It has been apparent to most of the world, although not apparently to New Delhi, that Musharraf's grasp on the Pakistani State has been slipping for some time. Three years ago, as those who went to Pakistan for cricket or media diplomacy saw, in the eyes of the Pakistani media and intelligentsia, Musharraf could do no wrong.
He had not merely fended off the extreme threat the US had posed to its vital defence installations after 9/11, but turned it into an opportunity to reverse the tide of ‘Talibanisation’ that had been sweeping over the country ever since the start of the Afghan civil war in the early Nineties. He had made Pakistan solvent once more by bringing down its debt servicing burden to a fraction of what it had been. This had enabled the economy to start growing again. Most important, he had formed a tacit alliance with reformist elements in Pakistan’s elite to liberalise and, to some extent, secularise Pakistani society, and turn its face firmly towards the future.
It is true that to capture and retain power, he had gerrymandered the Constitution, emasculated Parliament and entered into an alliance with religious parties grouped together in the MMA. But in 2003, nine out of 10 Pakistanis thought that the price had been worth paying. By contrast, today, Pakistanis barely remember the euphoria of 2003. Newspaper commentary has turned distinctly hostile. Nearly all commentators highlight Musharraf’s failings; few remember his successes or the twin threats, from religious extremism and the US, which he averted. To make matters worse, there are signs that public opinion in the West, which had so far stood solidly behind him, is also beginning to desert him in his hour of need.
An editorial in the most recent issue of The Economist, titled ‘The Trouble with Pakistan’, provides an excellent barometer. Abruptly shedding its indulgence for his regime, it accuses him of failing to act swiftly and firmly to rein in extremism; of insinuating the army into every nook and cranny of Pakistani public life; of sacking judges and creating and dismembering political parties to suit his own convenience; of rigging a referendum on his own presidency and writing his own job description.
{{/usCountry}}An editorial in the most recent issue of The Economist, titled ‘The Trouble with Pakistan’, provides an excellent barometer. Abruptly shedding its indulgence for his regime, it accuses him of failing to act swiftly and firmly to rein in extremism; of insinuating the army into every nook and cranny of Pakistani public life; of sacking judges and creating and dismembering political parties to suit his own convenience; of rigging a referendum on his own presidency and writing his own job description.
{{/usCountry}}All this could have been written by Benazir Bhutto. But The Economist’s change of heart is prompted less by a concern for Pakistan’s democracy than by a gnawing fear that Afghanistan is slipping out of control. In the meat of the editorial, sub-titled ‘And then there’s Afghanistan’, the journal candidly voices the fear that Afghanistan could revert to what it was before September 2001 — a State captured by the most dangerous Islamists — and puts much of the blame for this on Pakistan.
While Karzai’s government is “weak and corrupt” and the West has been guilty of “neglect”, it was Pakistan’s ambition to create a friendly neighbour to the West as it battled India over Kashmir that created the Taliban. It is also Pakistan’s refusal to take drastic action in Waziristan to root out the Taliban and al-Qaeda that has prolonged the war against them, and now threatens to make it unwinnable.
To avert this threat, Britain is sending more soldiers to Afghanistan. Other Nato members may follow suit. But as two British expeditionary forces found out in the 19th century, the terrain in southern and eastern Afghanistan is unrelentingly hostile and the possibility of victory is remote. Therefore, as the death toll among Nato and American forces mounts, the urge to make Pakistan a scapegoat will grow. That will undercut Musharraf’s last, crucially important, base of support.
Much of the blame that the West is beginning to heap on him is unmerited. The Taliban was not his, but the US’s creation. Its rise in Afghanistan was a response to the excesses of local warlords in the southern part of the country. Pakistan decided to ride the Taliban horse only in 1994. Today, Pakistan is not so much sheltering the Taliban as failing to prevent its brethren in Waziristan from doing so. But reason seldom impresses those in search of scapegoats.
Paradoxically, Afghanistan is also the root cause of his growing isolation within Pakistan. More and more Pakistanis have begun to fear that if the war in Afghanistan drags on, his alliance with the US could spark a general uprising in Waziristan that could spread to the rest of the federally administered tribal areas and begin the disintegration of the Pakistani State. Musharraf is, therefore, dangerously alone.
One does not need to delve deep into history to see that dictators who get so profoundly isolated do not stay in power for long. Policy-makers in Delhi must, therefore, seriously ask themselves whether India’s interests will be better served by Musharraf’s fall and the weakening of the Pakistani State (or the rise of a hard military regime) that would follow. The answer is obvious: when the authority of the State weakens, the best organised groups in society seize the lion’s share of the spoils. In Pakistan, the main beneficiaries will be the Lashkar-e-Tayyeba and other extremist groups. The former, in particular, will be freed from all constraints in its effort to trigger a communal bloodbath in India.
Even a successor military regime will be forced to look for allies to broaden its base of support, and is almost certain to seek them among the most organised political groups in the country. Thus, no matter who or what succeeds Musharraf, the likelihood of peace with Pakistan, and in Kashmir, will dwindle and that of terrorism and communal violence within India will increase.
India has, therefore, almost as strong a stake in Musharraf’s survival as the moderate elements in Pakistan do. Since the threat to him and, therefore, the common threat to both our countries arises from the prolongation of the war in Afghanistan, it is here, and not in the search for a solution to Kashmir and other bilateral issues, that our cooperation must begin. Our common goal should be to create conditions in Afghanistan that permit the West to withdraw from it and from Pakistan.
We are far better placed to do so than the US and Nato because we, in particular, are not seen as invaders, and because of ages-old and recent ties, in our case with the Northern Alliance and in Pakistan’s with the Taliban. But only if we sink our differences and stop our eternal bickering over each and every international issue, will we be able to convince the West that we are capable of taking on the task of restoring peace to Afghanistan.
Three essential elements of peace in Afghanistan are a cessation of hostilities against the Taliban and engagement with the moderate elements within it; the adoption of a federal Constitution that gives broad autonomy to various parts of Afghanistan under a federal government in Kabul; and vast amounts of aid to rebuild the infrastructure, create employment and facilitate the transition out of opium.
Under Musharraf and Manmohan Singh, India and Pakistan probably have the capacity to reverse the direction of their foreign policies and work together. But first, they have to convince the US that a deepening quagmire in Afghanistan and growing danger of disintegration in Pakistan are too high a price to pay for continuing the hunt for Osama bin Laden and his colleagues that lies at the root of the continuing onslaught on southern Afghanistan.