State within state: Gated community sparks i

[Lahore_Real_Estate]

State within state: Gated community sparks ire
RAWALPINDI The houses and manicured lawns slope up the artificial hill edged by unbroken sidewalks and white picket fences, as children play and residents exchange pleasantries.

This sprawling subdivision called Bahria Town – “Come home to exclusivity,” it boasts-operates its own garbage trucks, schools, firehouse, mosques, water supply and rapid-response force – a kind of functioning state within a nonfunctioning one. And all supplied without the bribes you’d pay on the outside, residents say.

“I like living here,” said Abdul Rashid, retired government worker. “It’s like you’re in a little protected country – tidy, utilities work, the family can relax. If there’s any problem, you just ring up security.”

The jarring presence of a middle- and upper-class retreat in this increasingly violent nation has been paved, in part, by the involvement of the country’s powerful military.

Benefiting from laws put in place during British Empire days to reward friendly armies and militias with land grants, the military now controls about 12 per cent of all Pakistani state land, by some accounts. And its privileged position allows it to partner with and otherwise route valuable tracts to favoured developers.

Bahria Town and its partner, the military-run developer Defence Housing Authority, occupy twice as much land as Rawalpindi, the garrison city 30 minutes from the capital, Islamabad.

In the posh Safari Villas subdivision, past Sunset Avenue and College Road, Mohammad Javed, 69, surveys his pocket garden before heading into his three-bedroom corner house with a beige sofa ensemble and Samsung flat-screen TV. Houses in the neighbourhood run from $25,000 to $60,000, well out of reach for most Pakistanis.

Bahria Town has been a hit not only with moneyed Pakistanis but also with returnees. Javed, who owned a petrol station in Canada before retiring, hopes to replicate his North American lifestyle. Bahria’s protective walls bring security, he said, although he still won’t let his grown children visit lest something bad happen beyond its confines. “We meet in Thailand or Canada,” he said.

Although it’s difficult to blame Pakistanis for retreating behind private walls as suicide bombings, political killings and political unrest intensify, some view the trend with concern. They fear the projects widen the rich-poor gap and damage the environment.

This growing tangle of developments destroys farmland, fuels traffic nightmares and undermines community life, said architect Jamshaid Khan, who designs houses for Bahria Town and its partner. Sprawling Bahria Town has no cricket or soccer fields or even libraries because there’s no immediate profit in it, he said.

“I volunteered to design libraries for free, even donate books,” he said in his office, packed with blueprints. “But they didn’t want them.”

These communities also highlight economic disparities. “It’s unfair,” said Mohammad Ameen, 30, a tailor living outside the Bahria Town gate, adjusting a tape measure around his neck. “Rich Pakistanis live the good life and we suffer. It’s a state within a state. And the energy used by these palaces only worsens shortages for the rest of us.”

Rawalpindi’s forest department, among others, recently accused Bahria Town of encroachment. Other complainants who file lawsuits say the group’s strong connections with police, courts and local politicians make justice elusive. The company did not respond to repeated requests for comment.