The absent voice
WHEN Federal Interior Minister Mohsin Naqvi recently declared that Pakistan’s existing system had failed and could no longer solve country’s problems, his remarks predictably ignited a national debate. Some welcomed the statement as a rare acknowledgement of reality, others treated it as an indictment of the government. Current beneficiaries rushed to defend the system, while former beneficiaries, now excluded from power, applauded its condemnation. Amid all this noise, one voice remained conspicuously absent: that of the ordinary Pakistani, who bears heaviest cost of the system’s failure but has little influence over its future.
The controversy soon faded, but the underlying reality remains. Pakistan’s political, administrative and social order is severely paralysed, though not for everyone. For those with money, connections and influence, the system remains remarkably responsive. Doors open, stalled files begin to move, laws are activated and decisions arrive with surprising speed. Its paralysis becomes visible only when it confronts a citizen without political patronage, financial power or access to right telephone number. The real question, therefore, is not whether the system works, but whom it works for.
The roots of this dysfunction are evident in Pakistan’s political culture. Most parties speak endlessly of democracy but remain unwilling to practice it internally. Party elections are often ceremonial, leadership revolves around families and personalities, and........
