The don of thieves

I sit on a man’s back, choking him and making him carry me, and yet assure myself and others that I am very sorry for him and wish to ease his lot by all possible means—except by getting off his back. – Leo Tolstoy
Why is it that those in the correct driving lane let the errant driver cut in at the top? What signal does the success of such deviousness send to those waiting in line, as well as the undecided bystanders wondering whether it is more beneficial to follow the law or find unethical shortcuts? Why should people want to pay taxes when they know they are a small minority and the ability to cheat the taxation system remains the mark of resourcefulness within society? Why should people agree to continue paying taxes when they know that the ruling elites steal their tax money and transforms it into their private estate? Is it helplessness, timidity, coercion or complacency that explains our inability to assert our rights?
Why are some nations seen as honest and law-abiding, while others earn the reputation of being crooks and cheats? Is national character an eternal attribute of a people settled in a certain territory, or is it capable of evolution or degradation? Borrowing from the logic of Abdolkarim Soroush vis-a-vis religion, is it not true that nations experience the expansion and contraction of ethics as well? If the people of a country begin to grow complacent towards the predatory character of their state, are they not in fact facilitating the evolution of a predatory society? And if a society becomes as corrupt and unethical as such a state, will such depraved equilibrium not oust the possibility of reform?
Have we not degenerated from a situation where corrupt and unethical conduct attracted the censure of the society to a state where indulging in larceny is the accepted norm and practicing principles a burden? Anatole France had cynically observed that, “the law, in its majestic equality, forbids the rich as well as the poor to sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets, and to steel bread.” While law cannot promise social and economic equality, is it not meant to uphold identical legal rights for all? If the law in a country restraints only the little guys, and becomes an instrument in the hands of the haves to entrench their social and economic privileges and swindle the have-nots, is the practice of such law part of the solution or of the problem?
Martha Stewart, the US business magnate and celebrity worth over $600 million, was convicted for lying to investigators about an inconsequential stock sale and served five months in a federal prison. Jeff Skilling, the CEO of the erstwhile US energy giant Enron, was convicted in 2006 for securities fraud, false statements and insider trading and sentenced to 24 years and four months in prison and fined $45 million. This punishment did not exceed the 25-year term that WorldCom’s former chief executive Bernard Ebbers received for his role in the fraud that resulted in the bankruptcy of the telecom conglomerate.
Why is it that while Pakistan remains one of the most corrupt countries in the world and members of its ruling elite pay no taxes and cannot account for their wealth and obscene lifestyles, no one ever gets convicted of lies, fraud or corruption? What is exceptional today is not just the lack of accountability of holders of public office but the impunity with which our corrupt ruling elite indulges in wrongdoing and its brazen response to anyone objecting to its heist. The NICL scam that reportedly implicates Moonis Elahi, the prime minister’s son as well as Makhdoom Amin Faheem, and the consequent wrath attracted by Zafar Qureshi, the additional director general of the FIA who was investigating the matter, is the latest reminder of our sordid state of existence. Scoundrels and shysters are no longer ashamed or apologetic when caught stealing and lying, but indignant.
Prime Minister Gilani’s government is mad at the media and the Supreme Court for neither joining the grand scam of converting public assets into private property nor looking the other way. The ruling PPP regime seems to have devised a two-pronged strategy to frustrate the accountability drive of the apex court fuelled by media disclosures of corruption. One, it will not allow the creation of an autonomous accountability institution within the executive branch of the government nor permit any existing agency or authority to independently investigate charges of graft or fraud. Two, it will abuse the due process of law that courts observe in order to delay and defeat delivery of justice. And upon exhausting procedural impediments to frustrate the judicial process, politicise the subject matter of the pending case to embroil judicial outcomes in public controversy.
Three related developments contribute to the first prong of the PPP regime’s kill-accountability drive: a, keep the draft accountability law, promised in the Charter of Democracy, buried in disagreement within parliament to ensure it never sees light of the day; b, ensure that the moth-eaten NAB remains dysfunctional, by stuffing it with loyalists against requirements of law, and when such appointments are struck down by the court, delay notification of replacements, so that while the NAB lives on, it remains in a vegetative state; and c, purge all criminal and corporate regulatory and investigation agencies (such as the FIA and the SECP) of independent-minded officials, and penalise any bureaucrat or public-office holder who refuses to allow pressure asserted by the regime to influence the manner in which he/she discharges official duties.
The second prong of the kill-accountability drive, which focuses on frustrating the court process, is craftier. First, the government employs all procedural tools to delay the administration of justice. Remember the NRO proceedings, the NRO review case (still pending) and the shenanigans surrounding appointment and replacement of counsel, and continuing antics in the NRO implementation proceedings (wherein the government refused to write to the Swiss authorities). The second step is rendering the proceedings controversial by attacking them on partisan and ethnic grounds, as was done when the apex court struck down Justice Deedar Shah’s appointment as chairman of the NAB. And, finally, unpalatable court verdicts are met with disdain and open defiance, by pursuing a carrot-and-stick policy in relation to officials responsible for implementing them: unconditional loyalty is rewarded with presidential pardons and those abiding by principle are persecuted.
The Supreme Court is also caught between the rock and a hard place. In administering justice it is dependent upon investigators and prosecutors—components of the criminal justice system within the executive’s control. If it fails to mete out justice, it risks being seen as either complicit or ineffectual. If it is proactive and tries to safeguard the independence of other components of the criminal justice system that affect its work, such as the FIA, many of us attack it for encroaching upon the executive’s domain. Without vociferous censure of graft and deceit by the society, even an independent Supreme Court cannot single-handedly succeed in bringing to justice those who continue to rob public wealth and assets at will.
Presently, the social and legal cost of fighting corruption and abuse of authority is much higher than that of joining the hedonists. Unless we reverse this cost-gain calculus and make the cost of indulging in illegal and unethical behaviour prohibitive, our collective slide into muck will not decelerate. And apathy is simply not an option. If the conduct of the ruling regime succeeds in corrupting our social ethos and defiling the presumption of legality that attaches to actions of public-office holders, we will be left with a state devoid of legitimacy, and a society bereft of integrity.