Democracy and Terrorism

COMMENT: Democracy and terrorism —Rafia Zakaria

Pakistan in 2008 is a nation maimed; its institutions destroyed, its leaders assassinated and its people dejected and ruled by fear. To restore the nation to a whole that can enable democratic governance the cruel and unthinking enemy that has unleashed its wrath must first be tamed

The year 2007 has come to a bloody and traumatic close in Pakistan. Its last days saw the incredible cost borne by those who chose to fight for democracy even amid dark fears and chilling threats. While Benazir Bhutto may have sacrificed her life in the valiant quest for democracy, the question Pakistanis must confront in 2008 is whether our country can truly bear the burden of a democratic system of governance?

In questioning this possibility, I am not asserting that democracy is not a valuable goal or that Pakistanis are in some way ill-suited or unworthy of a government that recognises and reflects the popular will. Far from it. Democracy is undoubtedly a venerable system of governance which could well flourish in Pakistan, if it is not routinely overturned by the military. My concern is based on the circumstantial challenges faced by Pakistan today. Consider.

In the year 2007, nearly a thousand Pakistanis died in suicide bombings. Several hundreds more were injured. Scores of shops were burned by religious extremists and young women and girls leaving their homes were increasingly subjected to acts of religious vigilantism.

In July of this year, two itinerant religious leaders held hundreds of students and a traumatised nation hostage to their particular breed of religious obscurantism while military forces laid siege to their mosque complex in the country’s capital. As I write this, military forces continue their operations in the Waziristan agency of the North West Frontier Province and the Taliban have given them two days to leave their territory. As any Pakistani knows, terror justified in the name of religion has imposed a deep and exacting cost on Pakistanis regardless of their ethnicity or economic status. .

In his book “How Democracies Lose Small Wars?” Gil Merom unravels the logic of democratic governance during wartime. Merom’s thesis is a simple one: strong democracies, where power is divided into sub-branches of government and governance is carried out through consensus and compromise, are often unable to make quick decisions required to win small wars. In other words, the basics of democratic governance such as debate over legislation, the requirement of several branches of government to supervise military spending as well as other safeguards built into the system to prevent unilateral decisions all become obstacles when it comes to quick and effective decision-making during wartime.

Merom’s intent is avowedly not to advocate recourse to military dictatorship in times of war, but rather to emphasise the weaknesses of a democratic system of governance when it is required to achieve limited objectives such as victory against terrorist groups.

Appraising the realities of Pakistan, and the grim conclusions of Merom’s thesis with regard to the capacities of democracy places a unique burden on Pakistanis fighting for democracy.

First, it forces us to consider whether democracy in its quest for consensus can truly be sustained in an environment devoid not simply of institutions that would nurture it, but also beset with an enemy which cannot be defeated roundly during the quest for democratic consensus.

Second, democratic politics with its attendant contestation, opposition and unavoidable chaos cannot be carried out in an environment where participating in any form of public political activity amounts to risking one’s life.

Finally, when the life of one of the most prominent political leaders in the country is unceremoniously extinguished in a blatant act of violence by an unabashed perpetrator, little hope exists for a meaningful expansion of political space that would truly result in representatives of the people being afforded the chance of governing the country.

Given this set of circumstances, and without falling prey to the normative prescriptions such as an independent judiciary, a venerated Constitution etc that we all agree “should” exist but are not in reality found in Pakistan, the time has come to reconsider the ubiquitous quest for democracy as the perfect solution to all our problems. Such an assessment, while it should not in turn justify dictatorship or provide a case for the imposition of martial law, would allow for the achievement of several other immediate goals.

First, it would allow a necessary and smooth transition of power from the current beleaguered executive to a national consensus government that while not democratically elected could achieve the crucial task of developing a strategy that could secure the environment of the country. This suggestion, also proffered in the latest report issued by the International Crisis Group on the current situation in Pakistan would prevent further deterioration of the political situation in Pakistan and allow resources and energies to be focused on dealing with the security threats emerging from military operations being carried out in NWFP and the tribal areas.

Second, it would permit the development of political space in Pakistan such that when elections are held following a stabilisation of the situation, the consequent contenders are not handpicked or “permitted” by executive order but rather truly representative of the population.

Finally, it would deflect national attention from its singular focus on elections and the pro-democracy movement to acknowledging and taking seriously the threat posed to the Pakistani federation by terrorism.

Pakistan in 2008 is a nation maimed; its institutions destroyed, its leaders assassinated and its people dejected and ruled by fear. To restore the nation to a whole that can enable democratic governance the cruel and unthinking enemy that has unleashed its wrath must first be tamed.

The quest for democracy thus must not be a blind and unthinking mantra that does not recognise the imperatives posed by the threat of terror or the necessity of defeating an enemy that has wreaked such havoc on our nation.

Rafia Zakaria is an attorney living in the United States where she teaches courses on Constitutional Law and Political Philosophy. She can be contacted at rafia.zakaria@gmail.com

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Rethink the concept of morality

COMMENTARY

Bowden: Rethink the concept of morality

Mark Bowden, SPECIAL TO THE PHILADELPHIA INQUIRER

Few subjects I have written about provoked such an outpouring of response as a recent column on the waterboarding of al Qaeda leader Abu Zubaydah.

In a nutshell, I argued that torture in all its forms should be banned, but that in some instances, as with the waterboarding of Zubaydah, it is defensible. The trial and punishment of those who break the law is always subject to the discretion of prosecutors, juries and judges. In rare cases in which a coercive method is employed to prevent a greater wrong, the interrogators involved should not be prosecuted.

Torture isn't always wrong

Many found this outrageous. Most of the responses were polite and thoughtful, and some actually agreed with me. The biggest confusion stemmed from my failure to state my argument clearly; many were outraged by my presumed willingness to "allow" torture. So I will try to approach the same point in a different way.

When researching the topic in 2003 in Tel Aviv, I met Jessica Montell. She led a human-rights organization called B'Tselem, which had successfully sued the Israeli Defense Forces to ban all forms of coercive interrogation.

Here is how Montell framed the point:

"If I as an interrogator feel that the person in front of me has information that can prevent a catastrophe from happening, I imagine I would do what I would have to do in order to prevent that catastrophe from happening. The state's obligation is then to put me on trial for breaking the law. Then I can come and say: 'These are the facts that I had at my disposal. This is what I believed at the time. This is what I thought it was necessary to do.' I can evoke the defense of necessity, and then the court decides whether or not it's reasonable that I broke the law. ... But it has to be that I broke the law. It can't be that there's some prior license for me to abuse people."

I suspect Montell would prefer to see the interrogators of Zubaydah prosecuted, at which point they could raise the defense of necessity. I argued that if official accounts of Zubaydah's history of mass murder, and of his handling during questioning, are true (and various investigations are under way), then his interrogators should not even be charged.

Another school of thought took me to task for placing such a risky burden on interrogators. One former military interrogator wrote that the ban I proposed "would put brave men and women who are charged with protecting us in the untenable situation of breaking the law for doing what's right and necessary."

But placing interrogators in such legal jeopardy is the only way to prevent large-scale abuses. In a perfect world, one where military interrogators were all scrupulously responsible and bright, you could prescribe certain rules governing the use of coercive methods and could feel confident that they would be employed only where appropriate, and only to the extent necessary. We don't live in that world. There are many people with responsibility who will seize upon any opportunity to abuse it. I believe something like this has happened with the Bush administration's effort to authorize "aggressive methods." It had the same effect such efforts always have had: It unleashed the sadists at Abu Ghraib and elsewhere.

Armies are not perfect engines. Certain rules, no matter how well-considered and intended, are impossible to enforce. In an army where hundreds, if not thousands, of men and women will be interrogating prisoners, there will be those who will abuse their power. Human nature being what it is, there is a natural tendency for abuses to occur when one man has complete authority over another, and when men are at war, dealing with prisoners they dislike or even hate, whose languages and customs are foreign, the abuses will be widespread and severe.

The only practical way to curb abuses in prisons is to for guards and interrogators to have strict, clear, rigorously enforced limits. That's why any interrogator who employs coercive methods ought to be mindful that his actions are crossing a serious line, and that he had better have compelling reasons for doing so.

One of the best arguments against mine did not fault either my reasoning or my blackened soul. It questioned the wisdom of allowing exceptions, even defensible ones, because of the impact on America's moral stature.

There is no question that something important is lost when we as a nation accede to tactics considered reprehensible. One correspondent asked: "What is the harm done to the citizens of the country whose agents have a policy that allows torture?," and argued that we ought to accept impending tragedy in the name of honoring a high-minded policy.

I raised the example of a German police chief who threatened a captured kidnapper with torture because he refused to reveal where he had buried alive his 12-year-old victim. The kidnapper promptly gave the location. The German police chief lost his job for making the threat.

It may well have been more noble on some level for him not to have made the threat, but I prefer a less rigid concept of morality. I would not have fired the police chief, or prosecuted him. I agree with his actions, even though torture is repulsive. The boy's life matters more than my rectitude or peace of mind.

Bowden is the author of 'Black Hawk Down' and 'Guests of the Ayatollah: The First Battle in America's War with Militant Islam.'

Source: statesman