Separation of powers is a principle that divides a government into three distinct branches, each with its own responsibilities and independent authority: the legislative branch makes the laws, the…
Separation of powers is a principle that divides a government into three distinct branches, each with its own responsibilities and independent authority: the legislative branch makes the laws, the executive branch enforces them, and the judicial branch interprets them.
Pakistan’s 78-year history is marked by recurring episodes of governance paralysis, institutional friction and weak systems of accountability. Given this context, is it time to radically reconsider the conventional model of separation of powers?
In theory, separation of powers is meant to ensure checks and balances. In practice, however, Pakistan’s experience has often been one of institutional infighting – between the judiciary and the executive, the judiciary and parliament, and the military and civilian authorities. This pattern, spanning 78 years, has repeatedly crippled decision-making, particularly during times of crisis – be it economic, security-related or natural disasters.
In Pakistan, separation of powers has resulted in fragmented authority, weakening accountability rather than strengthening it. With no single institution clearly responsible, blame is frequently shifted from one branch to another. Who is accountable for the most expensive electricity on the face of the planet? Who is responsible for rising inflation? Each arm of the state points fingers at the others, leaving the public with problems but no answers.
Pakistan’s superior judiciary has often behaved like a parallel executive, summoning bureaucrats, intervening in administrative decisions and at times annulling government policies. Yes, judicial activism stems from a desire to correct executive failures, but it often disrupts the balance of governance and further entangles institutions in turf wars.
Why is Pakistan’s response to the TTP resurgence so fragmented? Why is there no unified strategy to address the unrest in Balochistan? Are these competing legal, political and security narratives truly serving the national interest? Or are they deepening divisions and weakening the state’s capacity to respond effectively? Do we want institutionalised confusion, where authority is divided, responsibility is denied and progress is paralysed?
We have witnessed courts becoming political battlegrounds. We have seen politicians seeking judicial backing to settle political scores. We have seen courts being labelled as ‘partisan players’ rather than neutral interpreters of law. This has at times blurred the line between law and politics, undermining public trust in both.
In Pakistan, the separation of powers has failed to curb corruption. Each branch of government tends to shield its own, rather than hold them accountable. Institutions like NAB, the FIA, the judiciary and even parliament are often used as tools for political witch-hunts rather than instruments of genuine accountability – largely due to overlapping mandates, institutional rivalries and politicised loyalties.
Do we want disruptions to privatisation and investment deals due to conflicting court orders, parliamentary delays or provincial resistance? Do we want finance ministries, provincial governments, courts and regulators all pulling in different directions?
Singapore, Thailand, Vietnam and the UAE have no strict separation of powers yet outperform on governance metrics. This is not about abolishing checks and balances. This is about replacing a dysfunctional model of separation with a contextually grounded, integrated governance framework, a post-colonial realignment. This is about enabling long-term industrial policy and investor confidence.
The writer is a columnist based in Islamabad. He tweets/posts @saleemfarrukh and can be reached at: [email protected]
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