Democracy: the only way forward
Time for making pressure groups to engender change in official policies was nigh & democracy gives us right to speak.
First-off, congratulations to Abrarul Haq, Bilal Ahmed Rana, and their team of bright young men and women for organising a great symposium on ‘Intergenerational Democracy’ which I, too, had the honour of addressing.
Whilst I had heard much of Abrar and his social work, and had appreciated his delightful songs, this was the first time I met him. As I did Sharmila Faruqi of the PPP and Faisal Sabzwari of the MQM, adviser to the Sindh Chief Minister, and member of the Sindh cabinet respectively. Here were three young politicians; bright, well-spoken, and presentable. I am glad to say that Pakistani democracy is the richer for them.
It was good too to see young people from all over Pakistan: Azad Jammu and Kashmir and Gilgit-Baltistan. Why, there was a young man from Panjgur, Balochistan, also (and who asked a heart-rending question about which later). And several from Fata. An excellent mix, indeed.
In my talk “Threats to Inclusive Democracy in Pakistan”, my message to these young people, who are tomorrow’s leaders, was that democracy was indispensable for the country and that they must take full part in future elections, and encourage others to take part in the exercise to elect the representatives of their choice, of whichever political party.
I talked about dynastic politics that came in for some stick from some other speakers and from the audience, and said that whether it was Maryam Nawaz Sharif or Bilawal Bhutto, they would have to be VOTED in; that they were not army dictators who came to power because of brute force, riding tanks or artillery guns. I said that mere slogans were never enough to win an election: very hard work had to be put in, reaching out to the people: to the common folk who make up the majority of the country. That contesting elections was not a cake-walk. I gave the example of the 1990 elections, when I was present with the late, lamented Benazir, when she was campaigning; when one had to go without sleep for nights on end; eating dust for mile upon mile — when even water was not easily available.
Whilst Benazir being a woman had to face all of the difficulties of movement that women face in this more-conservative-by-the-day country, democratic politics was never easy for men either. From listening to the grievances of constituents to doing something about them; from keeping their supporters on-side and maintaining discipline at the same time were most difficult tasks to manage. And all with a smile!
I spoke about the criticism levelled at democracy by those who have always prospered when autocratic (read army/‘technocratic’) governments were in power: that democracy in Pakistan had been reduced to “Gali/Naali ki siyasat” (the politics of streets and sewers) i.e., that politicians get votes by providing their constituents with facilities such as paved streets and a sewer/drainage system. In America, this is called ‘pork barrel’ politics.
Definition of ‘pork barrel politics’: “The act of using government funds on local projects that are primarily used to bring more money to a specific representative’s district. Basically, the politician tries to benefit his/her constituents in order to maintain their support and vote.”
What was so wrong with that, I asked? Was it not the right of the poor and the underprivileged in a developing country like Pakistan to have clean streets and a sewerage system? Were they condemned to live in filth forever? And their children condemned to play in streets overflowing with waste water and dirty mud?
I addressed another criticism levelled by these lovers of ‘technocrats’: that politicians spend much of their time interceding with the police and revenue departments on behalf of their constituents. And what is so wrong with that, I asked? No one should help the poor when they come face to face with those officials of these powerful government departments who are corrupt? Everyone in need deserves a helping hand — why not a politician’s constituents?
But what went down very well with the audience was when I asked them to consider the longevity of army governments’ tenures compared to those of elected, civilian ones. Unelected dictators ruled the country for many years: 10 under Ayub, four under Yahya Khan, 11 under Zia and nine under Musharraf. All elected governments, barring Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s, were not allowed to even complete their tenures, some being dismissed in mere months.
I asked the audience to take stock of where the country was at present and see the environment in which we were living. I said that the time for making pressure groups to help engender change in official policies was nigh. That we were doomed if we, the people, did not organise ourselves and tried to talk sense to those who have arrogated to themselves the right to determine the future course of the country. That democracy gave us the perfect right to speak freely.
I am most gratified that when I said our whole ‘defence’ could not be predicated only on bums and more bums; that what we needed was an educated, happy populace; and that we would all be in the forefront if ever a need arose to defend Pakistan (if any country was foolish enough to attack 180 million contented people, that is) there was a murmur of approval.
All in all, it was a great experience and I am the richer for being there. But before we go on let me repeat the question that the young man from Panjgur asked. “You talk of freedom of expression”, he said. “But I know that if I ever said what was in my heart, my dead body would appear on some road the next day”. And what a rousing acclamation he got. Are you listening, gentlemen? And do you realise you are (increasingly) yesterday’s news?
P.S. Who saw the most frightening photograph on page 5 of Dawn (Lahore edition) of December 12, showing 10 CNG cylinders connected to one another by metal pipes, lying on the roof of a CNG-powered bus. They could go off by even a small spark produced by the friction caused by the tanks rubbing against one another. Where are the motor vehicle safety inspectors please?
Published in The Express Tribune, December 14th, 2012.
Whilst I had heard much of Abrar and his social work, and had appreciated his delightful songs, this was the first time I met him. As I did Sharmila Faruqi of the PPP and Faisal Sabzwari of the MQM, adviser to the Sindh Chief Minister, and member of the Sindh cabinet respectively. Here were three young politicians; bright, well-spoken, and presentable. I am glad to say that Pakistani democracy is the richer for them.
It was good too to see young people from all over Pakistan: Azad Jammu and Kashmir and Gilgit-Baltistan. Why, there was a young man from Panjgur, Balochistan, also (and who asked a heart-rending question about which later). And several from Fata. An excellent mix, indeed.
In my talk “Threats to Inclusive Democracy in Pakistan”, my message to these young people, who are tomorrow’s leaders, was that democracy was indispensable for the country and that they must take full part in future elections, and encourage others to take part in the exercise to elect the representatives of their choice, of whichever political party.
I talked about dynastic politics that came in for some stick from some other speakers and from the audience, and said that whether it was Maryam Nawaz Sharif or Bilawal Bhutto, they would have to be VOTED in; that they were not army dictators who came to power because of brute force, riding tanks or artillery guns. I said that mere slogans were never enough to win an election: very hard work had to be put in, reaching out to the people: to the common folk who make up the majority of the country. That contesting elections was not a cake-walk. I gave the example of the 1990 elections, when I was present with the late, lamented Benazir, when she was campaigning; when one had to go without sleep for nights on end; eating dust for mile upon mile — when even water was not easily available.
Whilst Benazir being a woman had to face all of the difficulties of movement that women face in this more-conservative-by-the-day country, democratic politics was never easy for men either. From listening to the grievances of constituents to doing something about them; from keeping their supporters on-side and maintaining discipline at the same time were most difficult tasks to manage. And all with a smile!
I spoke about the criticism levelled at democracy by those who have always prospered when autocratic (read army/‘technocratic’) governments were in power: that democracy in Pakistan had been reduced to “Gali/Naali ki siyasat” (the politics of streets and sewers) i.e., that politicians get votes by providing their constituents with facilities such as paved streets and a sewer/drainage system. In America, this is called ‘pork barrel’ politics.
Definition of ‘pork barrel politics’: “The act of using government funds on local projects that are primarily used to bring more money to a specific representative’s district. Basically, the politician tries to benefit his/her constituents in order to maintain their support and vote.”
What was so wrong with that, I asked? Was it not the right of the poor and the underprivileged in a developing country like Pakistan to have clean streets and a sewerage system? Were they condemned to live in filth forever? And their children condemned to play in streets overflowing with waste water and dirty mud?
I addressed another criticism levelled by these lovers of ‘technocrats’: that politicians spend much of their time interceding with the police and revenue departments on behalf of their constituents. And what is so wrong with that, I asked? No one should help the poor when they come face to face with those officials of these powerful government departments who are corrupt? Everyone in need deserves a helping hand — why not a politician’s constituents?
But what went down very well with the audience was when I asked them to consider the longevity of army governments’ tenures compared to those of elected, civilian ones. Unelected dictators ruled the country for many years: 10 under Ayub, four under Yahya Khan, 11 under Zia and nine under Musharraf. All elected governments, barring Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s, were not allowed to even complete their tenures, some being dismissed in mere months.
I asked the audience to take stock of where the country was at present and see the environment in which we were living. I said that the time for making pressure groups to help engender change in official policies was nigh. That we were doomed if we, the people, did not organise ourselves and tried to talk sense to those who have arrogated to themselves the right to determine the future course of the country. That democracy gave us the perfect right to speak freely.
I am most gratified that when I said our whole ‘defence’ could not be predicated only on bums and more bums; that what we needed was an educated, happy populace; and that we would all be in the forefront if ever a need arose to defend Pakistan (if any country was foolish enough to attack 180 million contented people, that is) there was a murmur of approval.
All in all, it was a great experience and I am the richer for being there. But before we go on let me repeat the question that the young man from Panjgur asked. “You talk of freedom of expression”, he said. “But I know that if I ever said what was in my heart, my dead body would appear on some road the next day”. And what a rousing acclamation he got. Are you listening, gentlemen? And do you realise you are (increasingly) yesterday’s news?
P.S. Who saw the most frightening photograph on page 5 of Dawn (Lahore edition) of December 12, showing 10 CNG cylinders connected to one another by metal pipes, lying on the roof of a CNG-powered bus. They could go off by even a small spark produced by the friction caused by the tanks rubbing against one another. Where are the motor vehicle safety inspectors please?
Published in The Express Tribune, December 14th, 2012.