprawl and who continued to agree to build roads, bridges and underpasses that only brought more traffic onto streets; all those who argued that roads should be wider (because all evidence points to the conclusion that more cars and more congestion are the inevitable result); all those who drove to work when they could walk, use a cycle or public transport; all those who opposed densification of family neighbourhoods; all those who owned more than one car; and “all those who promote an economic system that requires us to choose between ever more growth or the misery of depression/recession. In this car-addicted society that inevitably means more automobiles and therefore more traffic jams. One could argue that these people are the worst of all and should go to the top of the list, as the ultimate bad seeds.”

Engler’s point is often lost on those enslaved by the automobile. But it is the correct view to take. After all, is it better to design cities so that their air is clean, their public spaces open and safe and where people have a choice of the type of transport they would like to use than to have a city where only the rich have mobility, where one’s income and job depends on how close they are to work, where pollution is responsible for degrading human health and economic recession. It’s a mark of just how off track our urban planning is that there is no effective public transport in Karachi, Lahore and simply none in Islamabad. And it’s a mark of how lopsided our urban priorities are that, despite the pollution and congestion automobiles cause, cities are designed exclusively for their use. And it’s criminal how our mindset treats automobile use as sacred and discriminates against those who cycle or walk. Surely this is a country enslaved by the automobile and beholden to an automobile elite.

62 years on, ‘the state is responsible’ by Ahmad Rafay Alam

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August 14th by Ahmad Rafay Alam.

It is clear that social change is often brought about by technological innovation. The moral brigade never forgets to remind us, for example, that the root cause of ills in our society is the Western and Indian entertainment constantly broadcast on satellite and cable television. We should acknowledge writer, poet and PML-Q’s Bushra Rehman who, no doubt having resolved the other problems of the world, used her opportunity as representative of the people to lecture us on how Indian films are somehow “spoiling our youth.”

I am not advocating commercial Indian cinema. Most of it is tedious. What I am talking of is how changes in society, caused by changes in technology, can be influenced by political ideology. Last week, I wrote about how sociologist Manuel Castells suggested that the personal computer could not have been invented in Soviet Russia, that it could only have been invented by a people whose political ideology leaned towards individualism and private property. It’s as if the political ideology creates the space in which technological innovation could take place.

Technological innovation and social change doesn’t occur in isolation.

It is deeply linked with the political ideology of a people. With people like Ms Bushra Rehman, MPA (Reserved Seats), constantly informing us that singing, dancing and the television that brings them to us will be our ruin, it’s not surprising that we have no locally manufactured televisions. A conservative political ideology clearly makes technological innovation difficult.

On its 62nd birthday, Pakistan stands facing innumerable natural and manmade challenges. This makes this birthday the same as any other. But our response to some of the challenges deserves some comment.

In order to cater to the rising and increasingly urbanised population, we need to be thinking about where and how to provide housing. We need to start thinking about how to provide sewerage and sanitation at a scale we have never experienced before. We need to start thinking about what sort of employment opportunities can be created, what sort of medical facilities need to be provided, the number of schools that need to be established and the type of recreational facilities we need to provide future Pakistanis. Again, these challenges are not new and make for somewhat uninteresting reading.

What I find fascinating, however, is how, even after 62 years, the people of Pakistan cling to the idea that the state is responsible for providing things like housing, sanitation and health and education facilities. If, in 62 years, the state has not provided these facilities, it means, quite simply, that it won’t. What I find fascinating is how, 62 years since Independence, the people of this country still believe that their salvation lies in the state. And it’s not just the classical magisterial or social-welfare models of the state I’m talking of. I’ve heard people speak out seriously on how the government should “do something” in things as farfetched as the film industry (a ridiculous notion, though I think Rehman Malik’s present incarnation has meant the entertainment industry lost out on one of this country’s most accomplished showmen). Where in the world is it the business of government to set up a cinema or build a parking garage?

On even the shortest of scrutiny, this mindset betrays flaws. Ingrained in it is the notion we hold of the state and of ourselves. Implied in it is the assumption that ultimately, it is the state, and not ourselves, that is responsible for meeting the challenges we face. The state is treated like a messiah, and people presume themselves helpless and await its benevolence. I cannot think of another people that so slavishly still adhere to the socio-political template imposed on this part of the world by the British Raj. It’s as if the English never left.

Some, like Nadeem Ul Haque, who frequently makes the right points on these pages, would argue that the state – and especially the entrenched military and civilian bureaucracy – also plays a part in perpetuating the myth that only it can provide for the people. The way our laws and rules are made, they clearly prefer the state over the people. Again, this is not a difficult notion to digest. Many of our important laws, laws like our Penal Code, the Civil Procedure Code, land and irrigation laws, for example, all predate the Partition. If they sustained a colonial elite then, they sustain a post-colonial elite now.

So here stand its people, on Pakistan’s 62nd birthday: abdicating the responsibility to meet the challenges of the future to an inefficient state and distracted and harangued ad nauseam by the moral police.

If this country is to progress, then its people will have to put more faith in themselves. They will have to think twice about a political ideology seeped in the assumption that foreign aid and foreign technical assistance are the only options to provide for our development. They will have to question why their world isn’t more equal, and they will have to take these questions to the men and women they have sent to Parliament and the Provincial Assemblies. If we don’t change our ideology of our politics, we will not be able to carve the space in which we are to meet our challenges.

At the same time, one must also be thankful for what they have. Last month, I practiced law, I spent time with friends and family, enjoyed regular cycle rides, had several dinners with friends, was invited to weddings and celebrations and watched a film in a cinema (my morals are still intact, thank you). I went to cafes, attended meetings and workshops on the environment, urban affairs. A month pretty well spent, the current load shedding and all, in this Islamic Republic.

Stop wasting money on roads! by Ahmad Rafay Alam

17 July, 2009 (0) Comment   |   Print This Post   |   Email This Post   |    Share on Facebook

July 17th by Ahmad Rafay Alam.

Around the world, strong evidence is now coming forward to suggest that spending money on road infrastructure within cities is a waste of money.

But in Karachi, the DHA is planning the Gizri Flyover, a multi-million-rupee project that will adversely affect the environment, worsen traffic and lead to social immobility. In Lahore, a recent newspaper article suggests that the chief minister has requested the authorities concerned to reconsider the plan, once scrapped after opposition from civil society groups, of widening the Canal Bank Road. In Islamabad, billions of rupees have been spent on road construction in the past few years. In none of these cities, meanwhile, is there a viable or minimally effective public transport system. Islamabad, in fact, is probably the only capital city in the world that does not have a public transport service.

In the decade-plus of its existence, the Lahore Traffic Engineering and Planning Agency has done nothing but build and remodel roads. The result is that traffic congestion is the worst ever. Of course, TEPA will blame the liberal car-financing market for the congestion, as if car leasing was a little-known secret in Pakistan these past few years. The fact is that TEPA and other transport agencies rely on the ridiculously outmoded “capacity vs. volume” argument. In their worlds, the “capacity” of a road network can be calculated. If the “volume” or usage of the road network increased beyond its capacity, the Pavlovian response is to start constructing new roads to meet the capacity.

The “Braess Paradox” establishes that additions to the capacity of a road network often results in increased congestion and longer travel times. The reason has to do with the complex effects of individual drivers all trying to optimise their routes. Likewise, there is the phenomenon of induced demand – or the “if you build it, they will come” effect. In short, fancy new roads encourage people to drive more miles, as well as seeding new sprawl-style development that shifts new users onto them. And the Braess paradox is not just an arcane bit of theory either.

In 2002, when the local government of Seoul, South Korea, was faced with the costs of maintaining a massive double-decker highway that had been paved over the Cheonggyecheon River, it decided to knock the entire structure down. Never mind the 160,000-plus cars that the road carried every day. The immediate result of the intervention was a beautiful new 1,000-acre park in the middle of the city as well as reduced traffic volumes. The closure of the highway convinced people to drive less, choose another route or opt for public transport. The park replaced the slum that had mushroomed under the highway. The mayor responsible for the billion-dollar economic turnaround in the middle of the city (the new park opened hundreds of business opportunities along the banks of the newly greened Cheonggyecheon) is now a major player in South Korea’s national politics.

In 1974, after a long and contentious political battle, the-then governor of the US state of Oregon, Tom McCall, ordered the demolition of the four-lane freeway, known as Harbor Drive, on the western shore of the city of Portland. The state’s Highway Department was against the demolition. In fact, it wanted to widen the thoroughfare. But on the first day Harbor Drive was closed to traffic, there wasn’t a single ripple in the city’s traffic flow. According to legend, one of the highway engineers who predicted a traffic catastrophe if the highway was brought down, called the governor’s office to congratulate him on the success of the initiative. Today, the space taken by Harbor Drive has been replaced by the Tom McCall Waterfront Park, and is an integral reason why Portland, Oregon, which is now a cycle-friendly city, is celebrated as the most liveable of US cities.

In 1989, the Loma Prieta earthquake damaged San Francisco’s Embercadero Elevated Freeway that ran past the city’s waterfront. This proved to be the catalyst city fathers needed to bring the structure down. Today, in place of the freeway, there is a waterfront boulevard with cycle trails, parks and public exhibitions.

In Bogota, Colombia, in just a three-year period, Enrique Penalosa placed a moratorium on public expenditure on roads and the automobile elite. Instead, he spent money on a Bus Rapid Transit public transport system, on walkways, on schools, libraries and museums. The result is that even a toddler, once on one of the ciclorutas, can navigate the city unmolested by traffic. Since the ciclorutas are linked to public recreational spaces, the young, old and handicapped, the rich and poor, all have access to the city on foot and on cycle. The areas padestrianised by Penalosa – including the city centre and some of the most violent neighbourhoods in Colombia – are now quiet and peaceful. Air quality has improved, there are dramatically fewer traffic accidents, property values have risen and, most important, the quality of life has improved.

Just last month, in New York City, the transport office decided to pedestrianise the Times Square area of Broadway, one of the most iconic shopping centres in the world. The result: immediate success, with no harm to traffic flows.

There are plenty more examples, in Curitiba, Brazil, in Ahmedabad, in Johannesburg, of cities deciding to remove highways from city centres, of introducing public transport instead of spending money for roads that are used predominantly by the urban automobile elite.

In 2008-2009, the Government of Punjab allocated Rs10 billion more to bridge and underpass construction than it did to the health, public-health and education sectors combined. With less than 15 percent of the population using 1.8 million automobiles in Lahore, it’s no wonder our children regularly contract respiratory diseases. And when you wonder why, or why there aren’t any good hospitals or doctors to care for them, remember this: It’s because we spend all our money on road development.

If we stopped wasting money on building expensive, polluting, socially destructive highways for the automobile inside our cities, we would have billions to spend on education, health, public transport and recreational facilities for millions of people. It is that simple. Stop spending money on building roads.

In other news, with the recent loss of K K Aziz, Pakistan mourns the death of one of its finest academics. I first came across Professor Aziz’s work, The Murder of History, when I was a teenager. Suffice to say, it changed the way I think. His magnum opus four-volume A History of the Idea of Pakistan remains one of the most thoroughly researched works of history anywhere. I had the great privilege of meeting and corresponding with him on the history of my family. Known for his commitment to his principles, the importance he placed on values, the staggering breadth of his knowledge and his meticulous research, he shall remain forever in our hearts and, equally important, in our minds.

Rest in peace, Professor K K Aziz.