Pakistan's State of Emergency

A Pakistani lawyer throws back a teargas shell towards the police during a protest in Lahore on November 5, 2007.
Arif Ali / AFP / Getty
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American support for president Pervez Musharraf has always come with a cover story to gloss over the awkward fact that one of the U.S.'s most important allies happens to be a military dictator. General Musharraf may have seized power in a coup, say his defenders in Washington, but he's our sort of guy, the kind of man we need in the fight against terrorism--and, by the way, he has always said he will return his country to democracy. In other words, the Pakistani strongman is crucial to both of the U.S.'s key goals in the Muslim world: fighting terrorism and spreading freedom.

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But in the past year, that optimistic tale has seemed less and less credible. As terrorist groups in Pakistan have grown stronger and bolder, the general has spent a great deal of time battling institutions of a democratic society, such as the judiciary. On Nov. 3, Musharraf went the whole hog, suspending the constitution, muzzling the independent media, sacking several top judges, jailing many secular politicians and sending his troops into the streets, where they bludgeoned protesting lawyers, human-rights activists and frustrated citizens. Calling the state of emergency, said Musharraf, was vital to fighting rising extremism and ending the paralysis of government by "judicial interference."

Having written the Musharraf story, the Bush Administration now appears captive to it. The White House could only wag a disapproving finger at the Pakistani dictator, urging him to give up his military uniform and hold elections. "I certainly hope he does take my advice," Bush said. What little reproach there was in the President's comments was undermined by his description of Musharraf as a "strong fighter against extremists and radicals"--and by swift reassurances from Administration officials that there would be no slowing in the flow of American aid to the Pakistani military. Stronger opprobrium and sanctions are out of the question because the Administration believes there are no alternatives to the dictator. Paul R. Pillar, a former CIA counterterrorism official and now a visiting professor of security studies at Georgetown University, says, "Musharraf is really the only horse in the race."

Whether that is true or not (and many neutral observers would say the latter), the Administration has known for some months that its horse was heading for the knacker's yard: Musharraf's popularity at home has plummeted since March, when he suspended the independent-minded Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, Iftikhar Muhammad Chaudhry. That sparked massive protests by moderate Pakistanis, the people who had once backed the general against al-Qaeda terrorists and Taliban militants. With a general election looming in Pakistan, the Bush Administration began to write a new cover story, giving its hero an unlikely sidekick: exiled opposition leader and former Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto, whom Musharraf had long accused of corruption and misrule. The new script called for Musharraf to step down as head of the army but stay on as President, with Bhutto returning home to become Prime Minister. The power-sharing plan played to the U.S. line that Pakistan was working to restore democracy--never mind that another exiled former Prime Minister, Nawaz Sharif, was kept out of the deal.

The one big hurdle was the Supreme Court, which had begun to challenge the government's extrajudicial detentions and examine potentially corrupt privatization schemes. In July it reinstated Chaudhry, and when the Musharraf-Bhutto deal was announced, the court questioned the general's right to drop a slew of corruption charges against Bhutto and to keep Sharif in exile. In early October, after Musharraf was re-elected President by the Parliament and state assemblies--the opposition parties all boycotted the process--the court began hearing challenges as to whether the vote and Musharraf's candidacy were constitutional. The decision was meant to be handed down before Nov. 13, but Musharraf took no chances: one of his first acts after declaring the emergency was to depose the Chief Justice and ask 16 other judges to sign an oath supporting the emergency. Seven refused immediately and were placed under house arrest, as was Chaudhry.

Then Musharraf unveiled a cover story of his own. In a rambling, hour-long speech to the nation, he invoked Abraham Lincoln and claimed he had been forced to act because of a rise in extremism in the country. And he accused the Supreme Court of "weakening the government's resolve" to fight terrorism by ordering the release of 61 suspected terrorists in the government's custody. But it wasn't the extremists who bore the brunt of Musharraf's wrath. Indeed, even as his regime cracked down on lawyers, journalists and human-rights activists, it agreed to a cease-fire with a powerful militant leader who had taken 213 soldiers hostage in the lawless northwestern region. The irony was not lost on Asma Jahangir, Pakistan's best-known human-rights activist, who wrote in an e-mail from house arrest, "Those [Musharraf] has arrested are progressive, secular-minded people, while the terrorists are offered negotiations and cease-fires."

Bhutto, meanwhile, tried to have it both ways. She criticized the general and called for demonstrations against him but carefully kept open the possibility that their deal might still be on. Speaking with TIME, she said she wanted an immediate return to the constitution, for Musharraf to step down as army chief, and for elections to go ahead in January as planned. "My faith has certainly been shaken," Bhutto told TIME. But if her main demands are met, she continued, "then we can say that all that has occurred, we will let it drop."