Musharraf: winning or losing?
By Mohammad Waseem
CURRENT events make interesting reading. President Musharraf has declared that uniform was too close to him to be shed away just like that. The MMA caravan, led by Qazi Hussain Ahmed, has been out on the road. Imran Khan’s visit to Karachi has taken an unexpected turn towards his character assassination. The presidential reference in the Supreme Court has been described as the battle between Truth and Falsehood. Which is which?
Is the party over? This is the question currently being asked through the length and breadth of Pakistan as well as in the relevant quarters abroad. Speculations about the prospects of President Musharraf to stay in power define the contemporary patterns of alignment and realignment out in the field.
After March 9, when the Chief Justice of Pakistan was rendered non-functional, and lawyers launched their agitation, one wondered whether a movement was in the making. It could be just one of many frustrating moments in recent years when people felt sad over what they perceived as non-accountability of rulers. But at that time things were pretty settled for the government.
After all, the number of legal practitioners was limited. Their potential to lay off their professional activities for days and weeks was not boundless. The liaison between lawyers and opposition parties was at best tenuous. All lawyers were not in opposition anyway, even if many were perhaps converted to the cause of the judiciary after March 9. Being socially embedded in the middle class, lawyers’ ability to engage the masses in a nationwide campaign was inherently constrained.
Could the political opposition take the matter forward? The PPP was negotiating with the government. The PML-N felt nervous about it. MMA gave mixed signals. Qazi Hussain Ahmad found in the judicial crisis an opportunity to strike at the government. However, Maulana Fazlur Rahman attached considerable importance to MMA’s stakes in the system and assumed a cautious approach to the lawyers’ agenda for agitation. Others lashed out at the government for being anti-democratic, anti-people and anti-judiciary. Opposition parties could not have been more divided than they were at the start of the agitation.
Then came May 5. Punjab was electrified by the 25-hour journey of the Chief Justice from Islamabad to Lahore along the G. T. Road. It pulled thousands of people from their homes and hearths on to the roadside. They exhibited a hope for a change in the system. This journey demonstrated a spontaneous surge of people in favour of a visible victim of what they perceived as the state’s highhandedness.
Punjab as the power base of Pakistan was shaken. That was the moment for worry for the government. Till then, it had considered the movement as frivolous and doomed to fail sooner or later. But what happened on May 5 led to a knee-jerk reaction. The government termed the caravan of the Chief Justice as a rally, which it was not.
It was neither sponsored nor organised nor financed nor indeed led by political parties. It was not a show of force but a show of anger against the government as well as a show of love for the new icon on the horizon. Nobody would have bet on Chaudhry Iftikhar for being an aspirant for President Musharraf’s position. He emerged as a symbol of protest not as a contender for power.
The opposition parties were far from fully or even seriously mobilised to take over the movement. Still, the government crackled under the pressure. It made a political move that carried a potential for unpredictable consequences. It chose to fight back by mobilising the street. By doing that, it took the risk of eliciting a negative response from society, which was bewildered to see the military-led government feel the need to make a show of strength.
One can observe that the government’s strategy had three identifiable components. First, it sought to render the scheduled visit of the Chief Justice to address the Sindh Bar Association meaningless. It tried to make it look bland and blank, to be understood as turn of the tide in a mode of retreat. It barred the way of the Chief Justice to traverse the scheduled route to the Sindh High Court to meet his commitment. Unwittingly, it reinforced the martyr image of the non-functional judge. Second, it has been widely alleged that the government sub-contracted Karachi to the MQM, its ally in the Sindh government. The show-of-strength strategy in Karachi depended on a party which presumably had not been consulted before the president filed reference against the Chief Justice. Still, it felt obliged to defend it. The MQM chose to come out on the street against what had already become a popular cause. Not surprisingly, the party leadership exhibited a sense of loss in its popular appeal after the tragic events of May 12. It apologised for not fulfilling the responsibilities of a party-in-government in the form of not providing security to Aaj TV.
How far can the reports about the I.G. Police and Home Secretary, Sindh, excusing themselves from carrying out the orders for the Chief Justice of Sindh High Court be damaging for the writ of the government? How can the reported withdrawal of weapons from police on the fateful day of expected armed clashes between rival political parties make sense to a bewildered nation? Was it actually a show of weakness of a government running out of options, rather than a show of strength?
The third component of the official strategy was the rally in Islamabad on the evening of May 12. Being neither related to election nor to a burning issue nor to an ideology, the event suffered from a moral deficit. The rent-a-crowd approach turned the whole exercise into a spiritless event.
In terms of numbers, the project of gathering up to half a million people boiled down to a mere fraction of it. Most significantly, the jovial atmosphere displayed in the Islamabad rally on the day Karachi experienced a bloodbath was a tragic reminder of the distance between the rulers and the ruled. It looked as if Islamabad and Karachi belonged to two different countries unaffected by each other.
The best advice the government would have got at that time was to postpone the rally in sympathy for the dead and the wounded in Karachi. It would have won a high moral ground or at least would not have lost it further if it had kept the show for another day. However, the massive preparations for the rally foreclosed the option of its postponement immediately after the news of Karachi killings was splashed by the media.
What has really happened during the last two months? Does the story go beyond the judicial crisis in the country? It seems that most typically military regimes tend to believe only in their own words. If they discredit politicians, they believe that politicians have been discredited. If they declare that the country is developing under them by leaps and bounds, they think that the people too believe so.
The public has been estranged from the way the state’s authority has been exercised during the last eight years. The Musharraf government chose to live with alienation of one group after another: the MMA parties, the ARD parties, various judges who stood retired after they refused to take a new oath, Baloch nationalists smarting under the army operation and lawyers, journalists and intelligentsia in general.
The government has disregarded the existence of a vigilant civil society, which felt a bitter taste in the mouth after each step in the wrong direction. No government can afford to alienate an additional million people after every event of a controversial nature. One can count several events of this kind: the malpractices during voting for the 2002 referendum, the 2002 general elections and the 2005 local bodies elections; the stock exchange scam; the aborted sale of the Pakistan Steel Mill; the death of Nawab Akbar Bugti; the poor handling of the issue of Jamia Hafsa, and now the ‘suspension’ of the Chief Justice.
Washington found itself caught unawares. Its strategy for Pakistan was based exclusively on a policing approach, drawing on the military’s potential to fight its war against terrorism. Society in Pakistan stood apart, alienated and frustrated. How did it reflect on President Musharraf’s profile? Many observers say that large sections of society continued to be radicalised under Musharraf. But Washington all along identified him with the war against Islamic militants. Has the myth finally exploded?
Ever since Democrats took control of Congress, the pressure for democracy in Pakistan has increased. In this election year, the president is expected to face a huge array of forces lined up against him. He will soon complete his eight years in office, equal to two four-year terms of President Bush. The American president lost considerable influence in his sixth year and is now preparing for exit next year. In Pakistan there is no exit strategy for a president-in-uniform. President Musharraf will probably devise one for himself as and when he likes – if events do not overtake him.
There are too many stakeholders in the present system to allow a genuine expression of the public will through an electoral exercise to be held under an independent election commission. President Musharraf is unlikely to step down in favour of a caretaker government assigned with the task of holding elections. His advisers would probably push him to fight back, even if fit needs to employ extra-constitutional means, as hinted by the president himself. The nation needs to be spared another constitutional crisis.


