Young officers of the District Management Group (DMG) are said to be despondent over the decision to abolish the office of the district magistrate (DM). Their reaction is understandable because, with the dispatch of this once powerful institution, the grandeur seems to have gone out of the service they had opted for. The unkindest cut is that, being at the top of he ladder, they could have chosen any other service - even police, who have finally won their long battle against the DM.

While the despondency is understandable, it is not quite necessary. The demise of the DM was inevitable, is largely self-inflicted and, above all, does not spell the end of the world. The DM's fate had been sealed when the principle of separation of powers was enshrined in the Constitution of 1973. Thereafter, instead of crafting an alternate system, the DMG used its proximity to power to fight a losing battle to delay the denouement. The separation cause being dear to the judiciary, it was only a matter of time before the matter went before it.

Finally, in 1996, the Supreme Court fixed a timeframe within which to complete the executive-judiciary separation. The order was reluctantly implemented, and the earlier partial bifurcation of the magistracy into the executive and judicial branches completed. The latter went under the control of the High Court, and took with it the trial of all criminal cases and, significantly, the pre-trial powers to grant custody of the accused to the police for investigation. The executive magistracy was left to try minor offences under the "local special laws" and accompany the police in law and order situations.

With the separation of the powers, the DM was no longer the head of district criminal administration. As shaped by the British (in an advancement on the Mughal Mansabdar), this was his main assignment. The DM controlled the police, the prosecution and the magistracy (which, at one time, could try criminal cases carrying punishment up to seven years and even scrutinise the more serious cases, including murder, to determine if sufficient evidence existed to send these for trial to the Sessions court).

Thus, all three functions of the criminal justice system, ie, investigation, prosecution and punishment converged to an extent in the DM. The logic behind this concentration of powers was unity of command. When the DM reviewed the district crime situation, he had before him all three agencies responsible for controlling the same. He listened to their viewpoints and tightened the screws wherever needed. He could, thus, ensure that all three responded to the prevailing crime situation.

After the separation, having lost control of the judicial magistracy, the DM could no longer discharge this crucial function. The police, which had always strained against the magisterial harness, had also chipped away at the DM's control over them. Even the prosecution was slowly taken away by the law department.

The rump DM had, thus, lost his effectiveness and utility. He still remained the nominal head of the district law and order situation. But this seemingly august assignment was more an embarrassment as the police did pretty much as they pleased. The weakened magistracy had, in effect, become an unwelcome appendage to the police who hid behind it when faced with the people's anger.

This is where the DM's self-infliction took a decisive turn. Rather than being the guardian of the public against police excesses, the executive magistracy quite often became an approver, if not an accomplice, of the police. Rarely did a "judicial inquiry" into police brutality yield the true picture when entrusted to it.

In return for mock deference by the police and a sniggering salute, the DM had accepted a collusive role wholly opposed to the public benefit. Consequently, for the smallest grievance against the police, people had to go to the high court. Others preferred to "settle" directly with the police.

This capitulation proved the last nail in the DM's coffin. In Thursday's decisive meeting, the main pro-DM argument was that transferring his powers to the police or the district Nazim would create monsters. The clinching rebuttal was that, if the Nazim or the police chief could not be trusted, why should the DM be?

Two illustrations should explain why not. The last PPP government's crackdown against terrorism in Karachi had led to some custodial killings. Yet, not a single DM stood up against this lawlessness. True, the full force of the government was behind the operation and a puny DM could not have changed the course of events. But the responsibility that went with his job demanded that the DM asserts his independence, even if it meant being swept aside.

But the DMs preferred to be pragmatic, and played along. When they made this choice, they lost not only their moral ascendancy over the police but also their raison d'etre. The same sorry scenario was re-enacted in the Punjab during the PML (N) rule. Physical elimination of "criminals and terrorists" in patently fake police encounters had become a policy. Even as the media were screaming against the police acting as the judge, jury and the executioner, the DMs were happy to look away. That being their conduct, the end was nigh. Only those who had their heads under the sand could not see it coming.

Yet another self-inflicted wound was the loss of quality. The DMG officers (and their predecessor, the CSP) were generally known for their competence and integrity. These twin virtues were the only justification for the pre-eminence they enjoyed, much to the vexation of the other service groups.

But both these cutting edges were slowly corroded - to a lesser extent by the regional quotas (for which there is a sound justification), but fatally so by the increasing induction from the military. These officers brought a culture of superficiality and nepotism and undercut merit as the sole criterion for advancement.

During the democratic interlude after General Ziaul Haq, political patronage came to be seen as the survival strategy. In the ensuing melee to get ahead, all scruples were thrown to the winds and the adventurers and entrepreneurs in its ranks sank the DMG's reputation in the sewer.

The once prestigious office of the deputy commissioner (who is also the DM and district collector and was the linchpin of the colonial steel frame) earned as much ill repute during this period as the politicians on whose command its holders were jumping through hoops. Hardly surprising, therefore, the absence of any public outcry when the NRB decided to guillotine the deputy commissioner as well. An institution without roots in the people cannot survive.

The DMG officers (as the CSP before them) were caught in a time warp, holding on nostalgically to a dead past. They did not change the imperial lifestyle and aloof, haughty and paternalistic mindset inherited from the colonial era. And, they failed to professionalise even as the information revolution was redefining management. These "generalists" were, thus, dinosaurs waiting for extinction. Not conceding a timely and amicable separation in their souring marriage with the police was another fatal mistake.

Thus, since they chose not to change on their own initiative, change has now been forced from the outside on terms that seem very unfriendly at present. But merit and competence are irreplaceable and, no matter what the system, there is always the need for those who have these assets. Consequently, neither the elected district governments nor the demise of the DM means the end of the road.

For those with the capacity to undergo the needed attitudinal and professional change, the new arrangement offers new opportunities. For one thing, the burial of the DM means that endless energy-sapping hours need no longer be wasted on unrewarded and hazardous law and order assignments. That leaky baby is now squarely in the lap of the police.

Instead, having been entrusted direct control of the other provincial departments, civil servants can now concentrate on service-delivery to the harassed people. The absence of this "service" culture and the preference for "governance" has been their undoing. Whether the elected part of the district governments sails or sinks in the long run, the role of civil servants has been changed permanently. If they can re-orientate themselves, and most have the moral and intellectual capacity to do so, there should still be a honourable place for them under the new sun.