SOCIAL and economic justice is nice to have. So are common cultural obsessions, like chai and cricket, that bind together otherwise diverse groups. But when it comes to the state itself, the most important thing — quite simply — is retaining a monopoly on violence.

Now one can quibble about this, add ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’, quote political philosophers and lapse into ancient Greek, but the central argument still holds mostly true: we obey the state and its laws simply because the state can hurt us. That violence can take many forms — a monetary fine, the deprivation of liberty or even life — but what is crucial is that the state directly exercises this power, and is seen to be doing it.

When you reach a situation where other groups and forces can credibly, and with impunity, apply violence it is a warning that the state itself is quickly becoming untenable.

He who can destroy a thing finds that he does, in effect, control that thing and is a de facto state unto himself — whether that is limited to a small neighbourhood in a big city or an entire tribal agency.

Sometimes this monopoly is lost due to uncontrollable factors: invasion, natural disaster, a lack of capacity; but the natural tendency of a rational state is to attempt to reassert it, to win back the lost ground.

Sadly, we have a state that has, over the decades, subcontracted and sub-let that exclusive right to violence; in ways big and small, due to short-term expediency and grand — and grandly failed — strategic visions and everything in between. It is a state that has effectively ceded this ultimate hallmark of what we like to call ‘sovereignty’.

No one person or institution bears the exclusive blame, though the greater responsibility lies with those who have, covertly or overtly, controlled the destiny of this nation for the greatest period. There’s no profit here in repeating the sorry tale of the incredible errors made in pursuit of strategic goals. Of how those led to the creation of militias to do the work of the state. Militias that then metastasized were recruited by other actors — state and non-state — until the whole toxic brew simply exploded.

There are smaller manifestations of this malaise as well. Parts of the country were effectively rendered into personal and party fiefs, where local lords, urban and rural, reigned supreme because it was politically expedient to allow this.

Because it was easy to do, because their political support, their votes, their muscle was needed.

Here we must note that this is by no means exclusive to Pakistan. Many other states in history have also, for various reasons, allowed other actors this power. But the key is to remember this must be a time-bound lease, not an open-ended grant.

This kind of behaviour is addictive. The state gets to absolve itself of its responsibilities and save resources, while the favoured force — be it an jihadi militia or a private army or even a particularly powerful crime boss — gets power and legitimacy.

Once surrendered, it’s hard to get back. Once the foundation is laid, the rest of the structure usually follows: dispute resolution, taxation in the form of extortion or ‘charitable donations’.

In effect, all the trappings of a state slowly but surely begin to manifest. Power is a lot of fun to have, you see. Just ask Mullah Fazlullah.

We don’t have to look very far, or very far back, to see the logical conclusion to this. All we need do is look at the entrenched position of a group like Hezbollah in Lebanon, or the mini statelets emerging in present-day Syria. Here in Pakistan we have numerous such groups ready and willing to fill the vacuum. There are criminal gangs, religious militias, private armies and separatist rebels — all of whom would be quite happy to slap on a uniform, print their own official letterheads and hold court. Many of them already do.

Winning back this lost space won’t be easy at all. There will be ups and downs, small victories and great disasters, but it really does need to start somewhere.

Containment is simply not a long-term one, nor is ceding more space to buy time. But here we have a state that seems to do nothing but. We’ve seen it happen every time the thin veneer of civilisation cracks. We saw it on ‘Youm-i-Ishq’, when looters and rioters ran amok in the face of a state reluctant to assert its authority.

We see its manifestations in politicians preferring to appease terrorists to save their own backs and in shopkeepers preferring to pay extortion rather than trust the police. We see its consequences when it becomes more expedient to transport pilgrims by air simply because you can’t secure the roads. Let’s just not say we didn’t see it coming.

The writer is a member of staff.

zarrar.khuhro@gmail.com

Twitter:@ZarrarKhuhro