THERE are good things to be said about General Pervez Musharraf, Pakistan's president and army chief, and he is, as he might put it, proud and unstinting in his resolution to say them, over and over, in his cliché-ridden and boringly boastful autobiography, “In the Line of Fire”.
General Musharraf—and there are enough phrases familiar to those who have followed his career to prove that he wrote quite a lot of it—comes across as humourless, vain and insecure. Sentences as smug as, “My career was now well on course, given all my qualifications and achievements” , are spattered across almost every page. There are many references to the president's (allegedly) fine musculature. Any less than glorious event in his life, after at least a refreshingly sinful youth, is blamed on some less worthy individual, a dull superior or jealous peer, whom the author is all too happy to name. And yet, painful though it is to read, this is a quite remarkable book, about dramatic events and, as the occasional sentence lets slip, an interesting and impressive man.
For a start, the book's timing is remarkable. It is unusual for serving heads-of-state to publish memoirs, for good reason. General Musharraf denigrates Pakistan's chief ally, America, for the bullying way in which it manages its foreign policy and for failing to live up to its promises. He is also bafflingly rude about India, given that he has staked his name on making peace with it. Of India's leader, he says: “The initial signs of sincerity and flexibility that I sensed in Manmohan Singh seem to be withering away.” He suggests that Osama bin Laden is not, as often supposed, in Pakistan's wild northern areas, but in eastern Afghanistan. Hamid Karzai, Afghanistan' s leader, whom General Musharraf accused of resembling an ostrich last week at a bad-tempered summit in Washington, DC, is not pleased by the book. Neither is almost anyone in Pakistan, although it is selling briskly there (see article). General Musharraf scorns most of the country's civilian politicians—tactless , if justifiable—includin g some of his supporters.
Insults aside, the book does not tell us much that is new. Most interesting are the details of events leading to the arrest in Pakistan of several top terrorists, including Khaled Sheikh Mohammed, the architect of the attacks on the twin towers, and other al-Qaeda members; General Musharraf says 689 al-Qaeda members have been arrested, of whom 369 have been handed over to America. That is a testament to the efficiency of Pakistan's security services, even though Mr Musharraf accuses America of having failed to provide the technical kit it promised.
Such digs at the superpower may be for the benefit of Pakistanis, many of whom find General Musharraf too quick to leap to its bidding. But the book is meant for a Western audience, by whom, it is clear, General Musharraf considers himself ill judged. It contains bold treatises on the political and economic reforms he has overseen since stealing power in his 1999 coup. These include a messy, but promising, effort to devolve power to the local level, and the creation of elected councils with fixed quotas for women representatives. There are also quotas for women in provincial and national assemblies. General Musharraf has given a boost to female emancipation in Pakistan, although the full impact of the changes he has introduced will not be felt soon. Even better, he has delivered broad structural improvements to Pakistan's economy, which had been in a desperate way. This was not, as he suggests, the result of his own genius. He is economically semi-literate. But he can take credit for appointing wise technocrats.
In short, heaven forbid that anyone unfamiliar with Pakistan should wholly trust this book. General Musharraf is as partial as any campaigning politician. One monstrous example is his account of a short war with India at Kargil in 1999, when he was merely army chief. It began when Pakistani state-sponsored jihadist militants attacked across the front-line in contested Kashmir, drawing a ferocious Indian response. General Musharraf calls this an over-reaction— but if it were, it was understandable— and he says that India's army came off worse in the fray, even to the point where the military ran out of coffins for their dead. Yet he omits to mention the hundreds—some say thousands—of Pakistani fighters who were slaughtered in a humiliating retreat.
Disingenuously, he says the war at Kargil was an important catalyst in the peace process that followed: if that is true, it is because Pakistan, not India, was forced to the table by the drubbing it took there.
An election is due in Pakistan next year, and General Musharraf is increasingly unpopular. This is because of a litany of perceived failures, including a muddle-headed war he has prosecuted in the northern areas, and rising inflation. It is also because, despite their appalling experiences of civilian leadership, and their acquiescence in his coup, Pakistanis have tired of army rule.
The bad news in this book is that General Musharraf refuses to recognise this truth: “The Pakistan Army has always been held in high esteem as the only powerful stabilising factor in the nation,” he insists. He does not seem to show any inclination to quit his twin role, as he is constitutionally obliged to do.
In the Line of Fire: A Memoir.
By Pervez Musharraf.
Free Press; 354 pages; $28.
Simon and Schuster; £18.99
From The Economist print edition
|