To Be "Happier & Freer"

Moving with the assurance of a man who knows his mind (and his power), Pakistan's autocratic, stocky President Iskander Mirza declared martial law throughout the land last week, thus snuffed out whatever life was left in the eleven-year-old democracy which had yet to hold its first nationwide election. In Pakistan itself, there were few mourners.

From the first, Pakistan has been divided against itself, its halves separated by 1,000 miles of hated India; it has no common language, no common history as a nation, no adequate economic base for its rapidly growing population, now 85 million. Only its Moslem religion unites it--and most of its politicians have no desire to see a theocratic state run by the mullahs. Corruption and instability compound Pakistan's woes. Food shortages are chronic, and foreign-exchange reserves are at an alltime low. Only last month, in East Pakistan's Provincial Assembly, the Deputy Speaker of the House was fatally injured in a parliamentary brawl (TIME,

Oct. 6). Political parties have taken to assembling private armies, and they objected when the government tried to halt them. Cabinets have changed so often that it became a Karachi joke that a minister had to fill his pockets in six months because that was all the time he was going to have.

The Scalawags. Tough, jowly President Iskander Mirza, who once declared himself in favor of "controlled democracy," watched the drift to chaos with mounting disgust. Son of a wealthy Bengal family,*graduate of Britain's Sandhurst, a major general before independence, he had long regarded most politicians as "crooks and scalawags." A Moslem who drinks whisky, smokes, shoots and rides, Mirza has always been blunt about his aristocratic creed: "Democracy requires breeding. These illiterate peasants certainly know less about running a country than I do . . . There has to be someone to prevent the people from destroying themselves."

Along with Mirza, the army's commander in chief, General Mohammed Ayub Khan (another Sandhurst man), had long ago concluded that the army would have to step in. Dressed casually in white cotton slacks, brown loafers, green diamond-pattern socks, the tails of his tan-striped sports shirt hanging out, General Ayub Khan calmly explained: "We both came to the conclusion that the country was going to the dogs ... I said to the President: 'Are you going to act? If you do not, which Heaven forbid, we [the armed forces] shall force a change.' " Mirza waited for the right moment, hoping to prevent "another Iraq." A police battle with Moslem League demonstrators provided "the perfect opportunity" for surrounding the capital with troops. On the chosen day Mirza wrote out his proclamation dissolving political parties and imposing martial law, had it typed under guard. Assured that the troops were in position, Mirza issued his orders. "I have no sanction of law or of constitution," he told reporters. "I have only the sanction of my conscience." At 11 p.m. he sent a personal note to Prime Minister Malik Firoz Khan Noon informing him that his government had been dissolved.

Prices Fall. The army took over smoothly. Despite the tough commands of martial law (even refusal to give one's correct name and address is punishable by hanging), there was a general sense of relief. "Thank God it's over," said a senior civil servant. "For the first time I feel I can depend on tomorrow. At least I'll know who's boss." Prices of cigarettes, candy, soap and cereals fell 10% to 15% overnight. Penicillin and antibiotics were suddenly available over the counter at honest prices. The black market in currency vanished. General Ayub Khan took over as chief martial law administrator, but left most governmental tasks to Aziz

Ahmad, the country's senior civil servant. Several Cabinet ministers and prominent politicians were arrested, one accused of black-marketeering, another of "nefarious and antistate activities," e.g., flirting with Nasser. Promised General Ayub Khan: "This is no witch hunt."

Iskander Mirza left no doubt that Pakistan's alliance with the West would remain unchanged. Of his domestic plans, Mirza said: "I hope to get 20 or 30 good clear chaps together to draw up a new constitution ... I hope eventually it will be passed by people who know what they are doing." As for the canceled election, Mirza said: "I am certain it could never have been a fair, honest election . . . You must remember that Western-type democracy cannot function, here under present conditions. We have only 16% literacy." In a recent Karachi election, he said, only 28% voted, and half the votes were bogus. Then Mirza, who likes a good phrase, summed up: "Democracy without education is hypocrisy without limitation."

Addressing the nation, Mirza said, "The present action has been taken with utmost regret, but . . . I promise you will be happier and freer."

*His own son is now married to a daughter of Horace Hildreth, former governor of Maine, and ex-U.S. Ambassador to Pakistan.

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