The Nine Lives of Pakistan: Dispatches from a Precarious State

by Declan Walsh

By the time I met Aslam, fifteen years later, following the Taliban attack on his home, his hard-charging, law-breaking approach to law enforcement was not universally appreciated. Instead of fighting the gangs of Karachi, critics claimed, the police had become one of them. Officers who racked up ‘encounters’ were promoted, not punished. Corruption was rife. The cops were taking a cut from the brothels on Napier Road; from the backstreet gambling dens where gamblers played mang patta, a local version of craps; and even from the gun-toting thugs who snatched purses and mobile phones while officers at nearby stations did nothing. Corruption was even endemic inside the police force. To get a decent posting, an officer had to bribe his superiors, often to the tune of thousands of dollars. Then he used low-level officers, known as ‘beaters’, to collect his money from smugglers or pimps. A percentage was reserved for officers at the top. It was classic Karachi: the poor robbed the rich, the rich robbed the government, and the cops – well, they had to get their cut, too.