Good Cop in a Bad Land

Dread and despair in Karachi after the death of Chaudhry Aslam Khan, the city’s most daring police officer

An almost mythical figure in the killing fields of Karachi, Pakistan’s most violence-wracked metropolis, supercop Chaudhry Aslam Khan, a superintendent (SP) in the Sindh Police Department, finally became the one thing that Pakistanis never expected of the burly crime fighter: another statistic in the country’s long-drawn fight against radical extremists. On 9 January, the police convoy in which Aslam was travelling was rammed by a vehicle laden with explosives, the impact of which obliterated not just the policeman’s car but a number of nearby vehicles and buildings as well. An estimated 200 kg of explosives was used in this suicide attack, leaving no room for error.

It was a big bomb intended to take out, at any cost, an even bigger man. The suicide bomber has been identified as the son of a prayer leader from a restive neighbourhood of Karachi, betraying just how deep the ties between the city’s Taliban cells and locals have become. A police case has been registered against the Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), which has proudly claimed responsibility for the attack. The group has been particularly active within the country since 2007 when the army initiated an operation against Lal Masjid, a mosque in Islamabad that had militants and ammunition holed up on its premises right under the nose of authorities. The TTP has been ravaging the country since, bombing schools and shrines, attacking independent lashkars (militias), army officers, liberal politicians, minorities and individuals like Aslam who have made it their life’s work to beat back the Taliban.

None of this has been without risk. In September 2011, a suicide bomber detonated a vehicle packed with explosives outside the SP’s house, killing eight and leaving a 10-feet deep crater where the policeman’s house used to be. Aslam and his family were not harmed, but his steely resolve was hardened further. “I will not spare them,” he said to TV cameras, and vowed he would bury the attackers right in the crater created by the suicide bombing.

For the next two years, the officer went on a spree, hunting down known suspects and criminals, dishing out calculated revenge for the wounds they left festering in the city. Known to hate militants and the restricted brand of ideology they represent, the tough cop was quite the character, dispelling notions of an officer-who-is-a-gentleman with his colourful language, lack of manufactured suave and propensity to stare opponents right in the eye. He was liberal in his views on religion and did what he did because of sheer conviction, an unheard-of attribute in these restless times.

Believed by many to be invincible, Chaudhry Aslam was a barrel of a man, notorious for his disdain of the TTP, a sentiment that’s unfortunately shrinking in public space. The head of Karachi’s anti-terrorism taskforce, Aslam’s views on his targets and no-nonsense attitude towards—literally—‘taking them out’ earned him a formidable reputation. Whilst his death should come as no surprise, Pakistan is reeling under its impact. He was seen as the last man standing.

The Pakistani media is on overdrive with coverage of the SP, portraying him as Karachi’s one-man army against terror, a saint and saviour all in one. Social media has made Chaudhry sahib a viral fixture, decrying the death of a man brave enough to scowl at the very mention of the Taliban. Social media is one of Pakistan’s few public spaces left where youngsters, liberals, moderates and far-leftists can freely express their frustration at the mounting orthodoxy and terrorism that has made targets of all those who do not conform to a strict jihadi interpretation of religion. Tweet after tweet, one status update after another, bemoan the fact that a lone crusader dared to stand up against extremists in a city ravaged by turf wars, sectarianism and extortion, and paid the ultimate price.

Chaudhry Aslam was intimidating, and that is a dangerous thing to be in Pakistan if you are fighting the good fight. The mere mention of his name had murderers, kidnappers, extortionists and other unsavoury elements running in the other direction, a relatively rare feat for someone from the police force, one of Pakistan’s most corrupt institutions. Exacting his own style of vigilante justice, Aslam was not above suspicion himself; he was accused many a time of capturing suspected Taliban and criminals and killing them in staged ‘police encounters’, and that was a reason he was both feared and loathed by some.

Karachi has seen an upswing of a dangerous trend: the development of a nexus between Taliban militants and career criminals profiting from the city’s turbulence with the connivance of political elements. The police have been reduced to spluttering bystanders, unable to serve and protect people at large. In this dismal landscape, Chaudhry Aslam was a lone ranger, laughing in the face of accepted norms and doing things his way—unorthodox, yes, but lauded by citizens who were losing hope in a city where bloody cycles of target killings occur every few months. It is these people who are mourning his loss, coming to terms with the fact that the one officer who was looking out for them is no more.

The officer’s death comes as an sign of tougher times ahead for a country at war with itself. Pakistan’s democratic election in May 2013 heralded a new political order with the Sharif brothers forming the federal government in Islamabad, yet terror attacks have increased with alarming brutality. Last September, more than 85 Christians were killed in a church bombing in Peshawar. From the tribal regions known as FATA—a territory that doesn’t fall under the jurisdiction of the federal government—to the mean streets of Karachi, terror thrives with no sign of respite. Moderate voices are vanishing from public fora, politicians pick their words with care to denounce attacks by the Taliban; fears of reprisal are palpable. In such a pathetic panorama of affairs, the murder of SP Aslam is a huge setback to all those who hoped to join the anti-Taliban parade.

The darkness that prevails in Karachi has attained a darker tinge of dread and despair. The night raids that Aslam would carry out will continue, but without the bravado and surefootedness of a man who went into battle with his scars and integrity intact.

The writer is the op-ed editor of Daily Times, an English language daily in Pakistan

About The Author

Reem Wasay