I hold two books in my hands, and before me is the serious, composed face of Dr. Ikram-ul-Haq Yasin, marked by a faint smile, quiet hope and a deep sense of courtesy.
This is an occasion to speak about A Study of Constitutionalism in Pakistan, yet my attention is drawn to the author himself—and for a good reason. Setting aside certain personal considerations best left unspoken, I come directly to what connects me to this book. That connection is simple: the first two volumes of Dr. Sahib’s series remained with me for so long that they grew old and eventually went astray. A decent man may or may not keep a promise, but he does feel embarrassed when he fails to do so. I was embarrassed. The reasons for this embarrassment are many; recounting them would open an entire ledger. One incident, however, will suffice.
Some time ago, at an international conference on communication studies at the University of Karachi, a professor from another university was present. At every serious discussion, he would rise and remark that “very ilm-naak (knowledge-heavy) matters” were being discussed. One must admire his wit in coining ilm-naak from alam-naak (tragic). Yet this joke also draws attention to our national attitude: we have treated the Constitution and the law—matters as vital as a nation’s jugular vein—as purely academic concerns, best left to scholars. The consequence was that Pakistan remained without a Constitution for nearly a decade. When a Constitution was finally adopted, rules and laws failed to suit our temperament and we struck them down with the stroke of a pen. Chaos followed—aftershocks of which still unsettle us today.
This leads to fundamental questions: Why was a Constitution not framed in time? And when it was finally framed, why could it not endure? A third question also arises. After decades of turmoil, the Constitution that eventually came into being is still alive and has guided us through many crises. Yet voices continue to claim it has failed and must be replaced. Why do we display such an attitude toward a document as sacred as the Constitution? More than seventy-five years have passed since Pakistan’s creation. What this country is, and why it exists, is clearly stated in its Constitution. Yet sections of our society still ask: what was the need for this country at all? Some portray Pakistan’s creation as the desire of colonial powers; others fear that adopting democracy compromises the sovereignty of God and the permanence of His commands. There are many questions, but even reaching answers to these would resolve much confusion. Whether or not Dr. Sahib intended it, his books offer some of these answers. That is why they matter to me.
After independence, Pakistan’s first major challenge related to a dispute that persists even today: who owns the territory up to Attock—Pakistan or Afghanistan? In the tribal regions, the Faqir of Ipi became an almost mythical figure. After Pakistan’s creation, he was the first to take up arms against what was then the world’s first ideological Islamic state and claimed to establish an Islamic order in the tribal areas. Whether this was backed by India and Afghanistan, or by local ethnonationalists slow to accept Pakistani identity, the episode is complex and revealing. There is no doubt that Pakistan has witnessed extensive constitutional debate and that many books have been written on the subject. Yet why the Constitution failed to command lasting respect and why the country remained without one for so long, still lacks a direct and convincing answer.
It is often argued—and rightly so—that dictators are to blame. This diagnosis is not wrong. However, Dr. Ikram-ul-Haq Yasin’s work exposes an earlier failing. Many have questioned the foresight of Pakistan’s founders, accusing them of creating the state without adequate preparation. Dr. Sahib shows that during the freedom movement, scholars did attempt to prepare constitutional groundwork and even draft proposals. But these efforts faltered. Those entrusted with this crucial task failed to grasp its importance. With documentary evidence, Dr. Sahib demonstrates how personal priorities took precedence over constitutional responsibility, leading many to withdraw from the process. The result was a failure to understand the Constitution in its true significance. And if we could not understand the Constitution, how could we fully understand Pakistan? In this sense, these books move beyond a study of constitutionalism toward a deeper study of Pakistan itself. Unfortunately, “Pakistan Studies” has become a controversial and discredited term in our context. With sincere good wishes for Dr. Sahib, I rest my case here.
—This writer is former advisor to the President of Pakistan, author & mass media theorist.
(farooq.adilbhuta@gmail,com)
