With the appointment of Anwaarul Haq Kakar as the caretaker prime minister (and Sarfaraz Bugti as the federal interior minister), the Pakistani military has shown the middle finger to the Baluch nationalists, human rights activists and liberal advocates raising awareness about the state-sponsored human rights violations in Baluchistan that have continued unabated for the past two decades.
The military has also sent an implicit signal to its civilian allies, propagandists, apologists, social media influencers, conference disrupters and online trolls in Baluchistan that their services and loyalties in countering and containing the Baluch nationalists will not be forgotten. Their ‘patriotism’ would instead be rewarded and incentivized in one or the other way. This selection now provides a template and a pathway for all young ambitious people who want to find a shortcut to climb the power ladder in Baluchistan or/and Pakistan despite not belonging to an affluent and influential tribal and political family. It’s possible, as the new arrangement suggests, you only have to follow the pathway.
Kakar is a human rights violations [in Baluchistan] denier, a consistent whataboutist, an eternal accuser of foreign elements but a tireless defender of the Pakistani military with respect to the bloodshed in Baluchistan. He is an unapologetic advocate of the Pakistani state’s violence against the Baluch people and a rare breed of diehard Pakistani nationalists that keeps egging the military to subjugate the Baluch through a policy of divide and rule. Having struggled and lavishly invested in Baluchistan for decades to manufacture capable pro-Islamabad individuals, the military has finally developed its first successful product.
Don’t get me wrong. Kakar is not evil.
In the age of toxic politics, where people have endured Fayyaz ul Hassan Chohans and Shahbaz Gills and Imran Khans on their television screens and social media feeds, Kakar could undoubtedly be described as very respectful and civil. He is commendable for surviving Baluchistan’s deeply polarized and violent political environment for nearly two decades without abusing his critics in debates, speeches and discussions. He has had no history of personally engaging in violence to attain political goals. In a province where politicians and tribal chiefs have been accused of burying women alive, running death squads, filling mass graves with government critics, murdering journalists and maintaining personal jails, Kakar can easily walk with a clean character certificate.
“Educated” and “well-read” are the two most frequently used words in the media that describe him.
“I can vouch for him that he is an avid reader,” said Asim Bukhari, owner of Book Land, Quetta’s legendary elite bookstore. Bukhari, who has now transformed Book Land into Kitabee Pakistan, has known Kakar since 2007 as “our regular customer.” He recalls Kakar regularly buying books on political science, international affairs and Islamic history.
Bukhari says he always found Kakar an articulate man with a unique perspective on various issues.
“One day, he asked for Diplomacy by Henry Kissinger and I wanted to sell him The 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene. I tried to convince him that no one had so clearly elaborated Machiavelli’s thoughts, but he, in return, recommended me Ghunyat al-Talibeen by Shaykh Abdul Qadir Jilani, which was the exact opposite of Machiavelli’s the Prince, Bukhari recalled.
“What magazines did he read?” I asked Bukhari.
“The Economist,” he replied, “only if it had something about the Subcontinent.”
Bukhari paused.
“He was mostly into books,” he clarified.
Kakar has cultivated an image across the board as a well-read guy.
Even journalist Kiyya Baloch, one of Kakar’s biggest critics, admits that Kakar is “undoubtedly an intellectual; well-educated, articulate and a smart person.”
But. There is still a problem here.
“Unfortunately, he is an intellectually dishonest person,” Kiyya said in an interview, “Instead, he is a beneficiary of the Baluchistan conflict.”
Welcome to Kakar’s world, where some deeply admire him while others vehemently detest him!
Then, what’s Kakar’s problem?
Senior journalist Nusrat Javed provided an excellent diagnosis in his Aug. 14 article in Nawa-i-Waqt.
“For several years, journalists like me have been feeling that Pakistan’s behavior toward Baluchistan is not friendly. [We] believe that the people of Baluchistan are being ‘forcefully’ brought into the national mainstream. As a result, the youth get provoked and stand up against the state. [We] have always pleaded in [our] writings and television shows that the State should explore the causes of the Baluch youth’s anger and treat them like a loving mother or a kind brother. In spite of being a younger politician, Anwaar Kakar does not agree with that approach. He insists that some Baluch and Pashtun use the “narrative” of a “sense of deprivation” to “blackmail” the influential individuals and institutions of Pakistan.”
That said, Kakar has preferred to side with Islamabad instead of using his widely propagated intellectual credentials to speak for the rights of his Baluch neighbors. To him, parents, siblings and children of the missing Baluch persons who have been seeking justice for the recovery of their family members are somehow blackmailers, tools in the hands of the Baluch nationalists or the benefactors of foreign-funded entities that are maligning the Pakistani armed forces. This is what Islamabad and Rawalpindi say and want us all to believe. Most Baluchs (except those in the government’s camp, obviously) don’t buy this narrative of the Pakistani state, Kakar does. He propagates that lie day in and day out in his speeches and social media posts. He has tirelessly done this for two decades.
Kakar is selective on human rights violations, both in terms of acknowledging and condemning them. Ask him about the Baluch that go missing or are killed by the Pakistani security forces, he immediately redirects the conversation with “What about the policemen?”, “what about the Punabi settlers?” Generally, nobody in Baluchistan, whether a Baluch or a Pashtun, a liberal or a conservative, denies that Pakistan has committed heinous crimes in Baluchistan. Kakar would not admit that because it conflicts with his vision of remaining close to the military establishment. Some describe him as pragmatic instead of opportunistic. He knows neither he nor anyone in Pakistan can beat the powerful military. In his philosophy, there is no point in confronting the military, especially if you are not a Nawab or a Bugti. Even the military crushed the mighty Nawab Akbar Bugti in 2006.
I highly doubt that Kakar hasn’t read the 48 Laws of Power. Remember the first rule?
Never outshine the master.
The master just gave Kakar a booster shot of patriotism and Pakistani nationalism by appointing him as the caretaker prime minister.
In the 2011 book The Future of Pakistan, author Moeed W. Yusuf noted that among all of Pakistan’s youth, “Baloch youth stand out as most distraught with the federation. Except for a minority, they are least enthusiastic about being part of Pakistan and are least proud to be Pakistanis. They also are the keenest to leave Pakistan, and they oppose the military and state institutions more staunchly than youth in other provinces.”
Since the killing of the veteran Baluch political and tribal leader Nawab Bugti in Aug. 2006 by the Pervez Musharraf regime, anti-Pakistan sentiments dramatically rose among the Baluch youth. The military did not only have a branding problem in the province but it also struggled with its inability to present itself as a well-wisher of the Baluch people. Top military officials wondered why the Baluch hated them so much when the military and the Frontier Corps were building schools and organizing free medical camps across the province. The military had lavishly invested in Baluch tribal chiefs for decades to ensure their control over the province. These chiefs benefited more from this arrangement than what they delivered to the military in return. Also, the tribes were increasingly lagging with the emerging technologies reshaping guerrilla warfare. The military establishment needed modern, educated insiders from Baluchistan who could educate the generals about the internal dynamics, weaknesses and contradictions of the Baluch. During these desperate times, if the Pakistani military establishment went to Baluchistan for a talent search, Kakar would undoubtedly be their best pick on any given day. In a country where a host of “Baluchistan experts” cannot differentiate between “Baluch” and “Baluchi,” Kakar, with his ability to speak fluent Brahui, seemed like a Princeton professor on Baluchistan affairs.
Kakar is so good at learning languages that a colleague said they were once stunned to see him speak fluent Persian in a meeting with an Iranian delegation in Quetta.
After the delegation left, the colleague walked up to Kakar and sarcastically or appreciatively said, “Kakar sahib, I think you should now learn Chinese.”
Kakar blushed considering this as a compliment from a colleague.
A trailblazer in his field, Kakar is educated and articulate in a province where most pro-establishment tribal chiefs are not amply educated and presentable. He grabbed the opportunity to rise as a vocal advocate and promoter of the state’s narrative when most educated and politically conscious Baluch boys and girls were not only continuously joining the anti-Islamabad Baluch nationalist movement, but even some of them were drifting to armed groups, such as the BLA, fighting for a free Baluchistan. Decades of negligence and constant human rights abuses by the Pakistani security forces against the Baluch population enormously contributed to the sharp rise in the distrust in state institutions and anti-Pakistan sentiments among the Baluch youth.
Over the years, this trend has only worsened as more educated Baluch youth, including women, join a more radical wing of the BLA called the Majeed Brigade that carries out suicide bombings on Pakistani security forces and national installations.
(I have repeatedly called upon the BLA not to use women in its fight against Islamabad because it is immoral and despicable.)
Some Baluch nationalists claim that Kakar closely associated with them, especially the members of the Langov tribe, during his time in the UK. It was these interactions that deepened his understanding of the Baluch separatist movement, the dynamics of the Baluch diaspora and international outreach efforts to get support for the free Baluchistan movement. Nobody knows why Kakar did not complete his education in the UK and returned to Baluchistan. Kakar, in his own words, completed all his higher education as a private candidate instead of attending classes at a university.
However, on his return to Baluchistan, he became a popular figure in Quetta’s NGO and intellectual circles. He frequented lunches and tea parties in Quetta’s elite hotels like Sarena. One thing distinguishing him from everyone else in a hotel lobby or drawing room political discussions was his excessive use (to impress) of political terminologies and jargon. Sometimes, it felt like he had crammed a full glossary of a political science or international relations textbook. He’d repeatedly refer to the Magna Carta, the Westminster model, Jeffersonian Democracy, the New World Order, decolonization, the nation-state, the Renaissance, etc.
When Kakar looked around, he did not see many people of his generation, neither Baluch nor Pashtun, pursuing politics as a career. Young and educated found sanctuary and stability by joining the civil service. He knew that trend because he ran his academy in Quetta, which prepared young candidates for competitive civil service exams. The rest of his friends found comfort in the NGO world that endlessly offered fancy lunches and dinners in elite hotels, frequent trips to Islamabad, and field tours to Pakistan’s northern areas.
When Kakar decided to run for public office in the 2008 elections, nobody took him seriously because he didn’t come from a politically heavyweight family. That experience, however, exposed him to Baluchistan’s political landscape and its dynamics.
On Jan. 31, 2008, the police in Quetta raided the election office of a relatively unknown candidate of the Pakistan Muslim League Quaid-e-Azam (PMLQ) for a heavily contested seat of NA 259, the electoral constituency for a National Assembly seat from Quetta. The authorities, accompanied by a magistrate, also arrested three political activists. The police alleged that the election office of the candidate Anwaarul Haq Kakar was “stealing” gas. While the PML-Q, founded in the early 2000s to provide a political umbrella to the then military dictator General Pervez Musharraf, had lost steam elsewhere in Pakistan, it still remind a powerful political force in Baluchistan.
Before the police could take away the arrested activists, the District Coordination Officer (DCO) Quetta, Hafiz Sher Ali, intervened and ordered the activists’ release.
Shaifq Ahmed Khan of the Pakistan People’s Party, running against Kakar on the same seat, alleged that Kakar enjoyed the Establishment’s support.
He said he had been pointing out time and again that the Quetta DCO was supervising Kakar’s election campaign, making sure he won. “The DCO is actually running a parallel election office inside a posh hotel in Quetta,” Khan told me.
While stealing gas and electricity is commonplace in most of Pakistan, Kakar’s opponents found this an excellent opportunity to lambast their rival who otherwise seemed unstoppable even against some heavyweight candidates.
They pointed out how common citizens suffered due to low gas pressure while the Establishment’s favorite candidate was stealing gas. They reminded their supporters how the public was protesting daily against low gas pressure. To make their message more appealing, they also cited the officials from the Sui Southern Gas Company who attributed low gas pressure to natural gas theft through illegal connections from the main transmission lines.
The provincial leadership of the PPP reacted furiously to the incident and demanded the immediate suspension of the Quetta DCO. They argued that the DCO’s intervention to protect Kakar’s supporters from the police was “clear proof” of their stance that the official machinery was being used to support Kakar’s campaign. Abdul Manan Gohar, the PPP’s provincial secretary of information, told a news conference that his party wanted the immediate suspension of the Quetta DCO who was ‘blatantly running the election campaign of the Pakistan Muslim League candidate. He added that the PPP had “continuously been asking the concerned officials to take notice of the misuse of official funds at district and provincial level in favor of the PML-Q candidate.” He regretted that their requests were deliberately ignored. “The whole world saw the DCO rescuing the supporters of PML-Q. What else evidence does the Election Commission need?” he questioned.
On its part, the Election Commission of Pakistan had its own complaints against Kakar’s campaign, whom they blamed for repeatedly violating the election code of conduct. Murad Ali Baloch, the returning officer of NA-259, sent Kakar a notice following repeated media reports and complaints that Kakar had placed life-size posters across the city. The notice asked him to remove the posters that violated the code of conduct which all parties, except Kakar, followed.
“What’s going on?” I asked Kakar.
“This is false propaganda being floated by my political opponents who have no issue to talk about but to malign me personally,” he said.
Kakar explained that the place he had rented for his election office was not his personal property. Rather, it was a shop he had rented without any knowledge of the gas system there. He claimed that he had told his supporters to go to the gas office to submit a demand note, which they did.
“What about the reports of your election office inside a fancy hotel?” I asked.
Kakar acknowledged its existence, adding that the hotel’s owner was an old friend of his. He called it a “sub-office”.
“I have it [sub-office] since my childhood,” he stated.
“Why are they calling you the Establishment’s candidate?” I inquired.
“My opponents can’t tolerate me. The only reason I am being singled out is because I come from a middle-class family,” said in his defense while terming PPP’s Khan as “Quetta’s biggest habitual liar.”
Khan, on his part, didn’t bother to respond to Kakar’s accusations as his actual focus was the Baluchistan Assembly seat from PB-Quetta-1, which he would end up winning with 4,546 votes against a candidate from Kakar’s party, the PML-Q.
“What do you stand for?” I asked Kakar to get a clear sense of his election manifesto.
Too new to the election process, Kakar sounded naive and devoid of political rhetoric. He had no crafty election talking points or big promises like other, more experienced politicians.
“If elected, I will improve the state of existing educational institutions in Quetta,” he promised, “I will establish more vocational centers for the youth that cater to the market needs of the youths.”
On Oct. 25, 2009, the man Kakar derogatorily called “Quetta’s biggest habitual liar” (who went on to win the elections and become Baluchistan’s Education Minister) was killed by the Baluch Liberation United Front. Fast forward, Kakar’s Voice of Balochistan opportunistically took advantage of the incident and commemorated him in a social media post on Oct. 27, 2020.
While there has been considerable focus on Kakar’s initial electoral setback, it’s important to remember his notable achievements as a first-time candidate in a fiercely competitive race featuring 18 contenders. This electoral battle was no walk in the park, with a mix of independent candidates and those affiliated with various political parties vying for the National Assembly seat.
In this challenging landscape, Kakar secured 11,387 votes, falling short to PPP candidate Syed Nasir Ali Shah, who clinched victory with 24,936 votes. Nevertheless, it’s worth highlighting that Kakar outperformed two former Baluchistan governors, Syed Muhammad Fazal Agha and Lt. General (retired) Abdul Qadir Baluch. Additionally, he surpassed former Senator Khuda-e-Noor Khan and the future chairman of the Hazara Democratic Party, Abdul Khaliq Hazara.
This outcome prompted divergent interpretations. For those who refuted claims of Kakar receiving Establishment support, his performance was deemed impressive. Conversely, those who asserted that he enjoyed Establishment backing saw his defeat as a setback for the Establishment itself.
While some claim that Kakar, nicknamed “Ano” among his friends and colleagues, seemingly appeared on Baluchistan’s political stage as an unknown entity, his former colleagues in Quetta paint a different narrative—one that highlights his longstanding dedication to public service since the very beginning of his political journey.
It all began in 2005 when a massive earthquake hit Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Kashmir, killing 86,000 people. Considering it a national duty to reach out to the victims of this enormous tragedy and help them in that urgent need, Taraqee Foundation, a nongovernmental organization founded in Quetta in 1994, stepped in to assist. The organization desperately searched for dedicated volunteers who could join the mission. Eighteen years later, colleagues at the Foundation still remember that Kakar showed up on that call on short notice with a single bag ready to go to the disaster zone to serve as a volunteer. Folks at the Foundation were not surprised to see Kakar as they already knew him as a dependable social worker who often volunteered to help people around him.
Kakar was one of the eight volunteers from Baluchistan who reached Abbottabad and initiated rescue and relief operations. They reportedly worked 18 hours a day. The mission continued for several weeks. Colleagues say Kakar remained very emotional throughout this mission. Impressed with his dedication and mobilization skills and love for the people, the Foundation put him in charge of operations in the relief work both in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Kashmir.
One day Kakar’s team was offered a tough task.
One of their donors asked them to set up a relief camp in the Balakot area of Hazara Division to provide water and sanitation facilities to 500 families. The project needed to be immediately completed because people including injured women, orphan children, and elderly people were without shelter.
Legend has it that Kakar’s team accepted the challenge and committed that they would finish the task within 72 hours because the then federal ministers Zubaida Jalal and Aftab Ahmad Sherpao were expected to visit the project along with a senior United Nations official.
The team hired about two hundred laborers and masons who worked day and night in the extreme cold weather. They reportedly completed the project five hours before the VIP delegation’s visit. Kakar’s boss at that time, Amjad Rashid, also TF’s chief executive officer, told me, “It was only possible because I had a committed man like Anwaar [Kakar] in my team who was supervising the work.” Rashid recalled seeing tears in Kakar’s eyes on the completion of the project and what that meant to the earthquake victims.
Kakar spent almost a year in disaster-hit areas where he organized medical camps and supervised relief work.
Rashid believes it was the time Kakar spent in the earthquake-hit areas that motivated him to join politics so that he could contribute to public welfare on a larger scale. Colleagues found Kakar talking about issues like poverty, inequality, and poor governance in Pakistan at all times during his time as a rescue worker. They found him as a “very passionate man committed to contributing more.”
Dec. 24, 2015, was a historic day for democracy in Baluchistan. Not because Sardar Sanaullah Zehri of the Pakistan Muslim League Nawaz was elected unopposed as the 22nd chief minister of the province but because Rahila Hameed Khan Durrani became the first woman ever elected as the Speaker of the Baluchistan Assembly. Unsurprisingly, Durrani’s election did not make as flashing headlines as Zehri’s.
A Baloch Hal editorial in May 2013 described Zehri as “worse than [Nawab Aslam] Raisani”, the former chief minister, because of his reputation of being rigid and confrontational toward other tribal and political leaders.
“The P.M.L-N. should immediately withdraw his name from the race [for chief ministership],” the editorial appealed even when his name was under consideration for the first time for the position soon after the general elections, “His appointment as the head of the government will not only fail in resolving the existing crises, but it will surely open new fronts of unwonted political and tribal clashes which will lead to further destabilization of Balochistan.”
Under the Muree Agreement, a power-sharing agreement signed between the National Party and the PML-N, Dr. Malik Baloch would relinquish his position as the chief minister within two and half years and pave the way for a PMLN appointee for the chief executive’s position. Zehri had been waiting for this day since joining the PML-N in 2010. His expectations only rose in 2012 after becoming PML’s provincial head. On his way, he faced a horrific personal tragedy: on April 16, 2013, the BLA targeted Zehri’s election convoy in Anjira area of Khuzdar district, killing his son, brother and a guard, besides injuring 25 people. Unsurprisingly, this pushed Zehri closer to the Pakistani establishment and instilled a profound dislike for the Baluch nationalists.
On his election, Zehri dedicated his tenure to “the martyrs of Baluchistan, including members of the armed forces, paramilitary and law enforcement agencies, and the civilians who lost their lives since 2002. All of them sacrificed their lives for the people of Baluchistan.”
Zehri ruled out the possibility of talking to Baluch nationalists who engaged in violence against the state.
“We will not talk to those killing innocent people,” he declared.
Despite the enormous tragedy of 2013, Zehri still failed to get much support across the province. He was not charismatic and barely popular among the public or fellow politicians. He needed someone who could channel his anger toward the Baluch nationalists with the right vocabulary.
On the other hand, Kakar was reaching a frustrating point in his political career. Despite being popular in the pro-military circles, on right-wing talk shows and Pakistani nationalists’ events, he was still unable to make the next big move in his political career. Somehow, he was lost in Baluchistan’s political wilderness. By now, he certainly knew where he wanted to go but didn’t know how. After all, he did not come from a politically influential family. Nobody in his family had ever been elected to a political position, whereas the Pakistani nationalists he socialized with had a long list of family members who had served on top political and military positions.
It was akin to sending numerous job applications and hearing no response for interviews. When faced with such a predicament, many individuals consider that embarking on an unpaid internship or engaging in volunteer work might pave the way for a breakthrough. After all, these experiences can serve as valuable stepping stones, depending on one’s chosen career path.
It was the mutual needs and mutual connections that connected Zehri and Kakar. It seemed like they were made for each other. Kakar needed the backing of a solid tribal chief (since he had already earned the military’s approval and clearance as someone they could trust and work with) while Zehri needed someone who could proactively defend his policies locally, nationally and internationally. As their stars aligned, Kakar got the opportunity to serve as Zehri’s spokesperson.
These were unquestionably trying times in Baluchistan, marked by a surge in violence involving various groups, ranging from Baluch separatists to the Taliban and Lashkar-e-Jhangvi. Even developmental initiatives like the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor were not immune to controversy and critique. Advocating for the military’s actions in Baluchistan would prove to be a challenging task, particularly in the face of mounting anti-Pakistan sentiments fueled by China’s growing presence in Gwadar, among the Baluch population.
Before Kakar’s appointment, the Baluch and Pashtun communities had largely adhered to an unspoken agreement not to interfere in each other’s political affairs. Even when certain segments of the Baluch nationalists advocated for Baluchistan’s independence, the Pashtuns typically refrained from commenting on their politics to avoid sparking communal tensions with their neighbors. Kakar’s selection marked the first instance where a Pashtun from Baluchistan would be the prominent face of the Pakistani state’s efforts against Baluch armed groups. For Kakar, his Pakistani identity held greater significance than his Pashtun identity. So, he did not care much about the consequences of his actions on Baluch-Pashtun relations.
In his new role, Kakar was tasked with delivering harsh criticism against the Baluch armed groups, which he did on a daily basis. Publicly labeling the BLA and similar organizations as “terrorists” typically came at a cost. It was essential to recognize that the public support for these Baluch armed groups did not solely stem from genuine admiration, as some Baluch considered them saviors. Instead, some of this support was rooted in fear, stemming from the belief that criticizing these groups could make one a target. This fear was not unfounded. Raziq Bugti, who had occupied a similar position to Kakar nearly a decade earlier, was assassinated on July 27, 2007, in Quetta, by the BLA due to his defense of the pro-Musharraf Pakistan Muslim League (Quaid-e-Azam) government. Bugti, once an emblem of Baluch nationalist student politics, underwent a transformation similar to Kakar’s, shifting from an anti-establishment stance to becoming a spokesperson for the Baluchistan government.
Bugti’s assassination resonated for years as a stark illustration of Baluchistan’s tribal elite exploiting educated individuals from the province’s middle class and subsequently abandoning them. When Bugti met his tragic end, there was no immediate response from government ministers or senior officials rushing to the hospital. Even during the procession to transport his coffin to his ancestral town of Sibi for burial, it was reported that the coffin fell off the ambulance due to the negligence of the staff entrusted with this solemn responsibility.
The Baluchistan Assembly, when it met on Aug. 6 even refused to offer fatiha (religious prayers) for Mr. Bugti where the Deputy Speaker of the Assembly, Mohammad Aslam Bhutani, rejected MPA Nasreen Katharan’s request to do so.
“This house is not meant to offer fatiha for everybody,” a smug Bhutani said although the house had offered fatiha for Afghan’s last king, Zahir Shah who had died three days before Bugti’s assassination.
When appointed as the spokesperson of the Baluchistan government, Kakar became a vocal critic of the Baluch separatists, calling them foreign-funded terrorists. Kakar saluted the armed forces for protecting the motherland in a province where the Baluch armed groups frequently attacked the Pakistani military and installations. He specifically remembered the names of the soldiers and non-Baluch victims of the BLA, such as the University of Baluchistan teacher Nazima Talib, whose cases he regularly cited to make his case that the BLA and its supporters deserved no sympathy but strict military action.
Kakar was soon emboldened after discovering he was not alone in the fight against the Baluch armed groups. He found an excellent company in Sarfaraz Bugti, Zehri’s Home Minister.
Both Kakar and Bugti were such rare, passionate Pakistani nationalists, supporters of the military and ardent critics of the the Baluch armed struggle that people often called Kakar the “Pashtun Sarfaraz Bugti” and termed Bugti the “Baluch Anwaar-ul-Haq Kakar.” For the military, they looked like a match made in heaven and sent to Baluchistan. They talked like each other, endorsed each other, retweeted each other, and liked each other’s posts on social media. If they went to school together, their backpacks and lunch boxes would probably have matching stickers.
Jokes aside, neither Kakar nor Bugti had an easy job. While they were the military’s favorite people in the violent province, they, at the same time, remained almost every insurgent group’s worst enemies in Baluchistan.
I recently spoke to Babar Yousafzai, the spokesperson of Baluchistan’s outgoing chief minister Abdul Quddus Bizenjo, about what it feels like being the spokesperson of the chief minister or the provincial government. One issue that he repeatedly mentioned was personal safety. While appearing before flashing cameras and moving from one talk show to the other seems glamorous, Yousafzai mentioned the risks of this position.
“There is no doubt that representing the provincial government or the Chief Minister is not an easy task,” he said, “since the spokesperson is the voice of the government or the chief minister, one has to use every word carefully.”
He noted that sometimes when a sensitive issue arises, the government or the chief minister steps back and wants the spokesperson to issue a statement or talk to the media.
“I think the life of a spokesperson is in more danger than a minister’s. One needs to choose one’s words cautiously,” said Yousafzai, who served on his job for eight months, admitting that he received threats from various militant groups.
“The spokesperson does not get as much security as they should,” he complained.
Unsurprisingly, Yousafzai did mention Bugti as an example of what could happen to the government spokesperson.
“Let me tell you a story,” he said, “in 2007, the then government spokesperson, a Baluch and a Bugti, was martyred while defending the government while the situation worsened.”
“I recall Raziq Bugti,” I replied “I was at the hospital the day he was killed.”
I had met Bugti on several occasions during his tenure as the spokesperson for Chief Minister Jam Yousaf. He was a down-to-earth and well-educated individual with a keen sense of humor. During one meeting at his office within the Chief Minister Secretariat, he casually mentioned that he had come to know about being included in a “hit list” by certain unnamed individuals. “I asked myself, why would they want to target me?” he recounted his initial reaction to the news, before adding in jest, “They should consider going after Hasil [Bizenjo],” playfully referring to the moderate Baluch nationalists from the National Party, whom hardliners like the BLA similarly labeled as “traitors” to the Baluch nationalist cause.
Kakar, too, realized that his job as Zehri’s spokesperson wasn’t easy.
The darkest day their government faced was Aug. 8, 2016, when an explosion by Islamic militants inside Quetta’s Civil Hospital killed 69 people, including 34 lawyers. Two months later, on Oct. 25, the Sunni extremist group, the Lashkar-e-Jhangvi, killed more than sixty people in an attack on Quetta’s Police Training Center. This happened only two weeks after the same group had targeted and killed four women from the Shia, Hazara community in Quetta.
Kakar, just like his boss Zehri, found it convenient to externalize the blame on India and Afghanistan instead of focusing on the government’s fundamental responsibility of protecting citizens.
“Here is the problem,” he once explained at a 2017 press conference with Home Minister Bugti, “the militant groups carry out terrorist attacks on one hand and then also unleash negative propaganda on the other hand that the State officials misuse their powers.”
He added, “This is a major challenge we must fight as a society and a state. These enemies of humanity are equally a threat to the state and the society. They are neither anyone’s friends nor will they ever be.”
Kakar used blame games and conspiracy theories to defend the Baluchistan government’s failure during some of the worst years. According to the Pakistan Institute for Peace Studies’ annual reports, Baluchistan recorded the highest number of terrorist attacks among all of Pakistan’s provinces with the second highest number of fatalities, whereas it recorded the highest number of terrorist attacks, deaths, and injuries in the country in 2016. The same trends continued in 2017. Yet, Kakar misled his contacts in Rawalpindi and Islamabad that the situation in Baluchistan was in control.
Kakar and I have known each other since 2006 through various forums that addressed the question of federalism and democracy in Pakistan. We met again after several years on April 15, 2016, at the Harvard Pakistan Forum in Cambridge, MA. The conference aimed “to provide a platform for better understanding Pakistan’s social-political context” as it hoped to “shed light upon the efficacy of Pakistan’s foreign policy and the intractability of the social issues that Pakistan suffers from.”
Kakar, who was then serving as the spokesperson of the government of Baluchistan, had literally and figuratively come a long way to speak on the panel “The Balochistan Question: Fostering Provincial Cohesion in Pakistan.”
Events and conferences on Baluchistan have become extremely difficult and risky in recent years. It is even harder to hold a balanced discussion on the topic. Hence, the only option the Baluch nationalists are left with is to host their own one-sided conferences outside Pakistan while the government of Pakistan regularly hosts its own events to project the government’s perspective. Events hosted by the Baluch nationalists portray a bleak picture by highlighting the injustices and the human rights violations the Baluch have to endure in the hands of the Pakistani security forces while the government-sponsored events project an economic revolution that is soon going to overtake Baluchistan under the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor.
The Pakistani military and its intelligence agencies regularly force universities and colleges to cancel any independent event on the troubled province. Only the ones that depict a “positive” image of Islamabad’s Baluchistan policy are allowed and often funded through public money.
You might think it is easy to host these events in the United States. No, it is not. The Pakistani embassy in Washington proactively ensures that any event that addresses Baluchistan is canceled or disrupted.
This issue further gets complicated when it comes to hosting an event on Baluchistan at an elite American university. Most Pakistani students in these prestigious schools come from urban Pakistan with almost no clue about Baluchistan. On top of it, a lot of them come from families that have connections with the country’s military and bureaucracy. These students are unsurprisingly patriotic and prone to embracing the state’s narrative. However, since identity politics and human and minority rights are trendy topics at American liberal institutions, many young Pakistani students begin to pay more serious attention to issues like Baluchistan when they are outside Pakistan.
I was curious to hear what Kakar would say on so many issues about Baluchistan. As luck would have it, I, as the only other panelist, was expected, if not required, to give counterarguments to everything Kakar said. We disagreed on almost everything.
Dr. Adil Najam, the renowned Pakistan-American academic, moderated the discussion.
“The issue [of Baluchistan] is so close to my heart and my soul,” he said but immediately switched to denial mode, “We are talking about some fancy vocabulary about missing persons, human rights violations by the state of Pakistan… A victim card is being played, and Baluchsitan’s under-development is being developed into a political narrative.”
Kakar was lying at one of the world’s most respected universities. Human Rights Watch had previously reported that hundreds of people had been forcibly disappeared in Balochistan since 2005.”
Kakar argued that the Pakistani forces complied with international norms and had a legitimate right to employ violence in the province.
Kakar insisted that the numbers provided by the Baluch nationalists on the missing persons were so exaggerated that they could mislead anyone. However, the actual number, he added, is not more than 50. “In India,” he said while referring to a United Nations report, “8,000 people are missing.” He denied that the missing persons in Baluchistan were not being brought before courts.
Kakar blamed the Baluch armed groups for initiating the violence in the province by noting that armed organizations like the BLA and the Baluch Liberation Front openly advocate an armed struggle to create a new country and they are willing to kill and die for that cause. In response, “The state has a legitimate right to violence, which is an accepted legal doctrine.”
“This is not counterinsurgency – it is barbarism and it needs to end now”, Human Rights Watch had previously said in response to such official claims, “The Pakistani security services are brazenly disappearing, torturing, and often killing people because of suspected ties to the Baloch nationalist movement.”
He spoke about the Punjabi settlers the Baluch armed groups had killed and noted that despite that, “these militants have a big foul mouth for human rights violations.”
Reiterating Pakistan’s official position, he said he had no doubt that India was behind the insurgency in Baluchistan. Otherwise, he added, there was no way for “a bunch of boys — about four to nine hundred — to take over the fifth largest army in the region.
He said he kept on hearing about military operations in Baluchistan. “There is no military operation in Baluchistan. It might be in somebody’s imagination.”
“Human rights abuses attributed to the [Pakistani] security agencies have created a climate of fear for the families of the disappeared [in Baluchistan]. They are terrified to speak out in fear that security agents will kill their loved ones or abduct other family members in reprisal,” said Amnesty International.
On the question of Greater Baluchistan, Kakar said:
“You can have fantastic ideas. You can have bad ideas.”
“Is it politically legitimate, given the international order? No.”
“Is it legitimate according to the constitution of Pakistan? No.”
“Does it carry a civil momentum at the mass level? No.”
“Is there a minority that’s representing that idea? Yes.”
“Does that minority have a weapon which is known to all of us as violence? Yes.”
My biggest surprise was Kakar’s admission that Baluchistan was into a “forced marriage” with Pakistan, a statement one mostly hears from the Baluch nationalists and not someone who represents the perspective of the Pakistani government.
At the end of the discussion, Dr. Najam asked me what I would have wanted Kakar to have said that he didn’t.
I replied, “I expected Anwaar [Kakar] to admit that there is a problem. We have committed crimes and made mistakes in Baluchistan, and we are trying to fix them. The state of denial scares me.”
When he asked the same question to Kakar about me, he minced no words.
“I expected him the same as what he said. I didn’t expect anything else from him.”
Kakar made a strategic move in early 2018 when he disembarked from Zehri’s ailing political vessel during a turbulent period marked by a looming no-confidence motion. His tenure as the spokesperson of the Baluchistan government, however, provided him with invaluable skills, expertise, and a network of connections that would prove instrumental in advancing his political journey. He had carved out a distinctive pro-Islamabad stance in a region where such voices were rare. While acknowledging his role in shaping the political landscape of the region, it is essential to maintain a balanced perspective and avoid overstating his affiliations with the Pakistani military.
For example, seasoned journalist Anwar Sajid characterized him as “the most important pillar of the [Pakistani] state in Baluchistan.”
While Kakar possesses the capability to promote the military’s perspective in the media, he does not possess the same operational capabilities as several other tribal leaders in the province who can deploy death squads, provide ground-level intelligence to the military, or mobilize large crowds. In simpler terms, he is not on par with figures like Shafiq Mengal or Jam Kamal in a province where tribal influence and connections continue to be the primary sources of the military’s control over Baluchistan.
Nonetheless, there are at least a few areas where Kakar has made a notable impact.
Shaping “Positive” Narratives
Baluchistan had gained a reputation as one of the deadliest places in the world for journalists and an inaccessible region for foreign journalists. The locals complained that the national media barely reported on Baluchistan’s issues while the government always whined that “positive news” about the province never made it to the national media. Whatever limited coverage the province got in the media, the government complained, was only about bomb blasts, killings, enforced disappearances etc.
Kakar took up the task of changing that perception.
He had this unique characteristic that he would invite national and international journalists to Baluchistan, offer them a selective tour of the good things that the government had done and then post a selfie with a prominent journalist on social media in an effort to use these journalists’ reputation as testament to the government’s openness to the media. Additionally, he would add flattering comments and descriptions in his captions to recruit the journalists in the mutual admiration group. For example, in photos he posted, he called senior journalist Wusatuallah Khan and Mubashir Zaidi as “journalistic icons”, while wrote about senior journalist Fahad Hussain that “decency” was ” his trait and part of his identity”. He called Saleem Safi “a household name.”
You might ask what the big deal is if a government official employs such tactics to “network” or “build relations” with the media. Or, you might also insist that journalists do not so easily compromise.
You might think it is not as if journalists will start writing flattering pieces for the government as a quid pro quo for having tea or dinner with a government official. You are probably overestimating some journalists’ professional integrity. For example, take Daily Jang’s columnist Mazhar Barlas. In his column of Aug. 15, 2023, he recalled how the military patronized him when Kakar was the spokesperson of the Baluchistan government: “We were often invited to Quetta and Gwadar when General Raheel Sharif was the Army Chief, General Amir Riaz was the Corps Commander and Asim Saleem Bajwa was the spokesperson of the Army.” He described Kakar’s selection as the caretaker prime minister as a decision by the “sensible ones.”
“When he talks,” Barlas wrote sycophantically about Kakar, “it feels like a philosopher is talking.”
Mansoor Afaq wrote in good faith that Kakar is a “pure Pakistani”, which is why he kept on getting closer to the Establishment leading up to his appointment as the caretaker prime minister.
While the Financial Action Task Force had removed Pakistan from its grey list for “strategic counter-terrorist financing-related deficiencies” in Oct. 2022, Afaq insisted this was done soon after Kakar was appointed the caretaker PM. “Now, we can expect better economic prospects and a decrease in Baluchistan’s problems. I am fully confident that this government will lead Pakistan to economic stability within a very short period…the Establishment will also fully support it.”
In Kakar’s social circle, nobody deprecates being close to the military or the Establishment.
Kakar’s obsequiousness was not confined to national journalists.
Pakistan has always received bad press due to its unwillingness to allow foreign journalists to Baluchistan, raising suspicions that the government has much to hide about the situation in the province.
The issue began to get more attention after Pakistani intelligence operatives subjected the New York Times reporter Carlotta Gall to physical aggression in Jan. 2007 in Quetta. According to NPR, these agents forcibly entered her hotel room, delivering blows to her head and face before forcefully throwing her to the ground.
“The reason, she was told: asking too many questions, and visiting parts of Pakistan they considered off limits,” NPR reported.
During this incident, the intelligence agents seized Gall’s notebooks, computer and cell phone, which were eventually returned after a few hours. Furthermore, her accompanying photographer also underwent detainment.
Fast forward, Pakistan ordered Declan Walsh, the Islamabad Bureau Chief for The New York Times, on May 9, 2013, to leave the country ahead of that year’s general elections. It is widely believed that Pakistan’s secret dirty war, an investigative piece he wrote for the Guardian in March 2011 about Baluchistan, deeply offended the Pakistani authorities leading up to his expulsion in the country. Walsh wrote:
“The bodies surface quietly, like corks bobbing up in the dark. They come in twos and threes, a few times a week, dumped on desolate mountains or empty city roads, bearing the scars of great cruelty. Arms and legs are snapped; faces are bruised and swollen. Flesh is sliced with knives or punctured with drills; genitals are singed with electric prods. In some cases the bodies are unrecognisable, sprinkled with lime or chewed by wild animals. All have a gunshot wound in the head… If you have not heard of this epic killing spree, though, don’t worry: neither have most Pakistanis. Newspaper reports from Baluchistan are buried quietly on the inside pages, cloaked in euphemisms or, quite often, not published at all.”
As the spokesperson of the Baluchistan government and a “true Pakistani”, Kakar was also expected to fix this widespread perception about Baluchistan being a no-go area or remaining under the military’s defacto control.
“Who says foreign journalists are not allowed in Baluchistan?” he’d ask defensively. “I have hosted Owen Bennett Jones of the BBC and Peter Oborne of Daily Mail London,” he’d say, referring to a March 2017 visit to Baluchistan of a group of foreign journalists.
Jones, a respected authority on Pakistan, confirmed visiting Quetta as a part of what he described as a “trip of some kind” with a group of seven or eight journalists who “somehow got to Quetta.” He added in a recent email exchange that he could not remember the precise details of the trip.
“Did the Government of Baluchistan pay for the trip?” I asked, “No,” he replied. “[The] BBC never accepts paid trips.”
Dated March 9, 2017, in an article from Quetta, Jones initiated a report with an overt observation that resembled a disclaimer.
“For a long time, Quetta, the capital of Pakistan’s Baluchistan province, has been a restricted area for foreign journalists,” Jones noted that Jihadist groups and separatists carried out violence in the province.
Kakar did not get everything he wanted from the visiting foreign journalists as Jones still included the parts of the story that Pakistan continues to deny: human rights violations, economic exploitation and destruction in the area.
On the contrary, Oborne lavishly praised the Pakistani military for its operations against the Taliban although he did admit being escorted and guided by the Pakistani military during his field trips.
“It is nothing short of miraculous that Pakistan survived after so many atrocities and disasters,” he wrote in Daily Mail, “This [the Pakistani military’s operations against the Taliban], then, is a story of optimism; of how the men of terror can be taken on and defeated.”
Exonerating the Pakistani military and the intelligence agencies from protecting the Taliban leaders inside Pakistan, Oborne blamed the local tribes for protecting the Taliban because “many of whom had strong links to Afghanistan.”
On March 4, 2017, Kakar posted a photo with two Telegraph journalists enjoying tea in Quetta to depict a tranquil and open Quetta to the foreign audience. Although it contradicted reality, it aligned with his role as the government spokesperson—striving to portray Baluchistan as insurgency-free to the global community.
(After all, according to Pakistan Institute for Peace Studies data, Baluchistan remained Pakistan’s most violent province in 2017, registering the greatest count of terrorist incidents, fatalities resulting from terrorism, and injuries stemming from these attacks.)
Four months before Kakar’s tea party stunt with the British media in Quetta, the BBC had quoted sources in Pakistan’s Ministry of Human Rights on Dec. 28, 2016, that at least one thousand dead bodies of Baluch political activists and suspected armed separatists had been found in Baluchistan over the past six years.
Kakar’s toadying behavior toward national and international journalists was no secret but he was unbelievably tough toward local journalists who did not meet his standards of patriotism.
“We are proponents of the freedom of the press and that of free opinion,” Kakar said in a statement on March 7, 2016, “but we cannot compromise on our national security and the peace of the province.”
He was defending the Baluchistan government’s decision to place two Baluch journalists on a terror watchlist under the infamous Fourth Schedule of the Anti-Terrorism Act that required people, if added to the list, to report to the local police station regularly.
On Jan. 26, 2016, Akbar Hussain Durrani, the Secretary of Home in Baluchistan, notified leaders of various security agencies and prominent local officials about designating Ali Raza Rind’s name. Secretary Durrani categorized Ali Raza Rind as an ‘activist’ affiliated with the BLA, a separatist insurgent organization that has been proscribed by the Pakistani government.
Rind, on his part, noted that he had faced government attempts to silence him due to his reporting. He highlighted security plan failures to protect Shia pilgrims from Sunni extremists. In his district, near Iran, Shia pilgrims cross into Iran, but Sunni extremist groups have targeted and attacked them. These incidents fueled demands for action against the extremists. Meanwhile, the government opted for muting reporters like Rind, who expose local administrative shortcomings.
The Baluchistan government produced no evidence of the journalist’s connections with the BLA. However, Kakar continued his blind support for every wrong decision of the security establishment.
“The Fourth Schedule is the rule of the law and the government would not compromise on our national security in the name of press freedom.” Despite confirming the inclusion of Rind’s name in the watchlist, Kakar insisted, “no one is above the law.”
Journalists’ bodies weren’t impressed with Kakar’s rhetoric and mouthful of nationalistic tone.
They fought back.
Members of the Pakistan Federal Union of Journalists based in Islamabad vehemently condemned the government’s intimidation of local journalists.
Kakar retaliated.
“There is one journalist in Islamabad,” Kakar said, “who is working on an agenda to present the government’s actions under the National Action Plan in Baluchistan negatively.”
He was alluding to Bilal Dar of Daily Jang, who triggered a surge of menacing phone calls, threats and intimidation by standing in solidarity with the Baluch journalist via PFUJ.
Kakar, never lacking in patriotic rhetoric, urged journalists to back the government in “this significant battle.”
“Help us end yellow journalism and expose such people,” Kakar said, warning that any efforts to make the National Action Plan controversial by the “Islamabad-based journalist” would not be tolerated.
Globetrotting Image Fixer
While some frequently complain how much the Pakistani establishment has done to reward people like Kakar for siding with them, they often forget how much work the Establishment makes them do. One pertinent area to look at is sending these hyper Pakistani nationalists overseas on trips to counter “anti-Pakistan propaganda.” Since foreign human rights groups or the media often talk about Baluchistan in a way that embarrasses Islamabad, legislators from Baluchistan are often sent overseas with the expectation to tell the world how happy they are with Pakistan and how much they love the country and how false the reports of discontent and disillusion in Baluchistan are.
The Pakistanis became more cognizant of the need to do so after India’s External Affairs Minister Sushma Swaraj mentioned Baluchistan in her 2016 address at the United Nations.
“I can only say that those accusing others of human rights violations would do well to introspect and see what egregious abuses they are perpetrating in their own country, including in Baluchistan. The brutality against the Baluch people represents the worst form of state oppression,” she said.
With the bare minimum qualifications being the ability to speak good English, Kakar has remained an integral part of delegations representing and defending Pakistan’s policies overseas. One common theme and pattern seen during these trips is their vehement denial of any reports of human rights violations or economic exploitation in Baluchistan. They insist that reports of Baluch disillusionment with Pakistan are mere propaganda. Additionally, they use these opportunities to speak less about Baluchistan and talk more about India’s injustices in Kashmir.
As a part of a similar trip to the United States in the spring of 2019, Kakar met with the Pakistani community in Baltimore, MD, on Sept. 23, 2019. One major takeaway that he had to share with folks back home in Baluchistan was this: “[The Pakistani] diaspora [in the United States is] deeply concern[ed] over [the] grim human rights situation in Indian occupied kashmir.”
On the same day, Kakar said he “felt home” meeting with Pakistani-American journalists at the Pakistani Embassy in Washington D.C. Once again, he expressed concern over the “grave situation in Kashmir” where he added, all India had was “mass rape, torture enforced disappearance.”
Kakar remained obsessed with India. Everywhere he went, all he reported back to his social media followers was about discussions on India and Kashmir.
“Beside over all discussions on region, there was a focus on human rights violation and valleys situation as a largest prison in the world,” he tweeted after a meeting with Daniel Markey of the Johns Hopkins University’s School of Advanced International Studies (SAIS).
On September 29, Kakar and Mir Zia-ullah Langau, Baluchistan’s Home Minister and fellow delegate, provided a detailed progress report of their activities during the trip. They claimed they had shared “evidence of Indian involvement in terrorism in Baluchistan” with the U.S. State Department and representatives of various think tanks.
They said they had presented “solid evidence” of how India had spoiled the peace in Baluchistan by intervening there. They expressed satisfaction that the Baluch armed groups were being listed among global terrorist organizations under their outreach and advocacy.
“India cannot fool the world by using Baluchistan’s name to divert attention from Kashmir… not only are the people of Pakistan but that of Baluchistan are willing to fight shoulder-to-shoulder in the struggle for Kashmir’s independence,” they said in an interview with a news agency.
Kakar always did an impressive job overseas in reiterating Pakistan’s official position that the conflict in Baluchistan was manageable. However, back home in Baluchistan, he accepted another critical role: Bringing young people to the pro-establishment camp through fancy events and conferences at Quetta’s top hotels, including the luxurious Serena.
Kakar’s proactive role in organizing events like the Human Resourc Development for the Youth of Baluchistan: Opportunities and Challenges on Dec. 17, 2017, at Serena, was as much a secret as the robust logistical support it received from the military. Such events were intentionally designed to recognize and reward “positive” and “talented” young people for promoting and defending the army in a province where the army’s popularity among the Baluch population is abysmally low. The chips were so down that the military even had to incentivize patriotism in Baluchistan through lavish conferences.
Kakar often shares one of his favorite life statements.
“Life is about chances and choices. Sometimes, you get a chance and sometimes you make a choice. You are known for the chances you get and remembered for the choices you pick.”
At Serena on that day, he recited a slightly different version of the quote.
“Our choices lead us whatever we are. We either make good choices or bad choices, right choices or wrong choices. But these choices carry consequences.”
He probably hinted at his own deliberate choice of joining the military’s camp.
As the event’s architect, Kakar was undoubtedly the star of the show but he was, at the same time, not the biggest star of the day. It was instead General Qamar Javed Bajwa, Pakistan’s army chief.
“Pakistan is incomplete without Baluchistan,” General Bajwa said, “Baluchistan’s progress is Pakistan’s progress.”
General Bajwa said there was a time when only a few officers in the Pakistan Army belonged to Baluchistan but now 20,000 “sons of Baluchistan” served in the Army, including 600 of them as officers.
For a moment, Bajwa remained nostalgic about the good old days when Quetta in the 1960s had been home to some of Pakistan’s best schools, but, he added, ten thousand teachers left the province, causing the deterioration of the education standards in the province.
Unsurprisingly, Bajwa did not utter a word about enforced disappearances and the human rights abuse the military was accused of carrying out in Baluchistan. Yet, he admitted that the poor state of law and order was one reason behind Baluchistan’s lack of progress. He noted that he had recommended Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif to send good bureaucrats to Baluchistan but even bureaucrats from Baluchistan do not want to serve in the province.
As a pitch to join the military, Bajwa said the Pakistan Army gave high importance to merit. “It is this reason that a common man like me could become a general and now I am heading the institution. Likewise, merit should be a priority in all of our institutions to ensure progress.”
Government Glossies
Contrary to Bajwa’s insistence on merit, there was a growing perception in Baluchistan that the military was patronizing and promoting sycophants and fake patriots in the province’s politics, civil society and educational institutions to replace original, indigenous and principled people to advance its own goals.
If you ever asked for an example, Kakar’s name wouldn’t miss the list.
The media was the newest target of this onslaught.
And that brings us to the elephant in the room: The Voice of Balochistan.
Kakar’s no affiliation has been criticized as much as his role as the patron-in-chief of the Voice of Balochistan, a pro-military publication that simultaneously claims to be an “independent organization” but also admits “working in collaboration with the Government of Baluchistan since 2016.”
If you ever want to know what the military actually wants in Baluchistan, especially from the Baluch youth, check out their website. The publication glorifies the Pakistani military, highlights its social welfare work, relief operations and promotes Pakistani nationalists. With a vision “to establish VOB as the largest youth-based alternative media platform of the province, the Voice of Balochistan has been widely criticized for its lack of transparency on its sources of funding.
However, if this publication was not linked to Kakar, it would hardly get any attention in serious circles because of its inability to actually attract a wide readership or produce excellent journalism. Despite its high-quality graphics and abundant financial and human sources, the publication does not rank among Baluchistan’s top ten or twenty publications.
It is a venture whose failure is only compensated by spending more public money on it. If Kakar’s initial intent while launching this publication was to counter the Baluch nationalists, the sad news for him is this: The Baluch nationalists enjoy significant superiority and sophistication in their use of digital and social media platforms. For instance, news organizations do seriously follow the feeds from organizations like the BLA and the BLF for any claims of responsibility for a major violent attack. The statements, photographs and video clips and social media posts sent out by the Baluch armed groups are often used or cited by established news organizations.
Is the Voice of Balochistan a success or a failure? It depends on who you ask. It is an absolute failure to produce excellent journalistic stories. However, it does not as easily get detected and called out for its pro-military propaganda as it should be. Because such content is so widespread in the country, both in print and broadcast media, they have become normal.
Pakistanis have been fed pro-military propaganda for too long. Since the mega success of the 1998 show Alpha Bravo Charlie, many citizens have mistaken the ISPR, the military’s media wing, for a commercial production company.
Concerning Baluchistan, pro-military propaganda has even trickled down to the so-called national mainstream media. Even Dawn, the nation’s most influential English newspaper, isn’t neutral while covering the military. It describes soldiers as ‘martyrs’ when killed while labeling everyone else, including civilians, as “killed.” The Express Tribune, which brands itself as a partner publication of the New York Times, recently published what seemed like a planted congratulatory piece about the Frontier Corps, another unit of the Pakistani security apparatus that has been blamed and condemned for human rights abuses in Baluchistan.
In that context, VOB is employing journalism as a guise to further its propagandist agenda.
It faces what Kakar philosophically calls good and bad choices: Use its enormous resources to become a credible local news source or be known as the army’s foremost propaganda platform in Baluchistan.
Born in Baluchistan’s Qilla Saifullah District in 1971, Kakar’s youth was marked with tragedy after the death of his father, Itesham-ul-Haq, a senior bureaucrat, when Kakar was only 18 and the oldest child. His family had no political background. His dad wanted him to become a civil servant or join the army.
“Politics would be the last thing my father would want me to get into,” he recalls.
Kakar attended Quetta’s prestigious St. Francis’ Grammar School, whose alumni include former Pakistani Prime Minister, Mir Zafarullah Khan Jamali. One day, Kakar would return to his alma mater to teach Pakistan Studies and Islamic Studies.
In 1984, the young Kakar was selected for the Federal Government Nominees, an initiative of the General Zia-ul-Haq regime that intended to integrate young people from the country’s under-represented regions into the national mainstream. The program had been launched as Zia began to clean up the mess the military operation of the 1970s had created in Baluchistan after the dismissal of the province’s first elected government led by Sardar Attaullah Mengal. Under that initiative, the federal government selected students from relatively under-developed regions like Baluchistan, Gilgit-Baltistan, and the Federally Administered Tribal Areas and placed them in the country’s prestigious educational institutions. Kakar got into Cadet College Kohat under the fully paid scholarship. He loved his time so much that he still calls Khyber Pakhtunkhwa his “second home.”
From Kohat, Kakar returned to Quetta where he spent one year with his sick dad, who died of multiple myeloma, a form of cancer, at age 44.
“The death of a parent at 44 creates a void,” Kakar said in an interview, “It leaves you with a dilemma that you have to understand the magnitude of the great loss but, at the same time, not let it derail you.”
Kakar earned a master’s in Philosophy from the University of Baluchistan in Quetta. He credits that degree for exposing him to political thought. He learned about various themes of politics, from secularism to theocracy and modern liberal democracy.
If you ask Kakar how he got interested in politics, his instant response would be, “I don’t know.” But if you probe him deeper, he’ll eventually open up: Traveling back to his days in Kohat where hearing Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto’s name would trigger romance and some curiosity.
“Overhearing that we had a prime minister who was hanged sounded very unusual,” he remembers. Kakar believes it was reading My Dearest Daughter: A letter from the death cell, a booklet based on a letter Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto wrote to his daughter Benazir Bhutto on June 21, 1978, that instilled an interest in politics in him.
Kakar wasn’t always a Pakistani nationalist.
His political views changed with time.
His was certainly not a unique case of flipping political loyalties.
Numerous activists and leaders, whether on a national or local scale, initially embraced left-leaning ideologies but subsequently underwent shifts in their political allegiance, transitioning to the right and vice versa.
Baluchistan had its own share of such examples: Nawab Akbar Bugti turned from a Pakistani loyalist to the biggest icon of the anti-Islamabad Baluch nationalist camp. Ghaus Baksh Bizenjo, once even critical of Baluchistan joining the newly established Pakistan, became so pro-Pakistan that he named his political party the Pakistan National Party by the end of his life.
Kakar remained a member of the Pukhtoon Students Federation (PSF), a leftist and nationalist student organization affiliated with the Awami National Party. Founded in 1968, the PSF identifies itself as leftist, secular, liberal, progressive and nationalist. He reportedly served as PSF’s president at Tameer-e-Nau College in Quetta. As he grew older, he fell in love with the ANP, which was, according to him, undergoing an internal ideological conflict/contest between the nationalists and the socialists.
“I’d call myself a follower of the progressive group whose leaders included Afrasiab Khattak, Raziq Bugti and Habib Jalib,” he recalls the days when Che Guevara was the political symbol and hero of liberation movements in Asia.
Just like millions of followers of socialism, the disintegration of the Soviet Union came as a big shock to Kakar, who religiously believed in socialism. He saw what he calls the collapse of the “political deities.”
“We were emotionally involved with socialism,” he says, “The romantic ideas began to shatter, opening doors for genuine thirst for answers.”
Afterward, he made a “conscious decision” to move from the political left to the center of the right. He has an exact phrase for that transformation: A shift from Khushal (the 17th-century Pashtun poet) to Iqbal (the twentieth-century Muslim poet and Philosopher).
Kakar became a Pakistani nationalist after realizing that language and race were insufficient to determine and protect the political and economic rights of their followers. He opposes nationalism because he argues that overemphasizing one’s race and ethnicity can lead to chauvinism and fascism.
On March 29, 2018, an air of celebration enveloped the Chief Minister’s Secretariat in Quetta. The scene was marked by an impressive assembly of Baluchistan’s most affluent and politically influential figures and families. They had gathered to officially unveil a new political entity, the Baluchistan Awami Party (BAP). What distinguished this occasion was the palpable sense that these influential individuals and families, who had long benefited from the support of the Pakistani establishment, were now passing on their political legacies to the next generation. They were earnestly striving to safeguard their political interests, effectively seeking to ensure the establishment’s continued patronage for years to come. Despite their appearance as mavericks, they were simultaneously dependent on Islamabad for support and protection of their political survival.
The BAP represented the culmination of mounting discontent among Baluchistan’s tribal elite, often referred to as “electables,” with the two dominant political parties in Pakistan, i.e., the Pakistan Muslim League and the Pakistan People’s Party. The electables, along with certain factions within the military establishment, voiced their grievances for the following reasons:
Firstly, they believed that both parties were excessively accommodating Baluch nationalists and political leaders sympathetic to their demands. For instance, they interpreted the 18th Constitutional Amendment and the Aghaz-e-Haqooq-e-Baluchistan package by the PPP as concessions to appease nationalists and as attempts to diminish the federal government’s authority.
Secondly, they were displeased with the federal ruling parties for imposing their preferred candidates as the chief ministers of Baluchistan. In the case of the PPP, after the 2008 general elections, it was seen as unjust to appoint the PPP’s Nawab Mohammad Aslam Raisani as the province’s chief minister when the PPP had 14 seats in the provincial assembly compared to PML’s 19. Similarly, after the 2013 elections, Mian Nawaz Sharif, whose party had national-level success, supported the election of Dr. Abdul Malik Baluch as the chief minister of the province to include and reconcile with Baluch nationalists, despite Dr. Baluch’s party having won only ten seats in the provincial assembly, while Pakhtunkhwa Milli Awami Party (14) and PML-N (12) had more seats. The electables perceived this as a disregard for their electoral victories and as unwarranted interference in provincial matters.
Following Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif’s disqualification by the Supreme Court on July 28, 2017, the resignation of Baluchistan Chief Minister Sardar Sanaullah Zehri on Jan. 9, 2018, due to an internal revolt within his party, and the success of “independent” candidates in the Senate elections from Baluchistan (winning six out of eleven seats), the electables began to recognize their potential. They started to believe that they could establish their own federalist party, one that could counter Baluch and Pashtun nationalists as well as religious parties in Baluchistan, while also giving them a stronger bargaining position with the country’s mainstream parties, including the PTI.
Consequently, this group of tribal elite decided it was time to assert their political significance and break free from the dominant national parties. While some critics call BAP the brainchild of the establishment, others credit Kakar for pitching the concept of forming such a party, which was subsequently approved.
In a later explanation, Kakar stated, “Whether you call it a plan, intrigue, conspiracy, or simply strategic thinking, the notion arose that mainstream parties had taken us for granted for the past seven decades. Why not separate from them and establish our own political party, one that engages in federal politics while championing Baluchistan’s interests? We can negotiate more effectively this way.”
For Kakar, who had never directly won an election, not even for a provincial assembly seat, and who had only held a senatorial position for less than a month, the launch of the BAP marked a significant milestone in his political career. This was evident at the launch event, attended by notable figures such as the then Chief Minister Abdul Qudoos Bizenjo, provincial Home Minister Sarfaraz Bugti, over ten provincial ministers, and other members of the provincial assembly. Kakar had clearly emerged as a central figure driving this new political party/movement.
What made this event even more remarkable was that someone with little to no significant political background like Kakar managed to gather such strong support from prominent tribal and political leaders. While the presence of numerous influential figures aligned with Islamabad was noteworthy, what truly deserved attention was the gathering of this next generation of political inheritors:
- Nawabzada Paxmir Marri: Son of Nawab Jangiz Marri, the Central Vice President of the PML-N.
- Sardarzada Jamil Nasir: The son of PM-N MNA Sardar Dur Mohammad Nasar
- Shahzad Bhoothani: The son of former interim chief minister and MPA Sardar Saleh Bhootani
- Bajar Khan Domki: The son of provincial minister Sardar Sarfaraz Chakar Khan Domki.
- Sardarzada Aurangzain Katheran: Son of JUI MPA Sardar Abdur Rehman Katheran.
- Hasnain Hashimi: The son of Saeed and Ruquiya Hashmi.
You might think that the icons of the Baluch nationalist movements are the last ones to be mentioned at a gathering of so many pro-Islamabad political elites. But, Kakar, who would serve as the central spokesperson of this newly formed party, would make that happen.
“This is a pleasant beginning for Baluchistan. This party combines the people of Baluchistan and its political elite. It will be a bouquet that will include people related to Yousaf Aziz Magsi, Mir Ghaus Baksh Bizenjo, the Khan of Kalat, Nawab Khair Baksh Marri and those who took a deep interest in the province’s politics and played a big role,” he said in an effort to make the party sound more legitimate and representative of the sections of the families of the key leaders of the Baluch nationalist movement that were not associated with the separatist movement but in the Pakistani camp.
Kakar said the BAP would emerge as a true partner of the federation.
“There will be no voices of blackmail coming from this province. Instead, it will be a voice that a child raises toward his mother or the head of a family. This will be a party of the people of Baluchistan. This platform will be the voice of a strong federation as it will fight for Baluchistan’s constitutional rights.”
Kakar added, “We are a part of a bigger home called Pakistan. If God forbid someone tries to break Pakistan or shake its foundations, the people from Baluchistan would be the first ones to raise their voices, shed their blood and sacrifice themselves to protect Pakistan.”
Kakar rationalized the creation of the new party on the grounds that the mainstream parties, the Pakistan Muslim League and the Pakistan People’s Party, consistently marginalized Baluchistan by relegating it to a position of lesser importance. Even after Pakistan gained independence in 1947, Baluchistan continued to be overlooked, much like it had been treated as a British colonial backwater. According to him, this neglect persisted primarily because Baluchistan lacked its own federalist party.
“The BAP is a partnership between the political elite of Baluchistan and its masses,” Kakar said, “you can see a combination of both classes.”
As the architect of BAP, Kakar had every reason to rejoice his political success as the newly formed party went on not only to win the 2018 general elections in the province but also get its man, Jam Kamal Khan, the party’s president, installed as the provincial chief minister. In another unusual success, BAP got its man, Sadiq Sanjarani, elected as the Chairman of Pakistan’s senate the same day he took the oath of office as a first-time senator, making him the youngest and the first-ever Chairman of the Senate from Baluchistan.
Furthermore, some circumstances lay beyond Kakar’s control, one of which was the recurring inclination of the electables to stage revolts against their own chief ministers as a means to secure additional development funds, often euphemized as “political bribes.” BAP encountered its internal rebellion in the autumn of 2021 when 12 members of the provincial assembly (MPAs) supported a vote of no confidence against Chief Minister Jam Kamal Khan. This eventually led to his resignation on Oct. 24, 2021. Khan attributed his removal to a lengthy list of allegations against his fellow party members, labeling it as a drama driven by jealousy and an insatiable desire for the role of the chief minister.
Whether the uprising against Khan stemmed solely from within the party or had elements of external influence, it debunked the belief of BAP’s founders that the primary hurdle faced by Baluchistan was interference from Islamabad in the province’s political affairs. If the revolt was orchestrated in Islamabad and carried out in Baluchistan, it also contradicted the assertions of BAP’s founders that establishing the new party would shield it from any external interference or directives from mainstream national parties in its internal decision-making processes.
This was the first but it will certainly not be the last major rebellion within BAP.
In the end, two pressing questions persist: Firstly, what is the longevity of BAP? Secondly, why has Islamabad still not managed to gain the trust and support of ordinary Baluch people, despite having the backing of numerous tribal chiefs and their descendants through BAP?
Five years down the line, BAP has achieved the extraordinary feat of having its members become chief ministers, the provincial assembly Speaker, and even the Chairman of the Senate of Pakistan. Yet, amidst all this success, it has an Achilles’ heel: stopping people from bursting into laughter just by hearing the name. Saying “BAP, which in Urdu means father, is still taken as a secret code for the Army that’s considered to be the real architect of the party. For years, the party has failed to justify the Awami (public) part of its name.
The common people in Baluchistan do not still view it as ‘our party’. Instead, they view it as the “party of our Sardar/Nawab”. BAP’s formation and Kakar’s selection as the caretaker prime minister have one thing in common: They reflect the military establishment’s penchant for procrastination with respect to the Baluchistan conflict. Since the Establishment does not have a clear or workable policy toward the province, it continues to make such nonsensical decisions to buy more time. This also helps distract people from the blunders Islamabad and its allies in Quetta have made over the years.
Kakar and Bugti have thrived on one formula: Manipulating Islamabad’s bizarre appetite for “patriotic Pakistanis” in Baluchistan. They know Pakistani nationalism sells in Islamabad and Rawalpindi. But the problem is such hyper-nationalism does not fix longstanding political issues, nor does it help in winning the minds and hearts of the Baluch people. The Establishment’s excessive use of the BAP in an effort to demonstrate its commitment to ‘accommodate’ the people of Baluchistan will eventually backfire because it seems so openly scripted. It seems no coincidence that the deeply unpopular Bizenjo of the BAP, who only won 544 votes in the 2013 general elections, ended up twice becoming Baluchistan’s chief minister; the BAP’s little-known Sadiq Sanjrani became the Chairman of the Senate of Pakistan on the very first day of his election as a senator; Kakar, who’s never won a local election, but still managed to score the role of prime minister.
Episodes like Kakar’s appointment may inadvertently provide ammunition for Baluch separatists to ridicule the credibility and robustness of Pakistan’s democracy. The question remains: How can Islamabad effectively counter their skepticism?
The writer is the editor of the Baluch Hal. E-mail: editor@thebaluchhal.com
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The Baluch Hal 
The author seems to have a deep understanding of the Baluchistan politics and history. Hope he converts it into a book, without becoming a target himself (if he is not already) of the deep Pakistani state.
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Very insightful article. Thanks for sharing
Mushtaq Rajpar
Schar School of Policy and Govt
George Mason University, Arlington, VA, USA
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