Edition: U.S. / Global

Crackdown Makes Inroad in Lawless Karachi

Published: February 10, 1999

Murderous and macabre, Karachi is a patch quilt of robust commerce and urban detritus, where modern seaside high rises loom above mud-caked squatter colonies and much of the water supply is delivered by donkey cart.

Common thugs moonlight as political operatives, and a Kalashnikov rifle is easy to rent for $10 a week. With 10 million people, it is one of the world's largest and most dangerous cities.

For nearly a decade, two predatory political factions with terrorist elements -- the Muttahida Qaumi Movement and its rival offshoot, the Haqiqi -- have fought each other and, very often, the police and the army.

Karachi has slipped back and forth between times of deadly mayhem and brutal crackdowns, the one a disease that is crippling the city and the other a temporary remedy that many here say only insures more violence ahead.

Right now is a period of crackdown. Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif has used his constitutional powers to turn over control of Sindh Province, which includes Karachi, to his appointed Governor, Moinuddin Haider.

''What choice was there, with terrorists killing people every day, mutilating their bodies, cutting them up, stuffing them in sacks and dropping them around the city?'' asked Governor Haider, a recently retired and well-respected general.

Much of Pakistan, not just this city, suffers from lawlessness. While Mr. Sharif's get-tough tactics may combat crime, it is commonly believed that he also wants tighter control over his economically troubled country at a time when his popularity has plummeted.

In Karachi, police officers and paramilitary troops were unleashed to capture people accused of being terrorists, and thousands of people were taken into custody like minnows in a seine.

Workers of the M.Q.M., Karachi's main political party, have been particular targets of the crackdown. The party successfully competes in elections and ruthlessly kills and extorts in the streets. Its support comes from Urdu speakers, known as Mohajirs, whose families came from India a half-century ago and formed much of the city's business class.

For ''the speedy and inexpensive justice'' that he insists is a must, Mr. Sharif had little faith in the existing courts and their overwhelmed, oftenintimidated civilian judges. In December, citing conviction rates of less than 1 percent, he enlisted military officers to try criminal cases, a strategy he says he now hopes to expand to the rest of the country.

Under the procedures in Sindh, Governor Haider chooses cases for three-judge military tribunals, and the time between a trial and an execution is measured in weeks.

The near-hanging of Mohammad Saleem, 14, is an example of how this refashioned justice is working, though whether these workings are a horror or a triumph is in dispute.

Too Young for Trial, He Was Tried Anyway

During one of the military's swiftly held trials, Mohammad, an illiterate carpet weaver, was convicted along with several others in the terrorist murder of three policemen. No defense was presented for the teenager, though he had a solid alibi and witnesses to prove it. Ignored as well was his age. He was too young to be legally tried as an adult.

On the other hand, the young man lives, and to many here that shows that the system is fair as well as fast. Though Mohammad had but three days to appeal, an outcry from the shanties where he lived was enough to alert human rights lawyers to his case. A second military panel set him free.

In two months, 13 people have been sentenced to death, though after a murderer and a rapist went to the gallows, the Supreme Court suspended further executions and is considering whether the Prime Minister had the right to set up this parallel system of justice.

Soldiers Now Handle Many Civilian Chores

Whatever the legality, the effects have been tranquilizing. The number of murders in Karachi, by official statistics, has fallen sharply. Last June's monthly total was 139; December's was 37.

Such statistics are encouraging to Mr. Sharif, who has increasingly relied on the military for civilian chores. Soldiers now run the Government's water and power company. They conducted the census in this, the world's eighth-most-populous country, and are repairing the roads.

The crackdown in Karachi involves political calculation on Mr. Sharif's part, some say. ''Sharif had an alliance with the M.Q.M., and when the deal came apart he did what any cutthroat would do,'' said Ardeshir Cowasjee, an acerbic political commentator and retired businessman. ''In this country everything is possible in the name of power and greed.''

In February 1997, when Mr. Sharif was elected, his party, the Pakistan Muslim League, made a deal with the Muttahida Qaumi Movement. Together they held enough legislative seats to form a coalition to head Sindh's provincial government.

But from the start the partners bickered about how the deal was being fulfilled. Political violence again menaced the peace. Muttahida Qaumi terrorists, including some newly sprung from jail, were taking revenge against the Haqiqi faction and against law enforcement, occasionally using rockets and grenades.

When the coalition finally came apart, the police, who had been held back while the M.Q.M. shared power, were pleased to be set loose.