Democratic disconnect

THROUGHOUT our history, we have played around with varying notions of democracy, dictatorship, autocracy, and despotism, mixing and matching these formulas with presidential and parliamentary systems to create a much sought-after hybrid model. These models have wreaked chronic instability, often changing with a greater frequency than people tend to change their cars, houses and, in some cases, jobs. Ironically, amid these constant changes, instability has remained the only real constant underpinning Pakistan governance landscape.

Behind these changes have been arguments regarding the inefficiencies of the existing model, the failure of alternatives, or changed socioeconomic circumstances. Whatever the reason, objective, or deficiency identified, one truth has remained: the tendency to sway from one extreme to another because of a consistent state of impatience. What this means is that no matter what model we apply — and then declare a failure — the underlying motivation for doing this again and again is our persistent refusal to fully commit to a solution and give it the time it needs to produce results.

Those in power do not have the patience to let the people decide, air their grievances, or make any meaningful contribution to the governance models the rulers extol unless they wholly align with their worldview. Nor do they have the patience to allow institutions — which will sometimes overreach and at others course correct — to develop organically and settle into an equilibrium that serves as an effective system of checks and balances against executive excesses. The people, on the other hand, grow impatient on being disenfranchised, ie, when their voices are restricted, rights curtailed and participation denied. They grow disillusioned, frustrated and eventually angry.

In a nutshell, those in power do not have the patience to endure the long periods of democratic continuity required for democracy to bear fruit, whereas the governed do not have the patience to endure autocratic and non-representative tendencies that deprive them of the use of their voice in determining their own future.

Those in power do not have the patience to let the people decide.

The fundamental state of impatience is apparent. But what is not is what we have achieved in these 78-odd years by refusing to abandon it. Unfortunately, when governments continue to oscillate between democratic representation and autocratic rule, and dismiss the people’s voice as irrelevant, it raises questions about the state’s legitimacy and writ. This should be obvious here. Apparently, it is not. Astonishingly, the state is yet to understand that legitimacy is derived not from the people running the system but from the people for whom the system to govern is being developed.

States tend to fare better against existential threats, internal security challenges, and external disturbances in the worst of democratic times than the best of autocratic rule. This is because a system which gives ownership to the people is owned by the people against anyone threatening it. And when do people take ownership? When they have a stake in the system, a say in its running, the power to influence it, and the protection of the rule of law. When the system represents the people, their interests, and their aspirations, they view the state as an extension of themselves rather than something inimical.

Granted, certain people will always have grievances. However, a democratic system allows all segments of society to influence state policy. As such, their grievances, even if substantial, are more likely to be channelled through non-violent means. When an aggrieved citizen can speak through elected representatives in parliament or local councils, and reasonably expect to be heard, he has a stake in ensuring that the system continues, because the state’s grievance-addressing mechanisms are knit into his daily life, and as such, he has a reason to be threatened when those systems are threatened.

However, what happens when you sever the citizen’s connection with the system by rendering already dysfunctional grievance mechanisms entirely non-responsive? Or when politicians begin to look like representatives against the people rather than representatives of the people? What happens when parliament is no longer representative of the people’s will? And what happens when the judiciary, which was meant to be an independent arbiter between the state and the people, comes to be seen as an employee of the state? Finally, what happens when those seeking the respect of the vote lose respect for themselves?

The people lose their stake in the system and any reason to fear its loss. When governing circles conclude that the people are not competent enough to make decisions about their own future, and thereby render their votes, voices and faith in the system irrelevant, the threat to the system is no longer viewed as one to the people but merely as a threat to a system as alien to them as those making the threats.

This is dangerous. Proscribed terrorist groups exploit such vacuums to expand their footprint. They depend on the lack of legitimacy of the existing system to create space for their own versions of ‘rule’, claiming to offer greater protection and a greater stake to the people. It is therefore unsurprising that internal unrest finds greater space in autocratic regimes, which alienate the indigenous governance system from the very people they seek to govern.

It is imperative that those in power recognise that acknowledging the people’s right to decide their future, to choose who governs them, and to define their relationship with the state, is neither disobedience nor treachery.

To the contrary, wanting a connection with the governance model of one’s own country, and being willing to struggle for it and contest attempts to curtail that right, is the greatest form of patriotism. Rulers should be apprehensive of the day when people no longer care enough to do so. Growing dissatisfaction in various parts of the country may be an indication that the public’s patience is wearing thin. Drastic corrections are needed — not urgently, but now.

The writer is a lawyer based in Karachi.

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X: @basilnabi

Published in Dawn, July 23rd, 2026