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The
tectonic plates of national politics are shifting. The epicentre
of the awesome political tremors being felt across the nation has
formed many miles away from Islamabad, in the bustling neighbourhoods
of central London. It is here that Benazir Bhutto and Nawaz Sharif,
two former prime ministers of Pakistan, have taken decisions whose
impact has not only transformed their political personas but also
the national landscape.
The
force of this change has already hoisted both the leaders from their
familiar ground and placed them on the precipice of a complete role
reversal. Ms Bhutto, who for years inspired legends of resistance
to Pakistan's Byzantinian establishment, is now awkwardly placed
as an opportunist deal-maker with President Pervez Musharraf, the
military ruler; Mr Sharif, brought up at the knee of General Zia-ul-Haq
and who, for years shamelessly hugged and championed his dark political
legacy, is fast emerging as a symbol of defiance against General
Musharraf's attempts at stretching his eight-year rule by another
five.
It
seems harder for Ms Bhutto than for Mr Sharif to come to terms with
their new positions. "You are totally mistaken" was her
furious retort to my suggestion that Mr Sharif had managed to get
rid of most of his ignominious spots and looked all set to grow
into a national saviour.
"Voters
are very smart. They know who is the child of the military junta
and who is a genuine political leader. They also know that I am
the one fighting for the restoration of real democracy and sending
the army back to the barracks." Basing the argument more on
the strength of her voice than on the strength of her information,
she delivered this notional assessment as a concrete fact of political
life. The conversation closed with the caustic remark that "hopefully
the about-to-be-done interview would be about me and not about Mr
Sharif." She was kind enough to believe the prompt assurance
that followed.
It
is understandable why she would want to shut her ear to any news
about Mr Sharif's growing stature. To her it is not a pretty sight.
It is actually a personal slight. The mythology of her charisma
is steeped in the perception that she leads a party that has always
stood outside the circus commanded by generals and intelligence
chiefs, who love to make supine politicians hop and jump at the
crack of their whip. Also, her father, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, is a
political martyr in the truest sense of the term, who lost his precious
life to a most foul judicial trial completely rigged by General
Zia to entrench himself in power.
And
while Ms Bhutto mourned the killing of her father, suffering jails,
exiles, batons and near-successful attempts to destroy her party,
Mr Sharif's fortunes blossomed. He was grafted on the national political
scene with the sole purpose of countering the People's Party - a
project that was bankrolled by the inexhaustible secret funds of
Pakistan's military and intelligence agencies.
All through the eighties and the nineties, and even after having
won two national elections, Mr Sharif's political calling card did
not change the imprint of his past. To Ms Bhutto, Mr Sharif's basic
introduction as a politician has not changed since. At any rate,
not to the extent of replacing her as the carrier of the democratic
torch. Her self-image is too deeply tattooed on her mind to allow
for a reality check.
But
out there in the heat and dust of national politics, in a remarkably
short time, fortuitous events have brought Mr Sharif close to that
status - a fact which Ms Bhutto is in denial of.
In the purgatory of
exile, Mr Sharif was not really able to purge himself of the sticky
sins of his past. The understanding with the Saudi government to
stay away from Pakistan and the fear of being deported upon arrival
practically hand-tied him from making any difference to the national
scene. And not long ago, his ram-shackled party looked set to wither
away as a shepherd-less herd. The only redeeming feature of this
dispiriting scenario was the Nawaz Sharif refrain, which grew shrill
after his arrival in London on January 29, 2007, that he would not
talk to General Musharraf.
That rhetorical stance now has grown to become the most cashable
currency of the Sharifs. General Musharraf's self-inflicted sucker
punches in his futile brawl with the chief justice of Pakistan and
an increasing public resentment against his attempts to perpetuate
himself in power through suspect means have given him the worst
approval ratings of his stint in power: 34% in June 2007, down from
60% in the same period last year. Ms Bhutto's talks with the point-men
of an increasingly cornered President Musharraf, leaked by an omnipresent
electronic media, are terraced against the wall of Mr Sharif's consistently
tough no-negotiations-with-the-general stance. Presidential sources
maintain that the Sharifs have been engaged in a dialogue with them
on pretty much everything that they are discussing with Ms Bhutto,
but the Sharifs have managed to maintain credible deniability on
this score. This is in complete contrast to the clumsiness with
which the People's Party has tried to beat around the burning bush
of information on their interaction with the general's team.
For all political purposes, the volcanic sentiment against General
Musharraf has started to gather behind the tilt of the Sharif stance.
This is to the great dismay and envy of some of the most die-hard
party workers and leaders from the People's Party, who openly express
a desperate desire to see Ms Bhutto take the kind of line that Mr
Sharif has on General Musharraf. Almost the entire legal fraternity,
including, ironically, some of Mr Sharif's most avowed critics are
now willing to throw in their lot with him as they prepare to challenge
General Musharraf's bid for a second term.
Ms Bhutto is hand jamming hard to climb back to the position of
a credible opposition leader, one who is not using the backdoor
to enter into the mainstream. But the wind does not seem to be at
her back. More so since the Americans seem so eager to get her to
the peaks of a power-sharing arrangement that would also involve
General Musharraf as a civilian president. This makes her cut a
pro-American figure - the surest path to popularity ruination in
today's Pakistan.
Yet again, Mr Sharif is the beneficiary. He has not heaped scorn
on the Americans for their foreign policy; and, indeed, has spoken
about his resolve to counter terrorism. But he has maintained a
certain balance and composure in expressing the need to maintain
good ties with the US. His party's virulent criticism of the government's
Lal Masjid operation has been in stark contrast to Ms Bhutto's unquestioning
endorsement of it - something that resonates with Washington's stance
that the so-called Islamic terrorists need to be snuffed out rather
than engaged in negotiations.
It is true that Mr Sharif, in keeping quiet on matters involving
religious extremism, is actually pandering to his right wing, conservative
constituency. But the unintended consequence of this stance is salutary
for his political repute: it seems as if he is showing an independent
spirit of defiance to the US.
All this makes it brew well for him. And if we throw in his usual
advantage of being an incredibly rich, Punjab-based Kashmiri with
longstanding linkages with national and provincial civil and military
bureaucracy, the mix could not have been tastier for him since the
start of his political career. A couple of weeks ago, he seemed
reluctant to accept his transformation from an exiled futureless
leader to the centre of everyone's attention and a representative
of considerable national aspirations. But the Supreme Court's verdict
allowing him, his brother and their families to return home gave
him the final dose of self-confidence. And as he pulled up his socks
to return home, you could see in him a confidence you had never
seen before. Here was a man who thought he had arrived, politically
- a far cry from an irascible Ms Bhutto who does not even know how
badly her stocks have dipped in the market of public opinion.
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