Bureaucracy in turmoil

The manner in which politicians and civil servants in Punjab have protested against NAB’s decision to arrest a senior government functionary reeks of the tailspin into which our bureaucracy has gone.

More than anyone else, bureaucrats themselves have caused their institution to go to pot. Pakistan inherited its civil service structure from British India. In the centre, the civil service comprised two categories: the Civil Service of Pakistan (CSP) – which was the successor to the Indian Civil Service – and functional services, such as the foreign service and the police service.

Although recruited through the same examination, both services were poles apart in terms of power and prestige. The CSP was an elite service, which monopolised the key positions in the local administration – commissioners and deputy commissioners (DC) – as well as central and provincial secretariats. For more than two decades, the three most powerful posts in the bureaucracy – the secretary to the chief executive (president or prime minister); the cabinet secretary; and the establishment secretary – would invariably be held by the officers belonging to the CSP cadre.

The entire edifice of the civil service rested on the assumption that governance was essentially a matter of general administrative skills rather than specialised knowledge. Therefore, a member of the CSP was competent enough to handle the most intricate of situations and tackle the thorniest of issues. To date, the administrative system continues to be held hostage to this spurious assumption.

In the entire civil service hierarchy, the office of the DC was unique. The DC was the chief revenue officer (or collector) in the district. He was also responsible for maintaining law and order – the district police officer was responsible to him – as well as coordination among various government departments. To top it all, the DC was the chief magistrate (or district magistrate) in criminal matters. The combination of administrative, revenue, police and judicial authority in one office was reminiscent of colonialism.

Political instability and the absence of strong and stable political parties in the initial years after Independence provided the perfect environment for the elite service to arrogate to itself even greater powers. The Report of Pay and Services Commission 1959-62, which was drawn up under the stewardship of Justice Cornelius, contained a rollicking argument against the concentration of powers in the CSP. However, its recommendation that those powers may be held down did not resonate with the military regime – which, shorn of political legitimacy, was much too dependent on the CSP.

The system of basic democracies, contrived by the Ayub regime, drew sustenance from the support provided by the district administration. The basic democrats, who were completely under the thumb of DCs, also served as the electoral college for the presidential election that Ayub won.

Former PM Z A Bhutto abolished the CSP cadre and instituted a common training programme for all occupational groups, including the district management group (DMG) – the successor to the CSP. The security of service provided to civil servants by both the 1956 and 1962 constitutions was scrapped. The 1973 constitution (through Article 240) left it to parliament to prescribe the terms of service for civil servants, which it did in the form of the Civil Servants Act, 1973.

For the first time, Bhutto posted non-CSP officers as heads of the cabinet and establishment divisions and the Prime Minister’s Office.

Be that as it may, the nationalisation policy, which made the state the principal player on the economic scene, actually shored up the role of the civil service – particularly of the CSP/DMG, which had become too well-entrenched to be collared.

The civil service structure didn’t undergo any change during the following two decades. Meanwhile, the DMG had come to command the same powers and prestige that belonged to the CSP. Pervez Musharraf, as part of the devolution plan, abolished divisions as administrative units along with the office of the commissioner. The district nazim was made the head of the district government and a set of district offices were put in place. The office of the DC was replaced with that of district coordination officer (DCO). The judicial powers of the DM came to be vested in the sessions court judge. It seemed as though the sun was finally setting on the DMG empire.

But that was not to be. Although subdued at the local level, the DMG managed to safeguard its preeminent positions in the federal and provincial secretariats. After Musharraf’s exit, his local government system was rolled back and the offices of the commissioner and DC were revived in all the four provinces. The DMG was renamed the Pakistan Administrative Service (PAS).

Amid these changes – which are a classic example of running around in circles – the integrity and professionalism of the civil service have been on a steep downhill. Once the steel frame of the state, the bureaucracy has been reduced to scrap, which is incapable of putting up even a modicum of resistance to the arbitrary orders of their political masters. Nothing has been done to stem the rot. In fact, an incompetent and corrupt bureaucracy suits politicians because it is easier for them to make it dance to their tune. But more than politicians or military rulers, civil servants themselves must take the flak for cutting their own throats.

By digging their heels in the generalist-specialist controversy, the CSP and DMG helped write off the credibility of the institution. The generalist position is based on the mistaken view that every public problem is fundamentally an administrative issue and can be resolved if an ‘adroit’ administrator is at the helm. As a result, DGMs officers are deemed thoroughly capable of negotiating with foreign donors; spearheading the country in trade negotiations; handling the security situation; maintaining law and order; leading budget preparations; drawing up a fiscal policy; meeting revenue targets; supervising infrastructure-related projects; and steering human capital development. This is equivalent to asking a doctor to do an engineer’s job and entrusting the latter with maintaining the accounts of a mega enterprise.

This view has some obvious flaws. First, the generalist’s approach, as a rule, is only skin-deep. He can’t go to the heart of the problem at hand and, therefore, comes out with only quick-fix solutions, such as scaling-up or slashing the budget and reshuffling a few members of the team. The specialists working under a ‘dynamic’ generalist are given the shaft for losing themselves in the labyrinth of technicalities and causing inordinate delays in sorting out the matter. The final outcome may catch the eye, but it usually doesn’t appeal to the mind.

Second, since the generalist is generally not well-versed in the matters he is dealing with, he feels a sense of insecurity. The combination of ignorance and insecurity makes him highly susceptible to succumbing to pressure from the top. That is why political masters prefer a ‘clear-headed’ and ‘quick-witted’ generalist to a ‘confused’ and ‘hairsplitting’ specialist. The stage is set for a politician-bureaucrat logrolling, which has impaired both the competence and integrity of the civil service.

As a result, the bureaucracy has been a victim of the prisoner’s dilemma. What may be good for a few individuals or one cadre may be bad for the entire institution.

The Punjab-based DMG officers who are protesting the NAB proceedings against one of their colleagues probably never spoke a word about the growing politicisation of their institution; the out-of-turn promotions; the by-passing of rules; and the loss caused to the state by undeserving appointments. Their truculence is rooted in the belief that as members of an elite cadre they are, and should be, among the untouchable. This sense of superiority is not confined to one province, but has infested the entire country’s bureaucracy.

The writer is a freelance

contributor.

Email: hussainhzaidi@gmail.com