A besieged democracy?

The writer is an analyst and commentator.

­Pakistani democracy is besieged by the tyranny of myopia, arrogance and the refusal to learn. The warning signals are all too obvious, for those who wish to continue to look: parliament – where the law of the land is made – is largely immobilised and increasingly irrelevant.

Local governance – where the lofty ideals of the state meet the harsh reality of the people – is struggling to keep pace with the growing divide between what the state is capable of giving, and what the people need. The free press – where the stories of the sons and daughters of the land are told – is being reduced to a caricature.

The damage done to parliament has been led by political parties themselves. The coronavirus has made the absence of meaningful parliamentary sessions seem like it is something new, but it is not. Parliament ceased functioning coherently a while ago.

The dubious manner in which even some otherwise historic legislation was passed in recent years precedes the current parliament. How can any true democrat forgive or forget how the elections for the Senate leadership were contaminated by the scandalous behaviour of the very political parties that weep crocodile tears for democracy? Does this excuse the awful attitude of the ruling party and its allies toward parliament? Absolutely not. The crown for the sad state of parliamentary affairs certainly adorns the head of the PTI, but the PPP and to a lesser extent, the PML-N, certainly merit dishonourable mention in the list of protagonists in this tragedy.

The damage being done to local governance has been led by the insatiable appetite of Pakistan’s bureaucracy for unfettered power. Ever the perfect foils for both the so-called corrupt politicians and the seemingly ever-dominant military, Pakistani bureaucrats stealthily sustain their role as the primary beneficiaries of the ever-growing centralization of power. Who exercises this power? Civil servants.

The evidence is plain to see. The 18th Amendment needs little rollback because it changed very little to begin with (the real change that is the root of current faux disputes is the National Finance Commission, which is purely about how money is distributed between the centre and the provinces, and across the provinces themselves). The power to appropriate human and financial resources meanwhile remained exactly where it had been prior to the landmark 2010 legislation that gave us our renewed federal system of governance: in Islamabad.

The All Pakistan Unified Grades’ (APUG) federal civil servants above the BPS-20 level that essentially run the entire country, are transferred and posted at the whim of the Prime Minister’s Office, the Establishment Division, and whoever else is powerful enough at any given time to enact a transfer or posting – but this list rarely, if ever, includes local councillors, or nazims. Even provincial politicians have very little power or control over these civil servants (in most cases, they don’t particularly care either – the symbiosis between bureaucrats and politicians, like the compact between most elites, is one of the secrets to the ‘resilience’ of the system).

Similarly, the power to spend money where it matters: at schools, and hospitals, or on technology or new ways of doing things, all rests exactly where it used to: in the hands of bureaucrats. Robust federalism and powerful local governments would loosen the tight control of bureaucrats over decision-making, enabling politicians to be involved in the mechanics of how the state interacts with the average citizen: who happens to be teetering between an honourable means of making a living wage, and needing a BISP/Ehsaas bailout to get by next month, even in the best of times.

More importantly, local governments that matter would substantially reduce the powers of local administrators, and empower elected local councillors. Locally elected officials depend on that average citizen for their jobs. Civil servants headquartered in Islamabad (for federal civil servants), or in Karachi, Quetta, Peshawar or Lahore (for provincial civil servants) have no such dependence. The myth of the innately corrupt politician thus serves the bureaucracy perfectly. Of course, the bureaucrats don’t need to perpetuate this myth themselves. For this, they have allies on another front.

The damage being done to the free press has been led by invisible powers that do their dirty work via Whatsapp forwards, and whiny populism. Of course, they are helped along the way by irresponsible television personalities that continually treat the national discourse like it is a poorly lit backroom made to cater to their personal whims. But this distraction is exactly the sleight of hand that whiny populists use to perpetuate their malign agenda. A free press threatens anyone that seeks to do things without being accountable to anyone. This, at its heart, is the spirit of democracy. Once it has been mortally wounded, there is no recovery.

There are three kinds of Pakistani democrats. The first are the puritans, let’s call them Democratic Fundos. These are the people that profess a wholesale belief in true individual freedom, over and above all. They tend to be very, very angry at the military. They tend to support anything and anyone that is critical of the military. And they tend to be willing to justify or defend political parties, no matter how yucky these parties may get. (I admire this kind of democrat, but fear how excitable they can be).

The second kind of Pakistani democrats are the “yeah but…” democrats. These are the people who caveat their adherence to democracy with various fatwas about political parties and their ill behaviour. Let’s call them Reluctant Democratic Fundos. These are the people that believe in democracy and federalism – not necessarily because they are sworn to freedom and representative forms of governance, but because they have grown to learn that it may be the only way to make this big, beautiful beast of a country to get along and move forward. This is the pragmatists’ and centrists’ camp. (I suspect that I am this kind of democrat, try as I might to be true to the idealistic formulation of our cousins described previously).

The third kind of Pakistani democrats are the Not-Really Democrats. These folks claim to be champions of democracy, but show no sign of respect for any of its currently besieged three elements. They openly hate parliament, they constantly moan longingly for empowered local governments (but do nothing to support them), and they disown the nasty Whatsapp messages they incessantly forward at the first sign of being challenged. Let’s call them ‘Saviour Democrats’.

If you live long enough in Pakistan, you will have watched the Not-Really or Saviour Democrats evolve into more sincere and authentic democrats. Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto and Nawaz Sharif being the most profound examples of this transition. The reason for this is simple: the pragmatists know better. You cannot bludgeon everybody, all of the time. Newspapers, and news channels, elected local, provincial and national politicians, and the needs of the people all three have their place. You have to cater to all three. You have to build coalitions. You have to rotate the strike. You have to be nice. You have to share.

This is, at the very essence, the driving principle of Pakistani federalism, and Pakistani democracy. And it is irresistible and inescapable: you have to be nice, and you have to share.