It was another consequential day for Pakistan-style democracy yesterday.
In what some in the commentariat are calling startling subservience, Parliament extended the terms for all military chiefs and waived the retirement-age cap. It also approved increasing the number of Islamabad High Court judges from nine to 12 and Supreme Court judges from 17 to 34. Next up, there are plans to revivify the Antiterrorism Act allowing detentions without recourse for up to three months. All of this appears to be motivated by one factor: containing Imran Khan—the Army’s once beloved, now beloathed.
The legislative empowerment of the Army is striking, especially given recent history. When Asif Ali Zardari attempted to claw back space, he got Memogate. When Nawaz Sharif tried, he got hit with the Panama saga. And when Khan made a similar push, he was ousted from within Parliament. To some, the latest law regarding the military may feel putschy.
Indeed, on news television last night, the federal information minister unwittingly compared the present Army chief, Gen. Asim Munir, to Pakistan’s first military ruler, Gen. Ayub Khan—he of the Decade of Development. The sitting Army chief could, in theory, surpass the stints of Gen. Khan, Gen. Zia-ul-Haq, and Gen. Pervez Musharraf. Of course, none of the Army’s past spells in power bolstered democracy in our country—even though each proved to be a growth bonanza. It is the economy argument, “policy stability,” that impels Parliament to support Gen. Munir.
Then there’s the packing of the courts. The establishment and the ruling coalition feel, whether accurate or not, that there are judges who lean PTI. Adding judges of its choice may secure serenity for the ruling coalition, with the added benefit of helping clear case backlog. In the U.S. in 1937, President Franklin Roosevelt, who was facing judicial challenges to his New Deal project, attempted packing SCOTUS, but had to bow to public pressure.
Finally, there’s the terror business. Previous iterations of the Antiterrorism Act have been used against politicians and even constructively dissenting voices. Its language is always purposefully vague in order to allow authorities, military or civilian, flexibility enough to haul up anyone deemed anti-State. The establishment has already called PTI’s social media activists “digital terrorists,” so it’s not unreasonable to expect their detention under a revised act.
To cynics, the grand strategy at play here is to age out the present lot of politicians: Zardari is 69, Imran Khan 72, Shehbaz Sharif 73, and Nawaz Sharif turns 75 next month. The Army chief, on the other hand, is a mere 56, and his spry tenure may spread across the next two general elections. The ageism is bad news for Khan’s charisma-led Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf, which has no fallback leader. Both Pakistan Muslim League (Nawaz) and the Pakistan Peoples Party have their younger leadership primed and would prefer semblance of democracy over no democracy at all.
Politics in Pakistan appears to still orbit around incarcerated former prime minister Khan and how to dismantle his persisting popularity. The new yes-sir laws may defuse Khan out of the system, but they also run the real risk of alienating and weaponizing his young supporters.