The talon for our heads

Many years ago, I recall being fascinated by the Court of Owls, a fictional secret society that, through centuries of shadowy dealings, had acquired a mythic reputation.

The nursery rhyme dedicated to them went: “Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them or they’ll send the Talon for your head.”

But that was the story of Gotham. Our story concerns a different entity altogether – the Court of Hawks.

For those segments of society that still care about the democratic process, the Hawks are a sword waiting to fall on the heads of those who dare to speak where whispering is forbidden. Our politicians, whose essential responsibility is to uphold the democratic process and the liberties associated therewith, seem entirely uninterested in preventing the further erosion of civil authority. Even those who decry the Hawks’ glide into the civil sphere can be found pleading for protection under their wings.

Consider, for a moment, the manual for gaining political appeal in Pakistan.

All politicians claim to champion the cause of the people. Atop shipping containers, behind podiums, and on the streets, they stress the sacrifices they are willing to make to bring about collective prosperity. They lambast their political opponents, criticize their failures, and, if given the opportunity, wax poetic on the virtues of democracy. Political point-scoring complete, they turn towards the Hawks, hurriedly assuring them that they have no desire to disturb the sanctity of their nests. (Because, of-course, you wouldn’t want the Hawks to send the Talon for your head.)

If pressed on what democracy should ideally look like, it is doubtful most politicians could give a satisfactory answer, if for no reason beyond that democracy has consistently been treated as a zero-sum game.

Contrary to what our rulers – present and past – might believe, the health of democracy is not measured by the number of rallies held or passionate speeches made behind a wall of microphones. It is neither measured by the votes one accrues or denies to the ‘enemy’ after a particularly salacious campaign, nor by how fervently faithful one’s supporters are.

The health of a democracy is instead determined by our appetite for humility, our tolerance for criticism, and the dignity we afford to our opponents.

Humility, in this context, is not servility – it is not blind obeisance to the Hawks or the whims of a populist. It is the recognition that all of us have our own limitations, that those of our leaders who furnish accounts of their ‘completeness’ with respect to their ability to govern are not merely arrogant but are engaging in patently undemocratic politicking.

Any politician who professes to have all the answers, any leader who claims that only he speaks for the people, is little more than a populist with a messiah complex. Pakistan has tinkered with the idea of the ‘saviour’ throughout its turbulent political history. Time has shown each ‘saviour’ to be replete with flaws, and, at critical junctures, entirely incapable of giving meaningful direction.

This, on its own, is not a mark against them as much as it is reaffirmation that a functioning democracy requires space for criticism. If no such space exists, all policies the state crafts and implements exist in vacuum, which invariably engenders complacency. Complacency is the greatest adversary of progress. How are we to classify the state’s policies and practices in recent years as anything but complacent in the face of mounting economic and social woes? Democracy demands that we encourage discourse that runs contrary to our beliefs, that we debate ideas on their merits, and in turn, allow the collective wisdom of the people to be distilled into the various arms of the state.

As a matter of law, Article 14 of the constitution provides an unqualified guarantee for the inviolability of the dignity of man. As a matter of principle, if we strip our opponents of their dignity each time they participate in civic discourse that runs afoul of the Hawks, if we determine that their dignity is not an inalienable right irrespective of their political ‘sins’, we stand guilty not only of violating the constitution, but also attempting to humiliate the children of Adam, whom the Almighty Himself granted the gift of dignity. (“Verily, We have dignified the children of Adam…” verse 70, Surah al-Isra).

Parliament, as the vehicle of democracy, can only fulfil its institutional duties if civic discourse and public participation in the affairs of governance are allowed to thrive. If our treatment of the dignity of our fellow citizens remains contingent upon their political leanings, all public discourse will remain devoid of meaning and will invariably be an exercise in futility.

There are intelligent, well-informed Samaritans who argue that these are extraordinary times, and as such deserve an extraordinary response. They contend that the truly unthinkable has occurred, that sacred national symbols have been defiled. Whereas the sanctity of national symbols and the dignity of man are both crucial elements of our national ethos, I submit that we cannot sacrifice one for the other. Meting out injustice and denuding citizens of their dignity does not restore the sanctity of our national symbols, it only encourages resentment to fester in the shadows of society.

The decisions taken by the state should not simply be justifiable, they must be morally right and constitutionally correct. The state must (a) weigh the importance of the objective against a fundamental right; (b) determine the relation of the objective and the measure taken; (c) ask whether a lesser measure could’ve been taken; and (d) determine whether a balance has been struck between the rights of the individual and the interests of the community.

If the conclusion we reach after answering these questions does not justify the state’s actions to the exclusion of all other alternatives, we must conclude that we are not protecting democracy from ‘extraordinary times’, as has been so often repeated, but are instead vying for the privilege of being the first to kiss the ring.

When our representatives voluntarily cede their authority to gain the Hawks’ support, they accept that, for all that we deliberate on who should hold public office, civil society is unfit to govern itself.

It is high time that our elected representatives ceased treating democracy as a zero-sum game, where one or the other is bound to lose in winning the hearts and minds of men. Both government and opposition have a stake in the prosperity of Pakistan, but it cannot be achieved on the back of incendiary rhetoric that otherizes and alienates members of the political class and the segments of society that voted for them. Competition is conducive to democracy, political deathmatches are not.

By allowing narrow political considerations to create unbridgeable fractures in civil society, our representatives have given the Hawks ample justification to swoop down from their nests and assert dominance on civil matters. Until our politicians agree to abide by a baseline of democratic conduct, the Court of Hawks will not hesitate to send the Talon for our heads.

The writer is a student of law at King’s College London.

He can be reached at: salar.rashid@kcl.ac.uk