GOVERNANCE

By: Nasser Yousaf

TOO MUCH LOVE WILL KILL US, SIR

Dear Chief Minister Khyber Pakhtunkhwa,

God's ways are undoubtedly inscrutable.

Some decades ago, a comely baby boy was born in the heartland of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. With riches all around him, the boy grows up into manhood with a pleasant countenance with which Divinity had blessed him.

Providence had employed a guardian angel; guiding the young man into joining what was called the elite service of the land where he dwelt. Here, he made his way to the top most position before retiring quietly to a life of blissful comfort.

But Divinity had still some task left to be handled by this man. Hence, he was recalled from rest in the twilight of his life to head the province where he had long ago served as the chief civil officer.

Heavens smiled on him when the tenure of the job that could otherwise not be extended beyond three months kept lingering on. His frail shoulders were trusted to bear an onerous load of work in the most turbulent times.

In the last paragraph of Tess of the d' Urbervilles, in exasperation with the sorrowful tale woven by him, Thomas Hardy wrote, 'and thus ended God's sport with Tess.' But Fate's sport with this now old mandarin was of an altogether different kind.

The old man as he now happened to be was still decency personified; a trait that he had unflinchingly held onto.

He had to carry the baggage of a predecessor who had the dubious distinction of nothing fair about him save his complexion.

This predecessor knew too well how to pander to the base instincts of his reprobate boss whom he flew around in his official helicopter at the expense of scarce public resources.

Similarly, the octogenarian fellow deserved empathy for putting up with other familiar evil characters. 

He found himself surrounded by a Governor whose job it was not to look after the executive affairs of the province but his wily nature was such that he most cunningly arrogated all authority in his own person.

Had Niccolo Machiavelli been alive, he would certainly have opted for this man holding the charge of Governor to be his tutor. 

Living in those bizarre times, one had stopped reading the newspapers. But the ubiquitous power of the social media was such that keeping oneself aloof from the goings around was no more possible. 

Thus one came to know that the frivolous game of placing officials here and there without much thought was still on. The burgeoning growth of the officialdom had picked up pace just at the time when the economy was tottering and likely to default.

Contrary to tall claims about e-government, paperless government and many other self-deceiving neologisms, bureaucracy was busy inducting people in the government service to perform the most trivial of jobs. 

This scheme of things had ostensibly been devised for the love of the people of the province. This enigmatic love for the public was referred to 'in the public interest,' in the official jargon. 

The old man was expected to put his experience to good use by reversing this tide to stop wasteful expenditure on petty officialdom. But he appeared lukewarm, and soon earned the epithet of 'spineless.'

The bureaucracy, of course, had its own axe to grind by creating more and more opportunities for themselves to go up the ladder 🪜 as fast as their mischievous imagination could take them.

For instance, in the health and education departments, many more choicest positions had been created to accommodate the ambitious officers. But the health and education system of the province was in disarray.

With rickety paraphernalia, unhygienic conditions and lack of adequate medical attention, hospitals had become nightmarish dungeons where no one could dare go without compromising his or her dignity. 

Education had become a commodity, being bought and sold at the prevalent rates. Civic facilities were a shambles. Forests were losing trees to fires and malpractices just when the world was being made to believe that one billion trees would soon sprout in the length and breadth of the land. 

Private hospitals and centres of education were fleecing the common people through licences obtained from the officialdom.

There was chaos everywhere, but the old man entrusted with the job of reformation appeared to be least moved. He looked more like a man chained to his chair by the forces inimical to change. 

This sport had its peculiar dreadful consequences as complete rout looked looming large. Too much officialdom and zero delivery would likely kill everyone and their aunt. The exchequer would cave in under the burden of the expenditure incurred on petty officialdom. 

Such were the state of things in that godforsaken land.

Yours faithfully, Sir