“[A] CALCUTTA clerk in the mid-nineteenth-century Public Works Department of the colonial government would need little formal retraining for service in the contemporary CDA”, observes Mathew Hull in his book, Government of Paper — The Materiality of Bureaucracy in Urban Pakistan, published in 2012. As Hull puts it, the “normative formal procedure for handling communication and files has changed little over the last hundred years”.

Our bureaucratic practices are stuck in the past. But that is not all. The entire bureaucratic framework seems defective, afflicted with major design flaws. Broadly, it is an inheritance from the British colonial system, aping the governance structure put in place by those who bore deep antipathy towards the “uncultured” locals. Dogs and Indians were not allowed in many places.

From recruitment to retirement, our bureaucratic system just does not make sense. The bureaucrats are generalists. They take exams in a varied number of subjects. During the entire process, there is immense focus on form, and little on substance. Margins, headlines, diagrams, spacing, different colour markers and pens — all this is of major concern. Meanwhile, the subjects that are rote-learned rarely have anything to do with the offices that the candidates eventually occupy. This run-up is not a preparation for the job, but a test of nerves for surviving an archaic exam process. It all boils down to cracking the code, mastering how to write in an absolutely bland passive voice, in rigid and archaic English, probably not written or spoken anywhere else, other than in the postcolonial subcontinent.

From this gruelling process, only a few emerge successful. Almost all who put themselves through this ordeal choose this path because it ensures a life of relative dignity, with protection against the heavy-handedness of those with disproportionate power. Hull, in his book, refers to one seemingly powerful bureaucrat who confesses: “You know, when you have a big post, it doesn’t mean you get anything done. It just means that you and your friends don’t have any personal problems”.

Our bureaucracy is afflicted with major design flaws.

During the training process, again, the focus remains on form and not substance. To create that wedge between the bureaucrat and those he would govern, a bureaucrat is taught to dress a particular way, act and speak with a particular sense of authority. Training is not primarily focused on honing skills regarding what needs to be done, or inculcating an ethos of public service. It is about transforming a bureaucrat into a being who envisions himself entirely distinct from the common man, for whom the bureaucrat is encouraged to develop a sense of disdain. In the initial postings, a bureaucrat is equipped with guards, four-wheelers and colonial-era mansions, with massive walls, away from the residences of ordinary people.

The bureaucrats are not, in any meaningful way, beholden to the public. They are responsive only to their superiors, the politicians in power and obviously the men in uniform, thereby perpetuating a governance structure, which is by the elite, for the elite.

With years, as the bureaucrats are elevated, the generalist credentials are, at best, marginally helpful in running the various important ministries, whose backbone they form. The cabinet takes its decisions on the basis of reports and summaries prepared by the bureaucrats and their underlings. They are often thick in bureaucratic speak, and thin on substance. Major decisions, of monumental importance, are taken on the basis of whatever level of understanding these generalists are able to develop.

Worse, these generalists do not stick around in one place for long enough to develop any in-depth understanding with regards to any one subject area. With every new government, and even in periods of relative political stability, the bureaucrats keep rotating. One day, a bureaucrat might be dabbling in agricultural policy, the next, he might be charting out the future course of higher education in Pakistan. And then, each bureaucrat may have his or her own style, understanding, and approach to the subject matter. As secretaries, at the helm, these bureaucrats get to exercise major influence in decision-making.

Not surprisingly, then, there is little consistency in policy. The random flip-flop from one course of action to another is extremely damaging. Even though the files stock up, gathering dust in nooks and corners, guarded from the public, the ministries are unable to develop any substantial institutional knowledge. Each bureaucrat gets to make his own mistakes, all over again.

The discourse, therefore, that ties all issues to the lack of integrity of those in power is overly simplistic. There has to be a focus on our design flaws.

The writer is a lawyer based in Islamabad.

awahid@umich.edu

Published in Dawn, September 9th, 2024