Light at the end of a tunnel
By Mirza Amjad Hussain
IF true, the recent announcement by the Pakistani government to give reprieve to condemned prisoners is a welcome step. There now appears to be light at the end of the tunnel for Pakistan’s 7,400 death row inmates. Some of them have spent half their adult lives under conditions best described as ‘hell on earth’.
Kashmir Singh languished for 35 years on death row; he was set free recently and reunited with his family. Our nightmare ended when my brother, Mirza Tahir Hussain, was released in November 2006 after spending 18 years on death row. It gives me immense pleasure to see that this facility is now being extended to all condemned prisoners in Pakistan. This is a notable achievement for human dignity and respect for life. “All mankind is worthy of respect and honour” (Al-Quran.) “Allah holds in high esteem those who forgive.”
Fairness, accuracy and the due process of law form the foundations of justice in Pakistan. Punishment can still be handed out, justice and legality can still be achieved without vengeance and retaliation. It also gives the offender a chance to repent, to reform his character and seek forgiveness. An initial moratorium would spare those convicted under Pakistan’s controversial blasphemy laws. Minority religious groups have long argued that these laws are used to persecute them unjustly.
I applaud this initiative. It is a befitting tribute to the memory of late Mohtarma Benazir Bhutto. During her last tenure she too observed a moratorium on capital punishment. This has been achieved at considerable cost and several individuals had to pay a terrible price with their lives. Nawaz Sharif himself had a lucky escape.
Others were not so lucky. One former prime minister was hanged in 1979 on the basis of flimsy and false testimony. It is conceded that his trial was politically motivated. Ironically, he was working for the abolition of the death penalty.
Owing to recent public executions in Fata and elsewhere, the mob lynching of a Hindu worker in Karachi and some documented cases of profound miscarriage of justice that led to people being condemned to death, this issue needs to be looked into.
Given the wide margin of error in cases where the death penalty has been handed down and the likelihood of the subversion of the judicial process, a moratorium on capital punishment is essential. It will allow the legislators to review the current judicial system in Pakistan that permits the hanging of a man. The fact is that so far the death penalty has not deterred crime. If anything, it has helped to brutalise society and created contempt for life.
Another welcome development has been the recent signing and ratification by Pakistan of several human rights international covenants — including the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights and the Convention Against Torture.
It is of paramount importance that domestic legislation is now harmonised to reflect Pakistan’s commitment to international law. For instance, torture is routinely used to extract confessions. Last year, Pakistan and Iran were the only countries to execute minors (under 18 years) in clear breach of international law and declared commitments.
Understandably, the question of the death penalty poses a dilemma. The problem has profound ethical, religious, political and criminological implications. It is still an emotional issue in Pakistan where society should be helped to overcome the fear of violent crime.
Countries that eventually abolished the death penalty did agonise over the ethical dimension and their reasons ‘for’ and ‘against’ have varied. However, they all share a common view — that of the inhumane, unnecessary and irreversible character of capital punishment, no matter how cruel the crime committed by the offender.
This justification now seems to be shared by the international community as a whole. Where the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court and the United Nations Security Council resolutions establishing the International Criminal Tribunals for Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia are concerned, neither have the death penalty in the range of sanctions listed.
Out of 197 countries, 145 have abolished the death penalty either in law or in practice or are observing a moratorium. This means that 73 per cent of the world does not have the death penalty. On Dec 18, 2007, the UN General Assembly voted with an overwhelming majority for a resolution calling for a moratorium on the use of the death penalty worldwide. This represents the moral stance of all mankind. Regrettably, Pakistan failed to support the initiative. It was probably showing solidarity with the US, China and the Gulf states.
With much of the Muslim world — representing 30 countries — having abolished or considering the abolition of capital punishment, Pakistan needs to follow suit. Unfortunately Muslim governments have terrible human rights records and are known to play the worst possible role in international forums on such matters. Their arguments are often outdated, flawed and based on the narrow notions of culture, religion and nationality. This gives out misleading signals that we do not care about human rights.
If we do not stand up for our rights nobody else will. Fragile as Pakistan’s situation is at the moment, it must be realised that terrorism and lawlessness only increase if we overstep the rule of law.
Several alarming reports state that the death penalty in Pakistan is being applied without the due process of law. There are serious dangers that innocent people are executed as clever litigants often manipulate oral evidence due to the lack of reliable forensic analyses, thus subverting the course of justice. The situation is further exacerbated by overworked judges, an under-resourced and corrupt criminal justice system as well as a dual system of law that carries a high probability of miscarriage of justice.
One hopes that worldwide trends will persuade Pakistan to change its stance. The sanctity, dignity and value of life will help contain the culture of vengeance and the cycle of violence that has plagued Pakistan. It can also make a difference in dealing with the causes of extremism and radicalisation.
The writer is a human rights activist and research fellow at The Muslim Institute, London.
amjad.mirzahussain@ntlworld.com


Demilitarising the bureaucracy
By Aqil Shah
THE conventional wisdom of the day is that the army is beating a retreat to the barracks. The prime minister keeps thanking the generals for withdrawing army officers from civilian institutions, a process he reportedly considers conducive to creating a ‘balanced’ civil-military relationship.
But recalibrating civil-military relations would take more than recalling military officers seconded to the civil bureaucracy. It would require that the two spheres be made impervious to undue interference from each other.
That is easier said than achieved in the context of Pakistan where the military has routinely trespassed on civilian territory without any regard for constitutional and democratic norms. Even when it has formally left civilian politics, the military has managed to retain authoritarian prerogatives in the state apparatus which continue to violate the precepts of democratic civil-military relations. These prerogatives continually entrench and reproduce what the political scientist Alfred Stepan calls the ‘latent structural power’ of the military.
One such prerogative is the employment of retired military officers in strategic locations in the civil service. In this context, the military’s colonisation of professional institutions of bureaucratic recruitment, training and professional development is particularly troubling.
I explain why that is the case below. But first let’s consider the evidence: the chairman and three members of the Federal Public Service Commission (FPSC) are former military officers. The Civil Services Academy (CSA), the National Institutes of Public Administration (NIPAs), and the Pakistan Administrative Staff College (PASC) are all militarised at the top. And military penetration of these institutions does not stop there. Ex-military men have also been appointed as ‘master trainers’ in the NIPAs and PASC. Even the Central Selection Board (CSB) and the Civil Service Reforms Unit are headed by retired military officials.
This practice is unacceptable and defies logic. For one, militarisation distorts performance incentives for career bureaucrats as they are often denied posts to which they are entitled after years of service.
Second, and related to the first, it undermines organisational morale by subjecting civil servants to the ridiculously irrelevant military notions of order and discipline.
Third, military officers are what Harold Lasswell calls professional ‘managers of violence’. In other words, they are trained in the art and science of the use of coercive force. Their main professional duty is the planning and the conduct of interstate warfare. Neither their staff nor their field appointments provide them with the education, skills and experience required to manage civilian institutions let alone to train civil servants. Simply put, civilian jobs are best performed by civilians and vice versa. Some might argue that these officers are no longer in the army. For all practical purposes, they are civilians now. Hence, any debate over the impact of militarisation on the civil service is misdirected and pointless. They would be wrong.
If Organisation Theory and Practice 101 is any guide, every bureaucratic organisation infuses its members with a set of collectively held assumptions, beliefs and perspectives that govern their behaviour. These organisational biases exert a powerful influence especially in hierarchical military organisations where tightly controlled processes of indoctrination and socialisation create a hegemonic worldview.
In the case of Pakistan, military organisational biases translate into a deep-rooted suspicion of and contempt for civilians in general and democratic politics in particular. Thus, military officers, in or out of uniform, are by training and disposition unsuited to performing civilian jobs which require voluntary subordination to civilian authority. Simply put, you can take the man out of the army but you cannot take the army out of the man.
Of course, there might be exceptions to the rule. Some military officers might be suited to some civil jobs. But just as civilians are not entitled to purely military jobs, membership in the military should not endow soldiers with the right to hold any civilian job regardless of what their own sense of entitlement might be. After all, the military would not even consider appointing civilians to head the Pakistan Military Academy, Kakul, or the Command and Staff College, Quetta. And rightly so. But then, it should also learn to respect civilian institutional boundaries.
To be fair, the induction of military men in the civil service is not unique to Pakistan. But its scope and scale have been alarming. Historically, the practice can be traced to the British colonial period when military officers were seconded to the Indian Political Service designated for the administration of ‘sensitive’ frontier areas. But it was after independence that different military dictators formalised the practice for their own political ends, such as rewarding favoured officers with plum civil service posts.
The real damage started with the institutionalised militarisation of the bureaucracy under General Ziaul Haq. The military then created for itself a statutory quota in the civil service both at the entry and upper levels. That policy has served as a short cut for well-connected officers who are otherwise not competent enough to qualify for the competitive, even if flawed, process of selection. Come General Pervez Musharraf, and military penetration of civil departments and agencies has only deepened.
What is to be done? Successful transitions require that the deleterious legacies of military rule are eroded and eliminated through conscious policy reform. If the prime minister is serious about ‘balancing’ civil-military relations, he must act decisively and immediately during this post-transition window of opportunity to demilitarise civilian institutions.
More specifically, he ought to reclaim civil service selection and training institutions by appointing civilians familiar with the organisational logic, structure and operations of the civil service. As chief executive, the prime minister obviously has the authority to appoint lateral entrants ‘responsive’ to government policies. But there should be no reserved seats for military officers in the civil services. All existing quotas must be abolished as soon as possible. If military officers are really interested in working in the civil service, they should be subjected to the same criteria of selection as civilians. It is as simple as that.
The writer, a PhD candidate in Political Science at Columbia University, is currently doing research in Pakistan.
ashah@isb.comsats.net.pk


