WHAT else can one do than long for the past some people proudly claim to have come out of? Pakistan has had interventions to recreate democracy, each one of them greeted by a majority. For those used to being in a minority, the taunts they now attract for yet one more time failing to come up to the expected levels of patriotism are not new.

What is new and what complicates the affair is that the latest is an intervention to sustain democracy without an ostensible attempt at first dismantling the corrupted system. It sums up the progress we have made over all these decades – towards finding acceptable means to peddle our martial remedies.

Also read: Military courts: a wrong move

For reasons of simplicity there are two men who must be around whenever this rudimentary exercise in national stock-taking is attempted. Zulfikar Ali Bhutto was an autocratic ruler who rode a popular wave to power four and a half decades ago. He was a clever operator, eventually too clever for his own good and bold enough to not camouflage certain of his positions in grand declarations about democracy. Or he was sometimes unable to find a cover for himself, which was good enough for it spelt out reality without wrapping it in layers of respectability that are to be keenly bought on the market today.

Among other things he is infamous for, when the situation to his mind demanded that he act as a (civilian) martial law administrator, Bhutto was brave enough to wear the title until such time when he felt he could get rid of it. His successor Gen Ziaul Haq quite liked to be feared as a dictator out to impose his will on people, until late into his rule when he sought some kind of constitutional cover for his actions.

The enemy has changed and so have the techniques to administer the standard doses of punishment to him.

Zia was more. In a country where clarity routinely requires suspension of principles this most-hated man was responsible for ensuring the clearest ideological debate in Pakistan’s history. It was something that would appear logical to a George Bush not inclined to read into the intricate patterns: you were either with Gen Zia or against him. There were no ifs and buts. One could have one’s breakfast, walk purposefully up to Regal Chowk in Lahore, shout a few quiet slogans against the dictator and trot back home, satisfied at having contributed to the movement for a return to normality. Admittedly, it is tough now when the enemy has changed, as have the techniques to administer the standard doses of punishment to him.

How can anyone in their right frame of mind oppose the military courts to fight against those who, everyone agrees, are threatening the very existence of the country and of its people? Most are likely to be found wanting in the requisite amounts of patriotism, if not argument, against this improvised and modernised version of justice given the national consensus after the Peshawar tragedy. Venturing an answer to the dominant argument is even more difficult for those still struggling to understand as to what a war within the borders should entail, over and above a simple engagement where the law is used to fight against the criminals.

A question more pertinent to the current times is, if war cannot be avoided, is it not enough for soldiers to go out and target the enemies then and there? What bigger purpose would a military court serve when the military already had the sanction for going after those identified as militants? Whereas these queries are either half responded to or are left to be answered by future events and successes in the fight to defeat terrorism, the majority has enough justification now to be troubled by the thought of a verdict on today’s events a few years down the road.

They are sold on the idea that there will be no tomorrow if ‘necessary’ action was not taken today, which is a strong rallying cry, and they have available to them the tried and tested tools with which to beat the perennial minority they accuse of serving interests that are foreign to the majority. Over all these years the debate has not progressed from the point where the one, established side could easily dismiss the small, inquisitive group of people as traitors.

The group has shrunk over time. Back in the glorious days, it could with some imagination and a few conditions ally itself with a political party. That alliance or association could sometimes be limited to an issue or against a regime or a government or a policy, but that kept the things moving. With changing times, parties on the whole lost the support of the minority which was now able to selectively put its trust only in individual politicians. Two famous constitutional experts (sorry, politicians) who continued to enjoy some respect in this post-party phase were Mian Raza Rabbani and Chaudhry Aitzaz Ahsan, both PPP senators currently.

It indicates an ending of sorts that Mr Rabbani, a constitutional architect of some repute, has been reduced by the circumstances to vote for the 21st Amendment against his conscience. He is forced by the extraordinary situation to disconnect himself from the constitutional tradition that he had sworn by, yet he does not find the times compelling enough to break away from his party.

Aitzaz for his part chooses to invoke the long-suppressed poet in him. He says a part of him died as he signed for the 21st Amendment, before he tries to lift his spirits by referring to his party’s ‘positive’ influence on the debate on changing the Constitution. What if it turns out that the part of him that died in the parliament on Tuesday, Jan 6, 2015, was the last bit that remained of the PPP?

The writer is Dawn’s resident editor in Lahore.

Published in Dawn, January 9th, 2015

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