International Jihadists Use Karachi as Hub
Spiegel, 25 Nov 2010
Part 2 of 2
Globalized Jihad
Elahi is wearing a long white shirt. He is thin and has a hook-shaped nose. He feels completely safe. He smiles self-confidently as he eats his plate of pulao, a traditional dish of mutton with rice and raisins. He never looks at the female reporter during the entire conversation.
Elahi's militant group was only founded a few years ago. It calls itself the "Mujahideen Islam" and reflects a new form of globalized jihad in which everyone cooperates with everyone else. Elahi's leaders either fought in Afghanistan or as underground fighters against India in Kashmir. Later they turned against the Pakistani government.
Of course, says Elahi, his first goal is to "liberate" his brothers in Afghanistan, but he also has sympathy for the al-Qaida militia that committed the attack on Omar Shahid's police station a few days ago, as well as Muslims in Palestine, Somalia and Yemen. Elahi works for the worldwide caliphate. He helps wherever he can.
He passes on messages, sends money and arranges meetings. His family owns a three-room apartment on Asif Square. They are cattle traders, the perfect cover for Elahi's real business. "We are on the right track," he says. "The Americans are almost ready to leave the country. They can't hang in there forever. You don't have to be an academic to understand that."
There is a small police station diagonally across the street. These days, no police officer dares to venture into the notorious Pashtun district on foot. Only the best man at the station, Major Irfan Bahadur, patrols the neighborhood -- in two SUVs with machine guns mounted on them.
Part 3: A Suicide Bomber for $300
They say that it is now possible to buy a suicide bomber in Karachi for 25,000 rupees (about $300 or €220). "Poverty is to blame, and so is the poor political leadership," says a high-ranking intelligence officer. He is referring to the president, Asif Ali Zardari, whose PPP is itself part of the undeclared civil war in Karachi.
It is an eternal game of mutual recrimination. The role of the notorious Pakistani intelligence agency, Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), is anything but clear in Karachi. For years, ISI agents have supported the military forces that are helping to uphold Pakistan's interests in Afghanistan and Kashmir. At the same time, the ISI is fighting radical splinter groups that are now targeting the Pakistani government and that even attacked the army headquarters in Rawalpindi in 2009. The ISI leadership still believes that it can rein in the radical forces it has unleashed at any time. But those forces are now acting out of control.
In the 1970s, young Europeans and Americans used to stroll through Karachi's Zainab bazaar, which was famous for colorful hippy outfits, and make pilgrimages to the shrine of the Sufi saint Abdullah Shah Ghazi. For the backpacking tourists of the day, Karachi was the "city of lights," a place where they could stroll past crystal-blue waves on French Beach.
In the Mood for Jihad
General Muhammad Zia ul-Haq ended this era of cosmopolitanism. After coming to power in a bloodless coup in 1977, he took the up-and-coming Islamic state in a completely new direction. The sanctimonious military ruler stoked ethnic and political rivalries in the multiethnic nation, and when the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan, he put the country in the mood for jihad.
The Westerners who come to Karachi these days are diplomats, journalists, businesspeople or spies. They are there to track down sources of funding for al-Qaida, search for suspected terrorists or work with the Pakistani army. They keep a low profile, always traveling by car, careful not to become the victims of an attack or a kidnapping.
The cloying smells of sweat and decay fill the air among the weathered Art Deco buildings in the city's old downtown. Crumbling masonry is all that is left of the colonial splendor of the shops and bazaars. But the city's heart is still beating, say the old people, insisting that every period of decline must always come to an end -- even the current downward spiral of poverty, extremism and violence.
But most young people are already in an apocalyptic frame of mind. They no longer believe in the grand ideal of a secular Islamic nation that offers justice and modest prosperity.
'Crazy Mix'
Television host Ali Saleem often refers to Pakistan's politicians as "gangsters" on his talk show. His provocative interviews are immensely popular. Saleem breaks taboos. He wears women's clothing, drinks and hosts lavish pool parties at Karachi's exclusive golf club. Prohibition is "a joke," he says, and alcohol is never more than "a call to my dealer" away.
Saleem embodies the other Karachi. The 31-year-old wears jeans, a striped shirt and flip-flops when he isn't on television. Dressed like this, he could just as easily be sitting in a sidewalk café in California. He is on his way to his next beach barbecue, he says.
He loves this "crazy mix in Pakistan," says the entertainer. "This country isn't really conservative. You can find everything that exists in London and New York," he explains. Life in Karachi, according to Saleem, doesn't "revolve around religion at all," but, as it does almost anyplace else in the world, "around power and money." The only problem, he adds, is that things have been going steadily downhill for the last 30 years, "almost exactly as long as I've been alive."
The End of Hope
For many Pakistanis, the murder of former Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto marked the end of hope. Although the popular political leader was seen as being as corrupt as any other politician, she was also liberal, and she had her home in Karachi. Her return in October 2007 was like a promise, after the years of military rule under General Pervez Musharraf and the war being waged in neighboring Afghanistan, which has also seriously affected Pakistan.
Bhutto's murderers haven't been convicted to this day, "because murderers in Pakistan almost always get away with it," says Saleem.
How much longer can the country -- can this city -- go on like this?
The politician and journalist Sherry Rehman was standing next to Bhutto when the former prime minister was killed by a suicide bomber. There are still bloodstains on the back seat of her car today. It was Rehman who rushed her friend to the hospital after the assassination.
Accustomed to Murder
Rehman, 49, an attractive cosmopolitan woman with long hair, is sitting in her colonial-style villa in Karachi's upmarket Clifton neighborhood. Her elegant pants suit matches the colors of the turquoise-and-brown sofa and the wallpaper.
Rehman, who is Bhutto's former press secretary, still constantly travels to international conferences today, where solving the never-ending crisis in Pakistan is a recurring topic. She has even become "accustomed" to the series of murders of politicians in Karachi, she says resignedly.
Few people still believe that this city will eventually recover or that it will be possible to contain extremism. It is difficult to catch anyone in this huge labyrinth, says Omar Shahid, the police officer.
"But today I might catch another one," he says. "Even if two new ones appear tomorrow."
http://www.spiegel.de/international/...730976,00.html