KARACHI - After days of rumours about an impending operation in Karachi, it was with some concern that a planeload of media persons landed in the city. With the PMLN’s restrained affection for the press, the possibility of being used for target practice could not be entirely dismissed. And once in the room, Choudhary Nisar’s corpse-like demeanour did little to allay concern.
Quickly, the scene fell into play. A journalist scrounging for paper and pen was offered a typed-up sheet by a PID official with the polite entreaty, “Please, don’t read it.” Naturally, the document was thoroughly examined and failed to inspire much in the way of imagination. It mentioned the usual suspects of political jargon: “Stakeholders”, “common menace”, “professional acumen.” It was the PM’s speech points; the kind of document designed to make talking easy, while saying nothing at all.
The press conference was scheduled before the cabinet meeting, presumably to relieve the media of the burden of staying till after to ask questions about what transpired in the boardroom. The PM eased into his introductory remarks to the tinkle of a glass being knocked off a table by Khawaja Asif’s elbow, and shattering to the floor. The gathering of media persons were similarly bowled when over when the PM said he wanted to “hear what the press has to say.” There was to be no briefing. “Yeh interview nahin, yahaan tabadala-e-khayaal ho raha hai.” (Read: Please refrain from irritating questions about what my plan is and just tell me what to do.)
Since this is as close a journalist will ever get to being ‘King for a day’ – unless you get a leg up in a caretaker government – participation was enthusiastic. Karachi’s problems, we said, are “two million unlicensed weapons”, “legal parameters under which Rangers operate are too narrow”, “unofficial liberties Rangers take are too many”, “criminals have better equipment and transport than Karachi police”, “the judiciary needs guts”, “the judiciary is at very real risk of being disembowelled if it shows guts”, “not enough jails”, “not enough jailed”…and so on. “Yes, we know,” came the response from the PM. “Now tell us what to do.”
There was some confusion, it must be confessed, as we realised we had just been thrust with the responsibility of governing the nation. But flattery, even for a room full of journalists, keenly possessed of their own importance, has its limits. After breaking its’ own rule of flying over twenty odd media persons from all over the country at the treasury’s expense, we were kind of hoping to hear the good news that the government knew exactly what to do. Nawaz Sharif, displaying this kind of uncertainty and inviting us all to the viewing? Something was amiss.
The clue came from Choudhary Nisar.  Adopting an air of pained endurance at having to listen to the press give their opinion on things surely well beyond their ken, the interior minister allowed himself a sardonic smile at suggestions he considered particularly silly. Things became clear slowly.
Nawaz Sharif only asks a question when he thinks he already knows the answer. We weren’t there to give our opinion. We were there to confirm his.  Without giving away any information, the PM had us construct the case, fight it and defend it, while he sat back and offered gentle encouragement. The general consensus was that ‘something must be done’. And that was what the PM had wanted to hear. We, the press, were delivering to ourselves the press briefing the PM had invited us to attend.
Towards the end of it, the PM was looking like a bored reporter, stifling a yawn and scrawling in a notebook. Choudhary Nisar rose and walked into the adjoining boardroom. The PM joined him, and we were shooed into the tea-room. Cabinet sat to a session. A few hours later, the Interior Minister emerged and announced the Rangers would be leading an operation in Karachi.
We really hope they know what they’re doing.
Twitter: @rameezanizami
Email: rnizami@nawaiwaqt.com.pk