ONE can hardly disagree with Benazir Bhutto when she argues that militant Islamists must not be allowed to determine the political agenda in Pakistan. To a certain extent, however, they have already been doing so. The mass murder in Karachi that transformed her homecoming street party into a bloodbath is only the most recent manifestation of their ability to inflict deep and painful wounds.

 

Arguably the most important question before the country today is how the national agenda can be wrested back from the terrorists. It is hard to see how a tawdry cohabitation deal between Bhutto and General Pervez Musharraf can possibly serve as a suitable answer. Cooperation between all forces that are sincere in their desire to roll back obscurantist trends and stave off the terrorist threat is a sine qua non of progress, but it can only succeed in a truly democratic context. And that’s something that does not, for the time being, appear to be on anyone’s agenda.

 

Bhutto’s return to Karachi after eight years in self-imposed exile was well choreographed, although the tumultuous reception that awaited her apparently exceeded the Pakistan People’s Party’s expectations, and much of the popular enthusiasm was genuine. Sindh has always been the PPP’s primary stronghold and a robust turnout by the true believers was more or less inevitable.

 

Their ranks were evidently swelled, however, by those hungry for change, those who have waited in vain for palpable benefits to trickle down from the stupendous levels of economic growth that Pakistan has supposedly enjoyed in recent years. Not surprisingly, they are willing to pin their hopes on any symbol of change. Their expectations of an improved livelihood and generally better conditions under Bhutto would probably have been kindled even if she hadn’t decided to revive her father’s populist slogan of food, clothing and shelter. Possibly out of desperation, they tend to forget that during her first two stints as prime minister, hardly any effort was made to honour such promises. Furthermore, given her reliance on foreign sponsorship, it seems the faith of the masses in Bhutto is inadequately reciprocated.

 

Yet, after last week’s events, there is considerable goodwill for her to build upon. The hundreds of thousands who thronged the streets of Karachi helped to restore some of her credibility, which was running particularly low in the wake of her desperation to reach a modus vivendi with the military ruler. It was further enhanced by the despicable assassination attempt. Bhutto suspects that elements in the military establishment sympathetic to the Islamist militants were behind the atrocity. That is certainly a possibility, although it’s equally likely that the militants needed no encouragement. 

 

There are those who suggest that in the light of Musharraf’s advice and other warnings, Bhutto ought to have postponed her return. But are there any grounds for assuming that conditions would have been more propitious a few weeks – or even several months – hence? It’s not as if efforts to defang the militants and the terrorists are on the verge of success; in some parts of the northern territories, for instance, the self-proclaimed Taliban are seemingly able to kidnap government troops at will.

 

In the circumstances, it was arguably brave rather than foolhardy of Bhutto to opt for the role of homecoming queen. This is a trait that she has undoubtedly demonstrated before, particularly during the years of victimization under General Zia-ul-Haq. It does not necessarily follow, however, that the good of the nation was paramount in her mind, notwithstanding all the rhetoric about democracy and social justice. It is easy to contrast Bhutto’s return from exile this time around with her arrival in 1986, given that there is no counterpart to her “Zia jaawey ee jaawey” slogan of 21 years ago – even though, in posters that portray him with medals, sash and a middle parting, Musharraf bears a striking resemblance to Zia.

 

But it’s equally pertinent to remember that after the PPP emerged as the largest single party in the 1988 elections – despite the best efforts of Inter-Services Intelligence, which had cobbled together the Nawaz Sharif-led Islamic Democratic Alliance in order to thwart Bhutto’s party – the assumption of power entailed a compromise with the military-bureaucratic establishment whereby Ghulam Ishaq Khan retained his presidential post as Zia’s automatic successor and Sahibzada Yaqub Khan remained the foreign minister. A similar arrangement is evidently being contemplated for 2008, with the army effectively retaining control not only of the presidency, but also of security and foreign affairs. So much for democracy.

 

It is also worth recalling that this is not the first time Bhutto has relied chiefly on external assistance. Washington was, for her, a crucial port of call even in the 1980s. This time, the process of coming in from the cold began with a conversation in 2004 with Jack Straw, Britain’s foreign secretary at the time, and Musharraf’s first conciliatory message to Bhutto was reportedly conveyed by the British high commissioner in Islamabad. Lately, Condoleezza Rice has been doing her bit for the Bhutto cause. London and Washington have attempted to play down their role, but the level of micromanagement is illustrated by the manner in which diplomats  leaned on Altaf Hussain in an effort to prevent his Muttahida Qaumi Mahaz from stirring up trouble in Karachi.

 

If they feared a repeat of the carnage of May 12, we now know that much worse lay in store, and chances are it emanated from parts of the body politic that US and British representatives can’t reach. It is interesting to note that in commenting on last week’s bomb blasts, the State Department deemed it necessary to point out that Musharraf, too, had condemned them. It would have been considerably more useful if it had acknowledged, instead, the crucial role that the US has played in spurring Islamic extremism in Pakistan  since the late 1970s.

 

It has, of course, had plenty of local assistance. And the disinclination towards an honest appraisal of the recent past is by no means exclusively an American affliction. Bhutto, not surprisingly, is assiduously avoiding references to her two abysmal stints in power. Musharraf is not keen to revisit his categorical statements against her and Sharif, nor the period when he was straining at the leash in his eagerness to mount provocations against India on the Kashmir front. Neither of them is prepared on reflect their respective roles in ushering the Taliban into Afghanistan in the mid-’90s, when Bhutto was prime minister and Musharraf was director of military operations.

 

A willingness to be more open about the past would help to build confidence that some lessons, at least, have been learned from the more egregious follies of yesteryears. As things stand, whatever happens over the next couple of months, a Pakistan in which faith returns to the personal sphere, the army goes back to the barracks, politicians are no longer obsessed with what the country can do for them, and the dominant superpower plays a role as a friend rather than as a master will remain a mirage.

 

That doesn’t mean it’s time abandon all hope. But it does point towards a need to be considerably more wary of self-proclaimed saviours, regardless of whether they are attired in khaki or in green.

 

 

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