FOR as long as Rafiq Tarar - the last prisoner on parole to be given the freedom of the presidential mansion - was allowed to perform his ceremonial duties, and for as long as General Musharraf contented himself with just the title of Chief Executive, the fiction could be sustained that Pakistan would soon be returned to democracy - democracy as understood not by GHQ's constitutional experts but by most people around the world.
With Tarar eased out unceremoniously from that architectural monstrosity, and Musharraf losing no time in easing himself in, that fiction lies cruelly destroyed. It took no more than a few scratches on paper (call them what you will) to bring about this change - a military decree ousting Tarar and another anointing Musharraf. The true face of military tolerance lies exposed as a result. It is a form of tolerance hanging by a thread and in ever danger of snapping should the higher call of military whim or expediency so demand.
Right from the start no doubts should have been entertained on this score. For a military order is a military order and only the naive will see any other colour in it. Just as a tiger is a tiger no matter whether it smiles or snarls. Still, there was a pretence in the air which kept the innocent engaged. The latest charade to enliven Islamabad's skyline - a move dictated, as old hands would have guessed, by "the supreme national interest" - performs, therefore, a salutary function. It strips the flimsy veil from the hard reality and shows like nothing else could that whatever democratic freedoms exist in Pakistan, and there are several which limp on, including the openness of the press, have no institutional basis more enduring than the sufferance of its military reformers.
What a window this opens on the imaginative qualities of Pakistani militarism. With its vast experience of reinventing democracy, it might have been supposed the military's witch-doctors would put a fresh spin on a reality whose outlines go back to the first military government of General (later self-appointed Field Marshal) Ayub Khan. But what are the standard items in Pakistan's longest-running stage show? Assemblies dissolved, the Constitution suspended, prime ministers and presidents ousted, provisional constitution orders signed more readily than a conman would sign cheques. All these actions taking place against a musical score whose constant refrain is the steady invocation of the national interest. The very monotony of this script sheds a frightening light on the poverty of intellect and imagination holding sway in Pakistan.
The bemused onlooker might well ask why Third World despots are so insecure. Not content with the reality of power, why do they also crave so much its outward form and expression? The only explanation is that somehow this gives them greater assurance. When General Musharraf opted for the ungainly title of chief executive he was making a concession to the democratic sensibilities of the western world. The military government having gained a measure of international acceptance, the need for window-dressing has receded and hapless Tarar, having outlived his utility, has been shown the door.
It would be wrong to think, however, that it is for his India visit that General Musharraf has upgraded his status. After all, in Mr Vajpayee's eyes General Musharraf does not become a more effective negotiator as president instead of plain chief executive. Rather it is the closeness of the Indian trip which has served as the setting, if not the excuse, for fulfilling an ambition which falls within the familiar ambit of military takeovers in Pakistan.
Does royalty impress in the modern world? When Third World strongmen heap honours on themselves is the spectacle in any way considered edifying? Will Pakistan be accorded more respect as a country because General Musharraf has become president? Will Pakistan get more money? Will its economic pains abate?
But if General Musharraf's elevation makes no difference to the outside world, it holds enormous significance for Pakistan. For it tells us a familiar tale: that history is water off our backs, that we refuse to learn from the past, and that as a nation we are fated to retrace the steps of failures and blunders past. While Musharraf practised a form of self-abnegation and eschewed the temptation of seizing the presidency, the hope, howsoever dim, could be entertained that perhaps for once our deviation from the democratic path may not be long or sharp. With Musharraf succumbing to the temptation and virtually proclaiming his intention to continue in office past the Supreme Court deadline for the restoration of democracy, that hope must be lowered solemnly into the ground.
As a result, we must come to terms with the realization that like military regimes in the past this one too promises to be around for a long time. There will of course be the window-dressing of devolution, local elections and elected bodies further up. But, to judge by experience, what looks likely is that while the military will retract its naked claws and go back to barracks, a semi-authoritarian model like the ones we have had before will be in place. And at least in its initial days it will be all the tighter in place for facing no organized political opposition. This is not clairvoyance or rocket science but the iron conclusions flowing from the repetitious, Persian-wheel turnings of our dismal history. Put the same ingredients in the pot, add the same herbs and light fire of the same intensity underneath, and you will get the same dish.
Musharraf as interim head of an interim order lent himself to easy and safe analysis. He could be accepted more readily because he gave the impression of being a transitory figure. Musharraf as permanent head of a dispensation stretching into the horizon represents an altogether more grim undertaking.
Ayub was greeted with hope and fervour when he arrived on the scene. But when his rule lengthened it gave rise to a feeling of suffocation. Towards the end the new generation which came of age in the shadow of his rule just wanted to see the last of him. While some economists and historians make much of the economic development which took place under Ayub, the most enduring feature of his rule was the anger and frustration which it bred.
So too with Zia. With money coming into Pakistan as a result of the Afghan war, Zia presided over a time of economic ease and plenty. But after a decade of hypocrisy and false sermons about Islam people were weary of his rule. By 1988 when with Junejo's dismissal his democratic experiment collapsed, even generals could be heard muttering that Pakistan needed a change.
Once again we are embarked upon a voyage similar in spirit to the odysseys of the past. Once again a general catapulted into power by the force of blind circumstances is speaking the language of predestination and personal indispensability: "I feel in all humility that if I have a role to play for this nation I will not hesitate whatever decisions are involved. I hold national interests supreme... I think I have a role to play, I have a job to do here, I cannot and will not let this nation down..." In other words, by becoming president he has answered the call of higher duty.
What miracles is General Musharraf seeking to protect? What is his record in office? Are people enthused with the lumbering performance of his government? The record of the past eighteen months, if viewed through real-life spectacles, is an invitation to humility, not chest-thumping. But then none of this is particularly surprising or new. All of Pakistan's previous soldier-presidents spoke in much the same vein. But it is profoundly depressing if we look at the disasters reaped by Musharraf's famous predecessors.