A few weeks ago I received a message from a fellow tweeter who wanted to share a write-up she had written for a Pakistani group exhibition that took place in San Francisco late last year. She sent it to a couple of English newspapers and publications in Pakistan who said they’ll look into it but nothing really came out of that.

For me, it is imperative that artists, students and viewers start looking at work and discussing it, voicing their own opinions. There are really no wrong or right opinions, unless they are based on pre-conceived notions of what should be. However, it is important to educate yourself and try to dip your finger in this murky pool! Most importantly, the more people begin to write, the more exposure Pakistani shows and artists will receive, especially those who are less covered or not covered at all in the media.

I’m glad that the writer decided to send it to me and see if I’d put it up. And I was yes yes yes to Guest Write-ups!

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WORKS BY TASMIA & FATIMA - The Blue Studio – Michelle O’Connor Gallery

Tasmia Zahra Hussain (formerly Tasmia Qasuria to her NCA colleagues) – website

Fatima Zaman

Paintings in oils, acrylics & mixed media

By Sehr - @Ricochet118, California

The term ‘Brain Drain’, is commonly used to refer to the exodus of talented and bright young Pakistanis that has been going on for a number of decades. However, what is usually not acknowledged is the fact that this Pakistani Diaspora has been sharing the wealth of its talents and skills within the communities where it has settled. The recognition and promotion of such achievements is becoming more important in the current socio-political climate as the repercussions of increasing paranoia and stereotyping are being manifested in alarming ways. Whenever there is a noticeable contribution made by an individual of Pakistani origin within a community, it is a triumph for the image of Pakistan and Pakistanis.

Two such immensely talented individuals making their mark away from home are Tasmia Zahra Hussain and Fatima Zaman, who currently reside in the United States. These two promising young Pakistani artists are being welcomed into the San Francisco art arena. I had the opportunity to attend the opening of their recent exhibition in San Francisco, titled ‘Works By Tasmia and Fatima’, and later sat down with these enthusiastic young ladies to talk about their art, their experience exhibiting in the US and their aspirations for the future.

Both artists have their own distinctive style of painting and both have completely different exposure to the arts. Tasmia appears to be the more seasoned of the two artists. She graduated with distinction from the National College of Arts in Lahore with a major in Fine Arts and went on to complete her post-baccalaureate from the San Francisco Art Institute.  She already has a presence in Pakistani art circles where she has exhibited her work a couple of times. Her work includes extensive use of floral imagery and natural elements, while her colours remain muted.  Tasmia’s paintings seem to have a slight ethereal quality to them and reflect her introspective nature. She refers to her paintings as ‘concealed pages of her life’. Most of her pieces are untitled and she explains that the reason for this is that her work is very personal and reflective of her experiences and thoughts. However, she prefers each person viewing her work to absorb it based on their own experiences instead of mulling over the basis of her inspiration.

Interestingly, Fatima’s style is in sharp contrast to Tasmia’s. Her color palette is bold and vibrant. Her forms are sharper and more defined. Bold colors, ethnic imagery and repeated use of the female form are characteristics represented in most of her pieces. The use of color and texture in some of her works is breathtaking. Metal jewels and trinkets adorn some of her more ethnic pieces and add a whimsical, almost kinetic quality to her pieces. She creates a lot of mixed media pieces and has also created a few pieces on an unconventional wooden grain canvas.

Fatima has had no formal training in the Arts and she has always been painting as a hobby and painting on a consignment basis in the San Francisco Bay Area. She has also dabbled in other creative ventures such as jewellery designing and has worked at an interior design firm.

During our discussion, Tasmia opines that Fatima’s lack of formal training has probably worked to her advantage as she is not weighed down by the knowledge of the techniques taught in Art school. She can successfully and without hesitation bring her emotions and message to the blank canvas.  Fatima herself states that she is a very passionate person and that her real-life traits of non-conformity and emotional abandon are what are manifested in her work.

Both artists would like to exhibit their work in Pakistan. However, they are currently focusing on firmly establishing themselves in local San Francisco art circles and plan to exhibit their works in galleries around the SF Bay Area. Establishing their name in the international arena is a goal for them and their achievements are a source of pride for Pakistan.

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• You might also like to read: Pakistani Contemporary Art – A Brief History of Now
• Visit The s.a. Project facebook page for more regular updates
• Join in the discussion at twitter – SairaAnsariPK

Somewhere in the long list of things we lost in blood and fire is the joy of poetry.

It is a loss I cannot reconcile with. My memories get in the way. It was through poetry, that I learnt to think, feel, mean and be. Words existed in our household with an identity of their own, like people with names, personalities and pasts. There would be good words and bad, happy and melancholy, wise and wanton. When strung together in perfect meter and imperfect reason, they would offer doggerel explanations of the abstract in a way no other genre could. Poetry would respect life for its expanse and vagueness, not subject it to confined dialectics.

I have always felt that a poem, whether conceived in joy or pain, captures forever the place in life that elicited it; like a white Christmas trapped in a snow globe. There is a strange comfort in hearing from another, what one is feeling within. And so, having navigated life by finding solace, company and sometimes humour in these footprints from the past, I cannot imagine a world without the abstract. To lose the joy of poetry is to lose the counsel of wonder. It is not a loss to be reconciled with.

My grandfather used to quote that a poem is never finished, only abandoned. He was, among many things, a writer and a critic. His book, ‘Urdu shaairi ka tanqeedi ja’eza’ (a critical overview of Urdu poetry), is more of poetry in the horizontal than prose. However, you may not be able to find the book in print anymore. I have an old copy which I hold very dear. I fear that if I don’t, it will be lost forever as the irrelevancy that poetry has become today…

We may be sympathetic to the passion of Faiz and the romance of Faraz, but truth is that most other poets, some very good ones, hardly make it to their second editions. Book stores like Ferozesons, Maavra etc which used to have complete collections of all poets, black, white and brown, have degenerated to the level of deli’s selling what sells. Ironically, you would more easily find classical poets’ complete works in India, than in Pakistan. But is it the problem, or merely a symptom?

Perhaps it is both. Literature, in particular poetry, cannot be treated like Wall Street Journal, good only as long as it sells. But publishers are in the business of selling. I believe the onus therefore lies on the universities, Urdu boards and academies of the country to promote poetry, not as a mercantile pursuit, but as a way of looking at life.

It has to be the easiest thing to do! One would only need to create the platforms. The rest will just happen. Who can deny the fiery provocation of Faiz’s ushhaq, the transcendent drift of Ghalib’s sense of self and the lofty persuasions of Iqbal’s shaheen? What heart wouldn’t relate to the pained pride that was felt and expressed in every possible form by Faraz. Who wouldn’t identify with Jon’s temper, Nasir’s agony or Perveen’s insecurities? Whose thoughts would atleast once not have wandered as freely as Zaidi’s?

These are life-long relationships waiting to happen. Failure to recognize the joy and perspective these bring to life would be like sentencing oneself to a tunneled life clogged with reality and deprived of oxygen. We have too many people worrying ‘what colour is their parachute’, and not enough wondering ‘what colour is the wind’. It is a whole different ball game of self-actualization that is as, if not more, important as the more tangible pursuits in life.

An immediate priority should be an all-hands-on-the-deck effort to digitize Urdu poetry. We should do it before it disappears. If the Urdu Academy doesn’t do it, perhaps we should look at a more private venture to make it happen. Universities, colleges, and poetry lovers all over would need to plough in. A first step in this direction may be developing a reliable OCR for Urdu. With the talent we have in the country in the field of IT, and given the fact that Urdu has no home but ours, it is the least we should do. With the OCR in place, digitization can be led by the universities, proof-read by poetry lovers and institutions, and preserved forever in the cyber-world.

The second step, hopefully an outcome of the first, would be integrating poetry with life. More Mushaairas, more ghazal singers, more celebration of the new and appreciation of the old in the field. What better way to drain the paranoia from reality-clogged minds, too afraid to dream and too clumsy to dance?

It will take time, perhaps five to ten years, but it will be forever. I sincerely hope that we act before it is too late.

For as long as I lived in Lahore, my idea of a perfect evening was an old bench in Lawrence Gardens, a book of poetry and a steaming cup of doodh patti. I feel we have an obligation to add this joy to the packsack of keepsakes we leave behind for the next generation. They can add coffee and kindle a’ la mode, but atleast they will have their counsel of wonder …

By Nida Khan for The Huffington Post

While many Muslims (and people outside the faith for that matter) were heavily embedded in a debate over the controversy surrounding hardware store Lowe’s and its recent decision to remove ads from TLC’s reality show All American Muslim, a more detrimental attack against their future was all but finalized. Reversing an earlier decision to veto provisions of the National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA) for 2012, President Obama made the disturbing announcement that he would sign this legislation into law and thereby solidify the ability of the military and other factions to indefinitely detain anyone they deem an enemy of the state. And on New Year’s Eve, the President unfortunately made good on this promise with the stroke of his pen. At a time when the United States is grossly engaged in both active combat and covert drone campaigns in a multitude of Muslim nations, and when loosely defined terms like ‘terrorist’ can be arbitrarily thrown about, Muslims specifically — and all of society generally — shouldn’t take this disturbing development lightly.

In post-9/11 America, many have sadly grown accustomed and tolerant to routine practices of racial profiling, bias and even attacks against Muslims and those perceived to be Muslim. But in addition to blatant violence, workplace discrimination and subliminal acts of racism, Muslims have also become aware of another nuance that other Americans may not even realize exists — hesitation to give to charity. Because of fear that any charitable Muslim organization or mosque could suddenly be called out for links to a lone extremist faction (whether it’s justified or not), many pulled their money and cut back on donations to the extent that long-established charities found it virtually impossible to survive. Usually without any valid reason, many stopped supporting Muslim aide groups for the simple notion that anyone, anywhere could at any moment single out that organization and in turn put all those who gave money out of goodwill at risk for associating with them. The victims in all this? The impoverished and destitute in many “third world” countries.

At the same time, tragically, other active Muslims who were entrenched in the community or worked in an organizing capacity (much like our president once did for the disenfranchised), ceased their activities over trepidation as to how their efforts towards equality could one day be misconstrued for something nefarious. The climate of society forced many followers of the Islamic faith to alter their involvement on a plethora of levels. Even today, as forces like the NYPD keep Muslims under intrusive surveillance and continued cases of FBI entrapment emerge, many have stopped attending mosques or interacting too much within the community out of sheer apprehension over unwarranted government action. It is an unfortunate reflection of how marginalized groups often times suffer under the radar without a representative voice in government and in the mainstream.

Throughout modern history, we’ve had other instances of outrageous fear mongering, bias and injustice against those whose patriotism we questioned. Though it is rarely covered in classrooms, the internment of hundreds of thousands of Japanese and those of Japanese ancestry during WWII is a perfect example. Literally rounded up and “excluded” from living in the cities and towns they resided in, these “suspicious” individuals were interned in camps because their allegiance to the country “could not be determined.”

In 1950, at the height of the great red scare, Congress passed the Internal Security Act which required the American Communist Party, affiliated organizations and all ‘subversives’ to get fingerprinted and officially register with the Attorney General. This draconian law was so outrageous that then-President Harry Truman even vetoed it (though Congress overruled his veto in the end). The truly tragic and troubling thing about today’s NDAA is that President Obama isn’t even attempting to veto it anymore; he is instead giving it his stamp of approval. Even though the president stated that he has “serious reservations” regarding the detention, interrogation and prosecution of suspected terrorists, and even though he emphasizes that his administration will not indefinitely militarily detain American citizens without trial, what happens after he is no longer in office? Future leaders of the free world, after all, have absolutely no obligation to honor Obama’s signing statement, nor follow in his footsteps.

Yes, our first African American president has changed much of the vitriolic language used when covering the topic of terrorism, and yes he has taken great caution to ensure that Muslims and terror itself are not juxtaposed together. For that, he should be commended. But by finalizing the ability of any president to deem persons — including U.S. citizens (if they so interpret this bill) — an enemy that could then be indefinitely detained without charge or without trial, he sets into motion a frightening precedent. As a former constitutional law professor, President Obama should be inherently aware of the impending ramifications.

During the struggle for civil rights, many journalists, activists and those vocal citizens working alongside Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X and other leaders suddenly found themselves targeted for their activities. Countless advocates became political prisoners and others saw their careers and lives ruined. Now at a time when we already have legislation like the Patriot Act renewed, and warrantless wiretapping is openly put into practice, this defense act not only indoctrinates AUMF (2001 Authorization for use of Military Force) and many activities that were previously in existence, but it also leaves open the possibility of silencing anyone on a level with which we never even imagined.

As American Muslims, we’re happy that some are starting to ease the negative imaging and stereotyping against us, and are instead open to learning more about what the Islamic faith truly stands for. As a routinely alienated group, we’re overly ecstatic when a program like All American Muslim actually portrays us in a light other than that of some extremist radical. But while we should embrace the boycott of Lowe’s for its open bigotry, and praise folks like Russell Simmons for stepping up to the plate to purchase ads for the program, we should put just as much focus into the potential of someone like a Newt Gingrich or Rick Santorum taking over the White House and having full reign to detain whomever he pleases. Just remember the Bush-era verbiage of “you’re either with us or against us” and the atmosphere of intolerance that permeated under his presidency, and couple that with the ability of someone with his mentality being able to willfully determine any one of us a “traitor,” lock us up and throw away the key.

If Muslims scaled back their activities in the community and their charitable donations out of paranoia over the unrealistic possibility of being tied to something suspicious, just imagine the fear that will ensue if anyone can be instantly and militarily detained over accusations where the burden of proof won’t even be on the accuser. It is indeed an alarming scenario that can (and in all likelihood will) give new meaning to the term reality — no TV required.

Nida Khan is an independent journalist and producer working in print, radio and TV. As a news correspondent for WRKS 98.7 Kiss FM NY, she has covered everything from Barack Obama’s presidential campaign to protests for the defense of Sean Bell.

Filed under: American Muslims, Democracy, Freedoms, Islam, Muslims, President Obama, United States, US Commission on International Religious Freedom Tagged: All American Muslims, American Muslims, Civil Rights, George W. Bush, Islamophobia, Lowe’s, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr, Muslim Americans, Muslim Charities, National Defense Authorization Act, Newt Gingrich, NYPD, Patriot Act, President Obama, Racial Discrimination, Rick Santorum, TLC

By Abdul majeed Abid:

“Every generation has its own dreams and vision which it wants to accomplish without interference. Not imitation but freedom is required to build a new world. Therefore, an attempt should not be made to repeat but to make new history. People should be liberated from the shadows and allowed to flourish in a free society. Great leaders should be respected but not worshipped”.
(Dr Mubarak Ali)

Ibne Khaldun, the doyen of Muslim Historians, described History as a science and not an art. He was of the view that History should be objective, not subjective to the historian’s whims or the needs of the hour. The problem with later-day Muslim historians arose when they tried to “glorify” Muslim history and “re-invented” certain personalities as shining examples for the modern Muslims. This historical revisionism was at its peak during the 19^th century and early parts of the 20^th century.
Dr Mubarak Ali, in his book, “Taareekh ki Daryaft” (Exploring history) provided some glaring examples of historical revisionism from sub-continental history. The most famous religious figures from 15^th to 18^th century are supposed to be Sheikh Ahmad Sirhindi(also known as Mujaddad Alaf Sani) and Shah Waliullah. According to Dr Mubarak, the hype about  Sheikh Ahmad was propagated by Maulana Manazir Ahsan Gilani and Maulana Abul Kalaam Azad while Shah Waliullah  was “re-invented” by Obaidulah Sindhi as he was searching for someone resembling Karl Marx in the Islamic world. Sheikh Ahmad was made out to be the nemesis of Mughal Emperor Akbar. Another very important source of such revisionism was famous novelist Naseem Hijazi. This trend of bending history according to the time was continued after creation of Pakistan. An “Ideology of Pakistan” was created during the 1960s. The father of that Ideology was designated to be Allama Mohammad Iqbal, poet and philosopher. (For more on the story of creation of this so-called Ideology, I recommend reading the book “Dau Qaumi Nazriya: Aik Taareekhi Jaiza” by Professor Amjad Ali)
As a part of Historical Revisionism, Allama Iqbal’s poetry was used to stir up emotions of Nationalism and Pan-Islamism. Thousands of books have been written on Iqbal, most of them in his praise and very few in critiques. I will try to present some aspects of Iqbal’s poetry that I consider to be erratic and anachronistic.
Iqbal himself can be categorized as a historical revisionist. He remained passionate about Pan-Islamism throughout his life. While the argument that all the adherents of a religious ideology should combine and form one entity is very promising but it is utopian at best. Iqbal, of all people, would have known that since the death of Caliph Usman, Muslims have NEVER been a single entity throughout history. In fact, more Muslims have been killed by other Muslims in the last 1400 years than by people from other faiths.
Iqbal’s idea of an all conquering  “Mard-e-Momin” is not very different from the “Superman” of Neitzche. Allama Iqbal also propagated the idea of Muslim Supermacism i.e. only Muslims deserve to lead the world. This approach has led to a national cultural narcissism.
There is no place for women in Iqbal’s poetry, echoing a patriarchal approach by the esteemed poet. According to Mohammad Haneef, Iqbal wanted Muslim youth to take refuge in Mountains and that Martyrdom should be our ultimate aim. Now that the youth (TTP) has taken up all these endeavors, we can’t even stop them because we always taught them to do so. Interestingly, the most remarkable work done by Iqbal were his lectures titled “Reconstructing Islamic thought”. We do not find any reference to those lectures in mainstream media or textbooks only because they don’t teach anything about following without thinking(Taqleed) rather they slam this approach. There are also many contradictions in Iqbal’s poetry regarding structure of State. Iqbal criticized Democracy, Capitalism and Communism but did not hint at what kind of state he perceived. This issue has been highlighted by Dr Javed Iqbal, Iqbal son, in his autobiography(Apna Garebaan Chaak).Iqbal wrote most of his poetry in either Urdu or Persian, while the majority of Muslim Population communicated in Bengali, Punjabi, Sindhi or Pashto. According to figures collected in 1951, 54.6% people in Pakistan spoke Bengla, 28.4% spoke Punjabi, 7.2% spoke Urdu, 7.1% spoke Pashto while 5.8% spoke Sindhi. Keith Callard, Pakistan: Political Study, George Allen & Unwin, Oxford, 1957, p. 181). We declared Iqbal as our national poet despite the fact that fewer than 8 per cent of Pakistani people spoke Urdu as a first language(1981 national census). Iqbal’s so-called plan for Pakistan(due to which we credit him as the “dreamer/thinker of Pakistan, wrongly because 64 such suggestions had been publicly presented before 1930) did not include East Pakistan which was the hub of Muslim political activity in United India.

Due to so much diversity in the message of Iqbal, many elements have tried to use his poetry for their own agendas. Mullahs(clergymen), whom Iqbal opposed all his life and actively wrote against, blatantly used Iqbal’s message of Pan-Islamism for their own purposes.
In recent years, Iqbal’s poetry has been used for propaganda-mongering by Glenn Beck of Pakistan, Zaid Hamid who did two shows namely ‘Iqbal ka Pakistan’ and ‘Iqbal the Mysterious’ eulogizing the “mystic” aspects of Iqbal and attributed all kind of supernatural powers to Iqbal.
According to Nadeem Farooq Paracha, writer and blogger, “ I sometimes feel, a non-critical stance towards Iqbal’s work in this country has actually damaged his standing. He was a product of his time and well suited to compliment what was going in the minds of Indian Muslim men in the first half of the 20^th century. But was he a visionary? I don’t think so. I don’t think his work is as relevant today as it is made out to be. Certainly not in a post-modern world where the notions of universalism based on certain singular concepts of faith and progress have long crumbled and given way to a healthy respect and need for democracy, pluralism and diversity.”

Despite all the above-stated criticism, I cannot deny the importance of Allama Iqbal as a poet and as a Philosopher. All I am saying is that we need to project a balanced image of Allama Iqbal and refrain from deification a mortal man. We also need an objective approach towards history so that our future generations do not suffer from paranoia as we are. We should also encourage constructive criticism of Iqbal and leave behind the notion that saying anything about Iqbal is akin to blasphemy.

My curtain raiser on the Eighth Pakistan-India People’s Forum for Peace and Democracy (PIPFPD) Joint Convention being held in Allahabad, India, Dec 29, 2011-Jan 1, 2012 (slightly shorter version published as an op-ed in The News). When the name was being decided, the Indians insisted that Pakistan should be mentioned first, rather than the usual formulation that places India’s name first. This apparently trivial gesture typifies the PIPFPD’s cooperative spirit.

People for peace | By Beena Sarwar

The Indian government’s clearance of visas for 237 Pakistanis to attend a major peace convention in Allahabad, Dec 29, 2011 to Jan 1, 2012, is a welcome step, allowing the much-delayed Eighth Joint Convention of the Pakistan-India People’s Forum for Peace and Democracy (PIPFPD) to finally be held.

The PIPFPD is the largest people-to-people organisation between the two countries, formed in 1994 by eminent intellectuals, academics and activists from both sides. Discussions at the Joint Conventions revolve around issues ranging from ‘war, de-militarization, peace and peace dividends’, to ‘Democratic solution to Kashmir problem’, ‘Democratic Governance’ and ‘Religious intolerance in India and Pakistan’. ‘Globalization and Regional co-operation’ was added at the 5^th Joint Convention in 2000 at Bangalore.

The principles laid out in the initial PIPFPD Declaration of 1994 are even more relevant today than they were then: that the “politics of confrontation between India and Pakistan has failed to achieve benefits of any kind for the people of both countries”, and that the respective governments should honour the wishes of their people who “increasingly want genuine peace and friendship”.

Better relations, said the Declaration, “will help in reducing communal and ethnic tension” and “will help the South Asian region to progress economically and socially”. The Declaration urged the Governments of Pakistan and India to “agree to an unconditional no-war pact immediately” and to recognise that “a democratic solution to the Kashmir dispute is essential”.

Over 200 Pakistani and Indian delegates participated in the groundbreaking First Joint Convention in New Delhi, 1995. For the first time, Indians and Pakistanis sat together to freely discuss the contentious issues of Kashmir, demilitarization, and the politics of religious intolerance. PIPFPD’s formulation about Kashmir is now part of public discourse: that Kashmir should not be viewed merely as a territorial dispute between India and Pakistan but as a matter of the lives and aspirations of the Kashmiri people, who must be involved in any discussion about their future.

The seven joint Conventions held since in various cities across the region, alternating between both countries, have involved hundreds of ordinary citizens. Delegates pay for their own travel expenses, while the hosts arrange inexpensive board and lodging. These Conventions have yielded not only lasting relations between individuals but also spawned dozens of Indo-Pak organisations and meetings between different ‘sectors’ – fisherfolk, teachers, students, journalists, doctors, lawyers, labour unions, rights groups and others.

It was PIPFPD’s First Joint Convention in New Delhi in 1995 that led to the first regular column by an Indian journalist in a Pakistani newspaper (The News on Sunday) since the 1960s. Today, most newspapers and TV channels in Pakistan have correspondents, stringers and resource persons in India, and vice versa.

Initial delays to the Eighth Joint Convention came from Pakistan, where it was supposed to be held in Peshawar in 2007, after the Seventh Joint Convention in New Delhi in 2005. The political situation provided justifications to deny the necessary permission: escalation in the ‘war on terror’, the lawyers’ movement, the return and then the tragic assassination of Benazir Bhutto, and escalating violence in Pakistan as the new government tried to tackle the militants unambiguously.

When it became clear that trying to hold the Convention in Pakistan would add to more delay, the organisers decided to move it to India. That took over a year and much negotiation. Conditions were verbally set out and apprehensions voiced about the possibility of ‘wrong speeches’ being made – not just by the Pakistanis but by Indians.  However, those raising the objections were unwilling to spell out their apprehensions in writing.

In the end, persistence and people pressure paid off. Several Indo-Pak events have been held over the past two years, including by Aman ki Asha. Many were initiated by Indians, contrary to the perception that “Indians don’t care about peace with Pakistan”.

Significantly, some of the most inspiring initiatives have come from Mumbai, a city still reeling from the horrific attacks of Nov 26-28, 2008 that many Indians squarely blame Pakistan for. However, many Indians, including Mumbaikars, argue that all Pakistanis should not be held responsible for the actions of a few.

An extraordinary expression of this spirit was the 50-kilometre long ‘human chain for peace’ formed by some 60,000 Mumbaikars on Dec 12, 2008, urging the Government of India to show restraint in dealing with Pakistan — just days after the attacks that claimed 164 lives and left over 300 wounded. This hugely impressive event was overshadowed by the jingoism amplified by the media, but the Indian government did not (for several reasons) pander to those baying for action against Pakistan.

Earlier this year, students from Mumbai came up with a pioneering initiative they called ‘Ummeed-e-Milaap’ (hope for unity), a platform for Indian and Pakistani students to connect, in over 30 colleges in Mumbai, Lahore and Karachi. Last month, a 22-member delegation of journalists from The Press Club of Mumbai travelled to Pakistan to connect with colleagues in Karachi and Hyderabad, culminating in a joint Declaration of Cooperation.

The world is changing. The old paradigms and policies based on paranoia and hatred must give way to a realisation that it is only with cooperation with each other that India that Pakistan can fulfil their respective potentials. The Seventh Joint Convention articulated some visionary steps that both governments can take towards this end (see www.pipfpd.org). The Allahabad Convention will take forward these demands, foremost among which is easing the current restrictive visa regime.

We have seen what happens when thousands of cricket fans are given visas to attend matches across the border: nothing, except for goodwill and a reaffirmation that the people are ready for good relations and personal contacts. As the Allahabad Convention gets under way, do our governments have the political will and vision to follow the people to peace or will they remain mired in outdated security state paradigms?

(ends)

By Bill Keller for The New York Times

As an American visitor in the power precincts of Pakistan, from the gated enclaves of Islamabad to the manicured lawns of the military garrison in Peshawar, from the luxury fortress of the Serena Hotel to the exclusive apartments of the parliamentary housing blocks, you can expect three time-honored traditions: black tea with milk, obsequious servants and a profound sense of grievance.

Talk to Pakistani politicians, scholars, generals, businessmen, spies and journalists — as I did in October — and before long, you are beyond the realm of politics and diplomacy and into the realm of hurt feelings. Words like “ditch” and “jilt” and “betray” recur. With Americans, they complain, it’s never a commitment, it’s always a transaction. This theme is played to the hilt, for effect, but it is also heartfelt.

“The thing about us,” a Pakistani official told me, “is that we are half emotional and half irrational.”

For a relationship that has oscillated for decades between collaboration and breakdown, this has been an extraordinarily bad year, at an especially inconvenient time. As America settles onto the long path toward withdrawal from Afghanistan, Pakistan has considerable power to determine whether the end of our longest war is seen as a plausible success or a calamitous failure.

There are, of course, other reasons that Pakistan deserves our attention. It has a fast-growing population approaching 190 million, and it hosts a loose conglomerate of terrorist franchises that offer young Pakistanis employment and purpose unavailable in the suffering feudal economy. It has 100-plus nuclear weapons (Americans who monitor the program don’t know the exact number or the exact location) and a tense, heavily armed border with nuclear India. And its president, Asif Ali Zardari, oversees a ruinous kleptocracy that is spiraling deeper into economic crisis.

But it is the scramble to disengage from Afghanistan that has focused minds in Washington. Pakistan’s rough western frontier with Afghanistan is a sanctuary for militant extremists and criminal ventures, including the Afghan Taliban, the Pakistani Taliban, the notorious Haqqani clan and important remnants of the original horror story, Al Qaeda. The mistrust between Islamabad and Kabul is deep, nasty — Afghanistan was the only country to vote against letting Pakistan into the United Nations — and tribal. And to complicate matters further, Pakistan is the main military supply route for the American-led international forces and the Afghan National Army.

On Thanksgiving weekend, a month after I returned from Pakistan, the relationship veered precipitously — typically — off course again. NATO aircraft covering an operation by Afghan soldiers and American Special Forces pounded two border posts, inadvertently killing 24 Pakistani soldiers, including two officers. The Americans said that they were fired on first and that Pakistan approved the airstrikes; the Pakistanis say the Americans did not wait for clearance to fire and then bombed the wrong targets.

The fallout was painfully familiar: outrage, suspicion and recrimination, petulance and political posturing. Gen. Ashfaq Parvez Kayani, the chief of the army and by all accounts the most powerful man in Pakistan, retaliated by shutting (for now and not for the first time) the NATO supply corridor through his country. The Pakistanis abruptly dropped out of a Bonn conference on the future of Afghanistan and announced they would not cooperate with an American investigation of the airstrikes. President Obama sent condolences but balked at the suggestion of an apology; possibly the president did not want to set off another chorus of Mitt Romney’s refrain that Obama is always apologizing for America. At this writing, American officials were trying to gauge whether the errant airstrike would have, as one worried official put it, “a long half-life.”

If you survey informed Americans, you will hear Pakistanis described as duplicitous, paranoid, self-pitying and generally infuriating. In turn, Pakistanis describe us as fickle, arrogant, shortsighted and chronically unreliable.

Neither country’s caricature of the other is entirely wrong, and it makes for a relationship that is less in need of diplomacy than couples therapy, which customarily starts by trying to see things from the other point of view. While the Pakistanis have hardly been innocent, they have a point when they say America has not been the easiest of partners.

One good place to mark the beginning of this very, very bad year in U.S.-Pakistani relations is Dec. 13, 2010, when Richard C. Holbrooke died of a torn aorta. Holbrooke, the veteran of the Balkan peace, had for two years held the thankless, newly invented role of the administration’s special representative for Afghanistan and Pakistan. The antithesis of mellow, Holbrooke did not hit it off with our no-drama president, and his bluster didn’t always play well in Kabul or Islamabad either.

But Holbrooke paid aggressive attention to Pakistan. While he was characteristically blunt about the divergent U.S. and Pakistani views, he understood that they were a result of different, calculated national interests, not malevolence or mere orneriness. He was convinced that the outlooks could be, if not exactly synchronized, made more compatible. He made a concentrated effort to persuade the Pakistanis that this time the United States would not be a fair-weather friend.

“You need a Holbrooke,” says Maleeha Lodhi, a well-connected former ambassador to Washington. “Not necessarily the person but the role.” In the absence of full-on engagement, she says, “it’s become a very accident-prone relationship.”

On Jan. 27, a trigger-happy C.I.A. contractor named Raymond Davis was stuck in Lahore traffic and shot dead two motorcyclists who approached him. A backup vehicle he summoned ran over and killed a bystander. The U.S. spent heavily from its meager stock of good will to persuade the Pakistanis to set Davis free — pleading with a straight face that he was entitled to diplomatic immunity.

On May 2, a U.S. Navy Seals team caught Osama bin Laden in the military town Abbottabad and killed him. Before long, American officials were quoted questioning whether their Pakistani allies were just incompetent or actually complicit. (The Americans who deal with Pakistan believe that General Kayani and the director of the Inter-Services Intelligence agency, Gen. Ahmed Shuja Pasha, were genuinely surprised and embarrassed that Bin Laden was so close by, though the Americans fault the Pakistanis for not looking very hard.) In Pakistan, Kayani faced rumbles of insurrection for letting Americans violate Pakistani sovereignty; a defining victory for President Obama was a humiliation for Kayani and Pasha.

In September, members of the Haqqani clan (a criminal syndicate and jihadi cult that’s avowedly subservient to the Taliban leader Mullah Omar) marked the 10th anniversary of 9/11 with two theatrical attacks in Afghanistan. First a truck bomb injured 77 American soldiers in Wardak Province. Then militants rained rocket-propelled grenades on the U.S. Embassy in Kabul, forcing our ambassador to spend 20 hours locked down in a bunker.

A few days later the former Afghan president, Burhanuddin Rabbani, spread his arms to welcome an emissary from the Taliban to discuss the possibility of peace talks. As they embraced, the visitor detonated a bomb in his turban, killing himself, Rabbani and the talks. President Hamid Karzai of Afghanistan, without any evidence that American officials are aware of, accused Pakistan of masterminding the grotesque killing in order to scuttle peace talks it couldn’t control.

And two days after that, Adm. Mike Mullen, the outgoing chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, took to Capitol Hill to suggest that Pakistani intelligence had blessed the truck bomb and embassy attack.

His testimony came as a particular shock, because if the turbulent affair between the United States and Pakistan had a solid center in recent years, it was the rapport between Mullen and his Pakistani counterpart, General Kayani. Over the four years from Kayani’s promotion as chief of the army staff until Mullen’s retirement in September, scarcely a month went by when the two didn’t meet. Mullen would often drop by Kayani’s home at the military enclave in Rawalpindi, arriving for dinner and staying into the early morning, discussing the pressures of command while the sullen-visaged general chain-smoked Dunhills. One time, Kayani took his American friend to the Himalayas for a flyby of the world’s second-highest peak, K2. On another occasion, Mullen hosted Kayani on the golf course at the Naval Academy. The two men seemed to have developed a genuine trust and respect for each other.

But Mullen’s faith in an underlying common purpose was rattled by the truck bombing and the embassy attack, both of which opened Mullen to the charge that his courtship of Kayani had been a failure. So — over the objection of the State Department — the admiral set out to demonstrate that he had no illusions.

The Haqqani network “acts as a veritable arm of Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence agency,” he declared. “With ISI support, Haqqani operatives planned and conducted that truck-bomb attack as well as the assault on our embassy.”

Several officials with access to the intelligence told me that while the Haqqanis were implicated in both attacks, there was no evidence of direct ISI involvement. A Mullen aide said later that the admiral was referring to ISI’s ongoing sponsorship of the Haqqanis and did not mean to say Pakistan authorized those specific attacks.

No matter. In Pakistan, Mullen’s denunciation led to a ripple of alarm that U.S. military “hardliners” were contemplating an invasion. The press had hysterics. Kayani made a show of putting the Pakistani Army on alert. The Pakistani rupee fell in value.

In Washington, Mullen’s remarks captured — and fed — a vengeful mood and a rising sense of fatalism about Pakistan. Bruce O. Riedel, an influential former C.I.A. officer who led a 2009 policy review for President Obama on Pakistan and Afghanistan, captured the prevailing sentiment in an Op-Ed in The Times, in which he called for a new policy of “containment,” meaning “a more hostile relationship” toward the army and intelligence services.

“I can see how this gets worse,” Riedel told me. “And I can see how this gets catastrophically worse. . . . I don’t see how it gets a whole lot better.”

When Gen. David H. Petraeus took over the U.S. military’s Central Command in 2008, he commissioned expert briefing papers on his new domain, which sprawled from Egypt, across the Persian Gulf, to Central Asia. The paper on Afghanistan and Pakistan began, according to an American who has read it, roughly this way: “The United States has no vital national interests in Afghanistan. Our vital national interests are in Pakistan,” notably the security of those nuclear weapons and the infiltration by Al Qaeda. The paper then went on for the remaining pages to discuss Afghanistan. Pakistan hardly got a mention. “That’s typical,” my source said. Pakistan tends to be an afterthought.

The Pakistani version of modern history is one of American betrayal, going back at least to the Kennedy administration’s arming of Pakistan’s archrival, India, in the wake of its 1962 border war with China.

The most consequential feat of American opportunism came when we enlisted Pakistan to bedevil the Soviet occupiers of Afghanistan in the 1980s. The intelligence agencies of the U.S. and Pakistan — with help from Saudi Arabia — created the perfect thorn in the Soviet underbelly: young Muslim “freedom fighters,” schooled in jihad at Pakistani madrassas, laden with American surface-to-air missiles and led by charismatic warriors who set aside tribal rivalries to war against foreign occupation.

After the Soviets admitted defeat in 1989, the U.S. — mission accomplished! — pulled out, leaving Pakistan holding the bag: several million refugees, an Afghanistan torn by civil war and a population of jihadists who would find new targets for their American-supplied arms. In the ensuing struggle for control of Afghanistan, Pakistan eventually sided with the Taliban, who were dominated by the Pashtun tribe that populates the Pakistan-Afghanistan frontier. The rival Northern Alliance was run by Tajiks and Uzbeks and backed by India; and the one thing you can never underestimate is Pakistan’s obsession with bigger, richer, better-armed India.

As long as Pakistan was our partner in tormenting the Soviet Union, the U.S. winked at Pakistan’s nuclear-weapons program. After all, India was developing a nuclear arsenal, and it was inevitable that Pakistan would follow suit. But after the Soviets retreated, Pakistan was ostracized under a Congressional antiproliferation measure called the Pressler Amendment, stripped of military aid (some of it budgeted to bring Pakistani officers to the U.S. for exposure to American military values and discipline) and civilian assistance (most of it used to promote civil society and buy good will).

Our relationship with Pakistan sometimes seems like a case study in unintended consequences. The spawning of the mujahadeen is, of course, Exhibit A. The Pressler Amendment is Exhibit B. And Exhibit C might be America’s protectionist tariffs on Pakistan’s most important export, textiles. For years, experts, including a series of American ambassadors in Islamabad, have said that the single best thing the U.S. could do to pull Pakistan into the modern world is to ease trade barriers, as it has done with many other countries. Instead of sending foreign aid and hoping it trickles down, we could make it easier for Americans to buy Pakistani shirts, towels and denims, thus lifting an industry that is an incubator of the middle class and employs many women. Congress, answerable to domestic textile interests, has had none of it.

“Pakistan the afterthought” was the theme very late one night when I visited the home of Pakistan’s finance minister, Abdul Hafeez Shaikh. After showing me his impressive art collection, Shaikh flopped on a sofa and ran through the roll call of American infidelity. He worked his way, decade by decade, to the war on terror. Now, he said, Pakistan is tasked by the Americans with simultaneously helping to kill terrorists and — the newest twist — using its influence to bring them to the bargaining table. Congress, meanwhile, angry about terrorist sanctuaries, is squeezing off much of the financial aid that is supposed to be the lubricant in our alliance.

“Pakistan was the cold-war friend, the Soviet-Afghan-war friend, the terror-war friend,” the minister said. “As soon as the wars ended, so did the assistance. The sense of being discarded is so recent.”

A Boston University-educated economist who made his money in private equity investing — in other words, a cosmopolitan man — Shaikh seemed slightly abashed by his own bitterness.

“I’m not saying that this style of Pakistani thinking is analytically correct,” he said. “I’m just telling you how people feel.”

He waved an arm toward his dining room, where he hung a Warhol of Muhammad Ali. “We’re just supposed to be like Ali — take the beating for seven rounds from Foreman,” he said. “But this time the Pakistanis have wised up. We are playing the game, but we know you can’t take these people at their word.”

With a timetable that has the United States out of Afghanistan, or mostly out, by the end of 2014, Pakistan has leverage it did not have when the war began.

One day after 9/11, Richard Armitage, the deputy secretary of state, summoned the head of Pakistani intelligence for a talking to. “We are asking all of our friends: Do they stand with us or against us?” he said. The following day, Armitage handed over a list of seven demands, which included stopping Al Qaeda operations on the Pakistani border, giving American invaders access to Pakistani bases and airspace and breaking all ties with the Taliban regime.

The Pakistanis believed from the beginning that Afghanistan had “American quagmire” written all over it. Moreover, what America had in mind for Afghanistan was antithetical to Pakistan’s self-interest.

“The only time period between 1947 and the American invasion of Afghanistan that Pakistanis have felt secure about Afghanistan is during the Taliban period,” from 1996 to 2001, says Vali Nasr, an American scholar of the region who is listened to in both academia and government. Now the Bush administration would attempt to supplant the Taliban with a strong independent government in Kabul and a muscular military. “Everything about this vision is dangerous to Pakistan,” Nasr says.

Pakistan’s military ruler at the time, Pervez Musharraf, saw the folly of defying an American ultimatum. He quickly agreed to the American demands and delivered on many of them. In practice, though, the accommodation with the Taliban was never fully curtailed. Pakistan knew America’s mission in Afghanistan would end, and it spread its bets.

The Bush-Musharraf relationship, Vali Nasr says, “was sort of a Hollywood suspension of disbelief. Musharraf was a convenient person who created a myth that we subscribed to — basically that Pakistan was on the same page with us, it was an ally in the war on terror and it subscribed to our agenda for Afghanistan.”

But the longer the war in Afghanistan dragged on, the harder it was to sustain the illusion.

In October, I took the highway west from Islamabad to Peshawar, headquarters of the Pakistan Army corps responsible for the frontier with Afghanistan. Over tea and cookies, Lt. Gen. Asif Yasin Malik, the three-star who commanded the frontier (he retired this month) talked about how the Afghan war looked from his side of the border.

The official American version of the current situation in Afghanistan goes like this: By applying the counterinsurgency strategy that worked in Iraq and relying on a surge of troops and the increasingly sophisticated use of drones, the United States has been beating the insurgency into submission, while at the same time standing up an indigenous Afghan Army that could take over the mission. If only Pakistan would police its side of the border — where the bad guys find safe haven, fresh recruits and financing — we’d be on track for an exit in 2014.

The Pakistanis have a different narrative. First, a central government has never successfully ruled Afghanistan. Second, Karzai is an unreliable neighbor — a reputation that has not been dispelled by his recent, manic declarations of brotherhood. And third, they believe that despite substantial investment by the United States, the Afghan Army and the police are a long way from being ready to hold the country. In other words, America is preparing to leave behind an Afghanistan that looks like incipient chaos to Pakistan.

In Peshawar, General Malik talked with polite disdain about his neighbor to the west. His biggest fear — one I’m told Kayani stresses in every meeting with his American counterparts — is the capability of the Afghan National Security Forces, an army of 170,000 and another 135,000 police, responsible for preventing Afghanistan from disintegrating back into failed-state status. If the U.S. succeeds in creating such a potent fighting force, that makes Pakistanis nervous, because they see it (rightly) as potentially unfriendly and (probably wrongly) as a potential agent of Indian influence. The more likely and equally unsettling outcome, Pakistanis believe, is that the Afghan military — immature, fractious and dependent on the U.S. Treasury — will disintegrate into heavily armed tribal claques and bandit syndicates. And America, as always, will be gone when hell breaks loose.

General Malik studied on an exchange at Fort McNair, in Washington, D.C., and has visited 23 American states. He likes to think he is not clueless about how things work in our country.

“Come 2015, which senator would be ready to vote $9 billion, or $7 billion, to be spent on this army?” he asked. “Even $5 billion a year. O.K., maybe one year, maybe two years. But with the economy going downhill, how does the future afford this? Very challenging.”

American officials will tell you, not for attribution, that Malik’s concerns are quite reasonable.

So I asked the general if that was why his forces have not been more aggressive about mopping up terrorist sanctuaries along the border. Still hedging their bets? His answer was elaborate and not entirely facile.

First of all, the general pointed out that Pakistan has done some serious fighting in terrorist strongholds and shed a lot of blood. Over the past two years, Malik’s forces have been enlarged to 147,000 soldiers, mainly by relocating more than 50,000 from the Indian border. They have largely controlled militant activities in the Swat Valley, for example, which entailed two hard offensives with major casualties. But they have steadfastly declined to mount a major assault against North Waziristan — a mountainous region of terrorist Deadwoods populated by battle-toughened outlaws.

Yes, Malik said, North Waziristan is a terrible situation, but his forces are responsible for roughly 1,500 miles of border, they police an archipelago of rough towns in the so-called Federally Administered Tribal Areas, or FATA, and by the way, they had a devastating flood to handle last year.

“If you are not able to close the Mexican border, when you have the technology at your call, when there is no war,” he said, “how can you expect us to close our border, especially if you are not locking the doors on your side?”

Americans who know the area well concede that, for all our complaints, Pakistan doesn’t push harder in large part because it can’t. The Pakistan Army has been trained to patrol the Indian border, not to battle hardened insurgents. They have comparatively crude weaponry. When they go up against a ruthless outfit like the Haqqanis, they tend to get killed. Roughly 4,000 Pakistani troops have died in these border wars — more than the number of all the allied soldiers killed in Afghanistan.

“They’re obviously reluctant to go against the Haqqanis, but reluctant for a couple of reasons,” an American official told me. “Not just the reason that they see them as a potential proxy force if Afghanistan doesn’t go well, but also because they just literally lack the capability to take them on. They’ve got enough wars on their hands. They’ve not been able to consolidate their gains up in the northern part of the FATA, they have continued problems in other areas and they just can’t deal with another campaign, which is what North Waziristan would be.”

And there is another, fundamental problem, Malik said. There is simply no popular support for stepping up the fight in what is seen as America’s war. Ordinary Pakistanis feel they have paid a high price in collateral damage, between the civilian casualties from unmanned drone attacks and the blowback from terror groups within Pakistan.

“When you go into North Waziristan and carry out some major operation, there is going to be a terrorist backlash in the rest of the country,” Malik told me. “The political mood, or the public mood, is ‘no more operations.’ ”

In late October, Hillary Clinton arrived in Islamabad, leading a delegation that included Petraeus, recently confirmed as C.I.A. director, and Gen. Martin E. Dempsey, Mullen’s successor as chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Petraeus used to refer to Holbrooke as “my diplomatic wingman,” a bit of condescension he apparently intended as a tribute. This time, the security contingent served as diplomacy’s wingmen.

The trip was intended as a show of unity and resolve by an administration that has spoken with conflicting voices when it has focused on Pakistan at all. For more than four hours, the Americans and a potent lineup of Pakistani counterparts talked over a dinner table.

Perhaps the most revealing thing about the dinner was the guest list. The nine participants included Kayani and Pasha, but not President Zardari or Prime Minister Yousuf Raza Gilani, who provided the dining room at his own residence and made himself scarce. The only representative of the civilian government was Clinton’s counterpart, the new foreign minister, Hina Rabbani Khar, a 34-year-old rising star with the dark-haired beauty of a Bollywood leading lady, a degree in hospitality management from the University of Massachusetts and, most important, close ties to the Pakistani military.

For a country that cherishes civilian democracy, we have a surprising affinity for strong men in uniform. Based on my conversations with American officials across the government, the U.S. has developed a grudging respect for Kayani, whom they regard as astute, straightforward, respectful of the idea of democratic government but genuinely disgusted by the current regime’s thievery and ineptitude. (We know from the secret diplomatic cables disclosed by WikiLeaks that Kayani has confided to American officials his utter contempt for his president and “hinted that he might, however reluctantly, have to persuade President Zardari to resign.”) Zardari, whose principal claim to office is that he is the widower of the assassinated and virtually canonized Benazir Bhutto, has been mainly preoccupied with building up his patronage machine for elections in 2013. The Americans expect little from him and don’t see a likely savior among his would-be political challengers. (As this article goes to press, Zardari is recovering from chest pains in a hospital in Dubai; there are rumors he won’t return.) So, Kayani it is. The official American consensus is less enamored of Kayani’s loyal intelligence underling, General Pasha, whose agency consorts with terrorists and is suspected of torturing and killing troublemakers, including journalists, but Pasha is too powerful to ignore.

The day after the marathon dinner, Clinton’s entourage took over the Serena Hotel for a festival of public diplomacy — a press conference with the foreign minister, followed by a town meeting with young Pakistanis and then a hardball round-table interview with a circle of top editors and anchors.

Clinton’s visit was generally portrayed, not least in the Pakistani press, as a familiar ritual of America talking tough to Pakistan. In the town meeting, a woman asked why America always played the role of bossy mother-in-law, and that theme delighted editorial cartoonists for days.

But the private message to the Pakistanis — and a more careful reading of Clinton’s public performance — reflected a serious effort to reboot a troubled relationship. Clinton took care to pay tribute to Pakistani losses in the war against terror in the past decade — in addition to the military, an estimated 30,000 civilian dead, the equivalent of a 9/11 every year. She ruled out sending American ground troops into Pakistani territory. She endorsed a Pakistani plea that U.S. forces in Afghanistan do a better job of cleaning up militant sanctuaries on their own side of the border.

Questioned by a prominent television anchor, she repudiated Mullen’s testimony, not only disavowing any evidence of ISI complicity in the attack on America’s embassy in Kabul but also soft-peddling the spy agency’s coziness with terrorists.

“Now, every intelligence agency has contacts with unsavory characters,” she said. “I don’t think you would get any denial from either the ISI or the C.I.A. that people in their respective organizations have contacts with members of groups that have different agendas than the governments’. But that doesn’t mean that they are being directed or being approved or otherwise given a seal of approval.”

That particular riff may have caused jaws to clench at the C.I.A. compound in Langley, Va. The truth is, according to half a dozen senior officials with access to the intelligence, the evidence of Pakistan’s affinity for terrorists is often circumstantial and ambiguous, a matter of intercepted conversations in coded language, and their dealings are thought to be more pragmatic than ideological, more a matter of tolerating than directing, but the relationship goes way beyond “contacts with unsavory characters.”

“They’re facilitating,” one official told me. “They provide information to the Haqqanis, they let them cross back and forth across the border, they let this L.E.T. guy (the leader of the dangerous Lashkar-e-Taiba faction of Kashmiri terrorists) be in prison and not be in prison at the same time.”

And yet the Pakistanis have been helpful — Abbottabad aside — against Al Qaeda, which is America’s first priority and which the Pakistanis recognize as a menace to everyone. They have shared intelligence, provided access to interrogations and coordinated operations. Before the fatal border mishap Thanksgiving weekend, one U.S. official told me, anti-terror cooperation between the C.I.A. and Pakistani intelligence had been “very much on the upswing.”

The most striking aspect of Clinton’s trip, however, was her enthusiastic embrace of what is now called “reconciliation” — which is the polite word for negotiating with the Taliban.

Pakistan has long argued that the way to keep Afghanistan from coming to grief is to cut a deal with at least some of the Taliban. That would also mean Afghanistan could get by with a smaller, cheaper army. The notion has been anathema to the Americans tasked with killing Taliban; a principled stand against negotiating with terrorists is also a political meme that acquires particular potency in election seasons, as viewers of the Republican debates can attest.

Almost unnoticed, though, reconciliation has moved to a central place in America’s strategy and has become the principal assignment for U.S. officials in the region. Clinton first signaled this in a speech to the Asia Society last February, when she refocused Afghanistan strategy on its original purpose, isolating the terrorists at war with America, meaning Al Qaeda.

The speech was buried beneath other news at the time, but in early October, Tom Donilon, Obama’s national security adviser, met Kayani in Abu Dhabi to stress to skeptical Pakistani leaders that she was serious. Clinton’s visit to Islamabad with her generals in tow was designed to put the full weight of the U.S. behind it.

Clinton publicly acknowledged that the ISI (in fact, it was General Pasha in person) had already brokered a preliminary meeting between a top American diplomat and a member of the Haqqani clan. Nothing much came of the meeting, news of which promptly leaked, but Clinton said America was willing to sit down with the Taliban. She said that what had once been preconditions for negotiations — renouncing violence, shunning Al Qaeda and accepting Afghanistan’s constitution, including freedoms for women — were now “goals.”

In diplomacy, no process is fully initiated until it has been named. A meeting of Pakistani political parties in Islamabad had adopted a rubric for peace talks with the Taliban, a slogan the Pakistanis repeated at every opportunity: “Give peace a chance.” If having this project boiled down to a John Lennon lyric diminished the gravitas of the occasion, Clinton didn’t let on.

Within the American policy conglomerate, not everyone is terribly upbeat about the prospect of reconciling with the Taliban. The Taliban have so far publicly rejected talks, and the turban-bomb killing of Rabbani was a serious reversal. There is still some suspicion — encouraged by Afghanistan and India — about Pakistan’s real agenda. One theory is that Pakistan secretly wants the Taliban restored to power in Afghanistan, believing the Pashtun Islamists would be more susceptible to Pakistani influence. A more cynical theory, which I heard quite a bit in New Delhi, is that the Pakistani Army actually wants chaos on its various borders to justify its large payroll. Most Americans I met who are immersed in this problem put little stock in either of those notions. The Pakistanis may not be the most trustworthy partners in Asia, but they aren’t idiots. They know, at least at the senior levels, that a resurgent Taliban means not just perpetual mayhem on the border but also an emboldening of indigenous jihadists whose aim is nothing less than a takeover of nuclear Pakistan. But agreeing on the principle of a “stable Afghanistan” is easier than defining it, or getting there.

After Clinton left Islamabad, a senior Pakistani intelligence official I wanted to meet arrived for breakfast with me and a colleague at Islamabad’s finest hotel. With a genial air of command, he ordered eggs Benedict for the table, declined my request to turn on a tape recorder, (“Just keep my name out of it,” he instructed later) and settled into an hour of polished spin.

“The Taliban learned its lesson in the madrassas and applied them ruthlessly,” he said, as the Hollandaise congealed. “Now the older ones have seen 10 years of war, and reconciliation is possible. Their outlook has been tempered by reason and contact with the modern world. They have relatives and friends in Kabul. They have money from the opium trade. They watch satellite TV. They are on the Internet.”

On the other hand, he continued, “if you kill off the midtier Taliban, the ones who are going to replace them — and there are many waiting in line, sadly — are younger, more aggressive and eager to prove themselves.”

So what would it take to bring the Taliban into a settlement? First, he said, stop killing them. Second, an end to foreign military presence, the one thing that always mobilizes the occupied in that part of the world. Third, an Afghan constitution framed to give more local autonomy, so that Pashtun regions could be run by Pashtuns.

On the face of it, as my breakfast companion surely knows, those sound like three nonstarters, and taken together they sound rather like surrender. Even Clinton is not calling for a break in hostilities, which the Americans see as the way to drive the Taliban to the bargaining table. As for foreign presence, both the Americans and the Afghans expect some long-term residual force to stay in Afghanistan, to backstop the Afghan Army and carry out drone attacks against Al Qaeda. And while it is not hard to imagine a decentralized Afghanistan — in which Islamic traditionalists hold sway in the rural areas but cede the urban areas, where modern notions like educating girls have already made considerable headway — that would be hard for Americans to swallow.

Clinton herself sounded pretty categorical on that last point when she told Pakistani interviewers: “I cannot in good faith participate in any process that I think would lead the women of Afghanistan back to the dark ages. I will not participate in that.”

To questions of how these seemingly insurmountable differences might be surmounted, Marc Grossman, who replaced Holbrooke as Clinton’s special representative, replies simply: “I don’t know whether these people are reconcilable or not. But the job we’ve been given is to find out.”

If you look at reconciliation as a route to peace, it requires a huge leap of faith. Surely the Taliban have marked our withdrawal date on their calendars. The idea that they are so deeply weary of war — – let alone watching YouTube and yearning to join the world they see on their laptops — feels like wishful thinking.

But if you look at reconciliation as a step in couples therapy — a shared project in managing a highly problematic, ultimately critical relationship — it makes more sense. It gives Pakistan something it craves: a seat at the table where the future of Afghanistan is plotted. It gets Pakistan and Afghanistan talking to each other. It offers a supporting role to other players in the region — notably Turkey, which has taken on a more active part as an Islamic peace broker. It could drain some of the acrimony and paranoia from the U.S.-Pakistan rhetoric.

It might not save Afghanistan, but it could be a helpful start to saving Pakistan.

What Clinton and company are seeking is a course of patient commitment that America, frankly, is not usually so good at. The relationship has given off some glimmers of hope — with U.S. encouragement, Pakistan and India have agreed to normalize trade relations; the ISI has given American interrogators access to Osama bin Laden’s wives — but the funerals of those Pakistani troops last month remind us that the country is still a graveyard of optimism.

At least the U.S. seems, for now, to be paying attention to the right problem.

“If you stand back,” said one American who is in the thick of the American strategy-making, “and say, by the year 2020, you’ve got two countries — 30 million people in this country, 200 million people with nuclear weapons in this country, American troops in neither. Which matters? It’s not Afghanistan.”

Bill Keller, a former executive editor of The Times, writes a column for the Op-Ed page.

Filed under: Afghanistan, Democracy, India, Nuclear, Pakistan, Pakistan Army, Pakistani Taliban, Pakistanis, President Obama, Taliban, terrorism, United States, US-Pakistan Relations Tagged: Afghan National Army, Afghan Taliban, Afghanistan, Asif Ali Zardari, Gen. Ashfaq Parvez Kayani, Husain Haqqani, Mike Mullen, Mitt Romney, NATO, Northern Alliance, Nuclear, Pakistan, Pashtun, Peshawar, President Obama, Soviet Invasion, Taliban, United Nations, United States

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