Author: Irshad Manji
Publication: Cable News Network
Date: December 29, 2007
URL: http://www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/asiapcf/12/29/pakistan.commentary/index.html
In the days after Benazir Bhutto's assassination,
it will be tempting to reach two hasty conclusions: that she was Pakistan's
last great hope and that her geo-politically crucial country has revealed
itself to be inherently hopeless.
On each front, I take a different view.
While far more liberal and democratic than
Gen. Musharraf, Bhutto disappointed moderate, modern Pakistanis with her adherence
to feudal politics.
Writing to me through my Web site, American
feminists say they are "aching" over the loss of "our dear,
sweet, brave Benazir."
I understand the sentiment. But "brave"
is not the word used by Pakistani women from whom I've also heard. They're
hurting more over Bhutto's "self-imposed" conformity.
"She never realized her potential,"
a woman from Karachi tells me. "And not because she was killed but because
when she had the chance, she did not effectively challenge the backward mindset
that has now led to her demise."
For example, during Bhutto's time in office,
Pakistan didn't defy the anti-female rape and adultery laws. Those notorious
ordinances, known as Hudood, took their inspiration from tribal politics masquerading
as Islam.
Imagine the opportunity: Bhutto could have
championed a purer faith by tackling corrupt cultural practices.
In so doing, she might have created allies
among conservatives, who can be persuaded that although Islam is God-given,
culture is man-made.
Last year, a media campaign to strike down
the Hudood Ordinances achieved this fine balance. But not because of her.
And that, say many progressive Pakistanis, amputates Bhutto's legacy.
The fact that cruel laws against women can
be publicly debated at all should suggest that Pakistan has hope anyway. An
exceptional leader can tap into it. History tells us so.
There was a time when Pakistan's democratic
politicians stuck it to the feudal fanatics. Bhutto's father, Zulfikar Ali
Bhutto, was once heckled by a religious fundamentalist.
"You drink alcohol!" shouted the
critic.
"Yes," retorted the elder Bhutto,
"but I don't drink the blood of the people!"
His response captured the spirit of Muhammad
Ali Jinnah, Pakistan's founder. In 1947, Jinnah exuded high hopes for his
people: "You are free. You are free to go to your temples, you are free
to go to your mosques, or to any other place of worship in the State of Pakistan.
"You may belong to any religion or caste
or creed. That has nothing to do with the business of the state. We are starting
with this fundamental principle that we are all citizens of one state... You
will find that in due course of time, Hindus will cease to be Hindus and Muslims
will cease to be Muslims, not in the religious sense ... but in the political
sense as citizens of the state."
Jinnah meant every word of his unconventional
vision because he, himself, lived as a maverick. He adored his non-Muslim
wife, and his sister often appeared with him on the campaign trail. Her visibility
attested to Islam's embrace of women as partners of men.
In the months ahead, the people of Pakistan
will need to recall Jinnah's vision. It may be of comfort know that they're
not alone.
Countless Americans are now asking about their
founders' intentions, desperate to re-discover the better angels of their
country after eight years of George W. Bush.
Still, Pakistan must avoid America's enduring
mistake. The United States lapsed into profound divisiveness following the
assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy.
Many would argue that today's politics of
polarization can be traced to the unresolved trauma of the King-Kennedy murders.
For Pakistan, it's high time to transcend both trauma and tribalism.
I pray that in death, Benazir Bhutto will
be the catalyst for a deeper democracy than she ever advocated in life.
