Photo courtesy White Star
To the distress of his colleagues in London, Altaf Hussain seemed to think that the decision gave him free reign to say whatever he wanted. However, when he spoke about the desirability of playing football with policemen’s severed heads in 2015, Scotland Yard felt obliged to once again investigate for hate speech.
While all this was going on in London, the MQM suffered a number of serious setbacks in Pakistan: in March 2015, the Sindh Rangers raided Nine Zero, the party’s headquarters; and in March 2016, its former member and once mayor of Karachi, Mustafa Kamal, formed his own party. Once one of Altaf Hussain’s most trusted associates, Kamal delivered a devastating two-hour long press conference in which he accused Altaf Hussain of drunkenness, taking money from the Indian intelligence agencies and of being an erratic bully, incapable of listening to sane counsel. With the Pakistani state allegedly supporting Kamal’s breakaway party, the prospects of a deep split within the MQM ranks suddenly became real.
As Altaf Hussain was still tied up in legal cases, thousands of miles away in London, it was unclear to which extent would he be able to crush the dissent.
Altaf Hussain has seen some tough times as the MQM leader, particularly during the security operations against his party in the 1990s. But the combination of legal pressure in London, and the political and security problems in Karachi, meant he was at one of his lowest ebbs ever. The man who was once so feared in Karachi – so much so that most people in the city never dared say his name out loud – found himself being openly criticised on television channels. And as if all that was not enough, he then burdened himself with a totally unnecessary, self-inflicted goal.
In an extraordinary speech delivered to his party’s workers observing a hunger strike against the disappearance, detention and extrajudicial killings of their colleagues, friends and relatives, Altaf Hussain denounced Pakistan as a “cancer” in the world. For millions of Pakistanis and especially for those in uniform, it was a totally unacceptable attack on their homeland. In the same speech, he asked his supporters if they would be paying a visit to the headquarters of television stations he considered hostile to him and the MQM. “So you are moving to ARY and Samaa from here ... right?” he said, apparently egging them on.
The money laundering case was always of more direct concern to Altaf Hussain.
Within minutes, he had his answer. Suspected MQM workers attacked an ARY office in Karachi. One person was killed and several others were injured as police clashed with an angry mob, reportedly comprising his supporters.
The patience of the MQM office-bearers, who had become used to mopping up the mess left behind by Altaf Hussain’s oratorical outbursts for years, finally snapped. In what many thought might be a fatal blow, the most prominent of all the MQM leaders in Karachi, Dr Farooq Sattar, announced that he would no longer obey his leader’s instructions. The MQM, Sattar vowed, would operate from Pakistan alone — and Altaf Hussain’s approval was not going to be required for the party decisions. Only weeks later, the party’s legislators in the national and provincial assemblies presented resolutions, denouncing his speech and calling for his trial on treason charges.
This time, the party really was split into two. The few of its leaders who were willing to defend him in public were promptly put behind bars, as they tried to address a press conference.
With the army also denouncing him and arresting his loyalists under all kinds of charges – including that of terrorism and links with Indian intelligence agencies – it seemed that Altaf Hussain’s demise, at last, had become both inevitable and irreversible.