ONCE, as a colleague and I discussed some organizational issues at the University of Massachusetts, quoting an old New England maxim, he said to me: “If it is not ‘broke,’ don’t mend it.” That was surely good advice, and one that the self-appointed reformers in Pakistan appear never to have heard.

Ayub Khan embarked on a seemingly comprehensive programme of restructuring our society and polity. Starting with the system of land ownership, he issued a torrent of “reforms” calculated to impact all important areas of the public domain-governmental structure, bureaucracy, legal procedure and profession, education, and labour among others. Commissions were appointed, deliberations held, reports submitted and approved, but nothing really changed. The changes (relating to the system of governance) that did take effect were subsequently repudiated by the people and undone.

As a change-maker, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto did better, but only slightly. His contribution to the negotiations with the opposition that led to the framing and virtually unanimous adoption of the 1973 Constitution, which remains one of our more valuable national assets, should be acknowledged. His land reforms touched the lives of only a very small percentage of the little peasants in the country; his indiscriminate nationalization of industries, banks, and colleges had disastrous consequences, and his “reforms” in other areas, including the bureaucracy, produced no beneficial results.

Ziaul Haq’s reformist zeal did not go much beyond his alleged desire to Islamize our society and polity, and to perpetuate his own rule, and in pursuing these goals he messed up the Constitution, and our system of governance, including the judiciary. His legacy is denounced much more often than it is applauded.

In determining the scope of its reformist efforts, General Musharraf’s government is treading the same path as Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and Ayub Khan did. One gets the impression that if things are not even cracked enough to require mending, it wants to break them in order to have a reason for mending them. Other observers have called attention to this inclination on its part. It may well be that.the Bureau of National Reconstruction (which is preparing and sending out reform packages) feels that it must find more work to justify and prolong its existence, enhance its status, and enlarge its organizational table. I propose to limit the following discussion to only one particular move that the Bureau is reportedly contemplating. It is the project of breaking up the four existing provinces into twenty-five or so new ones, either by redrawing provincial boundaries or by reviving the recently abolished “divisions” and converting them into provinces. What does the Bureau have in mind?

The considerations behind this plan could be primarily political or administrative. Let us first look at the former. Many years ago, the Indian government reorganized provincial boundaries in that country, creating several new provinces, on a linguistic basis. This happened because distinct linguistic groups, which often became violent, demanded the creation of these new provinces. The situation in Pakistan is not quite the same.

The Hindko-speaking people in the NWFP do not desire separation from the Pakhtoons. Some Pakhtoon spokesmen have occasionally spoken of joining the Pushto-speaking areas of Balochistan with the NWFP, but this proposal has never attained the dimensions of a mass movement. One does hear, now and then, that some political notables in the Saraiki-speaking areas of southern Punjab would like to be able to rule a province of their own. Mr Taj Langah, once the deputy secretary-general of the Punjab PPP, became a major spokesman for Saraiki separatism after the more influential PPP men had driven him into political wilderness. But not much has been heard lately of the movement he had hoped to launch and lead.

Elements in the MQM have, from time to time, mounted a campaign for the establishment of an Urdu-speaking province to be carved out of Sindh. One version of this demand would separate metropolitan Karachi from Sindh and make it into a province. Apart from the probability that the Sindhi-speaking people won’t hear of dividing the province, and no such scheme can even begin to be implemented without violence approaching the scale of a civil war, consider some practical problems.

First, while it is true that more Urdu-speaking people live in Karachi than anywhere else in Pakistan, it does not follow that in fact they constitute the majority of the city’s population. We hear both contentions: one that they do, the other that they don’t. Karachi is often said to be “little Pakistan,” where people from all of the country’s regions live. It is the nation’s commercial capital. It generates the larger part of the provincial, and a substantial part of the national, revenue. For that reason also the Sindhi-speaking people will never agree to let go of Karachi.

There is really no alternative to all of us learning to live and work together in peace and harmony, even mutual affection, notwithstanding our diversities, to which there is never an end until you reach the single individual, and even at that level you may encounter a “split” personality. Carried to extremes, the logic of self-determination will lead to anarchy, making it impossible for people to come together in societies and political unions. Separate Karachi from Sindh, but what will happen if those whose native language is not Urdu say they want to separate from the Urdu-speaking folks, or if the Shias want to separate from the Sunnis?

One other consideration before we move on to the administrative aspects of the issue under discussion. Punjab and Sindh, even more than Balochistan and the NWFP, are historic entities thousands of years old. Their people have a sense of identity, a major ingredient of which is the sense of being a Punjabi or a Sindhi. This ought not to be taken lightly; nor should it be confused with “chauvinism,” “provincialism” or “parochialism.” It may have an element of pride, but it is not arrogance.

It is not anything for which a Punjabi or a Sindhi needs to be apologetic. Love and cherishing of one’s village, town, province, family, or tribe are healthy so long as they do not predispose a person against people with different affiliations. And they need not, and in most cases do not, detract from his or her sense of, and pride in, being a Pakistani.

None of Pakistan’s existing provinces can be broken up without causing a great deal of anguish and unrest. Any serious attempt to dismember Punjab, for instance, will anger millions of Punjabis and alienate them from the central government. The same will hold for the Sindhis. The plan for creating a greater multiplicity of provinces, if it is indeed receiving serious consideration, will produce political mischief, and no political good.

Can the plan promise administrative benefits? None that may readily be seen. Many Muslim countries — Afghanistan, Iran, Turkey, Iraq, and Egypt among others-have each a large number of “provinces.” But these are essentially administrative, not political, units. They have “governors,” but no legislatures. The state in these cases is not federal but unitary. Our present government, on the other hand, will presumably allow each new province not only a governor but also a legislature, a chief minister and his cabinet, a secretariat, and perhaps even its own high court.

All of this in the name of decentralization and devolution? Two points deserve consideration here. At this time, hardly any of our public authorities, including government departments, has the money to pay its electricity bills, and, reportedly, governments have to borrow money even to pay their employees’ monthly salaries. From where, then, will money come to pay governors, ministers, legislators, and department heads in twenty-five, instead of four, provinces? Even if the legislatures in the new provinces are smaller, the number of other higher-ranking political and administrative officials will increase manifold, and so will their compensation and the cost of their perquisites and privileges.

If the current plan of devolving considerable legislative and administrative authority to the districts is honestly implemented, not a whole lot will be left for the provincial governments to do. What is then to be gained from having twenty-five “do-little” governments instead of the present four? Could it be that the new provinces are intended to create jobs for officers of the district management group who may not have much to do after the dismantling of the former structure of district administration?

One might recall that Nawaz Sharif’s government in Punjab felt strong enough to revolt against Benazir Bhutto’s government at the centre (with the connivance of President Ghulam Ishaque Khan) during her first tenure as prime minister. But that was then. It is understood that under the current devolution plan the central government will have some role in directing the new district governments. One doesn’t know to what extent the projected provincial governments will be subordinated to the centre.

But the very fact that they will be little in size, and presumably in resources, encourages the expectation that they will be easily overawed. One might wonder then if the National Reconstruction Bureau is really working to dilute further the federal character of the state of Pakistan. There is no learning from experience. Those who run the Bureau may wish to recall that the provinces were once abolished and integrated into one unit called West Pakistan. Their forced unification was resented all along and eventually they had to be recreated. Let the Bureau heed the New England saying quoted above and leave alone that which is not “broke.”

AS preparations for the elections proceed apace, the argument is also heating up on the constitutional changes that the government insists must precede them and the opposition insists, with equal vehemence, must be left to be considered by the new parliament.

The argument of the government,in essence, revolves around political equilibrium with checks on the absolute power of the prime minister built into the system. The opposition wants the democratic process to find its own bearing without the intervening wisdom or coercion of the military.

While the standpoint of the opposition ignores history, the actions of the government also cast doubt on its stated objective. Constitutional changes are indeed required to curtail the absolute and arbitrary exercise of authority by an individual, be it the president or the prime minister, and also to transfer more powers to the provinces which, in the present arrangement, depend entirely on the largesse of the federal government.

Zia-ul-Haq, Ghulam Ishaq Khan and Farooq Leghari dissolved the National Assembly and dismissed the prime ministers. When this presidential power was taken away by the 13th amendment made in April 1997, the army had to intervene to remove the author of the amendment and the prime minister, Nawaz Sharif.

In dissolving the National Assembly and dismissing Mohammad Khan Junejo, Zia-ul-Haq acted out of sheer megalomania. After eight years of ruthless exercise of absolute power, he just could not reconcile to his hand-picked prime minister acting without his approval. Ghulam Ishaq Khan was in helpless rage over the political antics of Nawaz Sharif, his cronyism, his off-handed treatment of the bureaucracy and official business. Reaching the end of the tether, the only way he could get rid of the frolicsome prime minister was to dissolve the Assembly. If a choice was available to him, perhaps he would have brought the workaholic Shahbaz Sharif as the prime minister to the roaring approval of the National Assembly.

A constitutional remedy short of dissolution and dismissal can certainly be found to ensure that the chief executive performs all his functions within law and fairly. In parliamentary systems of old standing, prime minister is restrained by the cabinet, by the parliament, by conventions and usage and, above all, by the force of public opinion. Here, more specific constitutional and legal provisions shall have to be incorporated in the Constitution to achieve that end.

It has to be a well thought-out, elaborate exercise which could be illustrated here only through some examples. To check the waste of public money in pursuit of personal whims — like the roads around the Raiwind estate and polo ground in the prime minister’s house — all development expenditures should be approved in a prescribed manner. The prime minister should have no discretionary fund of his own.

Another example: the changes of senior commanders, civil servants and diplomats should be made by the prime minister with the approval of the president. This condition is more important than it might appear on the surface as all chief executives have invariably used this power to make the senior officials submit to their personal wishes or follow the party agenda rather than act impartially in wider public interest. If there still remain some independent and defiant public servants, they are mostly at junior levels. For seniors it is a grim choice between heading a ministry or a provincial secretariat, or sulk on the sidelines. Even in the present non-political set-up about a score of them are sitting at home but being paid from the public exchequer for as long as this government has been in existence.

In a military context, the October 1999 crisis resulting in the forcible ouster, imprisonment and exile of Nawaz Sharif could have been averted if the removal of the chief of army staff were to be subject to the approval of the president. Perhaps, even a president as amenable as Rafiq Tarar would have withheld approval till the army chief had returned and thus saved the country the pariah status till the terrorists came to our rescue. Earlier in time, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto would not have been imprisoned and later executed by Zia-ul-Haq had the president of the time, Ch. Fazal Elahi, possessed some power and influence.

Pursuing the check-and-balance principle, it would also be appropriate for the president to head the cabinet committees on defence and foreign affairs, for in these domains even considered judgment of the prime minister, leave aside his capriciousness, can cause serious and wider repercussions. Intervention in Afghanistan, support to the freedom fighters in Kashmir and Kargil conflict are the instances in point.

It seems the Quaid-i-Azam’s view on the executive-authority’s control over the armed forces was similar. Addressing the officers of the Quetta Staff College on June 14, 1948, he said: “I want you to remember and if you have time enough you should study the Government of India Act, as adapted for use in Pakistan, which is our present constitution, that the executive authority flows from the head of the government of Pakistan, who is the governor-general and, therefore, any command or orders that may come to you cannot come without the sanction of the executive head. This is the legal position.”

Mr Jinnah must have heard some murmurs of discontent or doubt about the authority of the governor-general in the presence of the defence minister and the prime minister to have said this. Perhaps he had similar apprehensions about the civil servants when addressing them on April 14, 1948 he said: “The first thing I want to tell you is this, that you should not be influenced by any political pressure, by any political party or individual politician. If you want to raise the prestige and greatness of Pakistan, you must not fall a victim to any pressure, but do your duty as servants to the people and the state, fearlessly and honestly. Service is the backbone of the state.”

We all know a prime minister is a politician to the core. A Civil servant’s career therefore must not be left to be determined by him alone. Woefully, what was the first thing to the founder of the country became the last thing for the subsequent rulers. Now the politicians don’t have to exert pressure; the civil servants invite it.

The state thus has lost its backbone. This explains the frequent and prolonged interventions by the military. Imagine a man like Zia-ul-Haq ruling the nation dictatorially for eleven years, destroying its values and institutions and putting it on the course of endless schism and strife.

The slogan of ideology of Pakistan and the controversy over the Islamic character of the polity that Zia raised have diverted attention and sapped energy that should have been devoted to the creation of a just and progressive society. The Quaid-i-Azam’s word on this subject too should be taken as the first and the last: “I do not know what the ultimate shape of Pakistan’s constitution is going to be, but I am sure that it will be of a democratic type, embodying the essential principles of Islam. Today, they are as applicable in actual life as they were 1,300 years ago. Islam and its idealism have taught us democracy. It has taught us equality of men, justice and fair play to everybody. We are the inheritors of these glorious traditions and are fully alive to our responsibilities and obligations as framers of the future constitution of Pakistan. In any case Pakistan is not going to be a theocratic state — to be ruled by priests and divine mission.”

Again, Mr Jinnah retorted angrily when a pressman in Delhi a month before independence asked him whether Pakistan would be a secular or a theocratic state: “You are asking me a question that is absurd. I do not know what a theocratic state means.” The pressman suggested it meant a state where only Muslims would be full citizens, Mr Jinnah’s reply was: “When you talk of democracy, I am afraid you have not studied Islam. We learnt democracy 13 centuries ago.”

The clear message emerging from these pronouncements is that there can be no Darul Afta (or the house of religious edicts now being contemplated) nor a tribunal of priests (shariat courts in existence) nor a council of ideology overturning the laws made by an elected parliament.

Such are the critical issues and many more that need to be resolved constitutionally before the elections are held. The main occupation of the think tanks and loudmouths of the government however seems to be to find a chameleon — a Chaudhry or a Mian or a Gilani — to keep Benazir Bhutto and Nawaz Sharif out, only to fall back once again into the faction-ridden chaos till the military calls again.

HOW is it that the United States got a jihadi Zia when that is what it needed and has got a liberal Musharraf when that is what it needs now?

You wondered over this amazing coincidence during General Pervez Musharraf’s crowded three-day visit to Washington, but it served the general well as he moved from think tank to the White House, to the Pentagon, and on to the National Press Club. He heard fulsome praise everywhere.

Calls for revival of democracy were muted and in passing, and no US official, in the many briefings held before and during the visit, was prepared to go into any criticism of the Pakistani leader. President George Bush, who could not even recall Gen Musharraf’s name in an interview before last November’s presidential election, described him as a friend and “a leader of great courage and vision” in a joint appearance for journalists in the grand foyer of the White House immediately after meeting his visitor. Praise like that can go to anyone’s head, and no wonder the general sounded somewhat bombastic when he claimed at a press conference with Pakistani journalists on the last day of his stay that he could pick up the telephone any time and could talk to (British prime minister Tony) Blair or (Secretary of State Colin) Powell.

But, to be fair, he made the remark in the context of how Pakistan had been able to shake off its “pariah” status and be recognized as an important member of the international community since the decision to change course as a result of the September 11 attacks. His January 12 speech, warmly praised here as promising a better future for Pakistan, had set an appropriate tone for his visit, and the general pushed his theme of “a liberal, tolerant, progressive Muslim state” and his opposition to religious extremism for maximum impact. He came across as someone with whom you can have a rational political dialogue

On relations with India also, General Musharraf made a calculated effort not to sound hawkish since that would not have been particularly welcome in Washington, which recognizes the dominant position of India in the region and knows also that New Delhi is not easily bent. Time after time, the Pakistani president told his audiences of the flexibility of the Pakistani position and of how close he and Mr Atal Behari Vajpayee had come to an agreement that recognized the centrality of the Kashmir issue, only to be thwarted by elements in the Indian premier’s party.

His logic on Kashmir, dialogue and regional peace was also straightforward — the subcontinent needs peace for development, there can be no peace without a settlement of the Kashmir issue, and the Kashmir issue cannot be resolved without a dialogue. Indeed, it appears that the US not only played a greater role than was always apparent in defusing Indo-Pakistan tensions after the attack on the Indian parliament, but also has been pushing for a dialogue more strongly than news reports might suggest.

Secretary Powell said on the last day of the Musharraf visit that Pakistan and India must sit down and talk, and all issues should be on the table, including Kashmir. This persistent American advocacy of talks can only be interpreted by Pakistan as support for its own keenness to have the US play the role of a facilitator and to persuade India to enter into negotiations, and Indian reluctance to start talks must be proving frustrating for US diplomats.

There were other indications of American engagement with Pakistan, and the presidential visit was rife with gestures of support and friendship. Given Pakistan’s past meddling in Afghanistan and its backing, particularly the Pakistani military establishment’s backing, for Afghan holy crusaders of various hues, and given also the persistent hostility to Pakistan among some members of the new Afghan cabinet, President Musharraf’s words of praise for interim leader Hamid Karzai were seen as being both gracious and tactful. The US effort is concentrated on bolstering the general’s position and keeping up pressure on him to go further down the road in the campaign against militancy and intolerance.

Some of this pressure was spelt out in public by the chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, Mr Joseph Biden, who assured President Musharraf of Congressional consensus in favour of the Bush administration’s economic aid package for Pakistan, including debt relief, but at the same time warned that this would come with strings attached. These he enunciated more crustily than administration officials, saying the US would expect Pakistan to hold transparent elections, remain steadfast in the war against terrorism, and de-escalate tensions with India. Congress may yet prove a more difficult nut to crack than the administration, and the administration can itself use Congress to block some measures if it comes to the conclusion that Islamabad is not being pliant enough.

At the end, there’s always this question of what was achieved. It’s obvious that one of the objectives of the Bush administration was to confer its official blessings on a leader whom it had earlier reviled as a military dictator. The trip was described as an “official working visit”, and the Oval Office meeting was full of symbolism and should have been welcomed in Pakistan. Gen Musharraf is regarded as absolutely a key player in the unfolding saga in Afghanistan and the region surrounding it; the joint meeting arranged by the Woodrow Wilson Centre and the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace on Feb 12 as well as the invitation to be the luncheon speaker at the National Press Club are not trifling honours.

Military-to-military ties had automatically been revived with the end of the several layers of sanctions against Pakistan, and the formation of a defence policy group during the Musharraf visit should enable these ties to be promoted, to Pakistan’s benefit where supply of spare parts and other requirements of that kind are concerned. No substantial offers of military hardware should be expected because of the inevitable reaction in New Delhi. It is not known what further quid pro quos, such as US bases in Pakistan, were discussed.

In the economic field, there have been small gains, but the eventual impact of these is not immediately clear. The $-1billion debt relief decision appears to be mired in mathematical confusion, and the relief given in imports of Pakistani apparels has been described as inadequate by Commerce Minister Razzaq Dawood himself who, to his credit, has made no effort to put a spin on developments.

It may be premature and perhaps not very fair to judge the visit by any immediate benefit that can help transform the deprived lives of large sections of the people of Pakistan in terms of economic and social uplift. But that, and not military supplies or even F-16s, must remain the ultimate test of our politics and diplomacy. A watershed has been reached by at least recognizing the menace of fanaticism and intolerance, but there is still little sign of redressing the daily deprivations and frustrations of ordinary people that lead to political distortions. If American largesse goes only to fatten military and business cats, it will prove counter-productive.