THE riots which erupted all over Pakistan on Dec 27 in spontaneous reaction to Benazir Bhutto’s assassination were not a phenomenon unknown to history. Violence in the form of burning and damaging public buildings, and the indiscriminate looting and plundering of private property were not simply an expression of anger and grief by those who held Ms Bhutto in high esteem.

This was an outlet for the frustration of the oppressed classes.

The majority of them were not criminals but common people deprived of the basic necessities of life and abandoned by the ruling classes. To them, both public and private property was symbol of oppression. In their view, not only are state and its institutions their enemy but also the tiny minority of the privileged and wealthy, because they are keeping them impoverished, miserable and in a state of humiliation.

The breakdown of law and order gave them an opportunity to take revenge and give vent to their hatred and anger. There is a lesson to learn: when the masses get an opportunity, they do not spare anyone.

A despotic regime is incapable of viewing policies in a historical perspective. Its main concern is to curb and subdue dissent. To sustain its rule and perpetuate its power, the regime applies two methods. First, it enforces laws which check the people’s will to voice their demands, and restrict their freedom of movement to organise protest rallies to demonstrate their strength. Secondly, it uses force and brutal power if it meets with resistance, with the intent of forcing people to comply with government policy.

However, notwithstanding these methods, the people’s resilience prompts them to raise their voice against injustice and they struggle for change. That explains the rebellions of peasants, workers and the voiceless people in history to express their grievances and revolutionise the social set-up. We learn from history that when people have succeeded, their rebellion has become a revolution that has changed the entire system. But when they have failed, they have been crushed by the regime in a bid to demonstrate to coming generations the fate of those who dare to challenge the authority of the rulers.

People’s rebellions are not only politically motivated but also challenge social, cultural and legal orders that are not favourable to them. In fact, this creates severe constraints for them. In some cases, despotic governments failed to restrain the anger of the people which they gave vent to, and the collapse of law and order followed, at least temporarily. That became an opportunity for the people to liberate themselves from their despotic rulers and their exploitative system.

Under these circumstances, people acted collectively. Once part of such a crowd the individual gained a sense of power and greatness. That became the defining moment when he expressed himself freely and gave vent to his anger against the exploiters. Sometimes, this collective anger turned into violence and wiped out every symbol of injustice and despotism.

One example of this phenomenon was the French Revolution of 1789 when the ruling authority retreated and law and order became non-existent. Overthrowing the curbs of the old system, the crowd in Paris acquired such power that it demolished the Bastille which was a symbol of the old order. When the Paris rebellion was followed by the uprising of the peasants in the rural areas, it attacked and burnt the chateaux of landlords and along with those the documents that had the records of their debts and taxes.

We find that a similar process took place in an uprising of the people in 1857 in India, when the sepoys first mutinied against the British government.

A rumour that the rule of the Company had come to an end inspired the peasants of northern India to denounce their allegiance to foreign rule. Their protest was against the high taxes that had crushed them financially. Before this watershed year, they had been unable to resist the government’s demands. The year 1857 brought an opportunity for the people to rebel against their tormentors.

Small landowners who could not pay the revenue and were compelled either to sell their lands or mortgage them to moneylenders (saahukars) also joined the protest. They had been waiting to grab such an opportunity. The news of the end of the Company’s rule brought new hope to the Indians. They revolted and, once free from all government rules and regulations, acted independently to set up a new order that suited their interests. Their immediate action was to attack the houses of moneylenders, raze these to the ground, loot their properties, and burn all documents and papers which contained the details of their debts.

When the rebel sepoys came to Delhi and seized control of the city, the Mughal aristocracy did not like their behaviour because they violated the centuries’ old court etiquette and addressed the king as the ‘old man’. Deputy Nazir Ahmad narrates the episode when a rebel (telanga) took a bottle of perfume from a shop and emptied it on his horse. It was an act of barbarity to Deputy Sahib, but by doing it, the sepoy expressed his contempt for the lifestyle of the aristocracy to whom perfume was a symbol of refined culture, while to the sepoy it was worth nothing — something only worthy of his horse.

The rebellion had freed him from all rules of courtesy and etiquette imposed by the aristocracy. He felt nothing but contempt for the nobility and its lifestyle and social etiquette. The anger against the British was symbolised by the attack on Delhi College and the burning of English books. But Arabic and Persian works were spared and were taken home as booty.

The same attitude was displayed by Maulvi Ahmadullah, a prominent rebel leader, when he took possession of Lucknow along with the support of his disciples who were commoners. Immediately, they asserted their independence by attacking the nobility and by looting their wealth. They directed sarcastic remarks at the upper classes and insulted them in public whenever they got the opportunity to do so. They took away eatables from shops and enjoyed tasty food which they could not otherwise have afforded. Possessing weapons gave them confidence and a sense of power and the courage to fight.

We find the same pattern in the people’s anger today. In a dictatorial regime when they are forced to submit to the orders of the government in the name of law and the Constitution, people resist. Their resistance appears more violent when there is a breakdown of law and order. The government then fails to subdue them. In such cases, they demonstrate vehemently, fight against the law-enforcement agencies with high spirits, and as a sign of their anger and defiance they burn state property and disfigure state symbols.

Therefore, rebellions and a breakdown of law and order in despotic systems liberate the people. They act freely and articulate their anger against injustices openly. Historically, this subversion of the old unjust order and traditions has been seen as a positive development. But, the anarchy must be followed by order, and destruction must be followed by the reconstruction of a new society.

SINCE the terrorist attacks of 9/11, Washington has followed a one-man policy towards Islamabad, largely for three reasons.

First, President Musharraf headed the country’s strongest political institution. Second, the army was fully in control of the country. It seemed easier working with a military government which operated under the ‘unity of command’ doctrine than with a democratic government. And third, it believed that the best way to get the terrorists was to engage the services of the military’s intelligence agencies.

The services had long standing ties with those groups going back to the days of the anti-Soviet jihad. Once the choices were made clear to them, it was expected that that they would do Washington’s bidding. To make the assignment sufficiently attractive, upwards of $10bn was provided as counter-terrorism assistance in the intervening years.

This strategy—let’s call it Plan A—worked reasonably well until the beginning of last year. Musharraf’s decision to grant himself another five-year presidential term triggered a wave of protests that ultimately resulted in the promulgation of an emergency, the suspension of the Constitution, the removal of the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court and of several other Supreme Court and High Court judges.

In addition, thousands of protestors were arrested, including at one point a quarter of the nation’s lawyers. In late November, more than 40 retired senior military officers and diplomats called for the restoration of the judges and the Constitution.

These developments caused dismay in Washington. Even those policy advisors who had sided with Musharraf earlier voiced their serious concerns about keeping him as the centrepiece of American policy. The National Law Journal declared Chief Justice Iftikhar Chaudhry as Lawyer of the Year and Harvard University conferred the Medal of Freedom on him. More than 12,000 members of the American Bar Association called for the release of Aitzaz Ahsan, the incoming president of the Pakistan Supreme Court Bar Association, and were later joined by 38 US Senators. US Congressional Committees began to probe Musharraf’s anti-democratic activities.

Foreseeing a trainwreck for Plan A, the Bush administration scrambled back to the drawing board and came up with a half-baked Plan B. This envisaged a deal between Benazir Bhutto and Musharraf, two individuals who had had precious little good to say about each other.

He would continue as the President but she would be his ‘democratically elected’ prime minister. In return, she would look the other way as Musharraf cracked down on other opponents. So, when Nawaz Sharif was deported to Saudi Arabia in September, she said nothing. Later, when most parties called for restoring the judges before moving forward with the elections, she was quiet. All these moves were carefully choreographed so that nothing would get in the way of Plan B.

With Bhutto’s assassination, Washington is scrambling once again. It is evident that even though the emergency has been lifted and Musharraf has removed his uniform, he is still calling the shots. So there may be a temptation for the policy wonks in DC to conclude that Pakistan is not fit for democracy and might as well stick with army rule.

But this would be the wrong message to draw from last month’s colossal tragedy. The generals have ruled Pakistan for more than half of its 60-year old history and more than one analyst has traced the rise of extremist militant groups to their involvement in the covert wars in Kashmir and Afghanistan.

The right message to draw from Bhutto’s assassination is that the army, by suppressing dissent and destroying all civilian institutions, has encouraged the growth of extremism in Pakistan. US policy has not helped matters.

Instead of reaching out to the people of Pakistan and helping develop civilian institutions, such as schools, colleges and universities, and providing money to buy tractors rather than tanks, the US has hired the generals in Rawalpindi to fight Washington’s wars, first the Cold War and now the Global War on Terror.

It is time for Washington to rethink this policy. Even though Musharraf lifted the emergency on the Dec 15, after a hand-picked new Supreme Court had validated his‘re-election’, the media are subject to jail terms and fines for criticising either the president or the army. The dismissed judges have not been reinstated. And Chief Justice Chaudhry and Barrister Aitzaz Ahsan continue to be under house arrest.

So what should be in Plan C? Rumour has it that Washington has simply scratched off Benazir Bhutto’s name in Plan B and replaced it with Asif Zardari’s. Well, that simply won’t do. Zardari does not come even close to rivalling Bhutto in name recognition among the Pakistani public. For many Pakistanis, she was the People’s Princess. And for many more, he is ‘Mr Ten Percent.’

By now the US should have figured out that if it picks any Pakistani leader as its favourite, it basically dooms that individual. A better plan would focus on the implementation of a democratic process, not just on the hurried execution of elections whose results are known before the votes are cast. This would involve several steps, beginning with repealing the Provisional Constitution Order, reinstatement of the top judges and the release of all lawyers.

It would involve monitoring parliamentary elections to make sure that they are free and fair. The results of the elections should be respected, unlike the situation in 1970 when the army refused to hand over power to the winners and unleashed a civil war that dismembered the country.

For too long, America’s ties with Pakistan have emphasised expediency over long-term relationships. Support for the military dictatorship du jour has been justified by saying that Pakistan lacks a deep political bench. But this is no longer true. During the last year or two, several moderate, constitutionally minded and highly-educated leaders have emerged on the national scene.

A second false justification has been that democracy does not work in Pakistan. While it is true that it has not worked as well in Pakistan as in India, which is largely because every time it goes through a hiccup the generals intervene. Unless a democratically elected government is replaced through democratic means, the political skills necessary to make democracy work will never be institutionalised and Pakistan will remain mired in political adolescence.

Finally, it is falsely stated that democracy in Pakistan simply means turning over the country to the feudal lords. The reality is that they have governed the country even during dictatorships. The way forward is to end feudalism, not to stop democracy.

Is there a way to end feudalism? Yes. The next government should implement genuine land reforms and significantly raise the level of literacy in the general population so that the serfs no longer feel obliged to vote for their lords. There is no reason to fear feudalism. It does not pose the insuperable barrier to democracy that some in Pakistan claim it does. Were that true, than none of the countries in the developing world would be successful democracies today.

LIFE in Pakistan’s political arena is getting back to normal two weeks after Benazir Bhutto’s tragic assassination which had shaken the nation and the regime equally badly. The nation lost a leader and hope; the regime lost the last iota of its credibility and public approval to remain in the saddle.

In the last two weeks, Gen (retd) Musharraf’s attempts to build his regime’s image in the public’s eyes did little to assuage the hurt and pain or the loss of credibility. Instead, they appeared to be rash efforts to hide the truth.

This is the first time in our history when everyone, on all sides of multiple political divides, seems to be in a Catch 22 situation. The regime is confused and distraught as nothing appears to be in its grip; not even its own thinking, let alone decisions to be taken in view of the larger national impact.

The PPP and PML-N are not in as good stead as they were on the evening of Dec 27. The PML-Q is failing to attract attention because of its ethnic-ridden rant, which even the MQM had to condemn. The APDM allies, who boycotted the “hoax” elections, know that their moral high ground is thinned by their limited public presence on the ground. The issue of the detained judges and incarcerated lawyers has been pushed to the backburner with the force of post-assassination events.

The country is in chaos. That is stating the obvious. But this chaos could take us to a more stable Pakistan if an approach for the common good is adopted by the regime. Common good by definition is a comprehensive offering in response to popular and reasonable public demands. This is not that obvious though.

In one’s view, if the regime takes four joint steps, most of the issues at hand could be resolved with plenty of face-saving for the key players representing all sides of the divide. These steps will encompass what one could term as the national common good — the most desired good by the most numbers. After Benazir, free, fair and inclusive elections, the reinstatement of the judiciary, a free media and a safe passage for Gen (retd) Musharraf to quit (or seek re-election) could be the best way.

The first essential step in this regard is that the regime must recognise the gravity of the tragedy and the intensity of the ensuing situation. On the contrary, the regime appears to be levitating in a conceptual container that is isolated from the post-Benazir reality. It seems that the regime’s perceptions of reality are formed by false notions of its grip on the situation. It seems to be assuming that it can walk past this crisis as well as it has managed to limp through the July 20 verdict and the Nov 3 self-inflicting adventure of emergency rule.

This time, however, the rulers need to realise that on both occasions the significant support that provided them stability had come from the Benazir Bhutto-led PPP and from international allies in the war on terror. Not only is such support absent, the regime’s erstwhile supporters have also been forced to become detractors now.

A practical demonstration of this step could be in “sincere acts” of neutrality by the regime, and these should be allowed to speak louder than proclaimed intentions to that end. This implies no official attempt to influence and control the outcome of the probe, and a sincere halt to the generation of counter-conspiracy theories to malign the PPP.

The second step is a consultative, rational and inclusive decision on elections, the practical manifestation of which would be to hold elections in March 2008 under a new election commissioner whose name and appointment is endorsed by all heads of political parties, including the APDM allies.

The third step is taking the lid off the electronic media. The regime must recognise that a free and vibrant media is up for use (or abuse) more by the government than by the opposition, if at all.

The fourth step has three inter-related aspects, requiring concurrent actions. First is making key changes in the caretaker set-up to accommodate the demands of the PPP, PML-N and the APDM, and to give the caretakers a decent semblance of impartiality. The second aspect is allowing free movement to the detained former judges of the high courts and the Supreme Court including the deposed Chief Justice Iftikhar Chaudhry, and the leaders of the lawyers’ community, with immediate effect. The third aspect is to evolve a political understanding that both the fate of the Nov 2 judiciary, the ensuing constitutional mutilations and imbroglio, and the post-election presence of Gen (retd) Musharraf should be decided by the new National Assembly. In lieu of this, Musharraf could be given a legitimate chance (for a change!) to contest his re-election from the new assemblies, and would thus also earn a dignified exit (a concept quite alien to him, looking at the undignified exits he has forced on his adversaries) and the safe passage in the sense that Article 6 would not be invoked against him in case he is not re-elected.

One believes that in the wake of this common good, the sentiments of anger, sadness and disappointment would find creative and productive channels of expression in the face of a predictable future, promising substantial returns to all the contenders. Citizens and civil society interests could act as pacemakers in the accomplishment of this most desired change by the most number of people in today’s Pakistan. The resulting Pakistan would surely be the best tribute to the sacrifice given by Benazir Bhutto.

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And I will show you something different from either

Your shadow at morning striding behind you

Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;

I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

–––The Waste Land by TS Eliot

THE air is unmoving in this wounded city. Near the fence opposite the High Court of Lahore, alongside the magnificent brick building of the city’s General Post Office, bouquets of flowers pile up, buttressed by hands which reach out to the space which just a day before was stained by the blood of policemen carrying out their duties.

Beneath the aroma of the roses and the gladioli, there is a nauseating stench of death. Fear pervades the stillness, creeping into the bones of this city’s citizenry. Above, there is an overcast sky, clearing at moments to cast a weak, wintry light on passers-by and policemen alike, equally lost in the looming uncertainty of broken lives.

It is cold this morning. But it is not the absence of a warm sun which makes the chill enter the soul and numb it, a carcass deadened by repeated brutalisation, a corpse pummelled and beaten into submission, if not to death. In my mind’s eye the image of Picasso’s Guernica rises and I see the wounded head of a beast, convulsive as life passes out of it. In the carnage of Lahore which took the lives of at least 35 men, a horse lay bleeding to death, it’s owner injured, in a state of shock as the reality of what had happened crept up to the living like a harbinger of what was still to come.

We have entered the Islamic new year with blood marking the streets and soil of our beloved homeland. That Muharram signifies the resistance of the oppressed against the tyranny of oppression is something which shall gather greater significance as carnage threatens the lives of all of us who dare to have the courage to carry on, despite the insidious plan to rob us of our future and our sovereignty. Today we, as a nation, are threatened with dehumanisation and demoralisation in much the same manner as the people of Palestine, Iraq and Afghanistan have been undermined by the same forces which threaten to destabilise the region.

What are those forces? Who benefits from the violence which has ripped us apart? Who is the victor, and to whom go the spoils? Who is orchestrating this blood-letting, to what end? How far back in our country’s history must we look to see where we went wrong? With the sheltering of Gulbadin Hikmatyar during the regime of a popularly elected prime minister, or to the Pakistan military establishment’s disbursement of US dollars amongst Mujahideen fighting an American war?

Or shall we look at more recent times, to the institutionalisation of militancy feeding on discontent and a retrogressive agenda, aimed at satisfying the designs of obscurantists who at one time or the other served as a forward line in America’s war against ‘godless’ communists? Or do we consider the dangerous slope upon which our country’s foreign policy was poised in the 1980s and the abrupt about-turn it took in the year 2001?

What is the anatomy of the violence and terror which marks the landscape of our country like a deadly pestilence? Shortly after the terrible events of Sept 11, 2001, Noam Chomsky spoke to students at MIT, quoting what Ronald Reagan had said twenty years ago in a discussion on the fundamentals of American foreign policy: “The war against terrorism is a struggle against a plague, a cancer which is spread by barbarians, by depraved opponents of civilisation itself.”

Chomsky goes onto to say that the Reagan administration responded to this plague by “creating an extraordinary international terrorist network, totally unprecedented in scale, which carried out massive atrocities all over the world.” Could it be that this massive international terrorist network created to combat terrorism itself has become bigger than the idea which spawned it?

There are those who speak of a larger conspiracy to fragment the country in order to rule the region and exploit its resources. This view finds an echo in Samir Amin’s words when he said that the avowed objective of the new US hegemonic strategy is to prevent the emergence of any other power which might be capable of putting up resistance in the face of Washington's injunctions. “It is therefore necessary to dismantle countries which have become too ‘big’, so as to create a maximum number of satellites who are ready and willing to accept US bases for their ‘protection’.”

I fear that we need to look closer at home, at the many layers of collusion and conspiracy which have delivered this curse upon us. As inappropriate as it may seem, we may need to consider seriously the words of Major General Vinod Saighal who retired from the Indian Army in 1995 from the post of Director-General Military Training. He is the author of Restructuring South Asian Security, Restructuring Pakistan and Dealing with Global Terrorism: The Way Forward. I quote from this book:

”The Pakistan establishment has been so intimately involved with the terrorist organisations nurtured by them for so long that disengagement, even it were to be finally mandated by the military top brass would be difficult, if not impossible…”

Tonight, in countless homes across the city and elsewhere, children mourn dead fathers; women agonise over the widowhood thrust upon them. Many more graves have been dug, many lives snuffed out, while the shadow over us grows longer and darker than the nights we have spent grieving.