Political crises do not always begin with the rumble of tanks. More often, they begin with a remark that appears, on the face of it, quite ordinary but which, with the passage of time, changes the whole direction of the political landscape. Pakistan, perhaps, is passing through one such delicate moment at present. Addressing a policy seminar, Federal Minister for Interior Mohsin Naqvi remarked: "Whether you believe it or not, the system we are living in has collapsed."

This is not a statement that can be brushed aside, because it was not said by any opposition leader, any disgruntled politician, any retired general, any TV anchor, or any political analyst. This was said by the government's own Interior Minister — who is not just one member of the cabinet among many, but is widely considered to be among the most influential figures close to the very centre of state power. It is for this reason that this remark is being taken as a verdict delivered from within the state, about the state itself. And when a state itself begins passing judgment upon itself, then a question mark is placed over the credibility of the entire governmental structure.

Naqvi did not utter this sentence in passing, on some street corner. He said it at a seminar where highly sensitive subjects — the federation, the NFC Award, the creation of new provinces, the constitutional structure — were already under discussion. Words, at times, take on more weight from their surroundings than from their own place in a sentence, and that is why this remark cannot be viewed apart from its background.

For the last several months, various ministers of the government have been saying, again and again, that the present federal financial arrangement is becoming unbearable for the centre. Talk of revisiting the NFC Award is in the air, the debate over new provinces has come alive once more, and there is renewed emphasis on the need for constitutional reforms. On the other side, senior journalist Hamid Mir has disclosed that different drafts of new constitutional amendments have already reached the Prime Minister's Office.

If all these developments are viewed as one single picture, it is not difficult to gather that Pakistan is nearing yet another major transformation. This question carries weight also because our history is full of such experiments already. We have heard it said before, more than once, that "the politicians have failed," that "the system stands paralysed." And so, "extraordinary circumstances demand extraordinary decisions." Each time, the nation was told a new beginning was at hand; each time, it was assured that the mistakes of the past would not be repeated this time round.

But the memory of history is far stronger than human memory; it remembers outcomes, not promises. In 1958, the country was shown the dream of political stability. In 1969, it was said this was merely the last transitional phase. In 1977, it was claimed that power would be handed to the elected representatives of the people within a matter of months. And in 1999, a vision of accountability, transparency, and a modern Pakistan was put forth. Today, looking back, every one of these experiments certainly produced fresh problems of its own, but not one of them could give Pakistan that constitutional stability in search of which the journey had originally been undertaken.

This history is not an indictment against any one individual or any one institution — it is simply a reminder of a fact. Every major experiment carried out in Pakistan outside the framework of the constitution did produce a temporary order, but it could not produce lasting trust. Perhaps because states do not run on force alone, states run on trust and trust is not born out of a decree, but out of political consensus.

The second aspect of Mohsin Naqvi's statement is, perhaps, even more startling than the first. If a federal minister says the system has collapsed, it also means the problem is not merely one of government performance. Then the question is no longer simply why the economy is weak or why inflation keeps rising — the question becomes whether the very constitutional and political arrangement under which the Prime Minister, the cabinet, Parliament, the courts, and all state institutions are functioning, is itself being declared a failure.

If that is so, then what is left of the Prime Minister's day-and-night labour? If a Prime Minister works fourteen hours a day, pleads Pakistan's case in capitals across the world, takes economic decisions, and grapples with law-and-order challenges — and yet one of the most important ministers in his own cabinet announces that the whole system has collapsed — then the problem is far bigger than the performance of any one government. The question, then, will not be asked of the government alone, but of the entire state structure — and this, perhaps, is precisely the point where politics ends and constitutional debate begins.

If Mohsin Naqvi's remark is not merely a political comment but a signal from the state itself, then its first test is not for the opposition — it is for the........

© The Friday Times