A sorry state

SOCIAL and economic justice is nice to have. So are common cultural

obsessions, like chai and cricket, that bind together otherwise diverse
groups. But when it comes to the state itself, the most important thing —
quite simply — is retaining a monopoly on violence.

Now one can quibble about this, add ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’, quote political philosophers and
lapse into ancient Greek, but the central argument still holds mostly true: we obey the
state and its laws simply because the state can hurt us. That violence can take many
forms — a monetary fine, the deprivation of liberty or even life — but what is crucial is
that the state directly exercises this power, and is seen to be doing it.

When you reach a situation where other groups and forces can credibly, and with
impunity, apply violence it is a warning that the state itself is quickly becoming
untenable.

He who can destroy a thing finds that he does, in effect, control that thing and is a de
facto state unto himself — whether that is limited to a small neighbourhood in a big city
or an entire tribal agency.

Sometimes this monopoly is lost due to uncontrollable factors: invasion, natural

disaster, a lack of capacity; but the natural tendency of a rational state is to attempt to
reassert it, to win back the lost ground.

Sadly, we have a state that has, over the decades, subcontracted and sub-let that
exclusive right to violence; in ways big and small, due to short-term expediency and
grand — and grandly failed — strategic visions and everything in between. It is a state
that has effectively ceded this ultimate hallmark of what we like to call ‘sovereignty’.

No one person or institution bears the exclusive blame, though the greater responsibility
lies with those who have, covertly or overtly, controlled the destiny of this nation for the
greatest period. There’s no profit here in repeating the sorry tale of the incredible errors
made in pursuit of strategic goals. Of how those led to the creation of militias to do the
work of the state. Militias that then metastasized were recruited by other actors — state
and non-state — until the whole toxic brew simply exploded.

There are smaller manifestations of this malaise as well. Parts of the country were
effectively rendered into personal and party fiefs, where local lords, urban and rural,
reigned supreme because it was politically expedient to allow this.

Because it was easy to do, because their political support, their votes, their muscle was
needed.
Here we must note that this is by no means exclusive to Pakistan. Many other states in
history have also, for various reasons, allowed other actors this power. But the key is to
remember this must be a time-bound lease, not an open-ended grant.

This kind of behaviour is addictive. The state gets to absolve itself of its responsibilities
and save resources, while the favoured force — be it an jihadi militia or a private army or
even a particularly powerful crime boss — gets power and legitimacy.

Once surrendered, it’s hard to get back. Once the foundation is laid, the rest of the
structure usually follows: dispute resolution, taxation in the form of extortion or
‘charitable donations’.

In effect, all the trappings of a state slowly but surely begin to manifest. Power is a lot of
fun to have, you see. Just ask Mullah Fazlullah.

We don’t have to look very far, or very far back, to see the logical conclusion to this. All
we need do is look at the entrenched position of a group like Hezbollah in Lebanon, or
the mini statelets emerging in present-day Syria. Here in Pakistan we have numerous
such groups ready and willing to fill the vacuum. There are criminal gangs, religious
militias, private armies and separatist rebels — all of whom would be quite happy to slap
on a uniform, print their own official letterheads and hold court. Many of them already
do.

Winning back this lost space won’t be easy at all. There will be ups and downs, small
victories and great disasters, but it really does need to start somewhere.

Containment is simply not a long-term one, nor is ceding more space to buy time. But
here we have a state that seems to do nothing but. We’ve seen it happen every time the
thin veneer of civilisation cracks. We saw it on ‘Youm-i-Ishq’, when looters and rioters
ran amok in the face of a state reluctant to assert its authority.

We see its manifestations in politicians preferring to appease terrorists to save their own
backs and in shopkeepers preferring to pay extortion rather than trust the police. We see
its consequences when it becomes more expedient to transport pilgrims by air simply
because you can’t secure the roads. Let’s just not say we didn’t see it coming.