Indeed, Pashtuns have no shortage of arms. The problem is when they turn them on each other. And what happens when the militias, who so far have a common enemy, have defeated that foe? Malik’s militia is currently working closely with another militia a few kilometres north, led by Faheem Urrahman. Together, they are the power brokers in this area, having divided their region into areas of operation that, for now, they stick to. But they are also armed and arrogant—Urrahman admits openly that his men have captured, then executed, three Taliban fighters—and locals worry about what the future might bring. “Before there were bombings and kidnappings that hurt the people here,” says one man in Bazid Khel, requesting anonymity. “But now there is some peace. So yes, you can say that the militias have done good. But we don’t know what they will do here in the future. We do worry about that. Maybe they’re after money. Maybe they want power.”
Abbas, the army spokesman, defends the Pakistani military’s support for these groups, though he admits that the potential for them to overstep their limits does exist. “This is a common phenomenon in the tribal belt,” he says. “Pashtuns are known to form these militias when they face an enemy. But they will disband when they lose the support of the civil administration. They only exist because we support them. When we choke that support, they will end.”
His optimism may be premature. Men like Malik and Urrahman are not about to give up their new-found influence easily, even though political developments in Pakistan are already challenging their power. A 2001 decree by then-military dictator Pervez Musharraf, which gave local leaders more sway over the affairs of their districts, is now being challenged by Pakistani politicians who argue that leaving so much power in the hands of tribals is a recipe for corruption. They would like to see a return to the old system of government-backed administrators. But the men who have benefited from Musharraf’s decree, like Malik and Urrahman, don’t have much respect for the traditional leadership. For them, the old system is dead, and they are the future.
The Pakistani army does have reason to respect the militias. In recent months they have been at the forefront of some of the most important successes against the Taliban, including the capture of Maulvi Omar, the former spokesman for the Pakistani Taliban. If Pakistan is going to continue to make the kind of progress it’s been making over the past few months, it will need these militias—bcause the total defeat of the Taliban is far from guaranteed. “You can’t just round all these guys up and throw them in jail,” says an agent with the Inter-Services Intelligence, Pakistan’s spy agency and one-time supporter of the Taliban, agreeing to speak to Maclean’s on condition of anonymity. “If you do that, they will simply be released after a few months and they will then be worse than they were before. They will no longer fear being captured. The Western concept of due process simply will not work with the Taliban. If you want to get rid of them for good, you have to kill them.”
Which brings Pakistan to a fundamental quandary: how dirty will this war have to get before it’s over? And if the dirtier it gets, the worse it gets, will it ever be over? Back in Mingora, Zaidi Bibi’s eight-year-old son climbs into his father’s rickshaw. The small, three-wheel motorized taxi hasn’t moved in eight months, sitting idle outside Bibi’s home like a monument to the dead. Inside the house, Bibi continues to tell her story. “The Taliban have killed so many innocent men and women,” she says, her voice trailing off to a whisper. “I don’t want my children to grow up with revenge in their hearts. I want this killing to end.” Hidden behind her curtain, that voice will likely never be heard.
