By Qamar Bashir
Press Secretary to the President (Rtd)
Former Press Minister, Embassy of Pakistan to France
Former Press Attaché to Malaysia
Former MD, SRBC | Michigan, USA
The latest restrictions imposed on international journalists in Pakistan have once again exposed a deeper crisis of governance. Under the new guidelines, foreign correspondents and even Pakistani journalists working for international media may require prior government permission before travelling outside a limited number of major cities for reporting assignments. In practical terms, breaking news may now have to wait for administrative approval.
The government describes these measures as an administrative mechanism rather than an attempt to suppress journalism. Critics, however, see them as an effort to control the flow of information, especially from sensitive regions where public unrest, political agitation, security operations or protests may be taking place. International media organizations are often relied upon to provide independent coverage when local journalists face pressure, censorship, intimidation or professional insecurity. Restricting their movement therefore raises serious questions about transparency, accountability and the public’s right to know.
This latest development cannot be viewed in isolation. It is part of a much broader pattern in which civilian institutions have steadily lost their independence and decision-making authority. Over the decades, Pakistan has gradually evolved into a system where the military institution exerts influence far beyond its constitutional responsibility for national defence.
During the tenure of General Pervez Musharraf, the idea of an “umbrella leadership” became deeply embedded in the structure of governance. Under this philosophy, the military was not merely responsible for security. It was expected to guide, supervise or influence almost every important sector, including administration, taxation, infrastructure, economic planning, development, law and order, communications and public policy.
Military officers were placed in civilian departments and assigned responsibilities for which they had not necessarily received professional training. A brigadier or general could be asked to supervise matters involving taxation, public finance, infrastructure, local government or economic development. Such officers naturally depended upon civilian experts for technical advice, yet the civilian officials understood that the final decision rested elsewhere.
As a result, many officers stopped offering independent professional opinions and instead provided advice that they believed would satisfy the expectations of the military leadership.
This arrangement weakened the civilian system from within. Bureaucrats became reluctant to take responsibility. Ministers lost authority. Professional expertise was subordinated to institutional preference. The civilian machinery, which should have been the engine of national growth, administration and public service, became cautious, dependent and increasingly ineffective.
Although Musharraf eventually left power, the culture of military dominance did not disappear. It survived informally and continued to shape national life. The military remained influential in areas including major development projects, public administration, security policy, political management, strategic industries and national economic initiatives.
More seriously, the military establishment has repeatedly been accused of influencing the composition of parliament, the rise and fall of political governments, the selection of prime ministers, the formation of political alliances and the careers of civilian officers.
Whether every allegation is fully accurate or not, the widespread public perception of interference is itself damaging. A political system cannot command confidence when citizens believe that the final authority rests outside parliament.
Civilian governments created under such circumstances remain weak because their survival depends less upon public legitimacy and more upon institutional approval.
Ministers, advisers, bureaucrats and political leaders understand that their continuation in office may be linked to support from powerful quarters. This weakens their willingness to resist pressure, challenge policy or defend civilian authority.
The contradiction becomes obvious during official press conferences. Military spokespersons may initially state that political and administrative matters belong to the civilian domain.
Yet the discussion often moves deeply into politics, governance, economic performance, internal administration and national policy. The military may publicly distance itself from civilian failures while simultaneously remaining heavily influential in the very system that produced those failures.
Pakistan is therefore trapped in a dangerous cycle. Civilian institutions are denied genuine independence, yet they are blamed for poor performance.
Politicians are weakened, but they are blamed for lacking strength. Bureaucrats are prevented from exercising professional authority, but they are blamed for administrative paralysis. The democratic system is not allowed to function freely, yet democracy is blamed for failing.
Against this background, a new narrative is now being promoted: that Pakistan’s problems can be solved by dividing the existing provinces and creating several new administrative units.
Supporters argue that population growth has made the current provincial structure too large and that smaller provinces would bring government closer to the people.
The argument may appear attractive at first glance, but it ignores the real causes of failure. Pakistan already has divisions, districts, tehsils, local administrations, commissioners, deputy commissioners and numerous departments intended to deliver services.
New districts have repeatedly been created. Yet governance has not improved because the central problem is not simply the size of the provinces. It is the collapse of accountability, political legitimacy, institutional independence and democratic authority.
Creating additional provinces would also impose enormous financial costs. Each new province would require a governor, chief minister, cabinet, provincial assembly, secretariat, departments, residences, security arrangements, vehicles, staff and administrative infrastructure. Billions would be spent on buildings and bureaucracies rather than schools, hospitals, clean water, employment, agriculture and local development.
More provinces may also create more political offices to distribute, more budgets to control and more opportunities for institutional manipulation. Instead of empowering the people, such a structure could strengthen centralized control by fragmenting political authority and making regional governments more dependent upon the establishment.
The proposal therefore risks becoming another narcissistic illusion: a belief that by redrawing the map, the system will automatically improve.
But a dysfunctional political order cannot be repaired through geography alone. If the same culture of interference, manipulation, censorship and administrative domination continues, ten provinces will fail just as four provinces have failed.
Pakistan does not primarily need new provincial boundaries. It needs a new democratic understanding.
The solution is to allow the Constitution, parliament, judiciary, media, civil service and elected governments to function independently.
The people must be allowed to choose the representatives they genuinely trust, support and love—leaders whom they believe can rescue the country from its present political, economic and administrative quagmire.
Elections must be held fairly, transparently and without interference. Political parties must be allowed to compete on equal terms. Popular leaders must not be removed through manipulation, coercion or manufactured political engineering. Governments must rise and fall through the ballot box, not through decisions made behind closed doors.
The army must return fully to its constitutional responsibility of defending the country. It should remain respected, professional and powerful within its legitimate domain, but it should not determine who governs, who enters parliament, who becomes prime minister, which political party survives or which civilian officer receives promotion.
Pakistan’s people are not incapable of choosing their leaders. They have repeatedly demonstrated political awareness, courage and commitment. What they require is not guardianship but freedom. They must be trusted to make their own decisions and, when necessary, correct those decisions through future elections.
Breaking the provinces will not heal Pakistan. Breaking the cycle of interference will.
The country can move toward progress and prosperity only when authority flows from the people, when institutions remain within constitutional limits and when elected representatives are allowed to govern without fear or external control.
Pakistan’s map does not need to be repeatedly redrawn. Its democratic contract needs to be restored. The real reset is not administrative fragmentation. The real reset is free elections, civilian supremacy, constitutional governance, press freedom and the unconditional right of the people to choose their own future.
