The Quaid
Believed in Democracy. How Did Pakistan Slip Into
Dictatorship?
By Professor Stanley
Wolpert UCLA, CA
Islam
and its idealism have taught democracy," Quaid-i-Azam
Jinnah reminded Karachi's Bar Association five
months after Pakistan was born. "What reason is
there for anyone to fear democracy?" Pakistan's
Great Leader believed in democracy, as he did
in justice, equality, fair play and freedom. Barrister
Jinnah devoted his last decades of life to fighting
for and winning an independent State of Pakistan,
carved out of British India's Raj, upon Britain's
withdrawal from South Asia.
Jinnah fought for Pakistan in order to ensure
his Muslim followers full freedom to choose their
own government, with equality of opportunity to
vote for its leaders and to serve their own "Land
of the Pure," which he feared would never be possible
in "Hindustan," as he called India. "The establishment
of Pakistan for which we have been striving for
the last ten years," Jinnah told the Civil and
Military Officers of Pakistan, "was so that we
should have a State in which we could live and
breathe as free men and which we could develop
according to our own lights and culture and where
principles of Islamic social justice could find
free play." His ideal was for an independent,
democratic Islamic Pakistan to grow into "one
of the greatest nations whose ideal is peace within
and peace without." Governor-General Jinnah believed
in "representative government and representative
institutions," but warned against the dangers
of official corruption and "personal aggrandizement."
Always scrupulously honest himself, Jinnah was,
as Liaquat Ali Khan called him, "unpurchasable."
"We must subject our actions to perpetual scrutiny
and test them with the touchstone, not of personal
or sectional interest, but of the good of the
State." To the faculty and students of Edwardes
College in April of 1948, Jinnah said: "I want
you to keep your heads up as citizens of a free
and independent sovereign State. Praise your Government
when it deserves. Criticize your Government fearlessly
when it deserves," but then he cautioned against
"indulging in destructive criticism, taking delight
in running down the Ministry or the officials."
Jinnah's faith in elective Government was unequivocal.
"With the removal of foreign domination, the people
are now the final arbiters of their destiny,"
he told his Nation in March of 1948. No "group"
should ever "attempt by any unlawful methods to
impose its will on the popularly elected Government
of the day.
The Government and
its policy may be changed by the votes of the
elected representatives." Jinnah understood that
the old days of British imperial rule were over,
and that Pakistan's was a "people's Government,
responsible to the people...on democratic lines
and parliamentary practice...Make the people feel
that you are their servants and friends," he urged
East Pakistan's officers, "maintain the highest
standard of honor, integrity, justice and fair
play." Most unfortunately for Pakistan, however,
Quaid-i-Azam did not live long enough to ensure
general acceptance of his wise and noble democratic
ideals in the land that he sired.
The War with India over Kashmir had already erupted,
moreover, and was to continue draining Pakistan's
precious limited resources, daily distracting
its leaders for more than half a century of lost
opportunities, shattered dreams and painful hardships.
Instead of focusing national energy and resources
on the creation of such vital democratic institutions
as universal education, an independent judiciary,
and full freedom of speech and the press, the
lion's share of resources have been swallowed
by an insatiable Army, wasted on futile wars and
internal conflicts, sectarian as well as provincial.
Why has Jinnah's dream of a democratic, prosperous
and powerful Pakistan proved so elusively impossible
to realize in the half century since his death?
Many factors have conspired to undermine the Quaid's
vision, not least of which was his own early demise.
But from its inception Pakistan's fatal weakness
was the unbridgeable gulf that divided the Western
Punjabi-Sindhi-Frontier-minority from the Bangla-majority
of its impoverished East. The tenuous bond of
Islam was not strong enough to keep bifurcated
Pakistan unified, since far more than a thousand
miles of India separated those two linguistically,
historically remote Nation-States.
Their tragically violent division came twenty-five
years after Pakistan's birth. Jinnah's genius
brought united Pakistan to life, but his death
left a leadership void that allowed every ambitious
and greedy, feudal, provincial, and tribal chief
to stake claims to power, provoking linguistic,
provincial and sectarian conflicts, blood feuds
and bitter personal rivalries that have robbed
Pakistan of its brief dawn of national unity.
Sindhis fought Punjabis, both of whom terrified
Bengalis, and soon every Frontier tribe reverted
to its own feudal code of violence, murdering
Muslim neighbors, instead of embracing them as
Pakistani-brothers. Nor did many Mullahs help
reconcile such squabbles, using their religious
powers to fan flames of sectarian violence and
hatred, rather than teaching their flocks to love
every Pakistani as their own brothers and sisters.
Political leaders were either too weak, or too
easily tempted by the seductive fruits of power,
to stem the rot that quickly left most Pakistanis
without hope, or faith, or food enough for their
crying children. The only institution in Pakistan
that seemed to function efficiently was the Army,
whose generals grew sick and tired of windy political
rhetoric. Finding the hollow words and endless
squabbling of virtually all politicians too self-serving
and useless to tolerate for more than a decade
after the Quaid's death, the Army seized power
from Karachi's "corrupt and incompetent" elected
leaders in the first of three martial coups. Field
Marshal Ayub Khan promised to "restore efficiency
to Government," introducing what he called "Basic
Democracy" to Pakistan's polity.
The basic difference between Ayub's martial "Democracy"
and its universal civil form was that Ayub's eighty
thousand "Basic Democrats," who alone could vote,
were chosen mostly from martial families to "represent"
Pakistan's some eighty million adults, most of
whom were thus disenfranchised. The Quaid's sister,
Fatima, tried her best to reclaim her brother's
mantle, believing as he did in civil democracy.
At 71, frail Fatima ran against the Field Marshal
as the Combined Opposition's sole candidate, but
Ayub's martial poll guards and counters were quick
to announce her "defeat." Had Fatima been allowed
to win perhaps her courageous example would have
inspired generations of fearless and equally selfless
young Pakistani women, as well as men, bravely
to enter Pakistan's political fray, to risk their
very lives and fortunes for the sake of their
Nation. Her "defeat," however, cast its heavy
pall of darkness over the land, lowering countless
curtains of hope over the dreams and aspirations
of millions of Pakistanis, who swiftly learned
how "impossible" it was to enter a political ring
against martial bullies, for even "the Quaid's
own Sister" was beaten by them.
Had she won, Pakistan might have remained united,
and could today be a vigorously thriving Democracy.
But then Ayub would have had to return to his
job as military commander-in-chief, a much less
lucrative post than the one he initially enjoyed
as "President." Ironically, Field Marshal Ayub,
soon after being "elected" President in 1964,
suffered a tragic martial defeat triggered by
advice he took from his nefariously ambitious
young Foreign Minister, Zulfi Bhutto. Bhutto goaded
him into ordering Pakistan's Army over the Cease
Fire Line in Kashmir, launching Pakistan's disastrous
second War with India of 1965. Bhutto's realpolitik
assurance of "swift victory" proved completely
false, and when Indian tanks rolled within range
of Lahore, Ayub wisely accepted the UN-brokered
cease-fire, and a Soviet invitation to meet with
India's Prime Minister Shastri in Tashkent. Ayub's
hitherto robust health suffered rapid deterioration
soon after he returned home to face angry attacks
from Bhutto and his supporters, for having not
only "lost" the War, but also the Peace. So he
stepped down. General Yayha Khan, chosen by Ayub
to replace him, also fell victim to Zulfi's feudal
hospitality and wiley ways. Yahya held national
elections, which were won by Mujibur Rahman's
Awami League, but refused to accept him as Pakistan's
next Prime Minister, because Zulfi insisted that
he should rule West Pakistan, where his People's
Party had won a majority, leaving Mujib to preside
over the Bengali East.
That set the stage for Pakistan's next lost War.
Populist Sindhi Zulfi Bhutto was the only West
Pakistani leader to "win" that Bangladesh War,
emerging in its tragic aftermath, first as martial
law "President," then as Prime Minister of the
sadly diminished Pakistan he ruled and ravished
for half a decade. Had Yahya been clever enough
to ignore Zulfi's self-serving advice would Pakistan's
unity have been saved by Prime Minister Mujib?
Would the Quaid's "Land of the Pure" have remained
a strong and prosperous democracy? The trouble
with "Ify-history" is that no one can ever be
sure of its "answers." Mujib was not much better
than Zulfi, however, and certainly no Fatima!
Were he accepted as Prime Minister, of course,
that in itself would have bolstered Pakistani
respect for free elections and democracy. Mujib
was, however, as power-hungry as his Indian mentor,
Indira Gandhi, and might tragically enough have
ended up in Karachi or Islamabad just as he did
in his own house in Dhaka, and as she did in her
garden in Delhi. Zulfi's destiny proved, in fact,
to be much the same. Pakistan's Army, though painfully
humiliated by its Bangladesh defeat, remained
the only power capable of thwarting Bhutto's insatiable
ambition, so he tried to ensure its support, promoting
Major-General Zia ul-Haq, a seemingly modest man,
over many higher-ranked officers, to its highest
command.
Zulfi held democratic elections, but was too eager
to win by so great a majority that no one could
believe the accuracy of his count. He was, of
course, also accused of "murder," and in July
of 1977 arrested by his most trusted General,
and less than two years later, hanged. Had Zulfi
Bhutto been a more modest, honest, sober man,
would Pakistan today be a vigorously thriving,
prosperous democracy? Ify-history. General Zia
announced, after arresting Prime Minister Bhutto,
that he had seized power to "save" Pakistan. He
also promised to return Pakistan "quickly" to
responsible "elective" civil government, perhaps
in "less than a year." Zia's coup lasted more
than a decade; martial rule wed to conservative
Islam, Mullah-Martial Law, locked over Pakistan's
prostrate body politic. Zia's dictatorial rule
was sustained by massive American arms aid and
financial support as the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan
placed Pakistan on the Front-Line of the Cold
War's last major battleground in 1980.
The Soviet Union bled itself to death in that
Superpower proxy War, after which the United States
withdrew its forces from Pakistan and cut off
all support. But zealous Zia remained determined
to fight on, supporting his faithful Mujahideen,
till his plane, with most of Pakistan's general
staff and the American Ambassador locked inside,
exploded shortly after take off in August of 1988.
Zulfi Bhutto's daughter, Benazir, returned home
from self-imposed exile in London to lead Pakistan's
People's Party in elections that brought her to
Premier power, which she enjoyed for almost two
years. President Ghulam Ishaq Khan, however, acting
with the support of Pakistan's Army, removed Prime
Minister Bhutto from office, after she and her
husband were accused of gross "corruption" that
threatened Pakistan's solvency, replacing her
with opposition party leader, Mian Nawaz Sharif.
It thus again became perfectly clear to every
young and old Pakistani that nothing had changed
in the relative power roles among Pakistan's martial,
administrative, and political leaders, the first
strongest, the latter weakest. "Ify" Benazir had
been more like her British friend, Margaret Thatcher,
perhaps, and less like her adored role model-mentor-father
Zulfi, Pakistan might well have blossomed under
her leadership into a rich and happy land of Democratic
Freedoms, for all its women as well as men, allied
in perpetual Peace to neighboring India, whose
youthful Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi, like herself,
had inherited his Premier power.
They had even met once and seemed to like each
other. But Rajiv soon lost the confidence of his
own peers in Parliament, and shortly afterward
lost his life to a Tamil suicide bomber. Benazir
only lost the support of her President and Pakistan's
Army. When General Musharraf seized power in 1999
from Prime Minister Nawaz, after he had a second
crack at the Premier's bat (following Benazir's
second strike out!), and then sent him off to
Saudi Arabia, he promised to restore power to
civilian government as "swiftly" as possible.
He had "no interest," in a political career for
himself, preferring, he said, to remain a good
soldier. Immediately after the tragic disaster
of September 11, 2001, General Musharraf agreed
to join the US-led alliance against al-Qaeda,
and Afghanistan's Taliban. As America's Front
Line Ally in a global War against Terror, Pakistan's
economy, which had hovered precariously close
to bankruptcy under Benazir and Nawaz, was quickly
restored to health, its armed forces beefed up
as well. But with millions of Pashtu-speaking
Pathans on the Frontier with Afghanistan, and
almost as many Taliban in Karachi, Peshawar and
Pindi, Pakistan seethed with highly explosive
resentment, daily volatile, as well as vocal,
opposition voiced against Musharraf's courageous
decision to fight global Terror. The General himself
became a prime target of assassins, and many Pakistani
Mullahs denounced him.
Faced with such violent challenges and terrorist
attacks, Musharraf insisted on holding a single
question referendum that he considered a "Presidential
election." Then he spoke of giving up his top
job in the Army, in order to remain President
for five years, but now he has changed his mind
about that. His reluctance to relax his two-fisted
tight grip over Pakistani power may be easy to
understand, but can hardly be equated to democracy,
which is, of course, always more "risky" than
dictatorship. But in the long run freedom of speech
and of the press, and the periodic holding of
free and fair elections, are social safety-valves
that help to keep most nations from blowing themselves
up, acting as gyroscopes that keep great ships
from floundering in heavy seas of criticism, drowning
under waves of popular frustration.
Good Generals are always loath to relinquish power
to potentially weak, or corrupt politicians, but
better general education and more open debate
and discussion in the free market place of ideas,
broadcast over every form of modern media, is
the best way to ensure that selfless, honest,
wise candidates run for Pakistan's highest offices.
Criminals should be disqualified from running
for high office, and better trained, better paid
police, as well as more criminal judges and fearless
journalists, should expose, and by law remove,
those guilty of squandering Pakistan's precious
funds and resources. None of which is easy, but
fortunately Pakistan has a vast pool of brilliant,
honest, wise citizens, capable of rising to this
challenge, of voluntarily joining a "Quaid Corps"
of senior, selfless citizens to run for elective
offices and help reestablish democratic freedom
with integrity. Jinnah fearlessly fought for Pakistan
to ensure "Brotherhood, equality, and fraternity"
to every Pakistani, "Because there was a danger
of the denial of these human rights in this Subcontinent."
How tragic it would be if Democracy's fundamental
freedom, were denied to the proud, long-suffering
citizens of Pakistan, on this 128th anniversary
of the Quaid's birth. (Courtesy Dawn)
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