General in a jacket

Pakistan's military president, General Pervez Musharraf, took off his general's uniform and became a civilian. More precisely, a civilian president: at a magnificent ceremony at the headquarters of the Pakistani army, located in the military enclave of the city of Rawalpindi near Islamabad, Musharraf handed over the gold-plated symbolic stack of the commander to his deputy, General Ashfaq Kiani.

The ceremonial removal of shoulder straps summed up the months-long election epic: the general won the elections on October 6 (the president in Pakistan is elected by a panel of deputies from the country’s parliament and provincial parliaments), but still could not take his post. The then Supreme Court ruled that the official results would be accepted only after judges had finished considering opposition complaints that Musharraf could not go to the polls while retaining his post as army chief.

The consideration dragged on, and when the general realized that the decision might not be in his favor, he declared a state of emergency in the country. Private television channels were closed, opposition leaders were arrested, and troops were sent into the capital and other major cities. And most importantly, the composition of the Supreme Court was updated. Bottom line: Musharraf was finally declared president for the next five years. After which he agreed to take off his uniform. Authorities announce the imminent lifting of the state of emergency. Many newspapers, including Russian ones, hastened to announce that, supposedly, for the first time, a Pakistani military dictator agreed to remove his shoulder straps.

In fact, there was already a similar example in the history of Pakistan, when in the 1960s, Pakistani President Ayub Khan, who also came from the ranks of generals and commanders-in-chief, faced mass demonstrations, opposition protests, and discontent from human rights activists. The authorities then acted with similar methods: hastily introducing a state of emergency, arresting the opposition. Then the state of emergency was lifted, the president took off his shoulder straps and became a civilian leader.

In the late 60s, everything ended badly for the regime: under pressure from mass protests throughout the country, Ayub Khan was forced to announce that he would not stand as a candidate in the next presidential elections of 1970. However, the army came to power again - the next commander-in-chief and general Yahya Khan, but now it’s not about him.

Today in Pakistan, the history of the 1960s is again recalled: the country was on the rise - the economy was growing, the share of national income created not by agriculture, but by industry, increased, the general, even in civilian clothes, was a symbol of the iron hand, the “vertical of power in uniform” that holds the country from decay. They say there was less corruption, they say there was more order. But still Ayub Khan lost.

However, even today this general is very, very popular among many Pakistanis. His portraits can often be seen on the sides of colorfully decorated trucks here, along with those of the Indian film star Ashwarya Rai or the stars of the popular cricket here.

“Indeed, the period of Ayub Khan is often remembered as a period of prosperity, as a time when the country was united (East Pakistan separated in 1971, becoming the state of Bangladesh - E.P.). But it was then that many of the problems of today’s Pakistan were laid down, - says political scientist Ayaz Ahmad. “After all, then the military was convinced that prosperity could be achieved by pushing aside all democratic procedures and institutions, they say, if there was the right leader.”

Something similar, as noted, is happening today. “Both the state of emergency and the demonstrative removal of military uniforms are an attempt to find a legal loophole to promote Musharraf to the next term,” says my interlocutor. According to many Pakistani analysts, this whole emergency situation was started simply to maintain the vertical of power in uniform.

The President explained the need for a state of emergency due to the activity of terrorists and Islamist groups. The authorities provided figures: this year, at the time of the state of emergency, there had been 157 terrorist attacks in the country, in which 667 people were killed and 1,821 were injured. And this does not count losses during direct armed clashes with Islamists in the border areas.

However, the main blow of the emergency fell not on Islamic groups, but on the completely peaceful opposition: in the first hours, more than two thousand activists of opposition parties were detained or put under house arrest. Then reports of arrests began to arrive every day. However, opponents of the regime gradually came to their senses; reports of opposition protests and clashes with the police also came every day from different parts of the country.

However, it is striking that aside from the courts and rallies, Pakistan seems surprisingly calm: no unrest, no excited crowds like those that used to take to the streets for a variety of reasons. On the contrary, there are noticeably fewer people. The country seemed to freeze, waiting for the outcome.

The world is frozen and everyone is worried about the fate of the Muslim state that created the atomic bomb. Some, including Russian analysts, were quick to say that if the Musharraf regime fell, nuclear weapons would end up in the hands of religious extremists.

“It’s sad that the world is more interested in the fate of Pakistan’s atomic weapons than the fate of democracy in our country,” political commentator Tahir Khan notes in a conversation with EJ. “After all, these comments that Bin Laden is about to get the bomb are repeated the assurances of our authorities, who are trying to convince the world that the choice is only between them and the militants."

In Pakistan itself, they regard with irony the widespread fears that bearded men in unwashed turbans are about to seize a bomb and begin waving it left and right. Such cartoons even became popular in the local press.

Radical Islamists are indeed becoming more active, but their influence is not yet great and they are far from united, Tahir Khan believes: “Remember the events in the Red Mosque - no one came to the aid of the Ghazi brothers, who led the students.”

Islamic groups on the border are becoming more active: recently the beautiful Swat Valley, famous for its mild climate and beautiful monuments of Buddhist antiquity, has been engulfed in an Islamic rebellion. But for now the main demand of the rebels is to allow them to live the way they want - “in true Islam.” Until now, none of the militant leaders have stated that they intend to storm the capital in order to seize the keys to the nuclear arsenals.

The leaders of religious parties themselves agree that the military authorities are fighting not against terror, but for power. “Terrorist attacks and armed clashes on the border have been going on for several years, but the military declared a state of emergency for the first time. The regime felt that everyone was against it - both secular parties and religious ones, Musharraf is trying to maintain power,” believes one of the most influential members of the alliance of six leading religious parties, famous religious politician Mia Muhammad Aslam.

Even my liberal-minded friends, who are far from sympathizing with the Islamists, agree with him; in their opinion, what is happening on the border is a response to the military’s attempts to solve everything by force. “Guns cannot solve political and social problems. The more troops there are in the border zone, the more there will be retaliatory shots and explosions; military measures must be supported by social programs,” they say.

At the same time, none of the serious observers denies the danger of Islamism. But it’s not all about the bearded men from the border. Radical ideas are penetrating society and becoming popular among young people. And the reasons for this are not that the militants are becoming more active - this is a consequence. People, especially young people, stop believing in constitutional methods of struggle, in politicians of the older generation and are looking for new ways to solve problems - social, economic, political, and here radicals come to their aid.

Today, across Pakistan there is a front of struggle between radical and moderate Islam, but this front line, like Bulgakov’s devastation, is primarily in the heads, and not in the Swat Valley. “And methods of the authorities, such as a state of emergency, a ban on any peaceful protests, aggravate the situation,” says Tahir Khan.

According to liberal observers, democracy is the only way out for Pakistan. At the same time, many understand that the leading opposition leaders have largely discredited themselves: both Benazir Bhutto and Nawaz Sharif, former prime ministers of Pakistan, who recently returned to their homeland, were once accused of corruption and incompetence. And for good reason. The 90s, in which these two politicians competed with each other, were called by the military authorities the era of “bribery and plunder of the country.”

“Much of these accusations are true. But time must pass for a new generation of politicians to come,” says Ayaz Ahmad. “The main thing is that Pakistanis must learn to choose, be responsible for their choices, learn from their own mistakes. Otherwise, these people in uniform will always They will be confident that they will be able to decide everything for us, for our own good, and democracy is a whim of the stupid West."

“What if, on the wave of this democracy, religious parties come to power?” - I ask Ahmad. He thinks for a long time, and then answers: “In India, radical nationalists were recently in power, and everyone was afraid at first. But then they lost the elections. Voters have the right to make a mistake, however, then they should have the right to correct it,” he says, smiling He.

While talking, we watch a television speech by an official of the Ministry of Internal Affairs who talks about how many oppositionists were detained for violating public order.

“I don’t know about you, but it’s customary for Asian dictators to declare any opposition speeches a violation of public order and call opponents of the regime “bought puppets,” says my friend. “The rallies, however, can be dispersed, the oppositionists arrested, but the problems will not go away,” he adds.

Islamabad