THIS long essay — it has already appeared in three parts, this is the fourth — is about the latest incursion of the military in Pakistan’s political affairs. It started out with the assertion, which immediately drew disagreement from several readers, that it was right for the men in uniform to take over the government on October 12, 1999.

On that fateful day, Pakistan was headed towards a greater disaster than was the case in October 1958 or March 1969 or July 1977. In those earlier interventions, the military set the clock back on political development. That, I still maintain, need not happen as a result of this latest intrusion. The military could leave a country better equipped politically if it gave attention to institution-building.

Is this happening? Is the country moving towards political maturity under the current management? To answer the question I started, in this series of articles, with a comparison with India which has done better than Pakistan in so many different ways. Not only is India now regarded as well on the way to becoming a major global power, it is also widely hailed as a successful example of bringing both economic and political development to a country burdened with many seemingly intractable problems. In the eyes of the world, and according to the opinion of many of its own articulate analysts and commentators, India has charted a course for itself that would bring it many rewards in the not too distant future.

That India has succeeded and Pakistan seems to be seriously lagging behind — if not altogether failing — was explained by me in terms of several contributing factors. Among them an important contributor was the good opinion the people of that country have about their own situation. This optimism, I maintain, rubs off on foreign observers and that, in turn, brings to the country what it needs the most. India’s self-confidence has begun to attract oodles of foreign capital and the attention of the world’s large corporations.

Only the other day, The Financial Times reported on its front page that many large companies were now holding their board meetings in Delhi and Mumbai. Once the company directors came they lingered, took in the sights and sounds of the place, and also brought new business to the country. Where the Indians saw opportunity in their situation, many influential Pakistanis saw reasons for despair and despondency.

These observations also drew the response of many readers. I was told that the reason for the negative views articulated by so many informed commentators from Pakistan was the way a long succession of governments had treated dissent.

Some of the mail I received reminded me of the main argument in Amartya Sen’s latest book, The Argumentative Indian. “Prolixity is not alien to India. We are able to talk at some length. Krishna Menon’s record of the longest speech ever delivered at the United Nations (nine hours non-stop), established half a century ago (when Menon was leading the Indian delegation), has not been equalled by anyone from anywhere. Other peaks of loquaciousness have been scaled by other Indians. We do like to speak,” writes Sen, a Nobel Prize-winning economist from India.

The speech by Menon that Sen writes so approvingly of was delivered to defend India’s case with respect to Kashmir. There was little justice in that case but India’s representative was prepared to use all the eloquence at his command to defend it. But that is not the main point of the argument in the The Argumentative Indian.

The main argument in Sen’s book is that out of almost unending discourse that has gone on in India has emerged a system that serves its diverse people well. The Indians have a constitution that was violated only once (about which a little later) but is endlessly amended to take care of the society’s rapidly evolving situation. The Indian political structure continues to evolve to bring in people previously excluded from the system not by design but by social and cultural practices.

One example should suffice the way the Indians have brought different segments of the society into the mainstream of politics. The Dalits were once called the ‘untouchables’ by the higher class Indians. The British, by identifying them in the schedules to the laws they devised to govern India, gave them some protection against social and cultural discrimination. They thus came to be called the Scheduled Castes. Mahatma Gandhi found that term offensive. Believing that by simply changing the way people are identified their position can be improved, he began to call them Harijans, the children of God. Now the Dalits are a powerful force in the Indian political system. They govern several Indian states.

The Indian system, therefore, has proved to be remarkably accommodating of diversity and new developments. It is inclusionary. In Pakistan, on the other hand, the opposite is true. Society uses many devices to narrow the focus of governance rather than expand it. For nearly two decades, the people who ruled the country would not hold a population census since that would have signalled a move in the political centre of gravity from the rural to the urban areas. The landed aristocracy was not prepared to surrender political power to towns and cities.

Similarly, the religious establishment has been singularly exclusionary by forcing those in power to declare communities who profess to be Muslim to be non-Muslim minorities since they are not followers of their interpretation of Islam. The political system was not allowed to develop out of discourse; those who wished to bring about change looked to the barrel of the gun to impose it. This meant constant violation of the system.

The only time the Indian constitution was violated was by Mrs Indira Gandhi who attempted to sideline it by assuming emergency powers in the early 1970s. “The proposal to dilute democracy came from no less a statesman than Indira Gandhi, the prime minister of India” writes Sen in the aforementioned book. “The firmness with which one of the poorest electorates in the world rejected the proposed move to authoritarianism had a salutary effect in discouraging other temptations in that direction. After being voted out of office, Indira Gandhi changed tack, strongly reasserted her earlier commitment to democracy, and regained the prime ministership in the general elections of 1980.”

The Indian electorate, the country’s press and civil society regarded her action as singular deviant behaviour. When she went to the polls to secure a mandate for herself, she was roundly trounced. Although she returned to power later on, her experience had chastened her and increased her respect for the Indian tradition to resolve differences by discussion and argument rather than by use of executive authority.

With an eye on the Indian experience, how should developments in Pakistan be viewed? Should the military be seen as the main obstacle to political development and should its repeated interventions be viewed in terms of the ambition of men in uniform? Or should the blame be placed on the civilian politicians who had the opportunity to govern but forfeited the trust of the people through unacceptable behaviour? Every time the military intervened it was encouraged to do so by those who were out of power but wished to regain it. Each time the popular press heaved a sigh of relief, calling the intervention timely. The roller-coaster ride on which the country has been sent has eroded all institutions, destroying the very foundations on which they were built.

Should the military be held responsible for creating the “institutional graveyard” that has become such a prominent feature of the Pakistani landscape? The answer is a resounding yes if one listens to or reads the writings of the articulate segments of the Pakistani political establishment. By heaping blame on the men in uniform, the politicians are not initiating a discussion in the country that would begin to recognize where the civilian leaders have failed.

Whenever the civilians were put in charge they failed in four different ways. It would help to identify these and to reflect on them so that when the opportunity arises again, the political establishment will be able to discharge its functions with greater responsibility. By continuing to focus on the role of the military in obstructing political development, politicians simply deflect the debate.

The politicians failed to develop political parties into organizations that would observe democratic principles for their own governance. The two so-called “mainstream parties” are the domain of two powerful political families, one urban, the other with strong roots in the countryside. These families refuse to countenance any move towards allowing popular participation in managing the affairs of the organizations they control.

Again, once the politicians were in control, they failed to use the legislatures to legislate. Instead, national and provincial assemblies became the places from where their members could negotiate deals to enrich themselves and their families and friends. How many legislators in Pakistan’s political history can be identified as gaining enough experience and knowledge of issues that are important for their constituents and on which laws needed to be enacted? The number of such dedicated politicians is depressingly small.

The political establishment also failed to create the environment in which an independent judiciary could develop. Had they made an effort in this area, the judiciary would have found it difficult to provide blank checks to those who usurped power. And, it is useful to recognize, that power was not only usurped by those who wore uniforms.

Starting from Ghulam Muhammad and including Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, Benazir Bhutto and Nawaz Sharif, politicians, once in power, attempted to subvert the system the way Mrs Indira Gandhi once managed to do in India. In the Indian case, the deviation was removed by the electorate. Repeated return to the electorate in the case of Pakistan in the 1990s did little to correct the system since the institutions that could have helped in this were not in place.

Again, once in power, did the politicians force the leaders of the armed forces to become accountable to them and to the legislative branch of the government? Rather than make the armed forces answerable to a higher civilian authority, the politicians were happy to align themselves with the military leadership. Pakistan would be politically healthy today had the politicians not invited General Ayub Khan to become part of the political system, had Benazir Bhutto not agreed to serve as prime minister under the constraints placed on her, had Nawaz Sharif not handled appointments to senior positions in the military in such a clumsy way.

As is said, it takes two to tango. There is enough wrong that was done by the military and the men who served in it while Pakistan was attempting political development. But the politicians were willing partners in the tango the military choreographed. It would be healthy to discuss the role they played in the demise of political institutions and institutions of good governance in the country’s history.

This may be a good time to begin an honest discussion.

TONY BLAIR is working overtime to reform education, commission nuclear power stations, bring stable government to Northern Ireland, impose a new vision on Europe, create stability in Iraq, all within the span of two or three years before he quits the scene. It is amazing that such an intelligent man can still suppose, first, that his objectives are attainable and, second, that he will receive any credit for them from the electorate.

It is the fate of almost all governments to be remembered not for what they achieved, but for their failures and embarrassments. Of postwar prime ministers, only two can claim substantial and widely acknowledged legacies. Clement Attlee created the welfare state and Margaret Thatcher restored the credibility of British capitalism.

Of the remainder, Eden is known only for Suez, Macmillan for Profumo and “you’ve never had it so good”. Wilson left behind his “lavender list”, the notorious resignation honours, together with memories of incessant economic crises. Historians of the Heath era focus upon his eviction by the striking miners, rather than his success in taking Britain into Europe.

This represents a reasonably accurate view of the public perception of modern British political history. If educated adults were asked what substantial acts of governance might be attributed to each of the above national leaders, most would struggle to provide answers.

About two years ago, talking to one of Blair’s close associates, I expressed surprise that the prime minister wanted to carry on through a third term, given the fantastic strain of the job, and the unlikelihood of success in his cherished objectives. My friend said: “Oh, but Tony doesn’t see it like that at all. He is convinced that if he serves another term, the British people will understand what he has done for them.”

In order to serve as a frontline minister, to sustain oneself at the top of the greasy pole, it is essential to be that sort of optimist, whose kind are to be glimpsed nightly at the tables of our great casinos, or buying lottery tickets.

Blair will be recognized by history as a consummate politician, orator, vote-winner. It seems unlikely, however, that he will be judged to have used the power he gained to much lasting effect. To a remarkable degree, he has presided over Britain rather than ruled it.

He has articulated objectives that reasonable people can share: enterprise, compassion, better health and schooling, good deeds in Africa, economic stability. But neither he nor most of his cabinet have discovered how to get things done. They have failed to master the art of translating aspiration into achievement through effective administration.

The backgrounds of most ministers are a serious handicap in office. Few, before reaching Whitehall, had ever run anything or acquired executive skills. Their talents and experience are founded upon rhetoric and political manoeuvre. They govern by hoping that if one declares a commitment to something often enough, it will come to pass.

In a just world, Blair might gain credit for the fact that the British people have been pretty content for most of his time in office. His government has done little to make them angry, at least until the pensions issue began to get serious. He has presided over a period of prosperity, which a decade or two hence we shall look back on as fortunate.

But it is unlikely that Mrs Smith in Coventry will say in her old age: “Gosh, how grateful we were to nice Tony Blair for all that!” People are seldom, if ever, grateful to governments. The Scots and Welsh are unlikely to erect statues of Blair for giving them devolution, nor the Irish to regard him as the architect of their future and still somewhat speculative tranquillity.

By now, you will have perceived where this line of thought is heading. Galling though it must be to him, Blair’s legacy will be Iraq. It is plain that, whatever the outcome, it will not be a happy one. Whether or not the coalition forces swiftly depart, the saga will drag on for years, poisoning western relations with the Islamic world. It is unlikely that Iraq can be sustained as a unitary state. Much more bloodshed is to come.

No amount of massage can alter the fact that this was a war of choice, not necessity. Blair, intoxicated by the sensation of standing shoulder to shoulder with the most powerful man on earth in doing a good deed, committed Britain on a false prospectus and in the caravan of gross incompetents in Washington. The consequences threaten to be interminable, not least in this country’s increased vulnerability to terrorism.

It is hard to imagine any political historian, never mind the British public, attributing our involvement in this shambles to anything beyond the misjudgment of one man, the prime minister. Posterity will be no more impressed by Blair’s professed honourable intentions than by those of Anthony Eden in Egypt, half a century ago.

The memory of Blair’s government will be dominated by this disastrous foreign war, rather than, for instance, by his maintenance of a successful economy at home and brilliant speeches to successive Labour party conferences.

In his old age, all this will seem monstrously unfair to him. He is a man of vastly more substance and parts than John Major. He possesses genuine star quality. Yet the hubris bred by his extraordinary public stature induced him to commit a folly more damaging to the national interest than any act of Major’s.

Blair is left today, struggling with increasingly clumsy haste to create achievements that will outlast his tenancy of Downing Street. Yet events in Baghdad negate them all, and are beyond his control. Does he himself perceive this? Of course not. His behaviour suggests a diminishing grip upon reality, as well as on power.

All the trappings of office are still there to reassure him, the police outriders and deferential flunkeys, the cosy embrace of Chequers. But now, these are all for nothing. Blair is running a race before an audience that is already drifting away from the stadium, and in which he is competing vainly against events. The Blair legacy is sealed and witnessed beyond amendment or codicil, and a tragically ugly one it is. — Dawn/The Guardian News Service