ADDRESSING a public gathering at Garrison Park, Sialkot, in the heart of the Punjab, on 11 April 2007, the Chief of Army Staff of the Pakistan Army, incidentally also the President of Pakistan, Pervez Musharraf stated: ‘Though I am in uniform, I have introduced real democracy in the country. Those who were in civil dress did nothing for democracy. My government worked for women’s rights and gave them authority, while in the past even a female prime minister did nothing for the betterment of women. I have introduced local government system so that people’s problems can be solved at their doorstep…¹

In a completely unrelated event, following a great deal of speculation, on 15 April 2007, The Sunday Times, London carried an interview with Benazir Bhutto, Chairperson for Life, of the largest and most popular political party in Pakistan, the Pakistan Peoples Party, who said: ‘I want a deal with Musharraf.’ Bhutto, according to the reproduction of the interview in a national newspaper, ‘showered praise on Musharraf for his policies to protect minorities and women’.² In another interview with The Times, again from London, Bhutto announced that she would accept General Musharraf as President after the 2007 general elections. ‘I think that a good working relationship between Musharraf and me would be a necessity,’ she is quoted as saying.³ ‘It would be an honour for me to take up that role [of prime minister] and General Musharraf would be there as president… What I want more than anything is for Pakistan to prosper as we make a transition to democracy.’⁴ She spoke about the ‘national interest’, about jointly fighting (with Musharraf) against Talibanization and terrorism, ‘which is the fundamental problem facing Pakistan.’

Before looking at the words of both these key actors and what they represent for Pakistan and its democracy, it is worth stating that Benazir Bhutto, twice Pakistan’s elected prime minister, and Nawaz Sharif, also twice Pakistan’s elected prime minister, both now in exile, signed a Charter of Democracy in 2006, resolving to work jointly to restore ‘true’ democracy in Pakistan.

 

Pakistan presents a most curious case when one asks what is not a particularly complicated question: Is Pakistan a democracy? In many important ways, it certainly is not. A military general has been ruling Pakistan authoritatively – if not authoritarianly – since 1999, without much opposition. In fact, he was welcomed, and is still supported by many civil society groups and organizations, as well as some large political parties.

Pakistan is ruled, governed and dominated by the institution of the military, and hence, when the in-service, uniformed, chief of the army staff is also the president of Pakistan, clearly, Pakistan cannot be a ‘democracy’, even though his government has held a number of elections at different tiers. Yet, when a uniformed general-president makes far-reaching, popular and democratic changes in the country’s constitution, such as doing away with separate electorates for Pakistan’s religious minorities, and by allocating 33 per cent of all elected seats for women, he is doing far more than any elected leader has been able to do.

 

Nevertheless, when such ‘progressive’ decisions are made unilaterally by one man, bypassing all institutions, questions of broader rights emerge. Moreover, when much of this is being done undemocratically, authoritatively, yet in the naked eye of a free and open media, the answer to the question, whether Pakistan is a democracy is seemingly far more complex and complicated by any criteria of measuring democracy. A free press and electronic media under military rule comes across, in most cases, as an oxymoron and a contradiction in terms, but not so in Pakistan.

To complicate matters further, when the chairperson for life of the most popular political party is willing to make a ‘deal’ with a serving military general-president in which she is certainly going to get the worse end of the deal, just so that she can take hold of public office, questions about the role of political parties in/around democracy, emerge. Can a democrat make deals with a military dictator, even one not considered to be ‘dictatorial’ in the Latin American mould? Are good, benign, dictators who do away with democratically elected governments more democratic than less benign ones who bring about their own form of ‘praetorian democracy’?

If military generals can enforce a programme (or its parts) which is far more ‘democratic’, ‘liberal’ and ‘progressive’ (especially when interventions by the military governments actually take the democratization process far further), than the half-hearted attempts by democratically elected governments, where does that leave the process of democratization? Clearly, our notions of ‘what a democracy is’ need to be rethought. The difference between the notion of the ‘formal’ and the ‘real’ ‘subsumption of democracy’ needs far greater scrutiny. Pakistan’s case presents some strange developments, which while not unique are, to say the least, most curious and interesting.

 

The term ‘civil society’ is a complicated term which means different things to different people and is used in different contexts. Even in the more settled western societies, where the notion of the term evolved following Locke and Hegel, and with its more contemporary versions, while the term is more at home, here too it has a changing meaning. While the meaning of the notion ‘civil society’ is more rooted in the western tradition, late-20th century events have made the category more fluid, with civil society actors and constituents moving in and out of the realm of civil society over a period of time.

In the countries of the ‘East’ and the ‘South’, the location of the term ‘civil society’ and its meaning becomes even more complicated when concepts from the West are imported wholesale into very different societies. The presence of indigenous systems of belief, organization and politics in such countries gives, or should give, the western meaning of the term a very different contextual slant. In Muslim and in Islamic countries, even those which have embraced – or had it forced upon them – modernization of the western kind wholeheartedly, the meaning of civil society becomes even more problematic. Moreover, within the Muslim world, civil society has different meanings. In Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Iran, Malaysia or Pakistan, the particularities of their own historical specificities, with some broad over-arching similarities across all five countries, might help distinguish between different forms, notions and expressions of civil society and its actors and organizations.

 

While there are different notions and contexts about what civil society is and is not, there is at least some broad agreement about what it must necessarily be. Civil society is necessarily supposed to be outside, and perhaps preferably in opposition to, or in contradiction with, the state. In order to define civil society, it is a requirement that the organizations and actors of civil society not be controlled by the institutions or actors of the state. This ‘autonomous’ requirement is a necessary condition to distinguish civil society from the state.

For some more radical thinkers, the stricter requirement is that civil society must stand against both state and market, and particularly against economic liberalism, and for them the ‘state, market and civil society are rival channels for the exercise of power.’ For other theorists, civil society must necessarily be a democratizing force. Howsoever one defines civil society and its constituents, the Pakistani case offers interesting (and contradictory) insights about the nature and form, and location, of civil society more generally. It also shows the large number of contradictions which constitute the political settlement that is Pakistan.

Despite the fact that he overthrew an elected prime minister, albeit an incompetent one, the largest and most public support for General Musharraf in October 1999 came from the socially and culturally liberal and westernized section of Pakistan’s elite, who embraced him as one of their own, which he very much was. Activists in the NGO movement in Pakistan were also vociferous in their support for Musharraf, precisely because he was seen as a ‘liberal’ and westernized man and some prominent members of the NGO movement who had struggled for a democratic order in Pakistan under General Zia, actually joined Musharraf’s cabinet. Employer’s associations, trade bodies, women’s groups, and other such groupings which are all part of some acceptable notion of ‘civil society’, also heralded the overthrow because Musharraf was a modernizing man. Some intellectuals and peace and anti-nuclear activists also celebrated the arrival of a liberal head of state, even though he may have been wearing a uniform.

Clearly, for the westernized sections of civil society in Pakistan, the military general who had overthrown a democratically elected prime minister, was seen as Pakistan’s latest saviour. Musharraf’s earliest critics and opponents included, what for lack of another term one can call Islamic civil society, not because they were more democratic, but because they did not like his liberalism and westernization. The classical and western literature on civil society suggests that by being ‘against the state’ in some way, and especially by being against an autocratic and undemocratic state, civil society is necessarily on the side of some form of democratic disposition. Not so in Pakistan.

 

For civil society in Pakistan, whether of the westernizing, modernizing kind, or of the more fundamentalist Islamic kind, the question has not been one of democracy versus non-democratic norms, but of ‘liberalism’ – or more properly stated, ‘lifestyle liberalism’, not political liberalism – against the perceived and variously interpreted Islamic symbols and values. Unlike in the traditional (western?) notion of civil society, the pursuit of democratic ideals is not a necessary and defining condition. Not only is this a fundamental difference, but so too is the necessary distinction of the autonomy from the state, in theory integral to the meaning of civil society.

 

If sections of civil society were expected to challenge the state in Pakistan, many were – and continue to be – the state’s partners, with both acquiring mutual benefits of some kind or the other. For instance, development groups which have emerged as a result of government failure in Pakistan and have become contractors in the form of NGOs in their own right, are often co-opted by institutions of the state to become the latter’s ‘advisors’, winning lucrative contracts and getting the publicity they need to further their credentials. Human rights activists and advocacy groups too become ‘partners’ with other ‘stakeholders’, particularly government, and try to redress problems created by the very institutions of the state that they now are partnering. The essence of Pakistan’s politics – very broadly defined – is one of compromise not confrontation, and of co-optation. Civil society in Pakistan is very much part of that political tradition.

Most definitions of civil society would not stretch themselves (certainly in the western tradition) to include film societies, debating clubs or puppet and theatre festivals. Yet, because these entities have a political and radical cultural presence in the context of an Islamicized (and violently so) society like Pakistan, they can be included in a non-western, specific context as belonging to civil society. Even such benign civil society organizations seek patronage from the chief of the army staff, who is also the president of Pakistan, to further their cause: General Musharraf was the chief guest at the inaugural and closing ceremony of a puppet festival and a film festival, respectively, some months ago. While these cultural preferences may be a redeeming feature of Pakistan’s military coup maker, one should not forget that Beethoven and Goethe were claimed as the cultural ancestors of a certain group of Germans not six decades ago.

 

While Pakistan’s civil society is an outcome of its particular history and the way its institutions and politics have evolved, it is nevertheless essential to apply some minimum acceptable norms of civil society behaviour to be able to evaluate its role and performance. In the context of Pakistan, one is likely to find that its civil society (its western wing), aspires to only a select few of the necessary requisites which would elsewhere allow it to call itself that. For it, a westernized, socially and culturally liberal lifestyle agenda is far more important and preferable than the messy indigenous politics essential for democracy.

In fact, one of the main consequences of this ideology has been the depoliticization of public life in Pakistan. Under such circumstances, where the main representatives of uncivil society are perceived to be equally westernized and socially and culturally liberal – in terms of lifestyles, not politically – where civil society actors work for the emancipation of women and for human rights, and military generals support the same agenda, both civil society and uncivil society make consenting bedfellows. Hence, the pursuit of democratic norms and ideals becomes unnecessary.

 

While clearly not a dictatorship by any stretch of the traditional definition, or even a harshly authoritarian regime, Pervez Musharraf’s government has reaped the benefits of an authoritarian regime without necessarily having to become one. It is barely a dictatorship, one largely by default. If by authoritarian we mean a regime which gets its way without consent, often on the basis of the whims and fancies of a single leader, then Pakistan is an authoritarian state. Such a state need not be brutal and can get its way simply through force, and even civilian leaders can enforce the same degree of force.

While the power of many barrels of many guns has always made Pakistan’s military the dominant actor in the country’s politics, and increasingly of its economy and society, one can argue that this situation has come about on account of civil and political society letting it happen. There are at least two possible explanations why this has been the case. The first is that to most Pakistanis it matters little who is in power as long as things are to their liking and life continues at a tolerable level, preferably showing signs of improvement over time. The second explanation is based on the principle that compromise and accommodation are far better than confrontation.

I have argued for some years now that there is no need or reason for Pakistanis to necessarily want or crave democracy. It is not an innate social need that Pakistanis are born with nor, based on recent experience, a taste that they have acquired. The assumption, which most Indian friends and social scientists make that Pakistanis must naturally want democracy is untenable and based on their own (Indian) experience. In fact, the question should be posed the other way round: Why should Pakistanis (or any other people) want democracy if they do not know what it is?

General Zia ul Haq was welcomed into power by political parties and individuals opposed to Z.A. Bhutto, who were political, supposedly democratic, entities. It was their dislike of Bhutto and his authoritarian style of government, more than any ‘problem’ they may have had with the military being in power, which resulted in Pakistan’s opposition political parties inviting the general to power. Zia’s greatest opposition was from the Peoples Party, and not from the collective constituency of political actors – women’s groups were a noticeable and commendable exception. Many of those who had suffered Bhutto’s wrath, if they did not openly support Zia, sat on the sidelines hoping that they too would get their turn in power.

 

General Musharraf too, 22 years later and now eight years ago, was welcomed by many political parties opposed to Nawaz Sharif and he had little difficulty in either imposing his own mark on the government or in finding eager partners, both civil and political, who jumped on to his ship. No military government has had any problems in finding civilian and political partners to legitimize its own particular brand of authoritarianism and dictatorship. The earlier opposition becomes the new partner.

In Musharraf’s case, just as the general has himself genuinely meant that he (at least personally) wants to see a liberal and moderate Pakistan, there are numerous, perhaps even a majority of Pakistanis, who want Pakistan to be modern, liberal, enlightened and peaceful. Just as there were those who supported Zia’s Islamic agenda out of their core belief in such a political system for Pakistan, there are those who feel the same way about Musharraf’s vision. When the ends justify the means, why should either vision be spoiled by agitational politics or democracy? Moreover, the political class, which ought to be involved in the democratic process of politicking, is more interested in coming to power through any means, even if it means coming to some understanding through a ‘deal’ with military rule, rather than having to take the military head-on.

The military in Pakistan has never faced opposition in assuming power. In fact, it has been invited in by political parties and sections of the public at large. Coups have been walkovers. However, once in power, they have caused severe damage to society, to the economy and to the country as a whole, largely on account of their own greed getting the better of them, and hence have been forced to leave. Democracy only returns to Pakistan once military governments run out of steam, rather than when political actors and members of civil society start a movement for democracy. With compromise rather than confrontation defining Pakistan’s political culture and tradition, and with willing partners to be found by different dispensations of ideology packaged by military generals, it is not surprising that the military has ruled Pakistan for 33 of its 60 years. Perhaps it is not the military which ought to be blamed for Pakistan’s repeated military governments, but those who extend invitations and help it stay in power.

 

President General Pervez Musharraf today faces his greatest crisis since coming into power in 1999. Yet, the crisis, ‘political’ in many ways, has not taken a democratic turn, once again exposing Pakistan’s curious and odd political trajectory. While some observers term the political process underway in Pakistan today as ‘revolutionary’, which it is not, it is still probably the most significant development that has taken place in a long while. The events and developments underway since 9 March, may change Pakistan’s future for some time to come, if not permanently.

 

On 9 March, the fully-uniformed Chief of the Army Staff, President General Pervez Musharraf, summoned the Chief Justice of Pakistan, Iftikhar Muhammad Chaudhry, to his office, and is supposed to have kept him waiting for five-and-a-half hours. In this period, it has been stated, the chief justice was pressurized by the president along with a number of uniformed generals, to resign his post. The president’s team had created a charge-sheet against the chief justice on a number of counts related to the misuse of his office. He was accused of many things, including the use of a government helicopter to attend a funeral and ensuring privileged postings for his son, a public servant. When he did not voluntarily resign, the chief justice was made ‘dysfunctional’ and sent home to await further charges, and an acting chief justice of the Supreme Court of Pakistan, appointed in his place.

There is no denying the fact that this has been President General Musharraf’s worst mistake and greatest miscalculation, and that he was ill-advised in taking this decision. Soon after it became clear that it was an unpopular move, he claimed that it was a ‘conspiracy’ hatched against him personally. There may have been reasons for the government to act against the chief justice since his stand on a major privatization case last year which revealed the government’s wrong-doings. Also, the chief justice’s increasing, though muted, pronouncements regarding the ‘disappearance’ of Pakistanis (many of them Baloch) at the instance of many ‘agencies’, was an embarrassment to the authorities.

It is important to state that the chief justice is no trail-blazing revolutionary for, as a judge of the Supreme Court, he had signed many nefarious laws and constitutional changes which President Musharraf had creatively made, without a whisper of protest. Chief Justice Iftikhar Muhammad Chaudhry was as much a part of the establishment as was the chief of the army staff himself. With the chief of the army staff seeking a second term as president of Pakistan – which many judges and politicians feel is unconstitutional – he was advised by someone close to him that the chief justice would create a problem when it came to his re-election and, hence, should be removed.

 

No one, least of all President General Pervez Musharraf, could have expected the response to this order, by no means novel in Pakistan’s military-led history, which has made these last few months the weakest and most difficult of his nearly eight year rule. In the beginning, seeing that their chief justice was not bowing down to military pressure, some lawyers were emboldened and started a public campaign for a fair trial of the deposed chief justice in order to have him reinstated. Slowly, this small campaign grew in nature and size, and some judges resigned their posts in protest, while many judges supported the ousted chief justice.

In the first few weeks of the campaign, the slogans largely related to the restoration of the chief justice and for upholding the stature and sanctity of the judiciary. The judiciary fought back to protect its own institutional interests and in the process, emerged united. There was little ‘politicization’ and political parties, as always opportunists, watched from the sidelines.

Soon it became clear that this was not just a protest against a single decision, but there were clear beginnings of a ‘movement’ for justice, and with political overtones. The lawyers were joined by some activists from some political parties and by some members of the public. While there has been considerable support from the public – as seen by popular meetings and response to the chief justice’s various visits and trips to different parts of Pakistan – this has not been a ‘public’ movement, but very much a lawyers’ protest movement, with growing help from political parties.

 

However, the colour of the protest has changed, and from a collective action issue concerning the lawyers and their self-interest, the slogans and the politics of the movement have become far more political. From being in favour of the chief justice and his reinstatement, they soon became anti-government, anti-Musharraf, and have now become audibly anti-military. There is growing support for the lawyers’ movement among different cross-sections of society, as can be envisaged by the number and nature of people who are participating in the movement, many as observers, rather than as activists and participants. Even the more radical slogans are being repeated in many quarters and the ‘Go Musharraf, Go’ chant heard at most of the jalsas of the lawyers, is no longer uncommon.

Yet, it must be remembered that while the lawyers’ movement may have a lot of public support and sympathy and it has increasingly become ‘politicized’, this is not likely to become a ‘political movement’ in the sense that is usually recognized. With elections a few months away and with many ‘democratic’ forces/parties hoping to come into power by any means – including making deals with the military – it is not probable that they would risk starting a real democratic or political movement. The easier access to power is the preferred route for rational political actors.

 

So, is Pakistan a democracy? There is no single answer to this question, and every partial answer needs considerable qualification. While Pakistan reflects certain customs and core values essential for any description of democracy, it lacks equally central and fundamental notions for many people to call it even a qualified democracy. However, what needs to be recognized by even a cursory overview of Pakistan’s political history, is that the notion of democracy in the particular context of Pakistan has been changing. No one would consider General Ayub Khan’s ‘democracy’, basic or otherwise, democratic; even fewer would consider General Zia ul Haq’s elections to local bodies, and his praetorian democracy as democratic by any standard of the term.

However, many people, politicians as well as academics, are willing to go a far enough distance to call President General Musharraf’s political process ‘democratic’. Here we have three different generals as president, at very different times, and with very different notions and forms of ‘democracy’. However, the key point in this brief assessment is that in each era, a process perhaps called ‘democracy’, has moved forward. While many countries may have already arrived there, maybe Pakistan has been in a transition towards a system called democracy for sixty years. Whether it actually gets there, and if so what form that system takes, is still unclear.

 

Footnotes:

1. ‘Musharraf Seeks Four More Years’, The News, Karachi, 12 April 2007.

2. The News, Karachi, 16 April 2007.

3. The News, Karachi, 29 April 2007.

4. Ibid.