If there is something the present government has done right, it is to restore the commissionerate system, the pre-Musharaf administrative set-up in Sindh. But it seems to have done it for the wrong reason, to spite the MQM.

Soon after the takeover by the present government in early 2008, Dr Asim Hussain, who then headed the National Reconstruction Bureau, chaired a meeting in which the chief secretaries of the four provinces unanimously recommended the scrapping of Musharraf’s local government system and reversion to the old system. The chairman seemed inclined to accept the recommendations of the chief secretaries, but it was obvious that the government was reluctant, for fear of annoying the MQM.

It is a pity that a purely administrative decision has been politicised. One can understand that the MQM prefers the local government system because the party feels that it can control the administration of Karachi through its Nazims, especially the police. But as recent events have proved, the MQM’s hold in Karachi is going to face increasing challenges from other ethnic groups. In the present situation, the emerging discontent of the city’s other ethnic groups will never allow peace to return. That can happen only through a neutral and strong administration which was delivered by the old system, of which neutrality was the hallmark.

The basic flaw in Musharraf’s local government system was that it combined the role of the state with that of local governments. Musharraf’s system looks good in a Power-Point presentation, but the common man could not understand it in 10 years since it was introduced. In the case of law and order, the system of Nazims was simply not cut out to enable the taking of the hard decisions required in maintenance of law and order.

In times of crisis, the Nazims left town or went underground, and the police bumbled through. The chain of command existing under a deputy commissioner no longer existed.

Musharraf’s local government experiment has destroyed the fabric of our administrative machinery. Switching back is not going to be easy. The restored old system will have to be nurtured back to effectiveness by the Sindh government. The mixing up of development work with the role of the state has corrupted our lower bureaucracy, including the younger officers.

As for the separation of the judiciary from the executive, a number of segments, but not the judiciary, have been vocal about it. As I understand, the separation was completed under the Legal Reforms Ordinance, 1996, which allowed the executive magistrates to function within certain parameters. They were functioning when Musharraf demolished the system. Reversion to it should not be an insurmountable problem, however, especially after the 18th and 19th Amendments.

The executive magistrate adjudicated criminal offences which involved sentences of a maximum of three years. More serious offences were tried by the judiciary. The concept of executive and area magistrates was to combine the role of judicial and executive powers at the delivery level, together with the supervision of police stations. The magistrate’s judicial role and performance was subject to control and review by the actual judiciary. His record was examined by the high court and the lower judiciary and he was judged by the quality of his work.

The advantage was that while a civil judge was not responsible for the impact of his work on society, the performance of executive or area magistrates was judged by the individual’s ability to maintain peace in his area and take pre-emptive action, where that was required.

We Pakistanis continue to try to reinvent the wheel. If Musharraf’s devolution was really such a good idea, why has India, which has a more educated and assertive public, not felt the need to implement it? Further, if the Indians had simply failed to realise its importance previously, they would have followed suit after Musharraf’s introduction of the system if they had found it better. Both India and Bangladesh continue to run better than Pakistan, through district administrations headed by deputy commissioners. Only in metropolitan cities is there a case to be made for a separate system there.

There is need for the restoration of the executive magistracy. If that is found necessary, its powers can be enhanced, to the extent where they were in the 1980 and 1990s. They would not in any way challenge the authority of the judiciary but still be able to re-establish the writ of the government. The government of Sindh needs to be for commended for taking the initiative for reversion to the old system.

One often hears criticism of what is called Pakistan’s return to the colonial Police Act of 1861. But the critics miss the point that the only institution in the country which still works, the army, operates under another act promulgated by the British in the 19th century, the Army Act. The concept of a unit under a lieutenant colonel is still the basic unit formation. Senior officers still gather in a ceremony to pin ranks on the shoulders of retired officers to make the recipient colonel of the battalion. All “colonial” traditions are therefore intact. But that has not wrecked that institution; rather, it has helped it retain its effectiveness.

One sees spite against the DMG cadre in some groups of the bureaucracy. DMG officers, like most government servants, mostly come from middle-class families, who enter the field through open competitive exams, without recommendations. Every young man dreams of joining the elite service. The concept of elite service groups is found in bureaucracies and in the corporate sectors of most countries. In our country, we appear to enjoy destroying anything that is working well. Let’s not oppose reversion to a system, which has stood the test of time and is being successfully followed by our neighbours, simply to spite a group of citizens of this country.

If we do, we will continue to dream of the writ of government that this country enjoyed not so long ago.

The quest to find on alternative to this government continues. Even the president has admitted that there is talk of a takeover by “technocrats.” But is an extra-constitutional change the answer to our problems?

Constitutionally, the only method possible for a change is the courts passing an order making the president ineligible to hold office. But even then all that will change is that Bilawal House will become the seat of power. The style of governance is unlikely to change.

The major drawback of any extra-constitutional measure is that these three years we suffered in the name of democracy will have been wasted. We will be back to square one, making the change no different from the previous ones in the nineties, apart from giving the PPP a martyr status. If extra-constitutional measures are out, and the PML-N is comfortable with the status quo, as is obvious, then what is the way forward to put this uncertainty to rest? There is one solution which, in my view, takes care of most of the issues which are an impediment to a way forward.

The government’s tenure is five years in our Constitution, while no democratic government has ever completed a five-year term in our history. Even Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, who ruled for five-and-a-half years, ruled as civilian prime minister for less than four, from 14 Aug, 1973, to July 5, 1977. In the fifties, before Ayub’s martial law, the average term of office of an elected government was around one year. In the nineties, when the PPP and the PML-N played a game of musical chairs, the average tenure of government was two years. In the next decade how can we expect a democratic government to last five years?

The logical evolution process would make a three-year term more compatible with our political development. We are still a politically immature and impatient lot and five-year term for a government is incompatible with our temperament. The US president has a four-year term.

If not three (the politician will hit the ceiling at this suggestion) our term of government should be four years. If we have 19 amendments to the Constitution, why can’t we have a 20th amendment? The advantages of a four-year term will be manifold. Firstly, the next elections will be due in eleven months, which will divert the attention of the political and other forces from finding ways to get rid of the present government to participation in the next elections. This would stabilise the current uncertain situation, where there is a new rumour every week about a likely new setup. Secondly, the need for looking for an extra-constitutional method or in-house change will be obviated. These four years spent in experimenting with democracy will be counted as time spent in the development of democracy in the country. Thirdly, it will take the pressure off the government which can happily concentrate on governance rather than looking over its shoulder all the time. Fourthly, and most important, it will make the term of government more realistic and reduce the chances of an extra-constitutional intervention in the future.

I have no doubt that such a proposal will be opposed by most politicians, because they will argue that elections have become very expensive and therefore elections should be held every five years rather than four. If the tenure of government is reduced, perhaps the political aspirants of the future will adjust their expenditures accordingly. Some people will say four years is not enough to execute the policies of a new government. One may ask which strategy, policy or project of the current government, in power for three years, is awaiting implementation and will be adversely affected by reduction in term? Four years is adequate, as seen in a number of democracies, to conceive, implement and consolidate most initiatives. If, however, we are going to link the tenure of government to the gestation period of building a dam, we’ll have to fix the tenure at ten years.

The response of the PPP is likely to be, why such a proposal in their term? Well, one can say that it offers the party a chance for a graceful exit or coming back again to power for another four years. It may even be an opportune to go back to the voter earlier, because one year later pubic may have become that much more disappointed with the government. In any case, a four-year term will reduce the chance of the government being thrown out. Unless the PPP wants that, because it can then claim that it was not able to deliver because its tenure was cut short.

The PML-N seems complicit with the PPP in letting things drift the way they are, because they are enjoying unbridled power in Punjab, their main, and perhaps only, base. With the indisposition of Mian Nawaz Sharif, the inclination for an early election for the PML-N may be even less welcome.

Despite the likely reluctance of the major political players in the field, the logical and the long-lasting solution is to have the constitutional tenure of the government more in line with the nation’s temperament and stage of political development. If we let things slide the way they are doing currently, we may have to restart the process of rebuilding Pakistan, from square one.

The instinct to make comparisons is irrepressible when a Pakistani visits India and vice versa, and I am no exception. The one thing that strikes you immediately is the realisation that the Indian media love to hate Pakistan. Even when they are talking about cheating allegations against Sri Lankan cricketers, the background television footage shows Pakistani players. Pakistanis are painted as villains in every form; whether it is terrorism or cheating in cricket and, of course, the ISI, blamed instinctively for all ills in India, is the ultimate villain.

At present, there is demand for re-auctioning 2G licenses (related to cell phone service) because Eteslat, one of the licensees, is perceived to be in cohorts with the ISI simply because it also operates in Pakistan.

Whether true or false, by continuously portraying Pakistan as the big, bad villain, the media and the establishment are making life very difficult for the leaders in the sub-continent. Since neighbours cannot be changed; both countries have no option but to coexist. In running Pakistan down constantly, the Indian public is being conditioned not only to hate Pakistan but also Pakistanis, which will make it very difficult for the Indian leaders to sell any scheme for reconciliation (if there is one in our lifetime) to the Indians.

On a visit to an archeological site in the suburbs of Chennai (old Madras), I hired a guide. While he was delivering his rehearsed speech, a group of bubbly young college students from Andhra Pradesh set themselves at a vantage point to hear the guide’s commentary for free. Not to be outsmarted, he negotiated a discounted rate with the group leader after which the giggly girls and the spritely boys became very friendly with me and I soon became part of their group. After sometime, one of them asked me where I was from. “Pakistan,” I answered. The group’s warmth towards me promptly dissipated. When we arrived at the next statue, I found myself alone with the guide who had to complete the round with me any way.

I observed that in most places, warm greetings turned into polite smiles when Indians found out they were speaking to a Pakistani. Following the Mumbai attacks, Indian media have done irreparable damage to the Indo-Pak people to people contact. If only they were to allow our news channels to be viewed there as well and give Indians a chance to discover that ordinary Pakistanis are themselves victims of terrorism.

Notwithstanding its dislike for Pakistan, India is doing well for itself. The most striking contrast between the two countries is in terms of law and order. There are no gun-toting civilian guards to be seen in India. Automatic weapons are only seen in the hands of law enforcement agencies and that too in sensitive places such as airports, government buildings, and now, near the Taj Hotel in Mumbai after the terrorism episode that occurred there.

Whoever organised the Mumbai attacks needs to understand that such incidents only help unite Indian society in its resolve against Pakistan and as a result strengthen the anti-Pakistan stance of the Indian government.

On another note, traffic in India is terrible but commuters and drivers have somehow learnt to cope with it. Drivers appear to nudge each other off the road but do it with subtlety rather than aggression. I saw very little evidence of road rage there.

Indian institutions are intact and working, even if they are on subsidies. Their railway is still adding 500 plus miles of track to their system every year; adding thousands of new wagons and engines every year. It is the preferred mode of transport for most intercity travellers, considering the poor quality of intercity roads and excessive heavy vehicle traffic. Express ways are now being built on a BOT basis by the private sector. This approach is being successfully followed in other infrastructure projects including airports.

The inefficiency of Indian Airways is not dissimilar to PIA. They recently asked their government to give them a onetime amount of Rs 17,000 crores (Indians still talk in lakhs and crores) to enable them to overcome a financial crunch. But the private airlines are doing what the state airline is unable to do, and they are thriving, having taken up 85 percent of the market and having rendered Air India an insignificant player. The airline industry as an institution is, therefore, working very well.

Their police and criminal justice system, despite its corruption, is still intact. In Jaipur, I was stopped for sitting in the front seat without a seatbelt. The constable threatened to fine us Rs 700 and told us that he had informed his superior (apparently he did not have the power to fine us). After a few minutes of harassment, our driver took him aside, handed him a hundred rupee note, and we were on our way. Despite the corruption, the seatbelt rule and helmets for motorcyclists were effectively enforced.

Public transport, be it in the form of an ‘auto’ (as a rickshaw is called in India), cycle-rickshaw (still in abundance here) or taxi, all appeared properly registered, uniformly painted, and under the control of the police. In Bombay, all rickshaw and taxi drivers wear uniforms.

There are few policemen visible in most Indian towns, even if you count the traffic police. Even though the gap between the rich and the poor is acute and more than 35 percent of the people still live below the poverty line, jewellery stores do not require special guards, nor are there any visible police arrangements.

The criminal justice system is archaic and slow, but it has a long memory. The recent conviction of 11 Muslims involved in the Gogra incident, more than a decade after the incident, is a case in point.

Tax collectors are dreaded, even though, there is still a lot of black money floating around and there are more than a trillion dollars reportedly stashed away by the Indian elite in Swiss banks. Every day, there are reports of raids by the dreaded CBI (the Indian equivalent of our FIA). At the receiving end are high-profile politicians, bureaucrats, industrialists, and film actors.

As a result, people are concerned about keeping their accounts in order. The Indian tax system exists for everyone. People have to explain the source of income funding their assets and lifestyle. That is perhaps one reason why they prefer to keep untaxed money abroad. Not that they don’t splurge inside the country. There are newspaper reports of a Rs 100 crore (200 crore Pakistani rupees) wedding celebrating the marriage of the children of two politicians. The bride’s father reportedly gifted a Rs 33 crore helicopter to the groom.

While one can give any number of reasons for India’s current confidence in itself as a country, there are two reasons, which stand out in my opinion. Firstly, the power of the state’s writ and consequent law and order in society. Secondly, effective education at all levels of Indian society. These are the two goals Pakistan also needs to work towards to stay relevant in the sub-continent.