Mass Rallies Used by Bhutto Become Perilous Endeavors
By Griff Witte
Washington Post Foreign Service
Monday, October 22, 2007
KARACHI, Pakistan, Oct. 21 -- For a few hours Thursday, Pakistan glimpsed its political future, and it looked like this: A crowd of hundreds of thousands spilling into the streets for a rollicking but peaceful welcome to former prime minister Benazir Bhutto that, when replicated across the country, would propel her all the way back to her old job.
And then the bombs struck.
Now, Pakistan's future is looking about as hazy as it has this entire tumultuous year, with no clear direction for elections that are supposed to be held by January but have suddenly been thrown into doubt. In a country where political strength has long been judged by crowd counts, the very nature of politicking in Pakistan is also in danger.
"The bombing will have a profound impact on the culture of what political participation is in Pakistan. People will be looking over their shoulders and be doubly wary whenever they plan a rally," said political analyst Ayaz Amir. "A crowd of 2,000 in a closed hall in the U.S. would be considered a success. Not here. The massive street rally is very much a part of political culture in Pakistan."
The changed dynamic poses a particularly thorny problem for Bhutto. Her return to Pakistan, after eight years of exile, unquestionably places her in the cross hairs of Islamic extremists, and she believes that rogue elements of the government security services are also plotting against her. But she sits at the center of a political movement -- the Pakistan People's Party -- that more than any other group has traditionally relied on mobilizing huge numbers of supporters to rally the public to its cause.
While Pakistani President Pervez Musharraf has the military behind him and hard-line religious groups can organize their voters in the mosques, Bhutto has only the streets. Now that venue may be too dangerous.
"At the moment, you're not looking at mass rallies," a Western diplomat in Karachi said.
Security has long been a concern in Pakistani politics. The depth of Bhutto's predicament, however, has come into focus only in the past 72 hours, following the twin bombs late Thursday night that killed 140 people and injured hundreds more. Bhutto herself only narrowly escaped the attack, which, as one of the worst acts of political violence in the country's history, has cast a dark shadow over her efforts to win back the prime ministership.
Up to that moment, her homecoming had been unreservedly joyous and proved that Bhutto could still bring crowds into the streets like no other Pakistani politician. Since then, she has had to severely restrict her activities, staying cloistered in the family compound in Karachi. She has ventured out just once, on Sunday to visit some of the wounded at Karachi hospitals. But the trip was not publicized in advance and was marked by intense security, quick exits and small crowds.
It is still not known who was behind Thursday's bombing, and Bhutto on Sunday said she wants the government to seek international help with the investigation. She has said she expects her enemies to try again to kill her.
Her original plan in returning had been to tour the country, leading massive public rallies wherever she went. Now her camp is struggling over whether it is safe for her to even go to Larkana, her ancestral home and the source of her most fervent support.
In her public statements, Bhutto, who fled Pakistan in 1999 to avoid corruption charges that have since been quashed by Musharraf, has been defiant. She has insisted that while her party may have to take extra precautions, its basic strategy remains unchanged. "We have to modify our campaign to some extent because of the suicide bombings," Bhutto said Sunday, according to the Associated Press. "We will continue to meet the public. We will not be deterred."
But even if Bhutto decides to take the risk, it is unclear whether the government will allow her to hold the sort of mass rallies that are her staple. Pakistani officials say that in the interest of public safety, they will not permit street rallies and will instead limit political parties to holding tightly controlled public meetings.
Officials have promised that parliamentary elections will be held as scheduled, meaning no later than mid-January. But those plans could go awry if there are more attacks.
A four-person international election assessment team led by former U.S. senator Thomas A. Daschle (D-S.D.) reported Sunday that political violence could increase in the run-up to the vote, with potentially disastrous consequences if candidates cannot get out to campaign.
"If the integrity of the elections is seriously compromised and not seen as representative of the will of the people, the nation could face increased civil conflict and the military could become further entrenched in the nation's political life," the U.S.-funded National Democratic Institute warned in a statement Sunday.
The government has suggested that instead of relying on mass rallies, candidates should take to the airwaves to make their case. But even as televisions become more prevalent in some parts of the country, televised pitches have limited impact in many areas, including the poor and rural northwest where Islamic extremists are especially active and electricity is often lacking.
"The majority of the people in my constituency don't have television sets in their home, so how will I reach them?" said Maulana Siraj-ul-Haq, a leader of an alliance of religious parties that has its strongholds in the northwest. "Television campaigns are a phenomenon of developed countries, and they also require a lot of money."
But the alternative may be costly in a different way.
The bodies of those killed in Thursday night's attack continued to be buried Sunday. In the northwestern village of Charsadda, Diyar Khan's family and friends laid him to rest in a simple service at which he was eulogized as "a martyr of democracy."
Khan was unusual: The 33-year-old was a die-hard backer of the secular-minded Bhutto in an area where most people support a hard-line religious party.
"He was a sincere worker of the Pakistan People's Party, and that's why he went to Karachi for Benazir Bhutto's welcome, despite his family's disapproval," said Hayat Ahmad, a cousin. Khan and hundreds of other Bhutto supporters were dancing around her truck when the bombs exploded.
Khan, a laborer, left behind a wife and six children, the youngest of whom was born just over a week ago. "His eldest son is just 11 years old, and now there will be no financial support for them," Ahmad said. "I don't know how his widow will cope."
Special correspondent Imtiaz Ali in Charsadda contributed to this report.
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