Science, logic & beliefs

FROM time to time, statements of belief, and assertions allegedly of fact, gain widespread acceptance and begin to influence behaviour. Yet, on closer examination, they may turn out to be misinterpretations that in fact distort and disrupt societal interaction. I propose to examine a few of them below.

A few weeks ago I read an article in this newspaper in which the author, while rejecting the Taliban’s general orientation and programme, praised their “courage of convictions” and the firmness of their commitment to their mission. Then he went on to scold the “moderates,” whom he saw as lacking in commitment to any set of principles and ready to go with the highest bidder or the more menacing coercer.

That all moderates are “soft” on principles is simply not true, and it may be assumed that the author in question is aware of this fact. There is, then, something more in that article than meets the eye. It is possible that he meant to be polemical, and chose to employ sarcasm and poetic exaggeration to make his case.

I should first like to submit that not everything we say or do involves a principle. Much of human action springs from non-rational stimuli such as habit, prejudice, appetite and passion. The role of principles as guides to behaviour should not, therefore, be exaggerated. Second, in the actual conduct of affairs minor variance from principles, even on the part of those who take them seriously, is to be expected. Negotiation and bargaining, regarded as essential in both business and politics, would be impossible if absolutely strict adherence to principles were required.

Moderation has nothing to do with any specific degree of commitment to a given principle. It is an attitude of mind towards persons who profess principles different from, or even opposed to, those to which others subscribe. A moderate will not discriminate against them in the matter of access to the various amenities of life that public authorities and society offer on the ground that their principles are different. Nor will he decline to associate with them for that reason. Indeed, he may act to defend their right to have beliefs and principles of their choice.

In a society of moderates, beliefs and principles are not culpable; action is, and that only when it involves violence against another individual’s person or property. Let us suppose an anarchist tells me that he is for abolishing the state and all other coercive agencies, and that he wants a society in which all interaction, including the production and distribution of goods and services, is conducted on the basis of voluntary cooperation.

How will I, as a moderate, respond to him? I will probably tell him that he is entitled to his opinion even if, in my view, it calls for a utopia, a “never-never land.” I will want him restrained only if he uses force to overthrow established public authorities. I have no quarrel with the Taliban because of their convictions. My quarrel with them begins when they proceed to expel me from my land or, worse still, move to break my bones because I do not agree with them.

Let me now go on to a couple of related matters. A recent Pakistani TV talk show discussed whether the realm of belief (aqeedah) permitted investigative questioning and research (tahqeeq). The host implied that it did not, which made this realm stagnant. Some of the panelists disagreed, and rightly. Inquiry into the origins, nature, and implications of dogma has gone on, from time to time, in various belief systems, including Islam.

It is, for instance, open to anyone to examine the relevant texts and identify the main points of difference between the several schools of Islamic jurisprudence, or to discover the various senses in which a given word or term has been used in the Quran. This is called textual analysis and it belongs to the general category of archival research.

Questioning and research are done both in theology and the sciences. But the methodologies employed in these two areas are different. Before we go further, a distinction between belief and knowledge of worldly affairs may be useful. We can know, for instance, that hydrogen and oxygen, mixed in certain proportions, will produce water. We can test and validate this assertion in the laboratory. We can measure the rate at which a falling body picks up speed on its way down to the ground. In cases such as these knowledge comes from observation through one’s sensory perceptions.

But we have not seen, and we are not capable of seeing, God and it cannot therefore be said that we know He exists. That is why we say we believe that He does (eiman bil ghaib). Thus, belief relates to propositions whose validity cannot be verified through observation. The basic tenets of a belief system are not open to question; their validity is taken for granted, a priori, as the starting point of discourse.

Can the realm of belief (the spiritual or the metaphysical), and that of knowledge of the physical universe and worldly affairs, be kept apart? How likely is it that the modes of thinking about one will spill over into thinking about the other? If we have learned not to question the basic premises in our faith, will we carry the same disinclination to question to our study of biology? There are some who maintain that the two realms should mingle; they are the ones who would Christianize, Islamize, or Hinduize knowledge, including the sciences.

But there are plenty of others who prefer to keep them separate. Can they be? It can go either way. The questioning mind may find metaphysical beliefs to be untenable, and move towards a rejection of all religion. On the other hand, one can name any number of eminent scientists and philosophers who were, and are, deeply religious persons. But since spillover from one to the other is possible, it may be best to circumscribe the realm of belief to as few basic propositions as possible.

A few weeks ago I happened to get into a conversation with a gentleman who advised me that we could not really do well in life unless we had a correct understanding of the reason for the existence of this universe (nazriya-i-kayenat), and that of the reason for man’s being on this earth (nazriya-i-hayat). This is not an uncommon assertion, and I have heard it also from others. In my view, it is dysfunctional. I have known over the years a great many persons who neither know nor care to know the whys and wherefores of either the universe or man’s existence. Yet they have had peace of mind and productive and fulfilling lives.

We can start with the fact that the universe is here and then proceed to interact with it to make our lives as comfortable as possible. This approach need not exclude the idea of the Creator, but we do not have to wonder what His purpose in creating humans and the universe might have been. He has told us some of the things we must do and some that we should avoid, leaving the rest to our judgment and discretion with which He has endowed us. That should be good enough.

An intriguing issue came up in another television talk show. The host asked if a nation must have an ideology and if it could prosper without one. He and two of the discussants seemed inclined to think that, yes, it must. This too is a fashionable view; ideology is generally understood to be something good and virtuous, which may explain why so many Pakistanis persist in the erroneous assertion (inserted even in their Constitution) that theirs is an ideological state.

One of the discussants on this show (Mr Ghulam Mustafa Khar, former PPP notable and Punjab governor) maintained that Pakistan did not have any “real” leaders at this time, because those who claimed that status did not have any ideology, that the late Zulfikar Ali Bhutto had been truly a great leader, and that he espoused a vital ideology. Another discussant suggested that Mr Bhutto lost power because somewhere along the way he had abandoned that ideology.

I do not wish to examine Mr Bhutto’s rise and fall at this time. But I should like to have two considerations. First, the United Kingdom, France, Germany, Japan and a host of other nations appear to be doing quite well even though none of them subscribes to any particular ideology. Second, the two ideologies whose proponents came to power in our time — communism (Marxist-Leninist version) and fascism — turned into ghastly tyrannies and brought a great deal of misery, rather than comfort, to the people concerned.

One of the discussants recommended a course of action that I should like to commend. He said we could designate democracy as an ideology and adopt it. Instead of going to this or that theorist to get the portrayal of a good society, we could rely upon our own people to define one and name its specifics. Actually, they have done so often enough.

They have told us that a good society is that which honours its people’s right to be governed by their consent given through representatives whom they have chosen in free and fair elections. This society cultivates respect for the law, dispenses justice, encourages generosity of spirit and tolerance of the dissident, educates its members, provides health care, allows them equal access to the amenities of life and material means of well being, and creates an environment in which each one of them can maximize and actualise the potential for intellectual, moral, and material advancement that God may have placed in his or her person. Thus, it promotes human fulfilment and happiness.

How would this be as a ruling ideology for Pakistan? It does not have a catching name at this time but one could surely be devised if needed.

The writer is professor emeritus of political science at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, US. Email: anwarsyed@cox.net

Uncertainties of our politics

IN the uncertainties surrounding Pakistan’s politics the only certainty is that there will be more of these in the times ahead. Uncertainty is built into the country’s constitutional system and is further exacerbated by frequent and serious deviations from it in practice.

The root of this uncertainty lies in the power of the president to dissolve the National Assembly (even when the prime minister commands the confidence of the majority of its members) when, in his opinion, a situation has arisen in which “the government of the federation cannot be carried on in accordance with the provisions of the Constitution and an appeal to the electorate is necessary”.

When the president chooses to exercise this discretionary power, the Constitution binds him to hold general elections “within a period of 90 days after the dissolution”. During the nineties, the president exercised this power more than once — each time adding to uncertainty.

The premature dissolution of the National Assembly is an unlikely eventuality in the prevailing circumstances as the government is fully in step with President Musharraf in his policies and aspirations. The real apprehension is that the general elections may not be held even when the five-year term of the National Assembly ends next year in October. The chief of the ruling coalition, Chaudhry Shujaat Hussain, frequently hints at this and the president has the power to put off elections by up to a year after proclaiming an emergency.

Opponents of the regime would view such proclamation as a device to put off the elections rather than to counter a threat to the security of Pakistan. If an emergency is not being proclaimed now that sabotage is disrupting vital supplies and services in Balochistan and the authority of the government is being openly defied in Waziristan with the rebels dying in scores and the troops being martyred in ones and twos, political motives could be justifiably attributed to such a proclamation a year hence when the president and the prime minister both keep assuring a worried public that the situation in both territories is under control and improving.

Besides the power to dissolve the National Assembly, two other discretionary powers that President Musharraf acquired by striking a deal with the religious parties on his Legal Framework Order of 2002 are to appoint the chief election commissioner and provincial governors. In appointing the latter, he is required to consult the prime minister, but not for the appointment of the former.

The justification then made for these presidential powers that political considerations must not weigh in the selection of the CEC and governors no longer holds good. Indeed in performing their functions — electoral as well as administrative — the CEC and governors must not feel indebted to the prime minister. But the reality that has since emerged is that the president as the constitutional head of state is not above party politics but fully involved in it. His appearance at the Q League’s Lahore convention has dispelled the last lingering doubt on this score.

It is an irony of the constitutional scheme that the president is now politically more partisan than the prime minister. Since he directs the politics of the ruling coalition the justifiable apprehension is that the CEC and the governors selected by him wouldn’t be neutral in the coming electoral contest, for while the opposition wants him out of it altogether the parties supporting him wish him to remain president and that too in uniform, for the next term.

Following the president’s example, the governor’s office, too, has become political. The governor’s chief occupation now is either to balance the political forces in his province, as in Sindh, or to keep hostile elements under surveillance or on a leash as in the NWFP and Balochistan. The intention in keeping the prime minister out of the selection process apparently was to appoint governors who are administrators and not politicians — at least not actively partisan. Events have shaped thing differently.

The involvement of the president and governors in politics and administration has cast doubts on elections being timely and fair even if the CEC tries to keep his promise that they would be. He has no means to assure it. Gen Musharraf may still view the division of powers between the president and the prime minister and between the governor and the chief minister as his check-and-balance theory in operation but it has divided and politicized the public servants (it is they who have to conduct the elections) impairing their neutrality and integrity.

If the political behaviour at the top is marked by hypocrisy (Q League’s convention and MMA’s “million-man” marches are examples) and horse-trading (as in the Senate elections), public affairs on the lower ring are being run incompetently and corruptly. Bribing of officials whose responsibility it would be to supervise elections has already begun in the way of land grants and out-of-turn promotions unrelated to merit.

The laws and systems introduced five years ago invest all executive authority in politicians and police officials. The public safety commissions and complaint authorities which were to make the police accountable to citizens have not been created nor, it seems, will be before the elections. The idea of direct control over police fascinates our politicians to no end. A former chief of the Karachi police told me that the first item on the agenda of the prime minister and chief minister (both then came from the landed gentry) whenever they met was the posting of SHOs. Each had his own nominees for “high-yield” police stations. The police hierarchy had no say.

To what extent the elections would be free would, thus, depend on the conscience and conduct of the police and their political bosses. A neutral election commission may be able to play its part in post-poll activity but can do little during the polls.

In this situation, the elections would only deepen uncertainty unless: one, the conflicts in Balochistan and tribal areas of the NWFP are resolved; and, two and more important secular and nationalist forces in politics are given full freedom to campaign and participate. Failing that the clerics-cum- warlords, the likes of Mufti Munir Shakir and Mullah Saifur Rahman, may be seen ruling the legislative chambers of Islamabad as much as they rule the battlefields of Khyber and Waziristan.

“Deals” will be put together once again only to fall apart. To avert this dreadful prospect the country needs two peace and conciliation commissions — one for the political leaders, the other for the tribal chiefs to put an end to the feuds and to broaden the political base. The task is demonstrably beyond the political and military resources the rulers of the day can muster.

Defining success

THE war in Iraq still casts a giant shadow over much the government does, and that is especially true of the expanded British troop deployment to Afghanistan.

No surprise then that the all-party Commons defence committee expressed concern last week about several aspects of the operation, part of the Nato-led mission to steer that war-torn and drug-ravaged country to a more stable future. MPs do not oppose the despatch of 3,300 soldiers to Helmand province, a base for supporters of the deposed Taliban regime that contains significant areas of opium poppy production, but they did raise important questions.

Some were specific, such as whether the troops have enough air support or whether they need more training in handling prisoners. But the general issue is defining the role of British forces in a situation the government openly acknowledges is getting more not less dangerous.

Independent experts have coined the ominous phrase “Iraqisation” to describe what is happening in Helmand and other southern provinces where Canadian and Dutch troops are based. Suicide bombings, once unknown in Afghanistan, are on the rise. Incidents are growing in frequency, intensity, sophistication and cruelty. Three US soldiers were injured yesterday in an attack on a base that is shortly to be handed over to the British as the Americans shift focus to hunting down Taliban and Al Qaeda “remnants” on the Pakistani border.

The intention of ensuring that Afghanistan becomes a working democracy after its terrible years as a failed state is a laudable if ambitious one. The problem is the tension between promoting stability and implementing an effective counter-narcotics strategy.

—The Guardian, London