Those who welcomed Asif Ali Zardari's civilian administration in Pakistan now feel short-changed, write James Lamontand Farhan Bokhari
ASIF ALI Zardari’s travels abroad say a lot about what ails Pakistan.
This week the country’s president and widower of slain former prime minister Benazir Bhutto embarked on a visit to Paris and London as the flooding catastrophe killed more than 1,500. His departure was seen as inopportune, even callous.
It was not the first time Zardari had appeared to turn a deaf ear to the plight of his country’s people. When several million fled a Taliban advance and subsequent military operation in the Swat Valley last year, Zardari toured the US and Europe. The impression he gives to his people is of a remote man who cares little for their struggle against poverty, Islamist militants or the elements. After a promising start, he now displays the lassitude that has made the civilian leadership a sideshow to the men in uniform who have ruled for most of Pakistan’s 63-year history.
Internationally, those who had welcomed Zardari’s civilian administration are feeling short-changed. Manmohan Singh, India’s prime minister, wishes for a government across the border that might help transform south Asia, yet laments that he has no partner to talk to in Islamabad.
Even British prime minister David Cameron, who yesterday spoke of his country’s “unbreakable” bond with Pakistan after talks with Zardari, called the bluff of its rulers last week by criticising them for “looking both ways” on terrorism. One UK diplomat describes Cameron’s intentions as saying what everyone knows: that this “emperor has no clothes”.
Zardari (55) was pitched into the presidency after the assassination in December 2007 of his far more charismatic wife as she campaigned for a return to power for the Pakistan People’s party. Since taking office in September 2008, he has presided over a nuclear-armed state beset by Islamist militants and economic collapse, always teetering on the brink but never quite plunging into the abyss.
He has even physically sealed himself into the presidential palace on a hillside overlooking Islamabad. Panoramic windows that once looked out across the city are bricked up for fear of missile attacks. He receives visitors in a gloomy half-light.
The smiling consort-turned- president set out purposefully. His government negotiated a financial rescue package with the International Monetary Fund. It sealed a pact with the US, securing fresh military and civilian aid. Zardari offered to withdraw Pakistan’s first-strike nuclear doctrine and forge closer economic ties with India. But within days, Mumbai was attacked by Pakistani militants, smothering hopes of a thaw in relations.
On many of these fronts, the president was quickly reined in by the generals. His hand of friendship to India was withdrawn. An offer to send the head of Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence Agency to India was retracted. An inquiry into his wife’s killing ran into the sand.
Zardari was always more of a freewheeler than a nation-builder. As a young man from a land-owning family in Sindh that also ran cinemas, he enjoyed his leisure. Growing up in Karachi, he was known as a polo enthusiast and partygoer. Cinemas and entertainment are still close to his heart. One of the achievements he cherishes most is bringing Hindi films to Pakistani movie houses.
Zardari married Bhutto in 1987. Less than a year later she became the first woman prime minister of an Islamic country. High office brought controversy. Zardari was dubbed “Mr 10 per cent” and accused of demanding cuts on government contracts. After only 20 months, Bhutto’s government was dismissed on charges of corruption, mostly linked to her husband. Zardari left the prime minister’s house to occupy a prison cell. Corruption trials kept him there from 1990 until 1993.
His fortunes revived in 1993, when Bhutto returned to power after the collapse of a government led by Nawaz Sharif. Three years later, her second government fell and Zardari once more faced corruption allegations.
Although often viewed as an accidental president and a poor orator, some close to him see his rise to power as calculating. “When Zardari announced himself as the PPP’s unanimously chosen presidential candidate, we knew he would stop at nothing to reach the pinnacle of power,” wrote Fatima Bhutto, Benazir’s niece, in a recently released book.
Against the odds, he has since scored some success. Should he hold his current course, he could become the first Pakistani civilian president to serve a full term and be re-elected. A challenge from the opposition Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz has eased.
His supporters argue that he represents Pakistan’s best hope of negotiating a path between military rule and religious extremism.
In recent weeks, Zardari has been introducing his children to world leaders. Asifa and Bakhtawar were taken to the Great Hall of the People to meet Hu Jintao, China’s president. Likewise, 21-year-old Bilawal accompanied his father to the Élysée Palace in Paris to meet President Nicolas Sarkozy.
“[This week’s events] will reinforce the image of a leadership that places personal and partisan interest above that of the country,” says Maleeha Lodhi, Pakistan’s former ambassador to London and Washington. “This flight from reality will be politically costly.” As the floods sweep across Pakistan, Zardari’s unusual protocol has a clear message: blood is thicker than water. – (Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2010)