Why the February elections in Pâkistân had to be fair
By P. Dewan
It must surely have been the weirdest cross-border disagreement since 1947.
Every Pâkistâni analyst and leader—the Advocate General and would-be Prime Ministers down to my friends in Pâkistân—was, till hours before the results were declared, insisting that the February 2008 elections were going to be rigged. And that the Emergency of November 2007 was an unalloyed evil.
And here was this self-styled Indian peacenik —and, by current definitions, a non-Muslim—predicting that i) elections would definitely be held by February 2008; ii) these elections would be free and fair; iii) ‘Muslim genes’ were as democracy-loving as any other; and iv) a number of lawyers would win seats in the provincial (but not national) assembly, especially in the small towns. He also felt that v) the situation in the tribal areas and parts of the NWFP had made the Emergency inevitable. He had suggested vi) a government of national reconciliation. Earlier in the year, he had predicted that vii) Chief Justice Chaudhry would be reinstated, which he was in July 2007. (I had made these predictions in ‘Democracy and Muslim genes’ Dawn December 1, 2007.)
Through the present article I would, without doubt, like to congratulate myself. (‘See, I was the only one in the world who had predicted fair elections in Pâkistân!’) But, more important, I would like to explain why the elections could not but have been fair.
At Cambridge, a decade after the event, we studied the disputed elections of 1977 and came to the conclusion that Shaheed ZAB had been able to dilute the people’s verdict only marginally. Also that it was impossible to rig elections throughout the nation among a people as alert and aware as the Pâkistânis.
After I left Cambridge I started studying Pâkistân’s vibrant, indeed robust, society for a series of historical novels about Pâkistân—a volume for each state. (The research has taken up so much time that I wonder if I will ever write the books!)
What is amazing how politicised Pâkistâni society is, especially in the district towns of the Punjâb, notwithstanding very long spells under unelected rulers.
The yearning for a perfect democracy is so, so strong in Pâkistân—especially in the Punjâb and Sindh—that last month the unelected rulers had only two choices: i) to let the people have their way (and this is what happens under all but the most evil rulers) or ii) to crush the people ruthlessly and risk a popular explosion.
Only a Hitler would choose the latter. Which is why I predicted that elections would definitely be held by February 2008, when there was pessimism in Pâkistân even in this regard. (I got the actual month right by a fluke.)
A journalist friend in Karachi wrote to me after the elections, ‘We feel that the elections were not rigged because the media kept up the pressure and that deterred [those in] power.’ She is absolutely right. But I had taken this into account when I made my predictions. However, even if there had been no media the elections would have been mostly fair.
In 2007 an unspoken sentiment swept the Punjâb and Sindh: Anything short of perfect democracy was a threat to the very existence of Pâkistân. In what has no parallel in the history of commercial advertising—or politics—Haleeb ran a touching campaign for a qâyam and dâyam Pâkistân. Every patriotic Pâkistâni—especially polling officers, policemen guarding polling booths and army officers and jawans providing overall security—was determined to have a flawless election.
Henchmen of a former chief minister looted ballot papers at gunpoint at a single polling station—Tharparkar in Mirpur Khas. Immediately the polling staff cried foul. Even if the rulers had wanted to rig the elections they would not have found enough allies among the polling staff across the nation. A few polling booths are a different matter, though.
Which is why I predicted that the elections would be fair.
My journalist friend in Karachi insists that the elections ‘weren’t all that fair.’ That’s because things did go wrong at a few hundred polling stations: which accounted for less than 0.1% of the total vote. That is how keen the Pâkistânis were (and are) for a perfect election. The fact is that even in the USA, Florida took weeks to fathom, and ensured that the loser became the President. If in India there is rigging in, say, three thousand booths (out of a total of almost seven lakh), we congratulate ourselves for a model election.
To rig elections at the national level you have to involve tens of thousands of polling staff in the conspiracy: and hope that none of them will spill the beans. This cannot happen in a country like Pâkistân (or India or Sri Lanka). Therefore, as I wrote in my aforementioned article, nationwide ballot stuffing has not taken place in any elections ever held in Pâkistân. If some, like the 2002 elections, resulted in unrepresentative rulers, it was because both the popular parties had been kept out—and not because of ballot-stuffing.
As for my fourth prediction, six members of the legal fraternity were elected in Gujranwala and three in Muzaffargarh: to take just two districts. Given the public’s gratitude for their sacrifice, this had to happen.
That Pâkistân should have a government of national reconciliation to tackle Waziristan, Swat etc. was a suggestion, not a prediction. And yet it was also an accurate reading of the mood of the Pâkistâni public, which said, ‘We might differ on politics but when it comes to the future of our nation we share the same feelings.’ And that is what is happening. PPP and PML-N between themselves represent the overwhelming majority of the popular vote in Pâkistân. When they set aside decades of rivalry and form a joint government, they will be giving Pâkistân the government of national reconciliation that I had suggested—and the Pâkistâni public wants.
My Pâkistâni friends had far less faith in the Election Commission of Pâkistân than I do. ‘It consists of bureaucrats loyal to the present rulers,’ they alleged. But that is also what is said of some of India’s Election Commissioners. And yet when the same Election Commissioners act as judges, the sanctity of their office makes them mostly take fair decisions. And that is what has happened in Pâkistân, too. The Election Commission struck down several incorrect government decisions (mainly transfers) last month.
For me as an Indian peacenik, one of the most wonderful developments of the last year was the total absence of an anti-India sentiment among the general public (professional trouble-makers excepted). There was no anti-India rhetoric during the elections either. May this last forever.
I confidently predict that by 2009 there will be a well-scripted Pâkistâni film (it might well be Khuda kay liye) that will recover its costs from the Indian market alone, leading to a cinema renaissance in Pâkistân.
As for the Emergency of November 2007, I almost fell out with my closest friend in Pâkistân over it. She wrote angrily, ‘I can’t believe there are people like you in this world...you mean there was no other option for him [the President] to stay in power…?’
Evil measures like the Emergency have a real motive (to stay in power) and a stated motive (in this case, the situation in the NWFP and the tribal areas). I did not support the Emergency. I only felt that it was inevitable. But now that the deed has been done shouldn’t the Pâkistâni public give the President his due? Swat, which had become a law unto itself, was brought under control within weeks. Darra Adam Khel’s Friendship Tunnel followed suit in January, and, a few days before the elections, Baitullah Mehsud declared a truce in Waziristan.
I wonder if readers have noticed that there were no militancy-related incidents at all in Pâkistân in the week after election day (February 18)? Yes, there have been some terrible attacks, unfortunately in my beloved Lahore, since then. But please ponder: Waziristan is enjoying peace, and so is Bajaur. Balochistan, Darra Adamkhel, Malakand and Swat are near-normal. The Lahore attacks are an aberration and will not last or do long-term damage.
God willing, a new era has begun. And it has been ushered in by the Pâkistâni voter, who wants democracy and peace.
The author writes books, mainly on the unity of religions.
