MUZAFFARABAD:  They have Pakistani identity cards and passports – but are  not quite Pakistani. Their homeland is autonomous, but not quite so. It  has a Constitution – but one that is perpetually interim. They have a  government and an assembly, but both of which are effectively powerless.
 It is a land and a people with a past, and perhaps a future – but with no present.
 Welcome to Azad Jammu and Kashmir (AJK): A virtual no-man’s-land,  which will go to the polls this Sunday – but it is not quite clear what  for.
 A majority of (Azad) Kashmiris see the current political and  constitutional status of the area as a joke. Most prominent among such  residents of this area is Justice (retd) Manzoor Hussain Gillani, a  former acting chief justice of AJK and its former chief election  commissioner, who calls the current situation a “paradox”.
 Identity(less) 
 This “paradox” has led to the systematic disenfranchisement of  millions who live not only within its borders, on both sides of the LoC,  but those who have migrated due to years and years of being in limbo.
 Sixty-three years on, a UN-backed plebiscite is yet to take place,  and AJK has stood in virtual limbo – as far from ‘Azad’ as can be  possible. It is  a territory that has been forced into a comatose state  of identity-lessness.
 Given that Pakistan does not want to ‘harm’ its claim over the rest  of ‘occupied Kashmir’ by recognising the LoC as a legitimate border  (which it does not, to-date), AJK has been governed by all sorts of  strange and painfully euphemistic laws and acts. Azad Kashmiris, even  those who want to join their land with Pakistan, cannot technically call  themselves Pakistanis – but, by law, have to wait and swear that, when  the time comes, they will say they want to join Pakistan.
 Unlike other ‘autonomous’ areas under the purview of Pakistan, such  as the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA), AJK is not even  mentioned in the Constitution of Pakistan.
 It is referred to in Article 1 (2)(d) as “such states and territories  as are or may be included in Pakistan, whether by accession or  otherwise.”
 That’s it.
The AJK govt
 For now, AJK is governed by an amended version of the Interim  Constitution Act of Azad Jammu and Kashmir 1974. Under this Act, AJK is a  parliamentary democracy, with the prime minister as the head of the  government. It also has its own judicial system, with a High Court and a  Supreme Court of AJK. Muzaffarabad is the capital of AJK and the seat  of power.
 It has a 49-seat Assembly, with 41 members elected directly – 29 by  AJK residents and 12 by ‘Kashmiri Diaspora’ across Pakistan. Five seats  are reserved for women, one for an Ulema, one for a technocrat and one  for an overseas Kashmiri.
 But the powers of the government and its legislative domain are next  to negligible. One political activist, Afzal Solehria, described its  powers as those of a “municipality”.
 The real power lies above.
 Kashmir’s constitutional system also has what is called ‘The AJK  Council’ – which is effectively the supreme body of the land. The  14-member body controls almost all domains of legislation under the  ‘Council Legislative List’ (see Box).
 Strangely enough, its chairman is the Prime Minister – not of AJK,  but of Pakistan. He elects five other members, who are sitting  Parliamentarians of Pakistan. Other members include the President and  Prime Minister of AJK, and six other indirectly elected members who are  chosen by the AJK legislative assembly.
 But, at the end, it is the Pakistani prime minister who exercises the executive power of the Council.
 Above the council, completing AJK’s strange three-tier power  structure, is, of course, the government of Pakistan, which has the  final say on virtually everything – aside from the basic  responsibilities of the Centre in any federal set-up – i.e. Defence,  currency and foreign affairs (in AJK, the fourth untouchable central  responsibility of Islamabad is “responsibilities of the government of  Pakistan under UNCIP Resolutions”).
 Limits of the AJK govt
 The Interim Constitution Act 1974 is loaded with sweeping disclaimer clauses, such as Article 19:
 “(2) The executive authority of the government [of AJK] shall be so exercised as:
 “(a) not to impede or prejudice the responsibilities of the Government of Pakistan
 “(b) to secure compliance with the laws made by the [AJK] Council.”
 Also, because it is not a province, it does not have any intrinsic  right to a share of revenue from Islamabad – even from massive power  projects, such as Mangla Dam, that are set up on its territory by  Pakistan. Justice Gillani points out that AJK is subject to all the  liabilities (and more) of provinces, but has no rights and privileges.
 The double-whammy is that the AJK cannot set up its own power projects, because it is not in the government’s domain.
 To rub salt on its wounds, AJK’s most important bureaucratic positions – the chief secretary, chief secretary
(development), inspector general of police, accountant general, finance secretary and even the health secretary – are held by bureaucrats directly appointed by Pakistan from its own civil service.
 (development), inspector general of police, accountant general, finance secretary and even the health secretary – are held by bureaucrats directly appointed by Pakistan from its own civil service.
In Sulehria’s words: “where exactly is the ‘Azad’ in ‘Azad Jammu and Kashmir’?”
Published in The Express Tribune, June 22nd, 2011.
