Is Musharraf Losing his Grip on Pakistan?

Armed Islamists in Islamabad: Spurred on by the slogans booming from the minaret. AFP



Is Musharraf Losing his Grip on Pakistan?

By Rüdiger Falksohn

Koran students at the so-called Red Mosque in Islamabad had provoked the Pakistani government for months, but President Musharraf chose to delay intervention. His decision to bring in the army was intended as a show of force and as a reminder to the West that despite his dwindling authority, there is no alternative to his leadership.
A light-colored, airy and flowing Pakistani garment may be reasonably comfortable when the temperature climbs to 104 degrees Fahrenheit in the shade. But under black material, layered and wrapped to ensure that nothing but a slit remains for the eyes, the same temperatures become nearly unbearable. Someone wearing this sort of outfit, in this heat, topped with a rubber-coated gas mask, must have a pretty good reason -- a reason the Koran students at Islamabad's Red Mosque believe they have.

They have been involved in a heated dispute with the Pakistani authorities for more than a week now, a dispute that has led to the heaviest fighting in the history of the country's capital. The young people, armed with bamboo sticks, guns and Molotov cocktails, initiated the conflict by setting fire to the Environment Ministry and a large number of cars on Tuesday, sending clouds of dark, inky smoke into the monsoon sky. The government, surprisingly tolerant until then, finally decided to take action against the Koran students.

Police and paramilitary forces brought in heavy ammunition and tear gas. The religious students, most of them younger than 25, put on gas masks, barricaded themselves behind sandbags and returned fire, encouraged and spurred on by slogans booming from the loudspeakers of the nearby minaret. The rebellious students, not exactly models of devout placidness, are heavily armed with automatic pistols they took from a group of policemen in a recent attack -- Kalashnikovs, other guns and hand grenades. So far, 24 people have already been killed and 200 wounded after getting caught in the crossfire.

The unrest originated at the Red Mosque ("Lal Masjid") with its two Koran schools, located in a middle-class section of Islamabad. The neighborhood, known simply as G-6, is one of uninspired apartment buildings, but it also borders on an extensive system of parks, a place where the glitter of consumerism is a thorn in the eye of the mosque's Islamist students. The park-like district is also where the president has his office.

The students have been staging their opposition to the government of Pakistani President Pervez Musharraf, 63, practically on his doorstep. In his view of himself as a worldly statesman, Musharraf apparently was at first loath to take the students seriously. Despite the fact that he is no longer being courted as assiduously in Washington as he was shortly after Sept. 11, 2001, Musharraf is still compensated handsomely in return for his decidedly pro-Western stance. Relations with Beijing are extremely close, as the two countries jointly develop giant infrastructure projects. Pakistan's relationship with India, its archenemy and larger rival on the subcontinent, fluctuates between periods of rising and falling tensions.

The general has come under massive criticism for his lackluster efforts to pursue the Taliban in the border regions with Afghanistan, a reticence that stems partly from self-interest and a concern that the group could also turn against him. Musharraf has survived several assassination attempts, including the most recent, when his official aircraft came under fire after taking off from the airport in the northern city of Rawalpindi.

'The American Dog'

Though viewed as a modernizer, Musharraf is far from a democrat. When he came to power in 1999 after a military coup, he forced two former prime ministers, Benazir Bhutto and Nawaz Sharif, into exile. He is about as powerful as a president can be in Pakistan, which isn't necessarily saying much. The students barricaded in front of the Red Mosque called him an "American dog," an epithet that hadn't been used for the first time.

Musharraf opposes radical clerics and has largely withdrawn any previous protection for Muslim rebels penetrating into India from the Pakistani section of the disputed Kashmir region. This has made him unpopular among nationalists, who see him as a traitor to his country. His influence is also limited in provinces like Baluchistan, where powerful tribal leaders operate largely unfettered by government forces, fighting to maximize their profits from the region's rich natural resources.

But the resistance Musharraf is encountering in Islamabad is new and especially alarming. The conflict began four months ago when he ordered the dismissal of Supreme Court Chief Justice Iftikhar Chaudhry, causing nationwide unrest. Chaudhry had become a symbol of opposition to the president. Since then he has traveled from province to province, delivering his message to the masses. A brilliant speaker, Chaudhry manages to transform each of his appearances into a tribunal against the country's leader.

As chief justice of the country's supreme court, the portly, moustache-wearing Chaudhry posed a threat to the trim Musharraf's prospects of being elected for another term in this fall's elections. Chaudhry, as an independent chief justice, could have torpedoed the president's plans to have the old parliament rubber-stamp his reelection. To prevent this from happening, Musharraf accused Chaudhry of abusing his position and of nepotism, and dismissed him on March 9. Chaudhry's fellow justices took to the streets in protest, and tens of thousands of citizens across the country followed suit.

Violent Opposition to Musharraf

Chaudhry seems to relish fashioning himself as a star witness against the president. His appearances routinely turn into emotionally charged spectacles, and his message is always the same: Musharraf's time has run out. His sentiments are echoed in the lyrics to a popular song that is played at Chaudhry's appearances: "Hey man, take off your uniform, your job is done," to which the crowd routinely responds: "Go home, Musharraf!"

The opposition to Musharraf has also turned violent. In mid-May, 41 bodies were counted in the streets of Karachi alone in street fighting that erupted after it was announced that the suspended judge was about to make an appearance. The clashes reveal the growing magnitude of the opposition to the president who, cognizant of the threat, banned all live television broadcasts of Chaudhry's triumphant appearances.

Banished former Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto, sensing that change is in the air, announced from exile that she is considering a challenge to Musharraf in the autumn. Nawaz Sharif has also shown great interest in returning to Pakistan. The news is likely to have played a role in Musharraf's decision to dispatch security forces to stifle the Taliban rebellion in Islamabad.

Part 2: A Self-Appointed Morals Police

Two bearded brothers named Ghazi run the Red Mosque: Abdul Rashid, 43, an acquaintance of al-Qaida leader Osama bin Laden, and Abdul Aziz, 46. The Ghazi brothers are men who carry Blackberrys and, as they insist, have no plans to take Pakistan back "to the Stone Age" or establish a theocracy. But they make little effort to deny claims that they sympathize with the Taliban or that the Islamic Republic of Pakistan is not Islamic enough for their taste. Their goal is to institute Sharia law in Pakistan. Intelligence officials, at least, are convinced that the Ghazi brothers are training suicide bombers.

Since the beginning of the year the Ghazis, supported by roughly 10,000 followers, have become increasingly audacious in voicing their opposition to the secular regime of President Musharraf. They have even claimed the authority to pass legal judgment and impose criminal sentences.

Conservatively dressed young people were dispatched to play the role of guardians of the public morals, their garb alone making it clear that the world, and Pakistani society, is too vulgar and obscene for their taste. Patrolling the areas around the parliament and supreme court buildings, the Ghazis' self-appointed moral police sought to impose their own moral code. They confiscated CDs they considered offensive. They "liberated" supposed prostitutes from their dens of iniquity. They kidnapped police officers and intimidated consumers in the city's shopping centers. And they forced barbers who dared to shave beards to close their shops.

Members of the Lal-Masjid Brigade, a group of excessively devout activists, occupied a children's library on Masjal Street in downtown Islamabad to protest the demolition of illegally built mosques. Establishing an ominous precedent, they removed video and audio equipment from the library and tossed it onto a bonfire.

The library's location next to the headquarters of the Pakistani intelligence agency, the ISI, was no coincidence. The ISI maintains close contacts with the religious leaders known as maulanas. Many senior agents pray at the Red Mosque, and it is widely believed that their patronage was what protected the Islamists from vigorous sanctions until early last week.

But in the end Musharraf who, in 1999, as commander-in-chief of the Pakistani military, brought the country to the brink of military conflict with India, chose to take harsh action against the fundamentalists. Armor-clad troop transporters and snipers were dispatched to the Red Mosque and its two Koran schools, or madrassas.

Police officers set up barbed wire roadblocks. Power and water were shut off to the buildings where students had barricaded themselves. Musharraf ordered that those who were willing to surrender be given amnesty and the equivalent of €60 to pay for their travel home.

When the military upped the ante and blew a hole into the wall of the mosque on Thursday, a move that was followed by a series of targeted explosions on Friday to prepare for a storming of the mosque complex, Abdul Aziz Ghazi issued a public call for the students to surrender -- albeit not entirely voluntarily. The proud maulana, dressed in women's clothing, was arrested while attempting to flee and then paraded on television before the public in full burka attire. By Monday afternoon, well over 100 Koran students were still barricaded on the grounds of the mosque. The scene was reminiscent of the occupation of a mosque in Mecca in 1979 by 1,500 rebels, which ended in a bloodbath when French special forces raided the mosque. To avert a similar disaster, Musharraf ordered his troops to hold their fire to allow the young Taliban fighters to withdraw peacefully. But as soon as Friday evening prayers had ended they were back to exchanging fire with security forces.

On Sunday, the government gave a "final warning" to surrender and security forces fired tear gas and exchanged gunfire with rebels on Monday. But there haven't been any signs of the expected siege of the mosque. With women and children also holed up in the building, many possibly being held against their will as human shields, the government has tried to give them the opportunity to flee through holes blown in the walls last week. On Sunday, unmanned drones were dispatched to take infrared images that Pakistani TV reported had led the government to further delay any plans for a siege.

Was General Musharraf's decision to hold back a question of military logistics? Or did he vacillate too long, possibly in fear of the so-called "ninjas," a group of female Koran students dressed in the robes of avenging angels and determined to commit suicide attacks, holed up in the mosque? "They don't want to go home, they want to be martyrs," said a breathless 15-year-old Maryam Qayyeum, who had fled from the Koran school known for preaching hatred of everything Western and worldly.

Musharraf's true objective was probably to demonstrate his ability to deal with conflicts of this nature both prudently and patiently. The mosque has long been under the patronage of the Pakistani elite. "It was a creation of the government and has almost been firmly under its control," says Kashif Imran, a 28-year-old pharmacist. Like most Pakistanis, Imran is convinced that the crisis plays into the hands of Musharraf by enabling him to demonstrate his abilities, all the while making it clear to his adversaries and supporters alike that there is no alternative to Musharraf.

Pakistan, as it happens, is less of a state with an army than a functioning army with a weak state. Musharraf is in charge of both, at least until the fall elections.

True to form, he has no intention of allowing potential challengers to oppose his bid. Bhutto and Sharif, the two former prime ministers who have made their noble intentions clear with their carefully worded statements, will remain in exile for the time being. For his own security, Musharraf continues his practice of sleeping in a well-guarded military barracks instead of a more luxurious presidential residence. It appears that even elected dictators live dangerous lives.

Translated from the German by Christopher Sultan