AMIDST a host of stagnant political personages, Benazir Bhutto was dynamically alive. Whatever their political affiliations Pakistanis have lost that vitality in leadership.

The direction in which she would have taken us now that she seemed to have gained the upper hand in her relationship with the militarised establishment will always remain a question mark. A viciously assassinated Benazir Bhutto receives the benefit of the doubt.

Otherwise, for those who espouse the assertion of citizens’ democratic rights as expressed in the sustained protest at the exclusion of Justice Iftikhar Chaudhry and other members of the independent superior judiciary, it was hard to excuse her post-return quarantining of herself from that movement. The more so as it had made the PPP’s reappearance on the streets possible. Moreover, the context of pressure from the legal fraternity on the president was a crucial factor facilitating her un-harassed disembarkation in Pakistan. Her subsequent elimination leaves even those who doubted her motives, or were disappointed with the prodigal after her return, acutely conscious that ‘the cause’ of civil society reclaiming just political space is much weakened without her.

Benazir Bhutto may have been frustrated and eclipsed by the forces and machinations of the status quo in her prime ministerial tenures. She undoubtedly displayed her own flaws and some grave limitations. But she derived her relevance entirely from the mass of Pakistanis who loved her. Even if she became the leader of that political curiosity, President Musharraf’s B team, she owed that place to her democratic currency; and to stay in circulation she could not have done other than serve the interest of the anonymous masses. Her political vocabulary was democratic. She misused it occasionally but she knew the language other politicians grope with.

The obstinately serving President Musharraf stresses Pakistan’s democratic idiosyncrasies. For once it is possible to agree with him: Benazir Bhutto was born feudal but the Bhutto political mother tongue, its native idiom, was essentially democratic. And thanks to her father’s solid effort the party she led has an infrastructure that has survived years of abuse. Will it survive the new rule? Such is Pakistan’s political landscape that the question is secondary.

The assassin’s bullet was aimed at Pakistan’s quest for healthy self-governing stability. Now all of democratic-minded Pakistan, not just the PPP, has to cope with the impact of this last onslaught that calculatedly removed the main figure of the transitional democratic paradigm.

The most urgent need is to confound those who may want to see Pakistan slip into a confusion that provides the climate that makes people favour authoritarian controls or underwrites arguments for interventionism. It is not that ridiculous to envisage these two strands intertwined in an undisclosed understanding where external diktat is implemented by surrogates. Could this be the reason for the longevity and defence of the Musharraf regime and collateral damage to any genuinely independent alternatives? Benazir Bhutto may have been sounded as an alternative to the Shaukat Aziz or Jamali-type face. But her unique persona and the ambience of lively sections of Pakistan’s legal fraternity, media and civil society gave her a democratic autonomy that was perhaps as unacceptable to status quo establishments as to any Al Qaeda offshoots.

This mistrust is the much more insidious aspect of the government’s lack of credibility. After the horror of the deed, the distressing thing about Ms Bhutto’s assassination is not that the identity of the assassin and the forces behind him may never be established beyond doubt. More disturbing is the fear that the doubts arising in the wake of the assassination may induce precisely the kind of demos and civil disturbances and allegations that surfaced both too systematically and immediately on Dec 27 to appear natural.

What makes Pakistan’s continuing political tragedy more grievous is that it is so easy to set about initial correction: President Musharraf’s abdication would assuage many ills. He has come to symbolise the deformities of the time. The army owes it to the country it has misruled to facilitate what the people recognise as a level playing field for the electoral exercise that becomes more and more fraught with peril even as it becomes an absolute necessity. If one ignores some in the PML-Q, the leadership of the PML-N and the PPP as well as the APDM are all displaying commendable wisdom. But how long can one restrain a public if someone carries on stoking the fires?

If Islamic fundamentalism is a threat to democratic Islam it is also a wonderful window of opportunity to a resource-coveting West. Just as Pakistan needs to convince western allies of its bona fides they need to convince Pakistan of theirs. Only then can extremism and terror perish as they should and must.

LIKE jealous siblings competing for the attention of negligent and forgetful parents, Pervez Musharraf and Benazir Bhutto had been competing to become the West’s sole spokespersons for Pakistan.

Much to the consternation of Musharraf, Benazir was winning this contest lately. Surviving the bombing of her homecoming rally made her the Muslim Joan of Arc and her assassination solidified that status in the western press. With the official mourning for Benazir Bhutto over, Musharraf decided to go on a ‘charm offensive’ by holding a forum with the foreign press on Jan 3.

But the very first question showed that winning back the West will not be so easy. Why do so many think that he had something to do with Benazir’s assassination, asked the questioner. Musharraf’s jaws tightened and eyes narrowed as he responded that though the question was beneath his dignity he would answer anyway. “I am not a feudal or a tribal, I come from a civilised and educated family. I do not believe in killing people or getting involved in intrigues.” Feudalism is one of the most clichéd concepts in Pakistani political discourse.

The most fascinating part of Musharraf’s performance had to be the credit he took for bringing democracy to Pakistan by devolving power to local governments, empowering women and freeing the media which contrasted with his disdain for the judiciary.

In his remarks one heard echoes of many well-meaning authoritarian leaders of the Third World who are happy to give the gift of democracy to their people as long as it does not interfere in their total control of the government.

At times losing patience with some of the western journalists who he felt did not understand the ground realities of Pakistan, Musharraf presented a picture of the real Pakistani public that echoed all the stereotypes of the unruly yet simple and innocent masses of the orient. Musharraf bristled at the suggestion that he had been losing popularity and repeated the accusation that the western journalists do not know real Pakistani people, 70 per cent of whom live in rural areas and who presumably support him.The New York Times had taken up his suggestion that western journalists talk to rural people and interviewed a few of them last month. It was clear that these ‘simple’ rural folks had complex thoughts about the current political crisis and appear to think that Musharraf, like so many of his predecessors, is interested only in holding on to political power while inflation and lawlessness continue to make their daily existence difficult.

“You do not understand my people,” was the running theme of the press conference. Referring to the “unruly” nature of Pakistani masses, Musharraf even elicited a chuckle from an otherwise serious audience when he told them that he has seen how things work in western countries. “A crime scene is marked by a yellow tape and no one disturbs it. Here you can build a wall around a crime scene and people will climb over it or break it down.”

In a hectoring tone he told the western press that lately he did not believe in what they wrote; they either did not understand the situation in Pakistan or were deliberately distorting reality. He implied that their wrong-headed reporting led to the decline in the Pakistani stock market. Finally the stock exchange has risen several hundred points today, he informed the audience, implying that economic stability is finally returning after the turmoil of Bhutto’s assassination.

A rising stock exchange might be a sign of economic confidence in advanced industrialised countries but for Pakistan it is meaningless. Perhaps President Musharraf has been talking to the West for so long and so earnestly that he has forgotten the ground realities of Pakistan. When the majority of Pakistanis cannot find atta, that very basic of staples, the rise of the stock market as an index of well-being is a cruel joke.

Benazir Bhutto and President Musharraf had invested considerable resources and energies in creating a positive persona in the West in general, and in Washington in particular. A recent NYT article reported that for the first six months of 2007, Burson-Marsteller received $250,000 for public relations work for Benazir.

According to one report, Van Scoyoc Associates, a PR firm in Washington DC, has been representing the government of Pakistan for the past three years for a modest $660,000 a year. I wonder how many tons of atta could have been bought with that dough.

The writer teaches political science at Monmouth College in the US.

THE treatment of the disturbances in the wake of Benazir Bhutto’s assassination, especially in Sindh, has revealed a dangerous decline in public morality — one of the leading deities in the pantheon of good governance in whose name even fundamental rights, freedom of expression in particular, can be clipped.

Governments in South Asia realised, after many decades of costly experience, that while announcing outbreaks of disorder it was desirable to avoid reference to the communal or ethnic identity of the parties involved. This was considered necessary to ensure that violence did not spread to other parts of the country. The precaution was not always effective as exaggerated accounts of the losses and hardships suffered by the victim party could be spread by word of mouth. The worst examples were the orgies of communal violence in the subcontinent in the 1940s.

Yet official restraint in identifying the parties by belief, ethnicity, tribe or caste was considered useful since it at least gave the administration an opportunity to take preventive action in areas where retaliatory violence was possible or expected.

By and by the media too learnt to exercise restraint while reporting incidents of disorder that could have repercussions along communal/ethnic lines. Just as it had learnt to protect the identity of women victims of rape, the press realised the need to avoid identifying the characters involved in disorder by belief or ethnicity. The argument was identical to the one that inspired official restraint. It could be said that this became a case of a healthy give and take between the state and civil society, each learning from the good practice of the other.

That over the past few days both the state and the media have been found in breach of the principle of restraint in the reporting of disorder liable to exploitation along ethnic lines cannot be regretted overmuch. The main ruling party (there is no doubt in anyone’s mind that the parties that were in power before the so-called caretakers were installed are still calling the shots in Lahore and Karachi) demeaned itself by issuing an advertisement based on an unverified allegation of vengeful rape and a section of the media recklessly obliged it. Both stand indicted at the bar of public opinion for fuelling ethnic conflict.

The rationale for precautionary tactics by the administration was, and is, its acceptance of some responsibility for any breakdown of law and order and of its duty to prevent recrudescence. Three of the important terms of reference in any inquiry into riots used to be (i) whether the administration’s inability to foresee the trouble could be justified; (ii) whether the administration intervened to protect life and property as promptly as necessary; and (iii) whether the steps taken by the authorities were adequate and in accordance with law and propriety.Now, no sane person will fail to condemn the loss of life, burning of assets and looting of property after the Dec 27 outrage. All those found involved in criminal acts should be held responsible but the administration is required to conduct itself in a non-partisan manner. This precaution appears to have been ignored by the authorities. Indeed they have apparently defied evidence that the lawbreakers might have belonged to various ethnic groups and given the impression of putting the blame entirely on a single ethnic community and a single political group.

A more serious deviation from responsible behaviour is the government’s failure to scrutinise the administration’s own conduct. Was the disorder that followed the unusually provocative crime of Dec 27 entirely unexpected? The public is convinced that it was not. What steps were taken by the lords of law and order to prevent or contain the trouble that was expected? When did the law-enforcement agencies start intervening? As soon as the trouble started or after allowing the rioters freedom of action for many hours? When did incidents of looting and arson start? It is necessary to answer these questions in order to distinguish between the actions of grief-stricken activists of the bereaved party and those of the ruffians that indulge in looting and arson at any opportunity.

It is therefore necessary to institute a high-level probe into the administration’s role in the recent disturbances and to determine the extent to which its acts of commission or omission contributed to the loss of life and property.

Unfortunately the demand for an inquiry into the administration’s failure or inadequacy to protect life and property during the post-Dec 27 disturbances is unlikely to be heeded. The reason is a grave erosion of the standards of the state’s responsibility to protect the rights of its citizens, or even to acknowledge them, and the two most significant factors contributing to this dangerous decline are increase in the level of impunity and abolition of dialogue with the people.

The question of impunity has become quite acute. The immunity from accountability allowed to the forces fighting militants in Swat, for instance, or to agencies detaining people without charge has grievously undermined Authority’s claim to be responsible even to itself, to say nothing of its being responsible to the people.

This repudiation of responsibility is evident across the board. The state does not accept responsibility for the hardships still faced by many of the victims of the October 2006 earthquake. A frantic search is on to find among non-state actors scapegoats to take the rap for the atta crisis or for the energy shortage, although on both counts the government’s culpability is manifest. It is quite conveniently forgotten that the state is responsible in varying measure for what non-state players do in violation of public interest. The rule is derived from the principle that a thief or a murderer is only partly responsible for his crime; society, especially the managers of its affairs, must accept a portion of the blame.

Perhaps the lapse of responsibility can be better appreciated if we look at the regime’s insensitivity to public protest. The official tendency to ignore people’s agitation — be it workers’ campaign against the IRO 2002, lawyers’ defence of judges, students’ demand for the right to unions, journalists’ clamour for media freedom or civil society’s call for the release of Aitzaz Ahsan and other detainees — reveals a stubborn refusal to listen to the people. All public protest is in the nature of an invitation to dialogue, to find solutions and redress through negotiations, and that is responsible rule.

A well-cultivated disdain for any dialogue with civil society is the hallmark of the regime now. It is true that this is the result of a drift that began decades ago. One is also aware of the mistake in looking for administrative responsibility or in talking of transparency and accountability, the latest measures for judging governments, in a country where constitutional rule has been an exception rather than the rule. But it is time to realise that absence of dialogue between the rulers and the ruled has provided the foundation for the worst tyrannies humankind has ever known. Any lapse of responsibility is something Pakistan cannot afford.

IT’s not exactly a coincidence, but there’s a certain serendipity to it: tomorrow, MPs will vote on Jack Straw’s move to reintroduce Michael Howard’s 1994 anti-union strike ban. Symbolically, this looks like a spineless Labour government hiding knock-kneed behind Thatcherite (well, Majorite...) tough-mindedness, which is what it is. Functionally, though, it’s just intended to prevent strikes by prison officers, whose 12-hour walkout in August gave a rather daunting, if short-lived, insight into just how important officers are in the running of prisons.

Meanwhile, 12 hours? Pah! Your measly protest is spat on by Hollywood writers, now entering their 12th week of industrial action, derailing Sunday’s Golden Globes which will turn into the fantastically unglamorous combination of a press conference and a picket line. The last strike by the Writers Guild of America was in 1988, and lasted 22 weeks, costing the industry $500m. The last measurable impact of a prison officer strike was last year, when inmates at the Lancaster Farms young offenders institution did £220,000 worth of damage, having been left insufficiently supervised.

Strikes by prison officers have an atmospheric impact beyond calculable cost, however. The police are brought in to cover for them but get confused, having no sanction against people who are already in prison. Obviously I’m generalising, but it’s fair to say they’d rather not do it. This gives a spur to the historical solidarity between the Prison Officers Association and the Police Federation. So even if Straw gets this reintroduction through parliament, his party might yet live to regret the sourness and strength it generates, screwing both organisations at the same time. However, in the short term, it seems Straw will win, with his demonstrable public safety agenda. Unless you’re a civil servant (no offence, like...) you cannot strike in the public services without harming public safety.

Strikes are powerful in three ways: either they jeopardise safety or jeopardise profits, or cause massive public inconvenience, or a combination thereof. The ideal is the one that hits only the profits of the miscreant employer. But the Hollywood writers’ strike seems faintly ridiculous. It lacks hardship, for one thing. When you have industrial action that can continue for three months without anyone starving, it brings no tear to the eye. It also lacks magnitude: there’s a nobility to this age-old clash of the classes that requires the stakes to be rather higher and the class divide to be rather more pronounced.

So yes, we might agree that writers deserve a greater cut of DVD and download sales, but in the end a walkout is an incredibly large statement. It mobilises the power of unification in an age that otherwise claims to be motivated entirely by individualism. It actively rejects the power of the purse-string: money might talk, but suddenly it doesn’t necessarily have the last word. And at the risk of tub-thumping, the strike has such a peerless history that it would be an enormous shame if the right to withdraw your labour were whittled down so much that only non-essential workers and French people were allowed to do it.

Besides which, public safety is not a good enough reason to ban industrial action. I would go further, and say that public safety really ought to be endangered, since only meaningful, life-and-death consequences can properly reflect the ideological importance of worker disobedience. It’s the last stand the developed world has against power simply collecting in the hands of the powerful, and money just belonging by rights to the people who already have it. Scriptwriters, though they’d probably put it very nicely, don’t have enough muscle in the body politic to carry this message on their own.— Dawn/Guardian Service