These have been trying times for Pakistani liberals: in October 1999, they were forced to make a choice between General Musharraf and an elected prime minister.

But given Nawaz Sharif's deliberate targeting of institutions like the judiciary and the press, and his declared intention of dragging Pakistan into the mediaeval era by imposing Shariat law through the Fifteenth Amendment, most of us breathed a sigh of relief at his removal, even though we were not entirely comfortable with the imposition of military rule. When the Supreme Court gave Musharraf three years to push his reform agenda through, we thought that like so many constitutional aberrations we have been witness to, this period, too, would pass.

The aftermath of September 11 placed us on the horns of another dilemma: we were now asked to support an American-led attack on our impoverished neighbour. But again, thanks to the barbaric and mediaeval policies imposed by the Taliban and their effects on Pakistan, we didn't shed too many tears for their ejection from Kabul, despite the inevitable collateral damage.

However, Musharraf's plan to perpetuate his rule through a loaded referendum is the last straw on this liberal camel's back. For me, at least, the time has come to say enough is enough! Basta! Thus far, and no further! Don't get me wrong: I personally have no problem with the good general staying on for a few more years, and had he been a legitimate candidate in an election, I would have happily voted for him. But as a serving general, Musharraf is barred under law from standing for public office. If he can (rightly) condemn politicians for breaking the law, what moral authority does he have left when he blithely breaks it himself?

The finer points of law apart, there are practical considerations that ought to have made him pause: as head of the army and the president, he will be in a strong position to overrule the prime minister who is elected later this year. But the party that forms the government will have gained its mandate from the people on the basis of an agenda. How can the PM implement his programme with a strong president calling the shots, and thwarting his decisions whenever they are in conflict with his reforms for which he has no mandate?

In his long, rambling address to the nation on the subject of the referendum, Musharraf spoke of the need of a 'unity of command.' It is clear that in his vision, command will vest solely in him, with the PM playing a puppet who will at best carry out his orders. However, in a democracy, leadership is diffused, with the cabinet and parliament responsible for a complex working relationship that has little bearing to the chain of command that operates in the army.

Many fellow columnists have welcomed Musharraf's plan to stay for another five years on the grounds that politicians were both corrupt and inefficient over the last decade. Most of them have never voted in their lives, and dismiss the electoral process contemptuously because, according to them, illiterate voters elect crooked candidates.

This view is echoed in army messes and academies across the country where the word 'politicians' is invariably prefixed with the adjective 'bloody'. Indeed, generations of officers have been brainwashed into believing that all the country's ills are due to civilians in general, and politicians in particular. These barrack-room Bonapartes have little doubt that they have the solutions necessary to put the country right. God knows they have had more than enough opportunities to prove this, but Pakistan's institutional crisis has only deepened as a result of their repeated interventions.

One thing our generals and their civilian sidekicks conveniently forget is that in Pakistan's 55-year history, the army has ruled directly for half this period, and in the other half, it has had an overriding say in national affairs. So if the country is in a mess, surely the military should accept at least half the blame instead of unloading it all on politicians. If the latter suffer by comparison, it is largely because under military rule, the press is censored and unable to report and comment on the corruption and mistakes committed by the generals. (This regime is a notable and praiseworthy exception).

Politicians in power, on the other hand, are the targets of documented and concerted destabilizing campaigns conducted by spooks on the state's payroll as well as unscrupulous hacks who plant the most vicious, unsubstantiated stories to discredit elected leaders.

I do not disagree with the thesis that the country needs continuity and stability. Broadly speaking, I also agree with the steps Musharraf has taken, although I do feel he has been too soft on extremists. But at least he has begun talking about the problem. Under the circumstances, he could have asked the Supreme Court for an extension of the three-year period laid down for a return to democracy. Given our higher judiciary's track record, it is difficult to imagine a situation in which a military government's arguments would have been turned down.

My basic problem with the referendum route is the grave political problems it is bound to unleash. Even the second-rate politicians hovering over the presidency and the GHQ like vultures will have a hard time accepting Musharraf's diktat if they are elected to the National Assembly. And by dismissing the leaders of the two large mainstream parties out of hand, the general has been reduced to hobnobbing with the leaders of tonga parties that exist only in drawing rooms and newspaper stories. Had he really wanted legitimacy and support, he should surely have been conducting talks with the major parties.

Regular readers of this column will know I hold no brief for any particular politician. Frankly, I could not care less if Benazir Bhutto and Nawaz Sharif spend the rest of their days abroad. But I do not see why millions of their supporters should be penalized for the misdeeds of their leaders: surely if they vote for a certain political programme, it should carry greater weight than Musharraf's 'seven-point reform agenda.'

Although Musharraf remains committed to his 'road map for the return of democracy', the problem is that his understanding of the term is different from ours: he sees it as a 'label' consisting of a prime minister, a cabinet and a parliament, all doing his bidding. He is right when he says that each country's situation is unique, and therefore its political system should be adapted to the circumstances. But in any definition of democracy, a popular mandate confers certain powers and responsibilities that are undiluted by instructions from GHQ.

Musharraf's current march is destined to take him into a destabilizing conflict with the major political forces in the country which will further weaken national institutions. In fact, a vote for the referendum is a vote against democracy, and I, for one, will certainly not cast it.