Morality in the service of politics

“It is…just as little necessary for the saint to be a philosopher as for the philosopher to be a saint.” That is how philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer replied to the cutting remarks that his personal conduct was contrary to the self-abnegation that made up his moral philosophy. In a word, a preacher or a savant may not come up to the high standards that he sets for others.

Yes, a sage’s life is supposed to be an embodiment of his teachings. Yet, by no means does one logically follow from the other. If it were, all first-rate thinkers as well as passionate preachers would be people of immaculate character and vice versa. History, however, does not lend credence to such a proposition.

By the same token, morality and politics – though closely connected – are autonomous disciplines. The authority of the government – particularly one which dons the garb of democracy – is in part legal and in part moral. But politics is not synonymous with morality. A regime which is deemed to have lost the high moral ground may nevertheless continue to remain in office as long as the legal basis on which its edifice rests remains intact. A good citizen need not have an enviable character – at least if we go by conventional morality – and a neat and clean individual who is politically inert may not measure up to the standards of good citizenship. Likewise, an acclaimed politician need not be a person of a high moral stature and vice versa.

Several factors set politics and ethics apart. The foremost factor is the end. From the standpoint of the individual as well as the group – party, clan, community or nation – the end of politics is to secure or consolidate power. Democracy is not an exception. Political parties, which are the principal players in a democratic order, are set up with the object to contest elections and acquire power. All other objectives, if any, are secondary.

More often than not, political goals are dressed in ethical terms and the quest for power is given a moral justification. Colonialism was defended by its proponents on the avowed ground of civilising the colonised. The real motive behind colonialism, however, was to extend control over the colony’s resources – land, labour and capital – or simply to exercise power over the vanquished people. Likewise, a politician may cast himself as being on a noble mission to stamp out corruption, cronyism or vulgarity when he is simply jockeying for power at the bottom.

Cleaning up the Augean stable of politics is not a new watchword in Pakistani politics. Many political leaders as well as soldiers of fortune have styled themselves as moral crusaders and announced or demanded “ruthless” accountability. But as it turned out, their anti-graft, anti-lewdness tirade was no more than a cloak for their appetite for power.

Let’s consider some examples.  General Ayub Khan, who has the distinction of being Pakistan’s first military ruler, assumed the command of the armed forces in 1951 and would have retired in January 1959. In the words of a former general, “a broad tactical outline to impose martial law in the country was being prepared”, which received the final approval of Ayub on the last day of September 1958 (Major-Gen Fazal Muqeem Khan: The Story of the Pakistan Army). 

In October 1958, Gen Ayub while staging the coup declared that the army was forced to intervene to prevent the “complete ruination of the country” by “self-seekers who, in the garb of political leaders, have ravaged the country or tried to barter it away for personal reasons”. Let’s admit for the sake of argument that the 1958 coup was made necessary by the prevailing political situation – the action was also upheld by the apex court by invoking the doctrine of necessity.

Did the general prove to be different from the “self-seeking” politicians whom he had unseated? Was the political facade that he put in place not designed to make all state institutions subservient to him? The 1962 constitution has often been euphemistically referred to as ‘the constitution of Ayub, for Ayub and by Ayub’. Did he not rely on the same breed of corrupt politicians to provide much-needed political support to the regime? Finally, did his policies not, in a substantial measure, contribute to the 1971 dismemberment of Pakistan?

With the proclamation of martial law on July 5, 1977, General Ziaul Haq declared: “When the political leaders fail to steer the country out of a crisis, it is inexcusable for the armed forces to sit as silent spectators. It is primarily for this reason that the army perforce had to intervene to save the country”.

Let’s again suppose that the 1977 coup was necessitated by the then volatile circumstances – it was also upheld on judicial review. We may also agree with the late general’s supporters that he had a spotless character – except that he was not always as good as his word.

But that “paragon of virtue and piety” was a schemer who remained the undisputed master of the nation for more than 10 years while the fundamental law of the land remained in abeyance. He used religion to impart legitimacy to his government and thus religionised politics. His long rule spelled disaster for the country. It was his regime that fathered sectarian organisations and sowed the seeds of religious militancy in the country.

Ghulam Ishaq Khan (GIK) held several important offices until he made it to the presidency. He is widely regarded as conscientious to the bone, having never stolen even a single penny from the public exchequer. But the same GIK conspired against elected governments and set one “corrupt” political leader to catch another. Between 1988 – when democracy was restored – and 1997, four governments were dismissed. On each occasion, the dismissals took place on the grounds of corruption allegations. But that did not mitigate the menace.

General (r) Pervez Musharraf, the 1999 coup-maker, started off with promises of across-the-board accountability. Many politicians were put in the dock for their alleged involvement in corruption. But it was not long before it became evident that the accountability process was, in fact, an instrument for a forced change in loyalties or political victimisation and manipulation. The moment some of the “corrupt” politicians joined the king’s party, they were given a clean chit. The accountability process culminated in the formation of the PML-Q government, which remained in the saddle for five years.

Morality and politics relations are rooted in culture. In a Western European country, nine out of 10 cases of a prime minister inviting adverse remarks from the judiciary and investigators would have called it quits given the cultural milieu. But Pakistan lacks such healthy precedent, not only in politics but in other spheres as well. 

In Pakistan, stepping down on ethical grounds is like belling the cat. While everyone in the kingdom of mice agrees that the cat should be belled, no one – value their lives as they do – has the courage to step closer to the powerful adversary. By the same token, while ethics may be a strong ground for quitting a high public office, everyone eggs on the rest to be the first to do so.

The writer is a freelance
countributor.

Email: hussainhzaidi@gmail.com