Mario Puzo remarkably started his modern day epic Godfather with Balzac’s equally epic quote about how crime is behind every successful fortune. The statement is hauntingly accurate in many modern day societies including our own. Be it money earned through the soft and suave methods of corruption, loans or kickbacks, or extorted from the vulnerable by not so subtle ways, the proceeds of crime are strikingly visible everywhere – right from the seashore of Karachi to the hills of Khyber.
And behind every successful crime there is an enterprising criminal who might differ in modus operandi but would in the end be concerned only with the bottom line.
But who is behind that enterprising criminal?
There are no academies churning out fresh graduates every summer or proud fathers passing traditions to posterity. An enterprising criminal learns the art of survival and progress at the same time – an art learnt from the machinations and weaknesses of the very same force tasked to stop it from happening: the Police, which is the guardian of law and custodian of public order with powers vested by the State to protect the weak and vulnerable. But that’s about it.
These criminal enterprises are independent of booms and recessions, democracy and dictatorships, and crises and opportunities. Worse is in fact better for the enterprise.
Karachi is an obvious heaven for these enterprises – a toxic mix of predator networks. There is money flowing to and fro, and there are filters on this flow. Every power player has at least one. There are taxes to be paid to government to do business and there is premium on survival. Understandably taxes can wait but not the survival fee. To beat the state in revenues, it has to be beaten in coercion and violence too.
Those who are supposed to have ‘monopoly on violence’ and the long arm to enforce the law, are either crippled or co-opted.
The crime-business-politics enterprise thus gets support from the co-opted formal force on the front and an informal one on the flanks. The result is gradual attrition of civil order and sustainability. There are turf wars and changing loyalties, and water not only thicker but costlier than blood. Any effort to break this vicious cycle is frustrated, any voice of sanity lost in clamour, and the fresh carnage eclipsed by the next one. Law enforcement does not act as a neutraliser but merely as one of the players, and that too with questionable integrity and divided loyalty.
Taking the road upcountry, the picture does not appear so bleak. There is not that much money to attract sharks from outside and there is not much ethnic strife – just the settled difference of class. The feudal lord’s main concern is status quo and the police is there to oblige. Of course the awareness of rights is a far cry and robbery still a sought-after profession but there is not much trouble otherwise. The absence of bickering businessmen gives ample room to the landlord-turned-politician to enforce the acceptable tribal justice while the formal one remains in the waiting.
As the road eases into Punjab, the nexus eases too. The landlord is mild and less intimidating, the middle class taking roots with less exploitative power structures. The tribe is now a clan (or biradari), which is more egalitarian and less strict. However, all the easing is not for the better. With the loosening of the feudalistic grip comes the faith healer and spiritual guide, the leader in prayers and ecclesiastical matters. Crime is not a business yet and the criminal still an outlaw being chased and hounded in the deserts and forests.
Central plains are all things competition. More awareness and information thus more noise but still less justice. The businessman rules the roost and is therefore the trendsetter. The criminal is not an outlaw but is still in the shadows and the law enforcement is in cohorts with the big business. The competition, however, encourages partnerships and alliances. And what better reason than to have hold over land, the most valuable asset. Exploitation is subtle and exploits shared amongst the partners, who invariably include law enforcers and law makers.
As the plains climb into the plateaus, trickery is replaced by candour. Not much money to toss around and not much land to fight on. The erstwhile martial races now bask in the luxury of foreign remittance. But not yet lured by crime except for fights over inheritances and egos. The law people are benign and contended too, waiting for ‘good’ times when friendly fights would turn into bloody battles.
The mountains are tough, intractable and resilient as are their inhabitants – living by their tribal code and not dependent on the machinations of lawyers and slackness of police. There is, however, livelihood to be made in the land that does not offer much in industry or agriculture. The source of livelihood is further across the border. Tribal code preserves and upholds tradition set in stone but in the matters of money, adaptability is the key. This invariably requires collusion of state functionaries. Smuggling is a relatively new addition to our everyday lexicon, and a misleading one. Why would there be concern over provision of everyday necessities like drugs and guns down country, the transporters innocently inquire.
And if there are no guns, how will the turf wars be fought in Karachi? How will the ransom and extortion operations be run and how will violence be answered with more violence?
It’s about time the business-crime-power nexus was broken and some semblance of state authority restored. The erosion of legal force has already blackened the green and white. If not checked, chaos and anarchy are not far away.
Umar Riaz is a Civil Servant and member of the Police Service of Pakistan. He studied Public Policy at Syracuse University as Hubert H. Humphrey Fellow (2010-11), presently serving as Superintendent of Police in Lahore
And behind every successful crime there is an enterprising criminal who might differ in modus operandi but would in the end be concerned only with the bottom line.
But who is behind that enterprising criminal?
There are no academies churning out fresh graduates every summer or proud fathers passing traditions to posterity. An enterprising criminal learns the art of survival and progress at the same time – an art learnt from the machinations and weaknesses of the very same force tasked to stop it from happening: the Police, which is the guardian of law and custodian of public order with powers vested by the State to protect the weak and vulnerable. But that’s about it.
These criminal enterprises are independent of booms and recessions, democracy and dictatorships, and crises and opportunities. Worse is in fact better for the enterprise.
Karachi is an obvious heaven for these enterprises – a toxic mix of predator networks. There is money flowing to and fro, and there are filters on this flow. Every power player has at least one. There are taxes to be paid to government to do business and there is premium on survival. Understandably taxes can wait but not the survival fee. To beat the state in revenues, it has to be beaten in coercion and violence too.
If there are no guns, how will the turf wars be fought in Karachi?
Those who are supposed to have ‘monopoly on violence’ and the long arm to enforce the law, are either crippled or co-opted.
The crime-business-politics enterprise thus gets support from the co-opted formal force on the front and an informal one on the flanks. The result is gradual attrition of civil order and sustainability. There are turf wars and changing loyalties, and water not only thicker but costlier than blood. Any effort to break this vicious cycle is frustrated, any voice of sanity lost in clamour, and the fresh carnage eclipsed by the next one. Law enforcement does not act as a neutraliser but merely as one of the players, and that too with questionable integrity and divided loyalty.
Taking the road upcountry, the picture does not appear so bleak. There is not that much money to attract sharks from outside and there is not much ethnic strife – just the settled difference of class. The feudal lord’s main concern is status quo and the police is there to oblige. Of course the awareness of rights is a far cry and robbery still a sought-after profession but there is not much trouble otherwise. The absence of bickering businessmen gives ample room to the landlord-turned-politician to enforce the acceptable tribal justice while the formal one remains in the waiting.
As the road eases into Punjab, the nexus eases too. The landlord is mild and less intimidating, the middle class taking roots with less exploitative power structures. The tribe is now a clan (or biradari), which is more egalitarian and less strict. However, all the easing is not for the better. With the loosening of the feudalistic grip comes the faith healer and spiritual guide, the leader in prayers and ecclesiastical matters. Crime is not a business yet and the criminal still an outlaw being chased and hounded in the deserts and forests.
Central plains are all things competition. More awareness and information thus more noise but still less justice. The businessman rules the roost and is therefore the trendsetter. The criminal is not an outlaw but is still in the shadows and the law enforcement is in cohorts with the big business. The competition, however, encourages partnerships and alliances. And what better reason than to have hold over land, the most valuable asset. Exploitation is subtle and exploits shared amongst the partners, who invariably include law enforcers and law makers.
As the plains climb into the plateaus, trickery is replaced by candour. Not much money to toss around and not much land to fight on. The erstwhile martial races now bask in the luxury of foreign remittance. But not yet lured by crime except for fights over inheritances and egos. The law people are benign and contended too, waiting for ‘good’ times when friendly fights would turn into bloody battles.
The mountains are tough, intractable and resilient as are their inhabitants – living by their tribal code and not dependent on the machinations of lawyers and slackness of police. There is, however, livelihood to be made in the land that does not offer much in industry or agriculture. The source of livelihood is further across the border. Tribal code preserves and upholds tradition set in stone but in the matters of money, adaptability is the key. This invariably requires collusion of state functionaries. Smuggling is a relatively new addition to our everyday lexicon, and a misleading one. Why would there be concern over provision of everyday necessities like drugs and guns down country, the transporters innocently inquire.
And if there are no guns, how will the turf wars be fought in Karachi? How will the ransom and extortion operations be run and how will violence be answered with more violence?
It’s about time the business-crime-power nexus was broken and some semblance of state authority restored. The erosion of legal force has already blackened the green and white. If not checked, chaos and anarchy are not far away.
Umar Riaz is a Civil Servant and member of the Police Service of Pakistan. He studied Public Policy at Syracuse University as Hubert H. Humphrey Fellow (2010-11), presently serving as Superintendent of Police in Lahore