All the King’s Horses

By Ahmad Faruqui, PhD
Dansville, CA

When I first arrived in the United States in September 1974, it was on the heels of a remarkable event. On the 8^th of August, President Nixon had resigned. He had dug himself into a hole over the Watergate scandal. The fact that he had won his re-election by a landslide mattered little. Even the members of his inner circle — the proverbial king’s horses — were rendered powerless by the wave of history.

On the walls of the history department at the University of California at Davis campus, someone had memorialized in chalk, “The only thing we learn from history is that we never learn anything from history.”

It rang true. I had been in Karachi when the all-powerful Gen. Yahya was toppled from power three years earlier. And back in 1969, the even more powerful Field Marshal Ayub was toppled. The same fate befell Gen. Zia in 1988 when his plane fell out of the skies.

So how will history judge Gen. Musharraf’s self-inflicted wound, his decision to suspend the Chief Justice in March? When the Supreme Court reinstated the Chief Justice months later, Prime Minister Shaukat Aziz said that Pakistanis were mature enough to accept the reality and move on. Apparently not, given what has happened since.

For a long time, General Musharraf has been the proud holder of dual offices. Not too long ago, he scored a landslide victory in his presidential re-election. Magnanimously, he declared that he would doff his uniform once he was confirmed in his presidential position, becoming just the holder of a single office.

But there was a problem. The legitimacy of the presidential election was being challenged before the Supreme Court. When the general was asked how he would react to a negative verdict, he thundered, “Let them decide, then we shall decide.”

And so he did on the 3^rd of November. As it became clear to Musharraf that the Court would rule against him, the cornered commando launched a pre-emptive strike. He placed Pakistan under a state of emergency, suspended the constitution and ordered the police to arrest anyone who stood in his way.

In a midnight televised address, after making some incongruous references to President Lincoln, the general proffered two reasons for his extreme political measures. One, to combat religious extremism. Two, to preserve the democratic transition.

Musharraf’s words are worthy of being scribed in a book entitled, “Army in Wonderland.” Eight years ago, he deposed a democratically elected government. Was this a democratic transition or a military transgression? And who was to be blamed for losing the fight against the religious extremists, the president cum army chief or the judges and the lawyers?

Words must carry a different meaning for Musharraf than what they do for the average person, just as they did for a character made famous by Lewis Carroll:

“When I use a word,” Humpty Dumpty said in a rather a scornful tone, “it means just what I choose it to mean — neither more nor less.”

“The question is,” said Alice, “whether you can make words mean different things.”

“The question is,” said Humpty Dumpty, “which is to be master – that’s all.”

The only word that describes the events of the past several weeks is “Gotterdammerung.” It captures the fury that was unleashed on the streets when Musharraf ordered the arrest of several thousand innocent citizens. As many as a quarter of the nation’s attorneys were put behind bars. Leading human rights activists and opposition politicians were unceremoniously shoved into police vans and hauled off to jail. Even the Supreme Court justices were not spared.

At a press conference, when asked about his decision to arrest the Chief Justice, the general said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, no one is above the law.” The fact that he had just broken the law did not register on him. Nor did he seem to notice that Harvard University had just conferred the Medal of Freedom on the Chief Justice.

And even if he knew it, he was not showing it, being consumed by hubris. All of this comes easily to a man who states on his website that his speeches are archived so that the “golden words” can “become a part of history.”

When the assemblies reached the end of their term, Musharraf administered the oath of office to a caretaker government that was hardly neutral and even less empowered. In a surreal performance, Musharraf spoke of “creating history,” adding that “Pakistan has never seen such a smooth transition of government.”

Just because the former prime minister was sitting in the audience while a new prime minister was being ushered in did little to change the fact that power was not being transferred. It remained with the army and within the army with one man. He was not going anywhere.

He continued, “I take pride in the fact that, being a man in uniform, I have actually introduced the essence of democracy in Pakistan.” But when an inner voice told him that he was swimming against the tide, he whispered, “Whether anyone believes it or not.”

The general went on to say that in a democratic system, everyone gets a chance to do his best and then has to move on, since that is the law of nature. Then why has he chosen to make himself an exception to the law? Ah, it is because of that law of necessity.

In a conversation with the media, Musharraf decried the treatment that he was getting from the West. Reflecting on the days when he was a hero in western eyes, the general asked, “Did I go mad? Or suddenly, did my personality change? Am I Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?”

Absent mindedly, he proceeded to answer his own question: “Have I done anything constitutionally illegal? Yes, I did it on 3 November.” The Mea Culpa would have done Shakespeare proud.

And to make sure his indispensability was not lost on the West, he reminded them that Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal would be at risk if he were removed from power. So it was that the national asset that was acquired at such great cost was turned into a national liability.

For a man who claims to have brought press freedom to Pakistan, Musharraf gets visibly irritated when the media critique him and calls for “responsible journalism.” During the emergency, he blocked satellite TV broadcasts. The Economist magazine lampooned him on its cover with the words, “Time’s up, Mr. Musharraf.” It should have added a by-line:

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men

Couldn’t put Humpty together again.

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