Pakistani Women's Flawed Icon
Slain Ex-Premier Bhutto Raised Expectations for Advancement but Largely Failed to Fulfill Them

By Emily Wax
Washington Post Foreign Service
Saturday, January 12, 2008

LAHORE, Pakistan -- Wrapped in tattered wool blankets, Bashiran and her neighbors trekked for three hours from their dusty rural villages to wait amid the polished offices and whirring computers in a bank here in Lahore, one of the many branches set up across Pakistan by former prime minister Benazir Bhutto.

Looking down shyly at her modest cotton clothes and cracked plastic sandals, Bashiran, a 45-year-old mother of six, shuffled up to the teller's window for a $300 loan -- money that would allow her to pay for a donkey cart and rent it out to other poor women in her village. Her plan was working, she said, except for a haunting reality that made her feel sick to her stomach.

"I promised to give my husband and son the rupees, since they told me I had to," she said, as her friends gently touched her arm in empathy, adding that their male relatives had also demanded control over their loan money. "It's my duty. Life for women of Pakistan is not our own. The men are always the head of our bodies and hearts."

The scene playing out in the bank's lobby was a testament to the complex and often confounding legacy that Bhutto left Pakistan upon her recent death and to the ways Pakistani women remain subservient to their brothers and husbands, fathers and sons.

As the first woman elected leader of a Muslim country, Bhutto raised expectations for the advancement of women. But she struggled to overcome deep-rooted cultural obstacles; the institutions she created were enmeshed in problems of their own and have failed to free women from the bonds of tradition.

While Bhutto's assassination Dec. 27 has left many Pakistani women mourning, it has left others with a sense of disappointment.

"To me, Bhutto wasn't a feminist icon. She was just another corrupt Pakistani politician," said Chand Rahiem, 25, who sat with a group of female friends in a cafe. "Pakistan has no heroes or heroines. It just has a very complex and troubled history -- and now a very confusing and unclear future."

Bhutto's two turbulent terms as prime minister, from 1988 to 1990 and from 1993 to 1996, were indeed stained by charges of mismanagement and graft. Her husband, Asif Ali Zardari, who is now running her Pakistan People's Party, was nicknamed "Mr. 10 Percent" for his alleged habit of accepting bribes.

Allegations of malfeasance extended to the women's bank that Bhutto helped create. In the 1990s, some of the bank's tellers were accused of conning illiterate women into signing for loans exceeding the amount they actually received. Some critics say the bank continues to take advantage of poor, vulnerable women, charging them exorbitant interest rates.

Bashiran, who said she signed loan papers without knowing what they said, was saddled with a whopping 16 percent rate.

Bhutto's supporters acknowledge her shortcomings but also point to what she was able to achieve.

"Despite her flaws, one impact she did have is that she started to talk about women's issues, things that no one thought could be talked about," said Asma Jahangir, a human rights advocate who has been both a critic and an admirer of Bhutto. "And Pakistanis began to see issues about the treatment of female servants or rape or bonded labor less as the ranting of obscure women's groups and more an important part of societal debate."

Across South Asia, women are plagued by paradoxes pertaining to gender. The subcontinent has had more female leaders than any other region in the world, yet the health care and education available to its women are among the world's worst. About 70 percent of Pakistani women are illiterate. Domestic violence is still considered a private, family issue. And beatings, along with acid attacks, still occur in 80 percent of rural homes, according to a study by the country's Human Rights Commission.

The contrast between the achievements of female leaders and the lowly status of ordinary women has its roots in the region's dynastic traditions. Professions here are inherited, in politics as in industry. In India, former prime minister Indira Gandhi came into politics through relatives; in Bangladesh, former prime minister Khaleda Zia did the same. Bhutto inherited her station in political life from her father and mentor, Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto.

"In South Asia, we tend to specialize in women leaders. But they always hail from a feudal hierarchy. They are schooled and raised in those elite circles," said retired justice Nasira Iqbal, daughter-in-law of the Pakistani poet and political leader Allama Iqbal and one of the first female judges appointed in Pakistan, under Bhutto in 1994. "Bhutto was an icon for women. But she was also a very astute politician who had to balance conservative forces. She couldn't just be a women's rights activist."

In the West, Bhutto, with degrees from Radcliffe and Oxford, became a symbol of female empowerment in a Muslim country. Yet at home she was Pakistan's princess and a "daughter of destiny," as she often described herself -- an icon of Pakistani royalty more than of a women's revolution.

In 1988, Bhutto won a seat in Parliament from the city of Peshawar largely through the support of men. Women were often prevented from voting. She gave birth while prime minister after keeping her pregnancy secret for as long as she could to avoid attacks from conservative Islamic parties.

Supporters of Bhutto, who was just 35 when she first came to power, point out that she had to deal with the legacy of her predecessor, Mohammed Zia ul-Haq, a military dictator who for a decade oversaw the imposition of laws that subjected women to unfair treatment.

In addition to establishing a nationwide bank to help women become self-reliant, they said, she helped open police stations for women and created special seats reserved for women in the national and provincial assemblies.

"Bhutto was up against extreme challenges. She wasn't even in office long enough to be judged the first time," said Azma Zahid Bukhari, 31, who is running for a seat reserved for a woman in the provincial assembly in Punjab province. "But I was 10 years old when Bhutto first became prime minister. You can't even imagine the pride that sends to a girl. Everyone in my school was talking about it, and the boys actually got the message: Women could rule Pakistan."

But Bhutto was also criticized for failing to improve the status of Pakistani women through legislation; activists were disappointed that she was unable to effect the repeal of the Hudood Ordinance, which required rape victims to produce four male witnesses before a court would convict and left women open to charges of adultery.

"Bhutto wanted to do so many things for women. I believe she really did have a deep vision for that," said Iqbal, the retired justice. "But the reality was that she didn't have the coalition government that could make significant progress."

Bhutto's complex legacy can be seen inside the Lahore branch of the First Women Bank, which has 35 branches and the slogan "The World's Only Bank for Women."

The women working busily at their desks are like many in cosmopolitan cities such as Lahore. They are members of Pakistan's elite, as comfortable in blue jeans as they are in salwar-kameez, the loose traditional dress. Many have attended American universities. Back in Pakistan, they can sit with boyfriends at cafes and delay marriage for careers -- options they would not have elsewhere in the Muslim world.

But the women applying for the loans come from the impoverished countryside, where girls are still raped in feuds to bring shame on their families.

Looking over their money, some of the women said they might keep a little cash for themselves, away from their husbands and brothers. They praised the bank for giving them a chance and said they would always admire and love Bhutto.

"Bhutto was our protector," said Bashiran, who tucked the cash into her bra. "To us, she's at least tried to help."