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Let
me begin by defining the terms first. A regime is a period of rule,
as defined in Webster's dictionary. The rule may be tagged with an
ideology - a socialist regime, for example - or a person or a power
group like the military or a group of capitalists. By transitional
societies, I mean all those countries that are at some stage of transition
from the old feudal, tribal or monarchical system towards representational
and liberal democracies. In them, as Individuals or interest groups
are strong and institutions are weak, domination of regimes in time
segments rather than a seamless evolutionary process of self-correction
determined by people's wisdom and choices invariably mark governments.
Instead of a smooth slope of change (up or down) there are sharp steps,
distinct by change of regimes.
Interestingly, regimes go through stages of life like individual human
beings. Unlike liberal democracies, regimes are finite with a birth
and a death. In between the two events, regimes pass though youth,
middle age and old age. The morphology and the mental state during
a regime's three ages are quite like that of individuals. Just as
a young person is not mistaken for an old one, regimes tell their
age through clear signs.
Youth has some universal attributes - vigorous, radiant, impulsive,
idealistic, candid and honest. A new regime is young when it takes
over control of government through whatever means - a coup, a war,
a referendum, a country break-up etc. It leaps on to the political
stage like a wide-eyed, charged up youth who thinks there is no limit
to their capabilities. It thinks it knows everything: What has been
wrong and how to fix it, just as a young person thinks that older
generations lacked vision and were morally compromised. It promises
a dynamic change, a rectification of past mistakes and a cleanup of
all past and future human level distortions.
The new regime begins its business with gusto of a fresh convert,
shaking up the existing system by scrutinising every nook and corner
to search for quick fixes. While new thoughts are entertained for
long term planning, some cosmetic reforms are nailed on the board
with a hammer of emergency to show a deviation from the past. The
mood is upbeat, confident, even arrogant, with the luxury of having
a clean past, or no past in fact, and hence nothing to defend; only
future which is an unblemished sheet. The innocence of youth is oblivious
of intricate complexities of change; it believes that mere goodwill
and a heart of gold can sweep all hurdles away. This is the period
when regimes look their best as they trumpet the advent of a new era.
People are inclined to repose faith in the hope of a change for the
better in their lives, and the novelty of new faces and ideas is refreshing.
Revolutions are attractive until they gather some grime.
As the honeymoon wears off, and the regime settles down to routine
business it faces two frustrations, one political and one operational.
On the political front, legitimacy raises its ugly head. Since regimes
do not enter through an institutional arrangement of smooth transfer
of power, all those who lost power dispute their entry. Naked power
that all regimes enjoy readily vanquishes this irritant unless there
is militant opposition ready to wage a covert guerrilla war. The second
problem, that of acquiring legitimacy (or approval of the people)
for the future is more difficult to solicit. As local opposition leverages
the global conscience - a dubious creature but potent force none the
less - for opposing the continuity of the regime, time is bought for
necessary reforms in the greater interest of the nation. This is when
the clock starts ticking. The regimes begin to convert their 'revolutionary
power' into 'traditional power' through accommodation of traditional
power brokers in the society - feudals, capitalists, old politicians,
opinion makers, intelligentsia, special interest groups and so forth.
The operational impediments are rooted in the inertia of conventional
governance mechanisms - bureaucracy and support staff inefficiencies
- that resist change, both in pace of work and policy directions.
The regimes thunder and billow fire at recalcitrant officialdom for
sloth, while officials keep their heads down and weather the storm,
which they know is a storm in a teacup that will go away eventually.
Passive resistance is a forte of the bureaucracy.
The first co-option of traditional forces into the regime rings a
death-knell for its revolutionary spirit. This ushers in the maturity
of the regime and its transition from youth to middle age. The carefree
humour and candidness is lost, replaced with self-consciousness about
its image and public perceptions. The lost innocence also opens the
regime's eyes to the sordid side of human dimensions as it learns
to compromise on lofty ideals for a workable relationship with the
officialdom and with other political forces in the country. Like a
middle-aged person, the regime mellows down, gains traditions of its
own, which it begins to guard. As the regime ages, the list of unfulfilled
promises gets longer and the chinks in its armour begin to widen.
The diverse power elements accommodated to keep the boat from rocking,
jostle for more room. Now, Byzantine intrigues and intra-coalition
strife gain momentum. Transparency in conducting affairs of the state
gets translucent as rumour begin to proliferate about shenanigans
of black sheep in the fold who cannot be restrained from the curse
of their bloodline. The regime becomes hostage to all those who have
become a part of the scaffolding.
Old age creeps in when the regime has made enough compromises to have
lost its credibility in public perception. Many of its claims remain
immaterialised while it tries to raise new issues and slogans to divert
attention from past failures. Having lost the vigour of new ideas
and the ability to manoeuvre tough decisions, the regime becomes dogmatic
and pedantic. It becomes hypersensitive to criticism, hides behind
hyperbole of exaggerated achievements and adopts the mantle of national
conscience. Its self-preservation becomes synonymous with interests
of the state. Like an aging person remote from society's pulse, it
begins to live in a cocoon of self-doubts, paranoia and bloated need
for approval and respect. Easily irritated, intolerant and domineering,
the wrinkles on the face permeate down into its soul. It paints a
sad picture of what it once was, an exalted dream, fresh and wholesome,
even if not sagacious and sensible. It extracts an obsequious respect
from stoic populace who waits for its biological demise with patience.
Such is the tyrannical mutation of time that heroes refuse to acknowledge.
That is why all heroes become a bore in the end.
Iqbal
Mustafa
email: mustafa@hujra.com
Archives available at www.hujra.com
1110 words
04 March 2005
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