WHAT happens in the course of the next seven months will affect our political life and institutions for a long time to come. For we are at the beginning stage of a transition to civilian control, and transitions in Pakistan are rarely known for their smoothness.

The present power holders’ declared goal is a “genuine democracy” of which the first instalment was devolution of power on elected local authorities. Some other changes have been proposed such as an increase in the numerical strength of the legislatures, the substitution of joint electorate for separate ones, an increase in women’s representation in the legislatures and provision of seats for technocrats. The National Security Council is already in place. This is seen as a device to whittle down parliament’s authority. Certain crucial constitutional amendments are said to be on the anvil. Only when these are announced will the main contours of the proposed political order emerge before view.

The constitutional changes sought by the military are certain to come in for a lot of flak from the political forces and their legitimacy may be challenged before the judiciary. No less important, such feats of political engineering as the National Reconstruction Bureau comes up with will, in time, face the pitiless scrutiny of history. It is a sobering thought that several such innovations of the military genius went up in smoke in the past — Gen Ayub’s basic democracies and his 1962 Constitution; Gen Yahya’s Legal Framework Order; and the party-less political system brought in by Gen Zia, especially Article 58(2)B.

That Pakistan would be a democracy was never in doubt before August 1947 or immediately thereafter. But the issue has often been raised since 1958 when on seizing power Ayub declared that democracy was unsuited to Pakistan’s genius and that he knew exactly what kind of political order the people could understand and work. Ayub enjoyed a bit of support in the then West Pakistan and abroad, especially in the Washington.

A succession of political rulers have made a mess of representative government. Some of them have presided over the erosion of vital institutions of state and society. Nearly all of them have failed to run their parties democratically, virtually treating them as their fiefdoms. And yet the subjective failures of political leadership and the inadequacies of political parties alone do not explain all the setbacks and breakdowns parliamentary rule has suffered in this country.

Many democratic countries face such problems from time to time. But they address these problems by letting the party concerned correct its own mistakes failing which it has to answer for its conduct before parliament, the judiciary and the bar of public opinion, ultimately facing the prospect of rejection by the electorate. One often hears of the need to provide for checks on the arbitrariness of a ruling party and the prime minister. But the question is whether the party concerned, parliament, public opinion and the electorate are allowed in the normal course to watch over and monitor the day-to-day working of a government.

Did it just happen by chance that no prime minister, with one solitary exception, was ever allowed to finish his full term and thus enabled, as an outgoing prime minister, to ask the electorate for a new mandate on the basis of his record in office? The prime ministers were all dismissed by the head of state or were ousted by a military coup. In most cases parliament ceased to exist as the prime minister lost office.

Repeated breaks in the continuity of parliamentary government have neutralized democracy’s in-built mechanism for self-correction and denied the country the benefit of a stable political order enjoying legitimacy and popular support and providing for trouble-free succession. One of the reasons often cited for dispatching representative governments is corruption. If this were accepted as a good enough ground for repeated ousters of elected governments, democratic rule would be in jeopardy in many democracies, old as well as new. But the countries affected wisely let the democratic process go on without interruption while scandals are investigated and tackled in a non-partisan spirit by an ever-vigilant and appropriate judicial machinery as well as agitated on the political platform. These democracies recognize that no one-shot solution is workable and that scandals must not be used as an excuse to destabilize democracy.

Despite several imperfections which the history of our sloppily run representative institutions has brought to light, democracy remains our best bet. There are some obvious reasons which point up the case for an early return to democracy. First, in today’s international milieu no country is accorded respect as a civilized entity and accepted as an honourable associate in the councils of nations or international institutions if its democratic credentials are suspect. The Commonwealth’s latest decision not to change its earlier position concerning the suspension of Pakistan’s membership is a humiliating reminder of our present unenviable status.

Secondly, Pakistan’s potential for working a democratic system has much improved during the past half a century on account of the exponential growth recorded by the urban population and the emergence of a large dynamic class of independent professionals and technocrats. This social change militates against a narrowly based oligarchy and favours representative rule. Thirdly, before 1972 a section of the political class in Punjab was inclined to accept the ascendancy of military-and-civil bureaucracy taking it as a counter-weight to East Pakistan’s majority. This is no more relevant. The rising middle class in Punjab now aspires to a due share in political power and does not need the Army’s mediation to get it.

Fourthly, the military, which has already ruled the country for half of the entire period of Pakistan’s life, has not shown itself to be eminently qualified for political stewardship. The total separation of the political profession and the military career was a settled principle at the time of Pakistan’s birth. It does not need a recital of a litany of woes resulting from a violation of that principle to remind us that we can do worse than go back to it. And even if we avoid opening up old wounds we cannot slur over the painful fact that we have often been lately branded a “failed state” because of the prevalence of Kalashnikov-heroin culture, sectarianism, jihadism, belligerent ethnic assertion and religious zealotry.

Fifthly, many citizens today possess a higher degree of political savvy than their elders did. This is the gift of the repeated shocks and pain that have resulted from abrupt and, sometimes, cataclysmic developments that have been our lot. Lastly, the country has come to face some very complex and grave problems, the solution of which cannot be left to a narrowly based system. To mention only a few of these: increasing national vulnerability to foreign pressure and interference; crippling external debt; an increase in poverty; strained relations between the Centre and the provinces; ethnic and sectarian cleavages; and differences over the distribution of resources among regions.

As an addition to this list, we have the controversy over militant Islam versus moderate Islam. It is only by using democracy’s time-tested processes of deliberation, disputation, mediation and conciliation that we can hope to tackle these problems to the satisfaction of the majority.

The 1973 Constitution has so often been tampered with by authoritarians in the past. And yet it still remains, by common consent, the cornerstone of our political edifice. Anything that detracts from its moral authority any further risks inviting trouble. Demands have already been made by sub-nationalists of all hues for a new constitution that incorporates provincial rights envisaged by the Lahore resolution of 1940. Then there are demands by the religious Right that the Islamic provisions contained in the 1973 Constitution must be greatly reinforced and expanded.

There is thus no end to what different people want to do with the Constitution. Any major deviation of a substantive kind from the Constitution as it was in October 1999 could open a Pandora’s box of a variety of conflicting claims.

In this context Gen Musharraf’s idea of continuing as president beyond October 2002 in order to guarantee the irreversibility of his reforms is certain to prove to be a sticking point. A dialogue with the political parties may result in an agreement on the general’s election in the prescribed constitutional manner. The alternative is for the general to take an extra-constitutional route to the presidency, which will render his term in office as well as the procedure followed controversial, nationally and internationally. The latest news is that the president would seek a new term via a referendum likely to be held in May next.

In the absence of a political settlement, this is certain to be opposed by the mainstream parties, the OLDEFO, to borrow a term pejoratively used by the late Dr I.R. Sukarno of Indonesia, in the international context, for the “old established forces.” Even if the newer parties sympathetic to the power holders can be said to represent NEFO — Sukarno’s term for “new emerging forces” — one cannot be too sure that they will be able to hold their own against the old established ones and help win the referendum.

When the interlude of military rule ends and the political process is resumed a different set of unwritten rules begin to apply, regardless of the safeguards provided at the time of the change-over. Obviously we are not going back to the situation as it was before the military takeover. Instead, we are going to be asked to work a political order that will be a cross-breed between the 1973 Constitution and an NRB-devised package of political prescriptions. A certain dichotomy is bound to develop between the political and military elements that will exist side by side in the post-election dispensation.

Unless the provisions pertaining to election and the electoral process are so ‘managed’ as to secure a massive victory for the conformist political forces, the legislatures that come into being will refuse to serve as handmaidens of the power-wielders. The example of the non-party National Assembly under Junejo’s prime ministership readily comes to mind. The contradiction between the military and political components of a hybridized political order may thus prove to be a constant source of tension and instability.

What happens when restrictions on political activities are lifted as a prelude to the promised election is anybody’s guess. An election campaign, even though of a short duration, has a dynamics of its own. Already there are signs that political forces, including the religio-political ones, are getting ready to re-group. Also there is speculation that Ms Benazir Bhutto and Mr Nawaz Sharif, betes noires for the present rulers, may return to Pakistan in time to lead the election campaigns of their respective parties. If they do, they will make a significant impact on the future course of national politics, regardless of whether they are left alone or clapped in prison.

The possibility has been mentioned of the PPP and the PML(N), both under pressure to ditch their leaders, arriving at an arrangement to avoid a contest and share the seats. The other possibility being explored is an understanding between the PML(N) and the Jamaat-i-Islami to go into the election as partners. Another possible scenario may be the major religio-political parties teaming up to contest the election on a common platform of resistance to the US. One has not heard of similar moves for collaboration being made in the NEFO camp. However, it is only the beginning, and it is not proper to make predictions.

It seems an unthinkable idea at present that the military and the political class will seek a negotiated settlement on the protection of the reforms, the constitutional amendments now being prepared and a term for the incumbent president beyond October 2002. But the stakes are very high indeed. The near-certainty that these three issues will polarize the post-October order and may produce political turbulence ought to induce second thoughts on the matter in both quarters. There is every reason why the possibility of a modus vivendi between the military and the political class should be seriously pursued. The latter may not be averse to a compromise if they find the former willing to keep hybridization within strict limits and ready to allow all political parties to take part in a fair and free election.

THE government’s first reaction to the bombing of a church mass in Islamabad has been mechanical. The senior police officials have been transferred, junior ones have been suspended. The punishment is related not to the culpability but to the status of the officials.

Instructions have also gone out once again for reinforcing security at places of worship all over the country. The punitive and remedial ritual thus is complete. Not much is expected to happen till another house of worship is attacked and the same motions are repeated. After all, the church tragedy occurred despite the enhanced security after the terrorists had struck at a Shia mosque in Islamabad barely two weeks ago.

The terrorists over the years have targeted mosques, imambargahs and churches. Yet the grenade attack on the Islamabad church drives home some special lessons. The church is situated in an area which bristles with policemen and private guards day and night, the traffic on the road in front of it is thin and even thinner on Sundays, and two important embassies — of the US and China — are situated close to it.

If in such a protected setting a lone bomber carrying a sack full of grenades could enter the church, kill four, maim many and disappear without leaving a trace what other place could be safe from the terrorists? The tragic incident calls for a deeper thought and remedy than transfers and warnings.

One thing is obvious. Neither the police nor the community has the ingenuity or resources to check the terrorists or to catch and punish them. When a church mass at Bahawalpur was attacked in October of last year, the newly-appointed Punjab governor put his police on seven-day ultimatum to arrest the killers. In the other equally grisly incidents at mosques and imambargahs the ultimatums were shorter. It is hard to recall if a terrorist has ever been arrested and successfully tried. The deadly vocation is practically free of risk.

Unable to contend with the terrorists the government must deal with the phenomenon of terrorism itself. In Pakistan its roots lie in sectarianism and, secondly, in the prolonged guerilla warfare in Afghanistan and Kashmir. The two sources combined have given birth to a culture of violence and hatred that now permeates the whole society.

Islam, a religion of tolerance, drawn into controversial politics has exacerbated the doctrinal differences leading to violence. With every act of legislation touching on the belief of the people or the state intervention in religious forms and rites, violence has increased. The sectarianism will subside once the public authority as a whole and officials individually rise above it. A secular order will alleviate the suspicion or fear of the people about the government favouring one religious establishment at the cost of the other.

Guerilla fighters were trained in Pakistan to expel the Soviets from Afghanistan and to support the freedom fighters of Kashmir against Indian oppression. With the changing actors and alliances this enterprise had drawn Pakistan into the vortex of international terrorism. Now we have to suffer its brunt for a stable order does not look to be returning to Afghanistan in the near future, and a solution to Kashmir dispute never looked so distant.

Pakistan thus has to brace itself for a long and painful battle. The thrust of this battle should be to catch the terrorists before they strike. For that the intelligence network has to be strengthened. The president’s emphasis on strengthening the judiciary in this context is misplaced. A strong judiciary is important to the dispensation of justice but would not deter the terrorists.

As yet the people do not know nor, one suspects, does the administration who the terrorists are, where their bases are and who provides succour to them. The suspicion invariably falls on religious extremists and India. That is a vast and nebulous area. for once the intelligence agencies should leave the domestic politics and foreign affairs alone and dedicate all their skills and resources to penetrate the web of terrorists.

IN George Buechner’s drama recreating the conflicts of Jacobin France, a deputy of the National Convention described a constitution as a “transparent garment clinging to the body politic”. One of the most serious injuries the state can inflict on its subjects is to strip the body politic of its “transparent garment” and commit the people to lives of perpetual uncertainty.

This kind of existence, as the people of Pakistan know very well, is like a journey full of dangerous obstacles and risks, undertaken in total darkness. ‘Imagine the situation of two people shipwrecked on a desert island. Caliban is powerful. He is also impulsive, violent, and selfish. Prospero is weak and old and terrorized by his companion. He lives his life at Caliban’s whim. Where he goes, what he does, what he has, are all subject to interruption and destruction at any time.

Assume, however, that Caliban has one moral capacity, the ability to keep promises. If Caliban can be prevailed on, in a moment of sympathy, to promise not to enter a certain physical space, or not to injure Prospero at certain times, or to announce his approach when he comes near, or to forego one or two particularly offensive forms of maltreatment. Prospero’s life will be profoundly improved. This will be so even if we concede that in every other way Caliban remains as vicious as ever.

Such an improvement will, moreover, be superior to one in which Caliban agrees merely to consider those interests and actually refrains, from time to time, from injuring him. Prospero might prefer the former reform even if he knew that, in a given period, Caliban would interfere with him, more often than he would under the latter. Only in the first case has Prospero acquired the capacity, however, limited, to live according to plan’. Will Pakistan ever have the opportunity to frame a Constitution that everybody respects and venerates and nobody dare abrogate, or subvert?

Constitutions are codes of norms which aspire to regulate the allocation of powers, functions, and duties among the various agencies and officers of government, and to define the relationship between these and the public.

In modern times, countries have a constitution for the very simple and elementary reason that they wanted, for some reason, to begin again and so they put down in writing the main outline, at least, of their proposed system of government. This has been the practice since 1787 when the American Constitution was drafted and as the years passed, no doubt, imitation and the force of example have led all countries to think it necessary to have a constitution.

The Constituent Assembly of Pakistan was set up by the Governor General of India, Lord Mountbatten, by announcements of July 22 and August 10, 1947. The main function of the Constituent Assembly was to prepare a Constitution for Pakistan. The Assembly failed to carry out these functions within seven years. A Draft Constitution would have been ready for signature on October 25, 1954 and would have been reported to the Assembly on October 27. On October 24, however, the Governor General issued a Proclamation asserting that “the constitutional machinery has broken down”. He proclaimed a state of emergency and claimed that “the Constituent Assembly, as at present constituted, has lost the confidence of the people and can no longer function”. Ayub Khan, the Commander in-Chief, was ‘persuaded’ to join the new cabinet of Muhammad Ali Bogra to act as “a buffer” between the politicians and the armed forces.

Two years later, Chaudhry Mohammed Ali managed to produce a constitution which was promulgated on March 23, 1956. General Ayub Khan called it a “document of despair” and “a hotch-potch of alien concepts”. On October 7, 1958, the coup d’ etat led by President Iskandar Mirza and General Mohammad Ayub Khan replaced civilian with military rule. The first victim was the Constitution which was blamed for all the travails of the state. The 1958 laws (Continuance in Force) order replaced the Constitution.

However, virulent protests surfaced once limited political activity was allowed. Neither Ayub khan nor his constitution survived organized resistance to his rule. Ayub khan transferred power to General Yahya Khan who then promulgated martial law regulations anew.

With the breakup of Pakistan, a new National Assembly produced a new document, the 1973 Constitution. Its preamble declared: “now, therefore, we, the people of Pakistan do hereby, through our representatives in the National Assembly, adopt, enact and give to ourselves, this Constitution”.

For the first time, the military was made subservient to the prime minister. On July 5, 1977, however, General Zia ul Haq, the Chief of Army Staff, promoted by Bhutto in 1976 over the heads of several more senior officers, struck.

He staged a military takeover, arrested Bhutto, sacked the federal and provincial governments, dissolved the assemblies and imposed martial law. The Supreme Court, the guardian of the Constitution, without any jurisdiction or power authorized the Chief Martial Law Administrator to dismantle the Constitution brick by brick, and change it beyond all recognition. It remained suspended from 1977 until 1985 when martial law was withdrawn and civilian rule restored.

On October 12, 1999, the army struck again. General Pervez Musharraf toppled Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif and suspended the Constitution. More than 50 years after its creation Pakistan’s quest for a stable political order remains elusive.

Almost every state in the world today possesses a codified constitution. Constitutions are like door locks. These are clearly unnecessary to honest people who pass the door, and equally are useless against the determined burglar. But they can and do deter the casual strollers who might otherwise come in and help themselves. Constitutions are constantly and continually torn up to make new ones.

Moreover — so this line of arguments goes — Britain, New Zealand, and Israel have no codified constitutions but nevertheless follow with remarkable consistency and continuity what constitutional rules they do possess. Hence it is concluded — constitution are otiose: if the power holders exercise self-restraint, the written constitution is unnecessary. And if they do not, then it is useless. However, the American constitution-makers were, convinced of the unique effectiveness of written law. A dictum of Jefferson’s best expresses this attitude. “In questions of power, then, let no more be heard of confidence in man, but bind him down from mischief by the chains of the constitution”. Paper promises whose enforcement depends wholly on the promissor’s goodwill have rarely been worth the parchment on which they were inked.

Constitutions are influenced by what people think of them, by their attitude to them. If a constitution is regarded with veneration, if what it embodies is thought to be prima facie right and good, then there exists a force to preserve the constitution against attempts to abrogate or suspend it. Our chequered constitutional history makes it abundantly clear that Pakistan is one of those countries where constitution is treated with contempt and where the army is treated with more respect and fear than the constitution. In Pakistan what the constitution says is one thing and what actually happens in practice is another.

Our constitution is not a realistic description of what actually happens. It is mostly fiction, bearing no relationship to what goes on. It contains fictitious or decorative passages and omits many of the powers and processes met with in real life.

Addressing a press conference in Tehran, President Zia ul Haq said: “what is the constitution? It is a booklet with ten or twelve pages. I can tear them up and say that from tomorrow we shall live under a different system. Is there anybody to stop me? Today the people will follow wherever I lead. Is there anybody to stop me? All the politicians, including the once mighty Mr. Bhutto, will follow me with their tails wagging”.

It is natural to ask, in the light of this discussion, whether constitution really matters in Pakistan which seems to be in a state of perpetual revolution? And isn’t constitution-making an exercise in futility? Who is there to defend it? What is the sanction behind it? Nobody sheds a tear when it is torn up. Why keep it in a state of suspended animation? Why have a constitution which can be torn up, abrogated, suspended or held in abeyance every time the army strikes?

President Musharraf’s greatest challenge, therefore, is the restoration of a stable, genuinely democratic political order. Can he stop Pakistan from swinging between dictatorship and fake democracy as has been the case throughout our troubled political history? In other words, can he put an end to periodic army intervention in the affairs of the state? Or will the pendulum go on swinging, as before, with disastrous consequences for the country?

One thing is clear. President Musharraf must guard against any dialogue with the dead. He should have nothing to do with the corrupt, discredited groups of opportunists, partners in crimes and accomplices of those who looted and plundered the country. To those among them who have escaped the arm of justice, and there are quite a few, and want to stage a comeback through the backdoor, we say: your role is played out; you belong to the dead past; you cannot be resurrected; go where you ought to go into the ‘dustbin of ‘history’.