Honouring the military

AT A press conference on May 31, 2007, Mr Muhmmad Ali Durrani, one of the present government’s cleverest spokesmen, praised the nation’s armed forces for their readiness to die while defending its borders. He maintained that speeches and slogans attributing an improper political role to the military, and thus defaming the institution, were unpatriotic.

In a television talk show on the same day, Mr Ahmad Raza Kasuri asserted that those speaking against the military were paid agents of self-serving politicians or the nation’s foreign foes. Both of these gentlemen wanted us to believe also that there was no such thing as military rule in Pakistan.

There can be no doubt that the young men and their officers who go out to defend the country’s borders, willing to meet death in the process, deserve respect. But there is more to this proposition than meets the eye.

States all over the world except a few such as the Vatican or Monaco, maintain armed forces for national defence. Men who serve in the Pakistan army are professional soldiers. They have gone through rigours of training for combat and learned the art of waging war, which requires readiness to kill and, if necessary, get killed.

That readiness is the essence of their job, and they are paid for it. Surely they merit respect, but there is no reason to kiss the ground they walk on.

Soldiers everywhere, including Pakistan, continue to get paid even when there is no fighting to be done. Discounting the skirmishes in Kargil and on top of a glacier, neither the Pakistan army, nor the Indian, has gone to a full-scale war for more than 35 years.

The Chinese army has not fought a war since October 1962, the Egyptian since October 1973, the Russian since 1988, and the Iranian since about the same time. Barring limited participation in Korea and later a minor conflict in Cypress, the Turkish army has not done any serious fighting since the end of the Second World War. It is much the same with the great majority of other armies in the world. They are maintained not because foreign invasion is constantly lurking around the corner, but to meet a contingency if it does arise. They are an asset to be kept in good repair, and held in reserve.

Who is the referent when we speak of the military? It is primarily the soldiers and their immediate officers who go out to fight the enemy, kill and get killed on the field of battle. But they are not the referent when we speak of the military as a country’s ruler. They have no say in how the affairs of state will be managed.

Even during periods of “military rule” they stay back in their barracks, do their drills and exercises and, hopefully, keep their weapons oiled and clean and their “powder” dry.

Whom do we then have in mind when we speak of military rule? An announcement issued by a conference of the corps commanders on June 1 tells all. It says: “The Pakistan Army is committed to lend full support towards the realisation of the vision set by the president for (developing) a dynamic, progressive, and moderate Islamic state,” and that it supports the continuation of his domestic and foreign policies.

Having thus equated themselves with the Pakistan Army, the commanders discussed the forthcoming general elections, Musharraf’s own election for a second term, Karachi killings on May 12, presidential reference against the Chief Justice, and the state of law and order in the country. They expressed their approval of his being army chief and president, both at the same time, and their full confidence in his leadership. These were all unquestionably political issues.

It stands to reason that the commanders went beyond simply taking cognisance of these matters. Acting like a body corporate, they made decisions. They did what a prime minister and his cabinet in parliamentary government normally do. They acted as a government. Mr Muhammad Ali Durrani and Mr Ahmad Raza Kasuri employ a disingenuous play of words when they claim that the military in Pakistan is not involved in politics, or that we don’t have a military government.

Equally disingenuous, but more alarming, is General Musharraf’s own declaration at the same conference that nobody will be allowed to “undermine” the present system of governance, because it is democratic; the proof of that “pudding” being that the media is free and a parliament is in place.

Let it be understood that when political observers speak of military government in Pakistan, or point to its failings, they are referring mainly to government by General Musharraf, and collaterally by the corps commanders.

Even governments that are only halfway democratic are open to scrutiny. It is then not right for the general and his corps commanders, who have constituted themselves as the overriding ruling authority in this country (above the prime minister and his cabinet), to claim immunity from external oversight on the ground that they represent the army, whose image must be kept clean and shining, but which will be tarnished if their own is.

The military is admittedly a vital institution of the state. But it is only one of several; the others being the executive, parliament, judiciary, and the bureaucracy. Granted that the state may perish if there is no military to defend its borders, but can it survive if the others do not exist or function? I cannot think of any time in history when organised living on a substantial scale had gone on without any kind of executive authority to manage the people’s collective concerns. A state might conceivably exist without a military establishment, but it cannot do without an executive organ.

Kingdoms in the old days functioned without legislatures; kings themselves made laws. But clearly an elected legislature is essential to the functioning of a democratic state. We in Pakistan have had parliaments much of the time even during periods of military rule.

Some kind of judicial authority has existed in most places throughout history. Its indispensability is self-evident in societies that are committed to the rule of law.

I doubt that governments were ever able to function without the assistance of functionaries, who over time became specialists and whose operations became routinised (for instance, tax collectors, policemen, market inspectors in the mediaeval ages). Having assumed a multiplicity of regulatory functions and responsibility for delivering a variety of services to its citizens, the modern state simply cannot work without organised public services. A bureaucracy, then, is doubtless one of the vital state institutions.

In one respect these other institutions may have an edge over the military. The latter “works” only in a manner of speaking. The real work for which it is trained, kept ready, and paid may not actually have to be done for a soldier’s entire career. A young man who entered the Pakistan Army, let us say, in 1972 may have served for 25 years and retired as a lieutenant-general without having seen one single day of combat.

A soldier’s actual work consists of remaining ready for doing a job if and when it materialises. But this is not the case in other state institutions. Bureaucrats, from chief secretary to the government down to a junior clerk, go to their offices every day and do the work for which they are paid: receive mail, answer letters, read files, make decisions, communicate them up and down the hierarchy.

Officials out in the field assess dues payable to the treasury, collect taxes, catch thieves and robbers, treat patients, deliver babies, and so forth.

The president and the prime minister go to their offices, attend or preside over meetings, supervise and direct policymaking, keep an eye on their subordinates, travel abroad to project a “soft” image of the country and their own stewardship of its affairs. Members of parliament may not be all that dedicated to their constitutionally assigned mission, but they do come to the house on appointed days (even if they spend more time chatting with one another in the cafeteria than in debate on the floor).

Are the state institutions other than the military open to scrutiny and criticism? The judiciary is protected by laws that forbid “contempt of court.” It says it will allow “legitimate” and well-meaning criticism of its findings in specific cases, but it will not tolerate adverse comment with regard to its impartiality, work ethic, and operational style or the personal conduct of individual judges.

Parliament and the bureaucracy have no such protection. Commentators are free to denounce, even ridicule, members of parliament for their absenteeism, their frivolous walkouts from the House, their desk-thumping and noise-making, and their lack of civility towards those on the other side of the aisle. It has been common to call the institution a “do-nothing” parliament, a mere “rubber stamp” for the executive, and its performance sterile.

The bureaucracy has always been the favourite “whipping boy” not only in Pakistan but in many other countries as well. It is generally said to be arrogant, inaccessible, unresponsive, slow and cumbersome, a captive of precedents, red tape and routine, unimaginative, inefficient and wasteful.

Commentators, possibly including generals and colonels, delight in making fun of legislatures and the bureaucracy. If these two institutions, both essential to the functioning of a modern state, can be open to scrutiny and criticism, why not the military? It may be said that soldiers are worthy of deference because they may one day have to die in defending the motherland; whereas no such thing is expected of judges, legislators, and bureaucrats.

This reasoning might be accepted if the military were to limit itself to concerns related to national defence. But if its managers choose to cross that limit and occupy the domain of governance, they will have to carry the baggage that comes with it. Sorry, officers, you can’t have it both ways, eat your cake and still have all of it.

The writer is professor emeritus of political science at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, US.

E-mail: anwarsyed@cox.net

Imam’s rebuke to clerics

MAULANA Abdul Rashid Ghazi, deputy chief and spokesman of the

Lal Masjid-Hafsa-Faridia establishment, has

called upon Gen Pervez Musharraf to abdicate in favour of the then visiting imam of Kaaba, anoint him as Amirul Momineen and let him govern Pakistan under the laws of Sharia with the help of a consultative council of the ulema.

The suggestion may sound frivolous but it is hard to imagine the Lal Masjid clerics jesting. Their continuing disdain and defiance of the authority of state and the intimidating visits of their students to music shops, revellers at wedding parties and to the capital’s premier hospital to investigate blasphemy charges against some Christian nurses show their relentless belligerence, and not a jocular streak in their pursuits or behaviour.

To vindicate their right to enforce the Sharia in Pakistan (they want to settle for nothing less in bargaining with the government ministers and Chaudhry Shujaat Husain) they have now chosen the wrong person to look up to. Though a scholar of some distinction who is respected for his precise and emotional recitation of the Holy Quran, Sheikh Al-Sudais is, after all, only a paid employee of the kingdom of Saudi Arabia where even the monarch is content to be recognised as the servant of the holy places of Islam.

Sheikh Al-Sudais, thus, could have no pretensions to being the commander of the faithful nor would he be accepted as such by the general body of Muslims in Pakistan or elsewhere. The kingdom of which he is a subject allows public expression and enforcement only of the Hanbali school of Sunni Islam (its practitioners are in a minority in Pakistan) and that too as interpreted by the government.

The other doctrinal schools — the Hanafi, Shaafi and Maliki — and the Shias are left out. The Shias who make up nearly 10 per cent of the population feel particularly sequestered for the Jafari fiqh does not even form part of the kingdom’s judicial structures nor are they included in the royal consultative councils.

The Arabian peninsula comprising many independent regions was unified by the puritanical ideas of Ibn Abd al-Wahab and the combat strength of the Ibn Saud clan both hailing from Najd and campaigning together for well over a century. The combination of this austere religious creed and raw power has endured and remains the hallmark of present-day Saudi Arabia. Abdul Aziz Ibn Saud captured Riyadh in 1902 and, riding a wave of conquests that followed, expelled the Sharifian Hashemite ruler of Hejaz and founded the Saudi dynasty in 1924.

Against this background the imam of Kaaba had no option but to react to the flattering suggestion of the Lal Masjid clerics with a rebuke. Enforcing Sharia, he told them, was a business of the state and not theirs. The imam then went on to beseech the Almighty to save President Musharraf from the machinations of the envious and the wicked so that he and King Abdullah together could defeat the forces of Islamic extremism and exterminate the enemies of Islam.

Overwhelmed by a public reception that could well rival the pope’s in the Philippines or Brazil, the imam described Pakistan and Saudi Arabia as citadels of Islam. In a narrow liturgical sense perhaps they are but, woefully, international humanitarian organisations widely and frequently disseminate their findings that the freedom of thought, conscience and religion in both countries is severely curtailed by the laws of the state and arbitrary decrees of the clergy. In today’s Saudi Arabia, the government and the ulema blend into one harmonious whole. In Pakistan they are sometimes in cahoots and sometimes in conflict.

Truly speaking, if there is a country today that comes closest to being called the citadel of Islam it is Iran. It has its own version of Amirul Momineen in Ayatollah Khamanaei, a consultative council of Islamic scholars and an elective parliament. The women are compelled to observe a code of behaviour but are free to join any profession alongside men. But this statement carried any further would open doors to a controversy that is best avoided.

Both Saudi Arabia and Pakistan, like every other country of the world, Muslim or otherwise, are territorial states each having its own form of government, laws and national interests which are not entirely linked to religious beliefs. If beliefs were to weigh, Indonesia and Malaysia wouldn’t be so closely and profitably involved in Asean or Saudi Arabia in the Arab League while all three are content to pay only lip service to the moribund OIC.

The people here showered flowers and affection on Imam Al-Sudais because he came from the land of the Holy Prophet (PBUH) and leads prayers in the House of God there. While the welcome he received cannot be taken as an endorsement of the ideas and values that the present-day Saudi kingdom represents, the imam’s advice must be heeded.

The litmus test would be whether the Lal Masjid clerics submit to the his view that implementing the rule of Sharia is not their job, and that they must not reduce a place of worship to a centre of mischief where the students, especially veiled women, are used as pawns in their political ambition.

As schools of thought go, clerics Aziz and Rashid are closest to the imam’s doctrine. Maybe, at the end of the day, they are left wondering whether the imam came only to convey this dampening message from the king and clergy of Saudi Arabia. Whatever the purpose of the imam’s visit and the authority behind his view, the people of Pakistan have the right to hope that their dithering government would now feel fortified enough to enforce its writ at least at the centre of its power.

A time for boldness

During the reign of George III, the House of Commons passed a famous motion that the influence of the Crown has increased, is increasing and ought to be diminished. Two centuries on, much of today's political wisdom is that the words prime minister or executive should be substituted for the Crown.

Yet this claim is not necessarily as overwhelmingly self-evident or even as sinister as some assume. In his important new book on the Blair years, the former head of the Downing Street delivery unit, Sir Michael Barber, argues that the modern stretching of the prime ministership now necessitates both a strengthening of prime ministerial power and a sharpening of the cabinet, parliamentary and civil service constraints on the office in order that government can become more effective.

Some will dismiss this as delusional. Yet if Sir Michael is right, a future prime minister may need to establish a PM's department less as a centralising move than as one designed to foster efficiency in a more devolved system of delivery. At the very least it is a debate worth having.

One certainty is that, with the departure of Tony Blair, the structure of government is in any case about to change. Every prime minister reconstructs the system in Whitehall and inside No 10 to suit his own strengths and in the light of the political pressures of the time. Gordon Brown will be no exception. Anxious to win back the support of professional middle-class voters for his New Labour Mark II government, Mr Brown has repeatedly signalled that he will use changes in the structure of government and in the relationship between government and parliament to try to restore lost trust in politics.

This is a good general approach, though the detail is not yet clear and, judging by his cautious approach to freedom of information, for instance, Mr Brown's dedication to openness is selective at best. Yet he has promised everything from an elected second chamber to greater parliamentary control over prerogative powers, including war-making. This is the right time for such boldness.

An early step is the imminent announcement that senior civil servants will hold key Downing Street advisory positions, including those of chief of staff and official spokesman, under Mr Brown. The aim, which in the current mood will be much welcomed, is to show Mr Brown putting civil servants and civil service due process back at the heart of Whitehall at the expense of political advisers.

Whether that means Mr Brown will sacrifice any of his many Treasury political advisers in the move to No 10 is less clear. Nor is the rumoured arrival of a senior official from the generally Eurosceptic Treasury as principal adviser on European Union policy designed to reassure the Foreign Office, which has traditionally filled this post.

Nevertheless, one of the unintended healthy legacies of Mr Blair's decade is the current appetite for change. The parties are jostling to capture and mould the mood. Occasionally rhetoric runs ahead of reality - it is simply untrue that the current parliament is the government's lapdog or, as Sir Michael's book points out, that the cabinet has altogether ceased to constrain the prime minister.

––The Guardian, London