By Arif Hasan
Retrieved from: www.dawn.com.pk
THE present political crisis has been discussed to death in the press, and before it was curbed, in the electronic media. However, its governance related repercussions still need to be analysed. The process of trying to legitimise ‘constitutional deviation’ is more destructive of the institutions of governance that affect the lives of common citizens, than ‘constitutional deviation’ itself.
This is because the only tools available for legitimising the usurpation of power are lies, deceit, and coercion, buying and selling of loyalties and the support of turncoats, opportunists and sycophants, in short all those who have no interest in the well-being of society. So how can anything vaguely ethical or beneficial for society emerge from or survive such an onslaught?
The search for legitimacy also leads to manipulating existing governance institutions, ostensibly for getting rid of corruption. However, the real reason is to curtail their autonomy and make them subservient to the illegitimate power structure. As a result, they become ineffective. For the same reasons new governance systems are created which have nothing to do with the real needs of society or with existing social and political relationships. These institutions are not created through a normal process of rules and regulations and so their only loyalty is to those who have usurped power. As such, these institutions do not take root, their continuity is always questioned, and by their very nurture, seeped in their origins, they promote corruption and nepotism. This has been the story of Ayub’s basic democracy, Zia’s Majlis-i-Shoora and education and legal ‘reforms’, and more recently of Musharraf’s devolution plan.
The search for legitimacy is also sought through the development of high profile projects unrelated to the needs of the people and to building grand monuments that serve no purpose. All the previous generals who have usurped power have indulged in promoting grandeur as an alternative to genuine progress. False propaganda, which even becomes farcical at times, is promoted and if one reads between the lines, it is not even believed by the sycophants to those in power.
The present ruling elite’s thesis that Pakistan is rich and prosperous because of the number of cars and mobile phones that have been purchased, is a case in point. That education and health systems have collapsed and people have no access to housing does not seem to matter. This tendency to fabricate increases as the failure to legitimise usurpation increases with time, and ultimately it is only the ruler and his court who believe in it. The ineffectiveness and corruption of the institutions of governance on the one hand and the disbelief of people in what the state says on the other, promotes opportunism, cynicism and/or alienation at all levels in society.
The greatest damage of ‘constitutional deviation’ however, is that it suspends all consensus making mechanisms and reduces all political activity to a one-point agenda for the restoration of democracy in which there is no place for discussion on development and progress. This has a fourfold effect.
One, it fragments society to the extent that centrifugal forces set in and keep increasing in geometric progression with the passage of time; two, that by suspending the political process, a new political leadership does not emerge and people have to turn to their clan, tribal or ethnic organisations for support to the extent of solving their personal and property disputes and intervening in their dealings with state organisations; three, in the absence of a dialogue between different points of view inappropriate and often disastrous policy decisions are taken; and four, since maintaining power through illegitimate means becomes a priority, a ruthless game of divide and rule takes precedence over all other things. We have seen all this happen in our last eight year period of ‘deviation’.
In the case of Pakistan, the propaganda justifying ‘constitutional deviation’ has in the last sixty years, constantly used the excuse of ‘Pakistan is in danger’. There is no other country in the world, except Israel, where this excuse is offered for unconstitutional, immoral or unethical policies and laws. The major repercussion of this process is the disconnect between the rulers and the ruled and the depoliticisation of the elite, who for their own vested interests see no option but to side with the rulers. It also leads in our case to a questioning, often irrationally, of the viability of our state and its origins, especially by the better educated of our younger generation.
Given the serious repercussions of ‘constitutional deviation’ on the institutions of governance, among other issues, it is necessary that it should never happen again. The proposed elections in the present circumstances in Pakistan are in themselves a constitutional deviation. As many commentators have said, they will not solve Pakistan’s constitutional crisis and will not bring about stability, legitimacy or reform. They will only make the crisis fester longer and lead subsequently to further fragmentation of society. The main victims of this will be the people of Pakistan who will increasingly have to seek illegal means or the support of self-servicing patronage to solve their problems and the problems of the settlements in which they live. Therefore, it is in the larger interests of the political parties, to not only boycott these elections but to come together to promote and struggle for a future election process that guarantees a proper election and hence a future legitimate set-up. The million dollar question is why are they not doing this? Perhaps in the answer to this question lies the real political crisis in Pakistan.
Showing posts with label Of Power and Politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Of Power and Politics. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Political Crisis on a Silent Street
by Ali Cheema
The renowned sociologist Saskia Sassen, having witnessed the suspension of Pakistan’s Constitution during her recent trip to Lahore, raises a critical question in her Guardian article: will the street rise? Based on her experience of the street in Lahore she concludes that “(m)y experience…was of bustling shops and bazaars: no closed shops, no drawn shutters”. In brief her categorical answer to the question, which I agree with, is that no the street in Lahore will not rise. Unwittingly Professor Sassen’s Guardian article raises a question and a concern that continues to befuddle the good General: why is he in a deep political crisis given that food and shopping remain the mantra of the urban street; and is there something behind the surface of the street that may yet strike him down?
These are non-trivial questions. There was no teleological certainty that would have predicted General Musharraf’s deepening political crisis. Musharraf was hailed as Caesar by all hues of Pakistan’s urban middle class and its urban elite – then as now the street remained silent. He was hailed as the embodiment of personal sincerity and honesty, a statesman with a sense of purpose and for his constituency this was enough – as for the street it maintained its silence. He was hailed as the economic savior and it did not matter whether Pakistan’s macroeconomic crisis had been averted because of the 9/11 windfall or in spite of it – as for the street, business began to stir but otherwise it remained silent. He was hailed as the deliverer of prosperity as massive inflows of money into property, banking and stocks created an unprecedented economic and consumer boom – the street, well, business boomed but it maintained its silence.
A head count of protesters out on the street during the past year would certainly not indicate that the good General should have been politically fearful, the Chief Justice’s long drive from Islamabad to Lahore and the weekly protests of the brave lawyers community notwithstanding. As Professor Sassen puts it, “(e)ven today, there has been no massive demonstration in any major Pakistani city… there are also diffuse millions of Pakistani citizens reluctant…..to rise on their own account.” Why then has the good General suspended the Constitution, sacked a large number in the Superior Judiciary and brutalized and incarcerated thousands? Why has the good General, like Saturn, eaten his progeny, the free media? Why then has the good General broken the promises he made to his dear friend President Bush, to his constituents and to the Pakistani Diaspora?
I believe Pervaiz Musharraf when he says that he is no Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, he is the same blunt, no-nonsense, straight talking person that he was in 1999 – albeit somewhat prone to corporal punishment against powerless citizens! I completely agree with General Musharraf that these acts have been forced upon him, although in my view it is not the fickleness of promises made by corrupt politicians that is to blame, instead it is the simple fact that his regime and the State he governs are in an acute political crisis. The question, however, remains unaddressed why is there an acute political crisis given that the silence of the street continues to haunt cities like Lahore?
In my view three related factors, which are structural to military rule in Pakistan, explain the deepening crisis of governance faced by the Musharraf regime: the inability of his regime to win the popular vote in a free and fair election; the necessity of gaining political legitimacy for his Presidency; and the need to repeatedly turn to extra-constitutional measures. The tragedy for rulers like General Musharraf is that democratic constitutions that draw political legitimacy from the people, do not allow rulers to rule in the name of the Monarch, the Gun or God. The initial violation of a democratic constitution causes a crisis of political legitimacy, while the uncertainty to win a majority vote forces extra-constitutional measures that exacerbate this crisis in spite of a silent street. It is important for Pakistani citizens, state functionaries and the global political community to realize that today the country stands at the precipice of a monumental crisis of legitimacy that is likely to erode the governance ability of the state even in the short-run.
The need to draw legitimacy from the people has haunted Generals Ayub Khan, Zia-ul-Haq and now Musharraf. Consider what the fortune of General Musharaf’s political party was in the 2002 General Election. It won no more than 34% of the general seats and could only win 27% of the popular vote. It did not win a majority of the popular vote. Mind you this was at a time: when the good General was actually popular and boasted of a vibrant constituency; when the military was administering the country; and when the supposedly unpopular leaders of the two main political parties were in exile. All this did not give the General’s party anywhere near a workable electoral mandate. It appears that the quiet on the street may have entailed a double-edged sword for General Musharraf. It is worth asking why a ruler with a popular agenda; in control of the military and civil machine; and faced with political parties that were leaderless and unpopular could not ensure an electoral win for his political party.
The answer is that the patronage networks offered by mainstream political parties act as an essential intermediation device for citizens confronted by an oppressive, fractured and dysfunctional state. The challenge for military rulers is that they have not been able to reform state institutions in a way that would substitute them for these patronage networks. Moreover, their strategy of using establishment-dependent politicians to effectively compete away mainstream political parties has not worked. Historically the establishment-party may compete away some part of the network of mainstream parties but it has not been enough to ensure the Generals’ continued control over the office of the President. Like his predecessors, it is electoral uncertainty that continues to haunt General Musharraf in spite of the quiet on the street. What puzzles the good General is that in his gut he knows that economic growth in itself is not a panacea for the political and electoral conundrum that he is facing. His electoral trepeditions also indicate that he is aware that the mainstream political parties will get votes even if they cannot mobilize the street. The good General’s secret assignations with Mohtarma Benazir Bhutto and now with Mian Nawaz Sharif are evidence of this awareness. It appears that the power of the vote matters even if it cannot entirely substitute for the muscle of the street, a point under-emphasized by Professor Sassen as well as by other analysts of Pakistan.
The uncertainty of electoral politics and the inability to secure absolute majorities forces military rulers, like General Musharraf, to make constitutional compromises and to take extra-constitutional steps in order to retain power. In this spiral, power can only be legalized by nominated judges and by collaborative legislatures and to achieve this control over the gun has to be maintained. However, the more extra-constitutional measures that the ruler takes the more political legitimacy is lost by the President, Government, political parties, judiciary and parliament, in short the state, even if the appointed judiciary legalizes these measures. This is because the rule of law and constitutionalism matters to citizens.
A vast majority of the citizens of Pakistan, some silently and some rather vocally, but all non-violently, today stand in opposition to General Musharraf’s regime because its actions during the past year give an appearance of a grave disregard for the organs of the State and the rule of law. While it is debatable that his act of filing a reference against the Chief Justice of Pakistan was constitutional, what is not debatable is that the sight of a police officer dragging Justice Chaudhry by his hair will be seen by citizens simply as the unadulterated exercise of the State’s coercive powers. What is not debatable is that the act of removing superior court judges, who had taken oath of office under General Musharraf’s own Provisional Constitutional Order (1999), simply because they disagreed with his legal assessment, will be seen by citizens as indicative of personalized rule. What is not debatable is that his assertion that the creation of the National Security Council will put an end to extra-constitutional actions by Military Chiefs will be seen as a statement of political expediency. What is not debatable is that the suspension of the Constitution and fundamental rights at the end of a period of five years of his government will make constitutionalism appear arbitrary to citizens, to be invoked and removed without limitation at the behest of the executive.
In short, in Pakistan today it appears to citizens that all rules of the game, even those promulgated by General Musharraf himself, are expendable at his personal whim. This undermines the political legitimacy of the state and exacerbates the crisis of governance as it brings citizens into direct and silent opposition to the state and promotes the rule of expediency, which does not bode well as it will erode the remaining vestiges of a functioning state. The opposition will manifest itself in a multitude of ways that include: street protests; swing voting; criticism of government actions; growing support for anti-government anarchic forces; lack of credibility of government – all these will have one chant in common: the state is not of the people, by the people and for the people.
The renowned sociologist Saskia Sassen, having witnessed the suspension of Pakistan’s Constitution during her recent trip to Lahore, raises a critical question in her Guardian article: will the street rise? Based on her experience of the street in Lahore she concludes that “(m)y experience…was of bustling shops and bazaars: no closed shops, no drawn shutters”. In brief her categorical answer to the question, which I agree with, is that no the street in Lahore will not rise. Unwittingly Professor Sassen’s Guardian article raises a question and a concern that continues to befuddle the good General: why is he in a deep political crisis given that food and shopping remain the mantra of the urban street; and is there something behind the surface of the street that may yet strike him down?
These are non-trivial questions. There was no teleological certainty that would have predicted General Musharraf’s deepening political crisis. Musharraf was hailed as Caesar by all hues of Pakistan’s urban middle class and its urban elite – then as now the street remained silent. He was hailed as the embodiment of personal sincerity and honesty, a statesman with a sense of purpose and for his constituency this was enough – as for the street it maintained its silence. He was hailed as the economic savior and it did not matter whether Pakistan’s macroeconomic crisis had been averted because of the 9/11 windfall or in spite of it – as for the street, business began to stir but otherwise it remained silent. He was hailed as the deliverer of prosperity as massive inflows of money into property, banking and stocks created an unprecedented economic and consumer boom – the street, well, business boomed but it maintained its silence.
A head count of protesters out on the street during the past year would certainly not indicate that the good General should have been politically fearful, the Chief Justice’s long drive from Islamabad to Lahore and the weekly protests of the brave lawyers community notwithstanding. As Professor Sassen puts it, “(e)ven today, there has been no massive demonstration in any major Pakistani city… there are also diffuse millions of Pakistani citizens reluctant…..to rise on their own account.” Why then has the good General suspended the Constitution, sacked a large number in the Superior Judiciary and brutalized and incarcerated thousands? Why has the good General, like Saturn, eaten his progeny, the free media? Why then has the good General broken the promises he made to his dear friend President Bush, to his constituents and to the Pakistani Diaspora?
I believe Pervaiz Musharraf when he says that he is no Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, he is the same blunt, no-nonsense, straight talking person that he was in 1999 – albeit somewhat prone to corporal punishment against powerless citizens! I completely agree with General Musharraf that these acts have been forced upon him, although in my view it is not the fickleness of promises made by corrupt politicians that is to blame, instead it is the simple fact that his regime and the State he governs are in an acute political crisis. The question, however, remains unaddressed why is there an acute political crisis given that the silence of the street continues to haunt cities like Lahore?
In my view three related factors, which are structural to military rule in Pakistan, explain the deepening crisis of governance faced by the Musharraf regime: the inability of his regime to win the popular vote in a free and fair election; the necessity of gaining political legitimacy for his Presidency; and the need to repeatedly turn to extra-constitutional measures. The tragedy for rulers like General Musharraf is that democratic constitutions that draw political legitimacy from the people, do not allow rulers to rule in the name of the Monarch, the Gun or God. The initial violation of a democratic constitution causes a crisis of political legitimacy, while the uncertainty to win a majority vote forces extra-constitutional measures that exacerbate this crisis in spite of a silent street. It is important for Pakistani citizens, state functionaries and the global political community to realize that today the country stands at the precipice of a monumental crisis of legitimacy that is likely to erode the governance ability of the state even in the short-run.
The need to draw legitimacy from the people has haunted Generals Ayub Khan, Zia-ul-Haq and now Musharraf. Consider what the fortune of General Musharaf’s political party was in the 2002 General Election. It won no more than 34% of the general seats and could only win 27% of the popular vote. It did not win a majority of the popular vote. Mind you this was at a time: when the good General was actually popular and boasted of a vibrant constituency; when the military was administering the country; and when the supposedly unpopular leaders of the two main political parties were in exile. All this did not give the General’s party anywhere near a workable electoral mandate. It appears that the quiet on the street may have entailed a double-edged sword for General Musharraf. It is worth asking why a ruler with a popular agenda; in control of the military and civil machine; and faced with political parties that were leaderless and unpopular could not ensure an electoral win for his political party.
The answer is that the patronage networks offered by mainstream political parties act as an essential intermediation device for citizens confronted by an oppressive, fractured and dysfunctional state. The challenge for military rulers is that they have not been able to reform state institutions in a way that would substitute them for these patronage networks. Moreover, their strategy of using establishment-dependent politicians to effectively compete away mainstream political parties has not worked. Historically the establishment-party may compete away some part of the network of mainstream parties but it has not been enough to ensure the Generals’ continued control over the office of the President. Like his predecessors, it is electoral uncertainty that continues to haunt General Musharraf in spite of the quiet on the street. What puzzles the good General is that in his gut he knows that economic growth in itself is not a panacea for the political and electoral conundrum that he is facing. His electoral trepeditions also indicate that he is aware that the mainstream political parties will get votes even if they cannot mobilize the street. The good General’s secret assignations with Mohtarma Benazir Bhutto and now with Mian Nawaz Sharif are evidence of this awareness. It appears that the power of the vote matters even if it cannot entirely substitute for the muscle of the street, a point under-emphasized by Professor Sassen as well as by other analysts of Pakistan.
The uncertainty of electoral politics and the inability to secure absolute majorities forces military rulers, like General Musharraf, to make constitutional compromises and to take extra-constitutional steps in order to retain power. In this spiral, power can only be legalized by nominated judges and by collaborative legislatures and to achieve this control over the gun has to be maintained. However, the more extra-constitutional measures that the ruler takes the more political legitimacy is lost by the President, Government, political parties, judiciary and parliament, in short the state, even if the appointed judiciary legalizes these measures. This is because the rule of law and constitutionalism matters to citizens.
A vast majority of the citizens of Pakistan, some silently and some rather vocally, but all non-violently, today stand in opposition to General Musharraf’s regime because its actions during the past year give an appearance of a grave disregard for the organs of the State and the rule of law. While it is debatable that his act of filing a reference against the Chief Justice of Pakistan was constitutional, what is not debatable is that the sight of a police officer dragging Justice Chaudhry by his hair will be seen by citizens simply as the unadulterated exercise of the State’s coercive powers. What is not debatable is that the act of removing superior court judges, who had taken oath of office under General Musharraf’s own Provisional Constitutional Order (1999), simply because they disagreed with his legal assessment, will be seen by citizens as indicative of personalized rule. What is not debatable is that his assertion that the creation of the National Security Council will put an end to extra-constitutional actions by Military Chiefs will be seen as a statement of political expediency. What is not debatable is that the suspension of the Constitution and fundamental rights at the end of a period of five years of his government will make constitutionalism appear arbitrary to citizens, to be invoked and removed without limitation at the behest of the executive.
In short, in Pakistan today it appears to citizens that all rules of the game, even those promulgated by General Musharraf himself, are expendable at his personal whim. This undermines the political legitimacy of the state and exacerbates the crisis of governance as it brings citizens into direct and silent opposition to the state and promotes the rule of expediency, which does not bode well as it will erode the remaining vestiges of a functioning state. The opposition will manifest itself in a multitude of ways that include: street protests; swing voting; criticism of government actions; growing support for anti-government anarchic forces; lack of credibility of government – all these will have one chant in common: the state is not of the people, by the people and for the people.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Pakistan's Two Worlds by Saskia Sasson
Retrieved from
http://commentisfree.guardian.co.uk/saskia_sassen/2007/11/pakistans_two_worlds.html
http://commentisfree.guardian.co.uk/saskia_sassen/2007/11/pakistans_two_worlds.html
I arrived in Lahore, Pakistan from Mumbai Sunday night. All flights were operating normally, no matter the state of emergency. On Monday I was driven around Lahore. I saw only bustling shops and bazaars. No closed shops, no drawn shutters.Yet when I stepped back briefly into my international hotel and watched the major western news channels, available only via satellite, all I saw was extremely violent police repression of protesting lawyers. As the day proceeded, the same dynamic repeated itself - a stark disconnect between what I saw on television and my experience of the city's streets. And Lahore was the centre of arrests of lawyers on that day. It is becoming evident that the geography of conflict and repression in Lahore is extremely specialised. It involves only certain spaces and certain groups: lawyers, opposition members and media. And this is all the western media were focused on.
But the critical issue is: will the street rise? That is the concern on Pakistan's president Pervez Musharraf right now. My experience of the street in Lahore tells me the answer is no. In its day of greatest violence, Lahore turned out to contain two separate worlds: that of violent repression and a larger, bustling, diffuse world of daily life. A thousand is a lot of arrested lawyers, but it can drown in a city of 7 million, especially when the local media have been closed.
The first time these two worlds intersected in my experience was Monday evening, at the conclusion of an invitation-only talk I was giving at one of Lahore's premier institutions. The prominent lawyer who was to host the post-talk dinner had been taken from his home and arrested only an hour earlier. And three professors who were meant to come had also been arrested.
You would not have known this just by driving back through the city that night. The streets were alive with people. Restaurants were open. Clubs were booming. Nor would you have known this driving through Lahore the next morning, after the most violent day in the city's recent history. We passed the stunningly beautiful old buildings that house the courts and lawyers. Police were standing in front of them, but behind them was only silence, and traffic was moving as if nothing had happened there the day before. Nothing much was happening, of course, because most lawyers were in prison - in this context the equivalent of being disappeared. Their arrests had barely left a trace on the city. It felt that way also when I got to the university to give another talk, this time a public one. There an overflow audience moved to a video-linked separate room. The event lasted over three hours.
But at the lunch, there was another intersection of the two worlds inhabiting Lahore these days. One of the members of the audience was talking with me about the urban and globalisation issues of the lecture, and I asked him what he thought about my two-worlds image for Lahore. He blurted out that his father - the head of the political party of the Nawaz Sharif, the opposition leader not allowed to return by Gen Musharraf a month ago - had been arrested Saturday night, an hour after the state of emergency was declared.
As the day went on, I attended the opening of an exhibition by a leading Pakistani sculptor - an unforgettable visual experience. And then on to a private meeting with the very powerful governor of Punjab to talk about mass transit and urban economies. Through it all the streets continued to bustle, the traffic remained heavy and the airlines continued to fly according to schedule, as if nothing is happening.
All this in a city that in the past repeatedly was the centre of political confrontations. Tariq Ali was active in the communist movement in the 1960s. In the 1970s Lahore saw raw bloody protests, and the street rose against the popularly elected government of Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, who rigged the 1976 elections even though he would have won. Lahore's fabric felt the strains of shop shutdowns, accompanied with the traders and lawyers marching in the streets, with much violence. It was Lahore's Indo-Saracenic-styled high court building that saw the first full-scale protest in Pakistan against the March 9 sacking of the supreme court's chief justice by Gen Musharraf.
Prior to partition, Lahore was a bastion of political activity in the Punjab as well. Gandhi, Nehru, Jinnah and other leaders came to the city to conduct meetings, mobilise influential Punjabis and benefit from its location smack at the centre of the undivided Punjab. A lot of the sites where Nehru and Gandhi held meetings have been conveniently forgotten as part of the selective amnesia project carried out by the state's actors. One such example is the present day decrepit Bradlaugh hall.
Are we moving to a new type of repression? A niche repression, akin to the niche markets that segment consumer power? With niche repression the street will not rise, the traffic will keep flowing, the airlines will keep flying and the shops will keep selling.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Dawn at Noon
Veena Das
It happens frequently – people get fed up with politics. When Indira Gandhi declared a National Emergency in India in 1976, there were reasonable people who pitched the need for democracy against the needs of economic development and argued that the country needed stability and discipline. No one now remembers that notorious period with any fondness, for it became clear that the Draconian laws of the Emergency were used precisely against the poor in the beautification campaign and the forced sterilization campaign. Musharraf’s declaration of Emergency is surely not in accordance with the law when the Constitution of Pakistan stands suspended. But much more is at stake than narrow legality. What is being put into question is the very possibility of a democratic Pakistan. It is not the rulers alone who will decide what might be possible futures.
Depressing as it might be, it is well to remember that when General Musharraf came to power in 1999, many people, including the intelligentsia welcomed the development – they were tired of corrupt leaders, they said. This way they did not have to take responsibility for the leadership, for they had not elected him. Since the essence of a political community is one’s willingness to be represented by others, as well as the agreement to represent others, this reaction was nothing short of a bowing out of politics as dirty, corrupt, not worth getting your hands soiled with.
For me, one of the most encouraging signs is the fact that the middle classes are willing to again engage in politics. The blogs that have come up are, of course, full of comments on the corruption of the leaders. Says one blogger –“Democracy too is a farce in Pakistan. Benazir and her henchmen amassed billions. Nawaz Sharif is a thug, who beat up all opponents, all hypocrisy and more corruption. At least General Musharraf is personally less corrupt.” To such people one can only say that indeed there is a democratic crisis in many parts of the world (including the U.S.A) when the elected leaders who come to power with the support of big money turn out to be corrupt, or end up following policies and programs that do not have the mandate of the population or are against dearly held moral principles. But dictatorships are not any more successful in generating leaders who can fulfill the aspirations of justice or morality. And worse – in such regimes there are no channels such as courts or the press where the less privileged can organize to get relief from even if the actual reach of these institutions depends on other factors such as civil society mobilization.
So the popular protests in Pakistan are not to bring back a particular leader but to restore the democratic processes through which politics might be re-engaged. It is not elections alone but an independent judiciary, constitutional rights, free press and building of independent institutions of learning that would allow more than procedural rights to be delivered. It is not as if the field of politics has been empty. One of the urgent task before the academia is to ask how the present mobilization relates to other kinds of mobilizations – whether these were ethnic and sectarian mobilizations or the labor movements that were thwarted by the alliance of feudal and military alliances. They must recognize the intense interest in matters of not only getting education and health with which many of them will sympathize but also a search that many ordinary people engage in, on what would be a good Islamic life. Even a cursory examination of popular books such as the ten volume “Aap ke misail aur unke jawab” would show the deep engagement with questions of piety, modernity, and ways that are open for the practice of Islam. I suspect that increasingly there will be an effort on the part of the military regime to mobilize fears about new freedoms. Musharraf’s remarks that the women’s movement was going too far - thus implying that Pakistani society was “not ready for rapid change” show that there will be an important cultural politics to contend with. In such a politics it is important that the aspirations of ordinary people are engaged – that a love of democratic freedom is not pitched against a love for Islam.
As an Indian I am particularly conscious that there can be refusal to imagine that there are several possible futures for Pakistan. Indian commentators often get stuck at the point of Partition and assume that an allegiance to Islam, or to an Islamic modernity means that the future was always given, it was at the root of the project of Pakistan. But this is nostalgia, not as longing but as a refusal to allow the past to open up to a future – to assume that the future generations could not discover for themselves something different. This is not an inheritance that the founders of Pakistan could have wanted for their future generations. It is however, the task for these generations which are now out in the streets to ask what relations can be forged between the different inhabitants of Pakistan. What traditions of Islam do they want to inherit? What should be the relation between the state and sharia law?
General Musharraf thinks that the sovereignty of Pakistan is at stake and he tries to deal with the crisis by shutting down the media, making large-scale arrests of the very people who would fight for the sovereignty of Pakistan through democratic means. For these people who are braving prisons and lathi charges know that that there are many present and future conflicts that will arise over the question of what is the promise of Pakistan? These lie at the heart of a democratic polity. Economists point out that despite a 7% GDP growth rate, the human development deficits in Pakistan are stark. India takes pride in its democracy – yet we all know that securing basic rights is a daily struggle. A Gujarat pogrom against Muslims in 2004, an ongoing struggle in Nandigram in which a peasant struggle is brutally suppressed in the name of public good, and the everyday privations that should not happen after sixty years of independence. So when I use the expression “Dawn at Noon” after the philosopher Emerson, I mean to indicate that we stand in solidarity with the people of Pakistan to hopefully see the sun rise but we know that dawn would be still further on the horizon and we have to work for that dawning at noon.
Veena Das is a Krieger-Eisenhower Professor and Chair of the Department of Anthropology at Johns Hopkins University, USA.
It happens frequently – people get fed up with politics. When Indira Gandhi declared a National Emergency in India in 1976, there were reasonable people who pitched the need for democracy against the needs of economic development and argued that the country needed stability and discipline. No one now remembers that notorious period with any fondness, for it became clear that the Draconian laws of the Emergency were used precisely against the poor in the beautification campaign and the forced sterilization campaign. Musharraf’s declaration of Emergency is surely not in accordance with the law when the Constitution of Pakistan stands suspended. But much more is at stake than narrow legality. What is being put into question is the very possibility of a democratic Pakistan. It is not the rulers alone who will decide what might be possible futures.
Depressing as it might be, it is well to remember that when General Musharraf came to power in 1999, many people, including the intelligentsia welcomed the development – they were tired of corrupt leaders, they said. This way they did not have to take responsibility for the leadership, for they had not elected him. Since the essence of a political community is one’s willingness to be represented by others, as well as the agreement to represent others, this reaction was nothing short of a bowing out of politics as dirty, corrupt, not worth getting your hands soiled with.
For me, one of the most encouraging signs is the fact that the middle classes are willing to again engage in politics. The blogs that have come up are, of course, full of comments on the corruption of the leaders. Says one blogger –“Democracy too is a farce in Pakistan. Benazir and her henchmen amassed billions. Nawaz Sharif is a thug, who beat up all opponents, all hypocrisy and more corruption. At least General Musharraf is personally less corrupt.” To such people one can only say that indeed there is a democratic crisis in many parts of the world (including the U.S.A) when the elected leaders who come to power with the support of big money turn out to be corrupt, or end up following policies and programs that do not have the mandate of the population or are against dearly held moral principles. But dictatorships are not any more successful in generating leaders who can fulfill the aspirations of justice or morality. And worse – in such regimes there are no channels such as courts or the press where the less privileged can organize to get relief from even if the actual reach of these institutions depends on other factors such as civil society mobilization.
So the popular protests in Pakistan are not to bring back a particular leader but to restore the democratic processes through which politics might be re-engaged. It is not elections alone but an independent judiciary, constitutional rights, free press and building of independent institutions of learning that would allow more than procedural rights to be delivered. It is not as if the field of politics has been empty. One of the urgent task before the academia is to ask how the present mobilization relates to other kinds of mobilizations – whether these were ethnic and sectarian mobilizations or the labor movements that were thwarted by the alliance of feudal and military alliances. They must recognize the intense interest in matters of not only getting education and health with which many of them will sympathize but also a search that many ordinary people engage in, on what would be a good Islamic life. Even a cursory examination of popular books such as the ten volume “Aap ke misail aur unke jawab” would show the deep engagement with questions of piety, modernity, and ways that are open for the practice of Islam. I suspect that increasingly there will be an effort on the part of the military regime to mobilize fears about new freedoms. Musharraf’s remarks that the women’s movement was going too far - thus implying that Pakistani society was “not ready for rapid change” show that there will be an important cultural politics to contend with. In such a politics it is important that the aspirations of ordinary people are engaged – that a love of democratic freedom is not pitched against a love for Islam.
As an Indian I am particularly conscious that there can be refusal to imagine that there are several possible futures for Pakistan. Indian commentators often get stuck at the point of Partition and assume that an allegiance to Islam, or to an Islamic modernity means that the future was always given, it was at the root of the project of Pakistan. But this is nostalgia, not as longing but as a refusal to allow the past to open up to a future – to assume that the future generations could not discover for themselves something different. This is not an inheritance that the founders of Pakistan could have wanted for their future generations. It is however, the task for these generations which are now out in the streets to ask what relations can be forged between the different inhabitants of Pakistan. What traditions of Islam do they want to inherit? What should be the relation between the state and sharia law?
General Musharraf thinks that the sovereignty of Pakistan is at stake and he tries to deal with the crisis by shutting down the media, making large-scale arrests of the very people who would fight for the sovereignty of Pakistan through democratic means. For these people who are braving prisons and lathi charges know that that there are many present and future conflicts that will arise over the question of what is the promise of Pakistan? These lie at the heart of a democratic polity. Economists point out that despite a 7% GDP growth rate, the human development deficits in Pakistan are stark. India takes pride in its democracy – yet we all know that securing basic rights is a daily struggle. A Gujarat pogrom against Muslims in 2004, an ongoing struggle in Nandigram in which a peasant struggle is brutally suppressed in the name of public good, and the everyday privations that should not happen after sixty years of independence. So when I use the expression “Dawn at Noon” after the philosopher Emerson, I mean to indicate that we stand in solidarity with the people of Pakistan to hopefully see the sun rise but we know that dawn would be still further on the horizon and we have to work for that dawning at noon.
Veena Das is a Krieger-Eisenhower Professor and Chair of the Department of Anthropology at Johns Hopkins University, USA.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Helping Pakistan
By Samia Altaf
Pakistan, labeled the most dangerous country in the world, with loose nukes and angry jihadis, is unraveling. It needs help. To be helped it needs to be understood. Urging a transition to “true democracy,” after the fourth military dictator has suspended the constitution for the second time and sacked a judiciary that dared to question his legitimacy, betrays either naiveté or disinterest. Both will hurt in the long run, if there is a long run.
Understand that there has not been much difference between military and civilian rule in Pakistan. When unreal hopes are betrayed by one, the other is accorded a relieved welcome. Four painful cycles ought to be enough to make that clear. The pundits wringing their hands at the ills of dictatorship today are the same who saw huge silver linings when the fourth dictator, the “enlightened moderate,” came along to clean the democratic mess.
Understand that both dictators and democrats have attacked the judiciary in the same way, both have pandered to the religious fundamentalists in the same way, both have harassed political opponents in the same way, both have enriched themselves in the same way.
Understand why this is so. Understand that the vast majority of the 160 million people have gained nothing since they were “liberated”—not from those who founded the country, not from the democrats, not from the dictators, not from the priests. Half of them are still illiterate, a third are below the poverty line, many still die from the lack of clean water, and many still live in another century. Any surprise they are not active participants in the struggle for “true democracy?”
Understand that the forgotten have no expectations of political equality or fundamental rights from their rulers, be they dictators or democrats. No political party has bothered to make that the central thrust of its campaign and one that did in the past only abused it cynically. All the leading democrats are ever ready to ditch the aspirations of their supporters and cut a deal with the dictator of the day. It is an easier route to the top.
Understand that in a deeply unequal society without individual rights, and with extreme dependence of the many on the few, the functions of political representation and social protection are inseparable. Understand that the natural state of such a society is one of patronage. Understand that the unprotected and powerless are as rational as anyone else—when forced to participate in an electoral game, they vote for the most powerful patron with the strongest links to the ruler. Understand that the preyed upon want their protectors to be on the winning side first and represent their political ideology second. Ideological somersaults and shifting loyalties matter but have to be accepted pragmatically in the real world that exists for them. Count the number of political representatives who have been in every party that has ever ruled the country. Watch how high they hold their heads; watch how much they are sought after.
Understand this is still very much a monarchical society in which the ruler, in whatever garb, believes he rules by divine right Understand the culture in which every ruler, legitimate or illegitimate, begins to see visions of being anointed by the Almighty to “save the nation.” The more incompetent and unprepared the chosen one, the greater the proof of divine purpose. The third dictator (the “meek”) used to say, in so many words, with awe and humility: “Look at me, what is my worth? Would I be here were it not for the will of Allah?”
The leading prose writer of the country called such leaders “men without stature.” Calling them pygmies would have landed him in jail for abusive language. And why does the Almighty continue to find such pygmies? Because He is putting His chosen people to His severest test! Understand this is an environment rife with such fatalistic beliefs.
Understand this is a society at a stage of development where political parties are personal affinity groups with lifetime leaders—the leading democrat is chairperson for life of a party she inherited from her father. Understand this is a banana republic in which the “best” president and the most “appropriate” prime minister are determined not by the people but by meta-patrons abroad. Understand this is a place where a prime minister can be parachuted from above one day and be consigned to the doghouse the next. Understand this is system in which the king’s courtiers can switch loyalties any minute and have to be continuously bribed. Count the size of the cabinet; compare that to the output. And, nary a protest from any side, nary a protest on any count.
So what does a transition to “true democracy” mean in a situation like this? Understand that representative democracy is not going to emerge any time soon by pressure from below. Democracy will be the name given to a sharing of power amongst the elites holding the wealth, the guns, and the controls over rules and rituals. And, barring anything different, this democracy will go the way of previous democracies, each morphing from “true” to “sham,” each leaving the country more wounded and vulnerable than before. Has this not been the story of the last sixty years?
How then can we get something out of the elite democracy that we will inevitably inherit? Not by imagining a battle won, not by wishing for some ideal unfettered democracy, but by working towards a system of some checks and balances that limits the accumulation of power and the abuse of office by ruling groups, a system that advances human rights and access to justice, and one that enlarges the space for hearing the voices from below.
By some quirk, this was a scenario beginning to unfold with the assertion of independence by the judiciary, by its questioning of arbitrary executive authority, by its taking up the causes of ordinary citizens. This was the first institutional development in over sixty years that promised a meaningful step towards good governance in the interest of the ordinary citizens. And even before one could be sure it was for real, the fourth dictator (the “enlightened”) smothered it, quickly and ruthlessly, risking even his carefully varnished image of moderation in the process.
De Tocqueville said it long ago: “Unable to do without judges, it [the government] likes at least to choose the judges itself and always to keep them under its hand; that is to say, it puts an appearance of justice, rather than justice itself, between the government and the private person.” Pakistanis know why. Governance in Pakistan is allergic to accountability. Pakistanis know now what has to change.
So, going back to “free and fair” elections, back to “true democracy,” as promised by a dictator, ruling under an emergency, to a bunch of democrats ready to cut a deal, is not going to do much good. It will be very old wine in very old bottles. Well-wishers of Pakistan, at home and abroad, need to grasp the one promising development in an otherwise sorry history. They have to agree on a one-point agenda—the Supreme Court has to be restored; the independence of the judiciary has to be guaranteed. This is the only leverage we have at the moment, the one issue on which a broad coalition can unite. This is where the fight for “true democracy” begins. Whomsoever is next anointed by God would need to be put to this test of sincerity. Otherwise, the moment and the opening would be lost. Those who are fighting would need to go on fighting.
This unpublished appeal, addressed to friends of Pakistan, at home and abroad, is dedicated to the students at the Lahore University of Management Sciences (LUMS).
Dr. Samia Altaf is the 2007-2008 Pakistan Scholar at the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars in Washington, DC.
Pakistan, labeled the most dangerous country in the world, with loose nukes and angry jihadis, is unraveling. It needs help. To be helped it needs to be understood. Urging a transition to “true democracy,” after the fourth military dictator has suspended the constitution for the second time and sacked a judiciary that dared to question his legitimacy, betrays either naiveté or disinterest. Both will hurt in the long run, if there is a long run.
Understand that there has not been much difference between military and civilian rule in Pakistan. When unreal hopes are betrayed by one, the other is accorded a relieved welcome. Four painful cycles ought to be enough to make that clear. The pundits wringing their hands at the ills of dictatorship today are the same who saw huge silver linings when the fourth dictator, the “enlightened moderate,” came along to clean the democratic mess.
Understand that both dictators and democrats have attacked the judiciary in the same way, both have pandered to the religious fundamentalists in the same way, both have harassed political opponents in the same way, both have enriched themselves in the same way.
Understand why this is so. Understand that the vast majority of the 160 million people have gained nothing since they were “liberated”—not from those who founded the country, not from the democrats, not from the dictators, not from the priests. Half of them are still illiterate, a third are below the poverty line, many still die from the lack of clean water, and many still live in another century. Any surprise they are not active participants in the struggle for “true democracy?”
Understand that the forgotten have no expectations of political equality or fundamental rights from their rulers, be they dictators or democrats. No political party has bothered to make that the central thrust of its campaign and one that did in the past only abused it cynically. All the leading democrats are ever ready to ditch the aspirations of their supporters and cut a deal with the dictator of the day. It is an easier route to the top.
Understand that in a deeply unequal society without individual rights, and with extreme dependence of the many on the few, the functions of political representation and social protection are inseparable. Understand that the natural state of such a society is one of patronage. Understand that the unprotected and powerless are as rational as anyone else—when forced to participate in an electoral game, they vote for the most powerful patron with the strongest links to the ruler. Understand that the preyed upon want their protectors to be on the winning side first and represent their political ideology second. Ideological somersaults and shifting loyalties matter but have to be accepted pragmatically in the real world that exists for them. Count the number of political representatives who have been in every party that has ever ruled the country. Watch how high they hold their heads; watch how much they are sought after.
Understand this is still very much a monarchical society in which the ruler, in whatever garb, believes he rules by divine right Understand the culture in which every ruler, legitimate or illegitimate, begins to see visions of being anointed by the Almighty to “save the nation.” The more incompetent and unprepared the chosen one, the greater the proof of divine purpose. The third dictator (the “meek”) used to say, in so many words, with awe and humility: “Look at me, what is my worth? Would I be here were it not for the will of Allah?”
The leading prose writer of the country called such leaders “men without stature.” Calling them pygmies would have landed him in jail for abusive language. And why does the Almighty continue to find such pygmies? Because He is putting His chosen people to His severest test! Understand this is an environment rife with such fatalistic beliefs.
Understand this is a society at a stage of development where political parties are personal affinity groups with lifetime leaders—the leading democrat is chairperson for life of a party she inherited from her father. Understand this is a banana republic in which the “best” president and the most “appropriate” prime minister are determined not by the people but by meta-patrons abroad. Understand this is a place where a prime minister can be parachuted from above one day and be consigned to the doghouse the next. Understand this is system in which the king’s courtiers can switch loyalties any minute and have to be continuously bribed. Count the size of the cabinet; compare that to the output. And, nary a protest from any side, nary a protest on any count.
So what does a transition to “true democracy” mean in a situation like this? Understand that representative democracy is not going to emerge any time soon by pressure from below. Democracy will be the name given to a sharing of power amongst the elites holding the wealth, the guns, and the controls over rules and rituals. And, barring anything different, this democracy will go the way of previous democracies, each morphing from “true” to “sham,” each leaving the country more wounded and vulnerable than before. Has this not been the story of the last sixty years?
How then can we get something out of the elite democracy that we will inevitably inherit? Not by imagining a battle won, not by wishing for some ideal unfettered democracy, but by working towards a system of some checks and balances that limits the accumulation of power and the abuse of office by ruling groups, a system that advances human rights and access to justice, and one that enlarges the space for hearing the voices from below.
By some quirk, this was a scenario beginning to unfold with the assertion of independence by the judiciary, by its questioning of arbitrary executive authority, by its taking up the causes of ordinary citizens. This was the first institutional development in over sixty years that promised a meaningful step towards good governance in the interest of the ordinary citizens. And even before one could be sure it was for real, the fourth dictator (the “enlightened”) smothered it, quickly and ruthlessly, risking even his carefully varnished image of moderation in the process.
De Tocqueville said it long ago: “Unable to do without judges, it [the government] likes at least to choose the judges itself and always to keep them under its hand; that is to say, it puts an appearance of justice, rather than justice itself, between the government and the private person.” Pakistanis know why. Governance in Pakistan is allergic to accountability. Pakistanis know now what has to change.
So, going back to “free and fair” elections, back to “true democracy,” as promised by a dictator, ruling under an emergency, to a bunch of democrats ready to cut a deal, is not going to do much good. It will be very old wine in very old bottles. Well-wishers of Pakistan, at home and abroad, need to grasp the one promising development in an otherwise sorry history. They have to agree on a one-point agenda—the Supreme Court has to be restored; the independence of the judiciary has to be guaranteed. This is the only leverage we have at the moment, the one issue on which a broad coalition can unite. This is where the fight for “true democracy” begins. Whomsoever is next anointed by God would need to be put to this test of sincerity. Otherwise, the moment and the opening would be lost. Those who are fighting would need to go on fighting.
This unpublished appeal, addressed to friends of Pakistan, at home and abroad, is dedicated to the students at the Lahore University of Management Sciences (LUMS).
Dr. Samia Altaf is the 2007-2008 Pakistan Scholar at the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars in Washington, DC.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Politicians vs. Military Dictators
Much of the week since the imposition of martial law has been dedicated to a voicing of outrage and protest from almost all quarters. However, just as many voices have been heard pointing out that while they are unhappy with what Musharraf has done, they are not ready to accept the politicians. And based on this they go so far as to express their lack of desire to see a return to democracy in Pakistan because it promises to bring politicians back to the helm. This simple logic has had many middle and upper-middle class Pakistanis refrain from an outright condemnation of Musharraf for what he has gone and done.
It isn’t entirely surprising that people in Pakistan should be questioning the role and the utility of politicians in the governance process. Their record has been sullied, to say the least, for except for Bhutto Senior’s 7 years, they have presided over Pakistan during its most unstable times – 1947-58 and 1988-99. Beyond the memory of these ineffective periods of rule, however, this argument against politicians is entirely superficial, stands on extremely shaky ground, and is the trademark of those who find thinking an extremely arduous and unnecessary task. Here’s why.
First, I would be more than willing to give this argument some tiny measure of credit, were it not for the answer to some simple questions: who does Musharraf have with him? Who is sitting in his puppet Parliament? Who forms the crux of his support in the PML-Q? The simple answer – politicians. If Musharraf were governing alone, as a one-man legislature (not to say he does not come dangerously close to looking like that at most times, given that so much of the Parliament’s work has happened through ordinances in the last 8 years), one may be able to adopt a “general vs. politician” stance. But given that he entrenched himself and his authority through the creation of a “king’s party”, the PML-Q (made up of politicians), and is the President with a Prime Minister and a full Parliament, it is entirely unintelligent to argue that we are at present living without politicians. Therefore, if your worry, at any level, regards what it would mean to have to deal with politicians once again should elections be held or a democratic process initiated, you shouldn’t be too worried because you have been dealing with them since the 2002 election. In fact, you have been dealing with the worst of them – a type of politician who saw it only right to change political parties to maintain personal power, and who saw no issues in selling his/her soul to the devil for a shot at a good ministerial position. Current politicians of the PML-Q abandoned their parties and their principles by the dozens and were in turn rewarded by Musharraf, our one great hope for the cleaning up of politics in this country, through the creation of what is apparently the largest cabinet in the world. It makes sense. If there are so many politicians cutting deals, you might as well have as many ministerial positions as possible to use as awards. So if it’s politicians you are worried about, they have been with us, alive and thriving, for the last 5 years.
Second, and as Musharraf has obviously realised, what would you do without politicians? It is entirely easy to dismiss politicians as an unnecessary complication in the process of governance. But really, how does governance happen without them? By saying that we are unwilling to return to the era of politicians, are we saying that we have in mind a form of governance that does not require the popular, political mandate, that has no need for a parliament (for parliament is, by definition, made up of politicians), and whose entire legislative process (for the politically naive, the process of coming up with laws for the country) is based around one man? We might as well go on then to argue that we should introduce to the world an alternate governance process in which each new Chief of Army Staff automatically becomes the legislature until death do us part. We should also clarify that we feel no real reason to ever have to waste time in ascertaining popular will, and that we have no particular need for being counted in the process of governing a country. We might as well argue for the restoration of a monarchy, or better still, a much closer memory, for a return to colonial rule, under which no one had to bother with trying to determine the difference between a citizen and a subject. This isn’t a far-fetched notion in any sense of the word, for as long as one talks of independence, a constitution and a Parliament, one has to talk of politicians.
This brings us to the third point. Our major worry about politicians is essentially with respect to two particular politicians – Benazir Bhutto and Nawaz Sharif. Therefore, our vision of governance in Pakistan is that of a boxing ring, in one corner of which stands Musharraf, and in the other stand Bhutto and Sharif, sometimes holding hands, at other times pushing each other around, and at yet others simply tossing each other over the ropes. Our job as spectators is to choose one side over the other, without ever bothering with the dimensions and construction of the ring, or even with the rules of the game. Our worry is simply the personalities and not the processes that define the parameters of the game. That is why we are able to say which personality/politician/ruler we prefer over another, without sparing a minute to place those people within any framework defined by an ideology, or even a larger process.
The point is simple. If Bhutto or Sharif come to power within a system that has changed little since the last time they were in power, our condemnation for that system need be only slightly less severe than it is for martial law. This is because the system would still be defined by instability, by the need of politicians to dance to the tunes of the army, and by imperatives that require that everyone except the voting populace be kept happy at all costs. Under such a system, our greatest worry would continue to be the army and its complete control over our lives. This debate, therefore, has little to do with personalities or with whether we prefer politicians over military rulers, and has everything to do with the process and form of governance we want to live under as independent, self-respecting citizens of Pakistan.
It isn’t entirely surprising that people in Pakistan should be questioning the role and the utility of politicians in the governance process. Their record has been sullied, to say the least, for except for Bhutto Senior’s 7 years, they have presided over Pakistan during its most unstable times – 1947-58 and 1988-99. Beyond the memory of these ineffective periods of rule, however, this argument against politicians is entirely superficial, stands on extremely shaky ground, and is the trademark of those who find thinking an extremely arduous and unnecessary task. Here’s why.
First, I would be more than willing to give this argument some tiny measure of credit, were it not for the answer to some simple questions: who does Musharraf have with him? Who is sitting in his puppet Parliament? Who forms the crux of his support in the PML-Q? The simple answer – politicians. If Musharraf were governing alone, as a one-man legislature (not to say he does not come dangerously close to looking like that at most times, given that so much of the Parliament’s work has happened through ordinances in the last 8 years), one may be able to adopt a “general vs. politician” stance. But given that he entrenched himself and his authority through the creation of a “king’s party”, the PML-Q (made up of politicians), and is the President with a Prime Minister and a full Parliament, it is entirely unintelligent to argue that we are at present living without politicians. Therefore, if your worry, at any level, regards what it would mean to have to deal with politicians once again should elections be held or a democratic process initiated, you shouldn’t be too worried because you have been dealing with them since the 2002 election. In fact, you have been dealing with the worst of them – a type of politician who saw it only right to change political parties to maintain personal power, and who saw no issues in selling his/her soul to the devil for a shot at a good ministerial position. Current politicians of the PML-Q abandoned their parties and their principles by the dozens and were in turn rewarded by Musharraf, our one great hope for the cleaning up of politics in this country, through the creation of what is apparently the largest cabinet in the world. It makes sense. If there are so many politicians cutting deals, you might as well have as many ministerial positions as possible to use as awards. So if it’s politicians you are worried about, they have been with us, alive and thriving, for the last 5 years.
Second, and as Musharraf has obviously realised, what would you do without politicians? It is entirely easy to dismiss politicians as an unnecessary complication in the process of governance. But really, how does governance happen without them? By saying that we are unwilling to return to the era of politicians, are we saying that we have in mind a form of governance that does not require the popular, political mandate, that has no need for a parliament (for parliament is, by definition, made up of politicians), and whose entire legislative process (for the politically naive, the process of coming up with laws for the country) is based around one man? We might as well go on then to argue that we should introduce to the world an alternate governance process in which each new Chief of Army Staff automatically becomes the legislature until death do us part. We should also clarify that we feel no real reason to ever have to waste time in ascertaining popular will, and that we have no particular need for being counted in the process of governing a country. We might as well argue for the restoration of a monarchy, or better still, a much closer memory, for a return to colonial rule, under which no one had to bother with trying to determine the difference between a citizen and a subject. This isn’t a far-fetched notion in any sense of the word, for as long as one talks of independence, a constitution and a Parliament, one has to talk of politicians.
This brings us to the third point. Our major worry about politicians is essentially with respect to two particular politicians – Benazir Bhutto and Nawaz Sharif. Therefore, our vision of governance in Pakistan is that of a boxing ring, in one corner of which stands Musharraf, and in the other stand Bhutto and Sharif, sometimes holding hands, at other times pushing each other around, and at yet others simply tossing each other over the ropes. Our job as spectators is to choose one side over the other, without ever bothering with the dimensions and construction of the ring, or even with the rules of the game. Our worry is simply the personalities and not the processes that define the parameters of the game. That is why we are able to say which personality/politician/ruler we prefer over another, without sparing a minute to place those people within any framework defined by an ideology, or even a larger process.
The point is simple. If Bhutto or Sharif come to power within a system that has changed little since the last time they were in power, our condemnation for that system need be only slightly less severe than it is for martial law. This is because the system would still be defined by instability, by the need of politicians to dance to the tunes of the army, and by imperatives that require that everyone except the voting populace be kept happy at all costs. Under such a system, our greatest worry would continue to be the army and its complete control over our lives. This debate, therefore, has little to do with personalities or with whether we prefer politicians over military rulers, and has everything to do with the process and form of governance we want to live under as independent, self-respecting citizens of Pakistan.
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