My words last week brought me much flak, which was but to be expected. Aside from those who threw a few crumbs of praise my way, there were some who scoffed, many who thought it a case of rather “too little too late” and a vast number who were critical of what I had ‘inked’. Yet none was ready to take me up on what I had recommended. One very close pal, who has known me for most of my life, suggested that I may have written the piece in question, (Has the time come for war? Daily Times, September 12), in a fit of despair. I begged to differ. But, then, sometimes those close to us know us best. Yet there was one fellow who disparaged the essay more than most. And I am sure this was his very intention. “So, now we’re looking for a saviour. I had always thought this nation to be impatient. And you’ve just proved it.” Or words to that effect. The chap in question happens to be a young politician. Which was enough to make me chuckle. After all, if there were any buyers for my ideas – he, for one, would be out of a job for the next five years. Several inquired whether I intended to continue in this vein. No, is the short answer. But allow me as always a little space to clarify. Just one senior officer took me at my word, musing aloud about who might be tasked with defining objectives and implementing strategy. Anyone affording my flight of fancy serious consideration – if I may be so bold – would surely know how to do the needful or find a man or woman who can. From childhood have I been beset by two devilish character traits: insatiable curiosity and the cardinal sin of outspokenness. Which proved a rather debilitating combination, destining me to a life spent swimming against the tide or else trying to avoid being sucked into a veritable whirlpool. Indeed, finding myself in one or other of these states of flummox is still fairly norma, though thankfully not so much as before. Actually now that I think about it, all the years of this taking its toll on me has me convinced of one thing: that my still being here has more to do with sheer good fortune than anything that I may or may not have done. Throughout early adulthood, before and after I donned the uniform, being a decision maker was a role that I easily slipped into. When confronted with any problem I simply decided what to do and did it. This suited me. And since I alone bore responsibility for my actions – if things went wrong, only I would be held to account. When I doffed the uniform, however, things began to change and it took some time to understand just what. It was this: the decision making role was no longer mine for the taking. I was now, at best, an adviser. Meaning that someone else would elect whether or not to follow my guidance; with accountability’s long arm having only them within its grasp. Even during my stint heading the Islamabad Policy Research Institute, where I was answerable for everything that we came up – since this was bound up in policy proposals, someone else would ultimately be on the hook for when it came to acting upon these. To those more morally attuned than soldiers, serving or retired — principled obligations assume an increasingly onerous nature. Which, in turn, leads to advice becoming more fraught than action The above do I say while being fully mindful of the infamous American predilection for CYA (cover your ass). In other words, if in hot water find a scapegoat. And fast. Which, of course, means that I, too, could find myself suddenly cast in that role. But for that to happen the guilty party would have to stoop so very low. It is a risk I seem willing to take. Thus the trade off to being an adviser only is that there is no liability. For that remains the preserve of whomsoever holds the power to decide in his or her hands. I, for one, am now on the fringes, safe from centre of the vortex. Yet if only things were so simple. To those more morally attuned than soldiers, serving or retired – principled obligations assume an increasingly onerous nature. Which, in turn, leads to advice becoming more fraught than action. Not only is this counsel fervently scrutinised from this side and that, each possible scenario, good and bad, is also duly considered. This is the way all good soldiers are taught to go about assessing things. Thus allow me to say just this: I feel that my last piece was not written as a casual or off-the-cuff comment. And if this, indeed, were the case then I surely wouldn’t have concluded with, “Gird up your loins, the time for war is here”. Nor for the record do I believe that I was particularly down at the time of tapping away at the computer. Though, of course, it’s hard not to feel this way when one reads the paper. Which is also why I’m quite sure that if someone were to take seriously my flight of narrative fancy the individual in question would soon become bogged down with defining parameters as well as implementation strategy. I learned the other day that Unaccounted For Gas (UFG), that is, the difference between the amount of gas purchased and the quantity sold that may occur due to leakage and general wastage or misappropriation of some kind, has more than doubled here in Pakistan since 2001, increasing from 7 to 15 percent during this period. In absolute quantity terms, this exceeds one billion cubic feet annually; or more than twice our import levels of LNG that come with a hefty price tag. As a solution, the government has decided that it’s just too much hassle to identify reasons behind these shortfalls and instead has unilaterally chosen to have the paying consumer pick up the difference. All so the national exchequer continues to run profits regardless of errors (or misdemeanours) for which the state is liable. And then someone sent me a list of Asif Ali Zardari’s assets, which are apparently there for all to see on the government’s website. Truth be told, I couldn’t be bothered to have a look. But if a tithe of what they claim is correct – it’s surely far more than he could amass legitimately. Yet over the years NAB has successfully ensured that he be given a clean chit on corruption of every kind. So let me again ask once more: has the time not come to do so much more than gird up our loins for war? The writer is a retired brigadier. He is also former vice president and founder of the Islamabad Policy Research Institute (IPRI) Published in Daily Times, September 17th 2017.