November 2, 2010: This column was originally published in Dawn on the 2nd of November, 2010 under the title: “An ill-judged move”.

PRIME Minister Yousuf Raza Gilani, in an address over the weekend, referred to the nationalisation of educational institutions in 1972 by then president Zulfikar Ali Bhutto as a “blunder”. Interestingly it appears that this was not a controversial statement.

Other than a rebuke from the Workers’ Party Pakistan, so far few appear to have stepped up to defend the deceased founder of the PPP. Even former prime minister Benazir Bhutto, when she reversed her party’s previous position by embarking on a privatisation drive in the late 1980s, described it as appropriate to the era just as nationalisation had been appropriate (not a blunder) to her father’s era.

Regardless, the prime minister was correct when he said that “we cannot move forward without admitting our mistakes”. It is important to dispassionately analyse past policy decisions so as to inform future policymaking. So the question remains was the nationalisation of private educational institutions a blunder? Leaving aside the legal, philosophical and economic concerns regarding the infringement of the right to private property that any nationalisation scheme raises, the question can be analysed in three parts.

First, was the nationalisation policy implemented in letter and spirit? The answer here is ‘no’. After the policy was promulgated in 1972 there was a bureaucratic quagmire. The private owners of the nationalised institutions created hindrances in order to protect their private property. Also, neither the federal government nor the provincial governments had the financial and technical resources to execute such a massive undertaking. Not only was the state taking over hundreds of privately run educational institutions it had to also take over the financial burden of the payrolls of these institutions.

The financial cost to the state was made even more burdensome when the government reduced the fees charged by the nationalised schools while simultaneously bringing the wages of the teachers employed at those schools up to the national pay scale-level of equivalent civil servants. The government’s broader goal of promoting equality was undermined when those nationalised teachers who were at or over the official age of retirement were left without pensions and were legally required to retire; in one stroke, their previous service as private school teachers was disregarded and their ability to earn any future income from their profession taken away.

Implicit in the policy was the idea that private institutions were not meritorious in their selection of students. Instead they helped perpetuate the privilege of the wealthy classes. This notion was promptly abandoned — a most egregious betrayal of the foundational ideology of the policy — when the government approved exceptions for over 200 private English-language schools by 1974. This was a blatant violation of the letter and spirit of the nationalisation policy.

Second, did nationalisation help the intended beneficiaries of the policy? The answer again is ‘no’. The stated objective of the policy was to enhance the access for those disadvantaged individuals who were shut out of the education system by a fee that was unaffordable. It is difficult to make a case in either direction in this regard as there is no empirical data to show the policy’s effects. However, some logical conclusions can be deduced.

In 1972 almost all private institutions were in the urban areas. The poorest, most disadvantaged Pakistanis lived in the rural areas. It is highly unlikely that even a few from the poor rural multitudes gained access to the newly nationalised educational institutions. When limiting the scope of analysis to urban areas any increase in access to those previously excluded would have been marginal. In fact nationalisation probably helped many upper and upper-middle income Pakistanis enter educational institutions — which they would have accessed regardless — at a lower fee. If analysed in terms of the cost and benefit incidence of the policy, nationalisation may have effectively transferred money that could have been invested in the education of the poorest and to the benefit the middle and upper classes.

Third, did nationalisation improve the state of education in the country? Here again the answer is ‘no’. Although the policy was effectively reversed when private schools were allowed to operate freely only seven years after nationalisation, the state of nationalised institutions gives some hint about the success or failure of the policy.

Many nationalised educational institutions are overcrowded and their students are more likely to be found in fee-charging (private) ‘coaching’ and ‘tuition’ centres — where they ‘learn’ by rote — instead of their classrooms. These institutions are grossly underfunded; they suffer from teacher absenteeism, poor facilities and at the secondary and tertiary levels from violent student politics. Pakistan continues to suffer from endemic educational problems. Children from low-income, rural backgrounds (especially girls) fail to gain access to schools.

It is clear that nationalisation as a policy was not clearly thought out, was poorly implemented and failed to achieve the intended objectives. If that is what Prime Minister Gilani meant by it being a blunder, then he was correct. Does that mean that the government should leave the education system to the private sector? Of course not! But those who argue that nationalisation was a well-intentioned policy that would have succeeded were it not for bureaucratic shortcomings, lack of teacher development and so on are indulging in the worst kind of self-delusion and obfuscation.

It is a necessary condition of successful policymaking that problems of implementation be anticipated and planned for. Good intentions do not suffice. The road to socio-economic failure is paved with well-intentioned policies.

asifsaeedmemon@gmail.com