The child-assassin who killed Mohtarma Benazir Bhutto on the fateful day that was December 27th, 2008, assassinated more than just the first female Prime Minister of the Muslim world. It was a blow to Pakistan’s hopes of emerging out of a dark decade of political uncertainty towards an era of economic prosperity and democratic stability.
In the aftermath, when the forensic evidence had been washed overnight, so that the perpetrators would never be brought to justice, many felt a bigger loss. The loss one feels ever too deeply - a loss both personal and national, whose ripples reached across both East and West.
Many political pundits since have drawn counterfactuals: what if BB had not been killed that day? What if the corrupt Zardari-led PPP, the obstinate PML-N and inefficient PTI governments had never seen the light of the day? Would Pakistan have done better on economic and social indicators? Would Pakistan have unshackled itself from the fundamentalism that threatens its very existence? History took a different route that day, and Pakistan met a different fate - less hopeful, and more devastating.
It was only a week ago that Pakistan mourned Benazir’s loss yet again, perhaps not just her loss, but also the loss of what could have been. Her death anniversary made this writer question the very legacy of Benazir Bhutto. Was she just a political heiress to the charismatic Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, a pawn in the game of power, simply a politician craving power and wealth? Or was she a trailblazer, paving the way for subsequent generations of women leaders and for a greater demand for democratic rule? Embroiled in allegations of corruption, which she categorically deemed products of political engineering, and never allowed to complete her two terms in office by the then Presidents, Ghulam Ishaq Khan and Farooq Leghari, Benazir still painted a picture of political poise and resilience.
But what was her legacy?
When the apparently ‘rich, spoilt girl from the third world’ went to attend Harvard at the age of sixteen, she cried herself to sleep for an entire semester. Perhaps it was this early test of courage that prepared her to stand tall in the face of adversity and raise her voice for the supremacy of democratic governance in her later years, even when the father she had idolized all her life was hanged after a farce trial.
In Oxford, she ended up serving as the President of the highly prestigious Oxford Union, the first South Asian woman to do so. Oxford has housed many a political heir, but seldom of her character, which is why it still celebrates her every year by hosting a lecture in her honour. The grace and fierceness with which she left the opposition speechless on the floor of the National Assembly, was complemented by her solidarity with the common man and woman, who travelled miles for a glimpse of the BB they adored. A woman educated in some of the most prestigious universities of the world, raised amongst immense wealth and privilege, was much more than that.
Familial politics is not a new phenomenon for Pakistan, but Benazir was. Her election as Prime Minister in 1988 angered the clerics and those known to distort religion for their political interests. How could the Islamic Republic of Pakistan be led by a woman? Giving no heed to their cries, she went on to raise issues concerning women and children, issues that research elucidates that male politicians often ignore in their legislative agendas. Her election increased both the symbolic and substantive representation of women in politics. Her governments worked towards increasing women and children’s access to education, justice, healthcare and created opportunities so women could be an active part of the labour force. The Women’s Bank was a step forward in economically emancipating women by providing women-entrepreneurs loans. Most remarkably, her brainchild—the Benazir Income Support Programme, provided direct cash transfers to poor women.
Perhaps the most significant component of her legacy was her conception of political governance devoid of extremism and intolerance, where constructive criticism and informed compromised led the way. She spoke against injustice wherever she saw it, made no political compromise when it went against her moral values and caused a domino effect with more women in power around the world.
The events of the last few months have made the significance of her legacy even more relevant. Her legacy may be tainted by allegations of corruption and her marriage with Asif Ali Zardari, who ruled rather unsuccessfully in her name after her death, but one thing stands clear: had Benazir survived that day; the rules of the game would have been different. Pakistani politics would not have had a Machiavellian touch, where everything and anything is possible, and fair play is a word unknown. Pakistani democracy would have been stronger, as she was its greatest advocate.
Was she just a political heiress, a politician in the business of power? Or was she a trailblazer gone too soon? One thing is clear: there would still have been a Benazir, even if there had not been a Bhutto. Today, Pakistan needs to revive her legacy more than ever.
In the aftermath, when the forensic evidence had been washed overnight, so that the perpetrators would never be brought to justice, many felt a bigger loss. The loss one feels ever too deeply - a loss both personal and national, whose ripples reached across both East and West.
It was only a week ago that Pakistan mourned Benazir’s loss yet again, perhaps not just her loss, but also the loss of what could have been.
Many political pundits since have drawn counterfactuals: what if BB had not been killed that day? What if the corrupt Zardari-led PPP, the obstinate PML-N and inefficient PTI governments had never seen the light of the day? Would Pakistan have done better on economic and social indicators? Would Pakistan have unshackled itself from the fundamentalism that threatens its very existence? History took a different route that day, and Pakistan met a different fate - less hopeful, and more devastating.
It was only a week ago that Pakistan mourned Benazir’s loss yet again, perhaps not just her loss, but also the loss of what could have been. Her death anniversary made this writer question the very legacy of Benazir Bhutto. Was she just a political heiress to the charismatic Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, a pawn in the game of power, simply a politician craving power and wealth? Or was she a trailblazer, paving the way for subsequent generations of women leaders and for a greater demand for democratic rule? Embroiled in allegations of corruption, which she categorically deemed products of political engineering, and never allowed to complete her two terms in office by the then Presidents, Ghulam Ishaq Khan and Farooq Leghari, Benazir still painted a picture of political poise and resilience.
But what was her legacy?
When the apparently ‘rich, spoilt girl from the third world’ went to attend Harvard at the age of sixteen, she cried herself to sleep for an entire semester. Perhaps it was this early test of courage that prepared her to stand tall in the face of adversity and raise her voice for the supremacy of democratic governance in her later years, even when the father she had idolized all her life was hanged after a farce trial.
In Oxford, she ended up serving as the President of the highly prestigious Oxford Union, the first South Asian woman to do so. Oxford has housed many a political heir, but seldom of her character, which is why it still celebrates her every year by hosting a lecture in her honour. The grace and fierceness with which she left the opposition speechless on the floor of the National Assembly, was complemented by her solidarity with the common man and woman, who travelled miles for a glimpse of the BB they adored. A woman educated in some of the most prestigious universities of the world, raised amongst immense wealth and privilege, was much more than that.
Familial politics is not a new phenomenon for Pakistan, but Benazir was. Her election as Prime Minister in 1988 angered the clerics and those known to distort religion for their political interests. How could the Islamic Republic of Pakistan be led by a woman? Giving no heed to their cries, she went on to raise issues concerning women and children, issues that research elucidates that male politicians often ignore in their legislative agendas. Her election increased both the symbolic and substantive representation of women in politics. Her governments worked towards increasing women and children’s access to education, justice, healthcare and created opportunities so women could be an active part of the labour force. The Women’s Bank was a step forward in economically emancipating women by providing women-entrepreneurs loans. Most remarkably, her brainchild—the Benazir Income Support Programme, provided direct cash transfers to poor women.
Perhaps the most significant component of her legacy was her conception of political governance devoid of extremism and intolerance, where constructive criticism and informed compromised led the way. She spoke against injustice wherever she saw it, made no political compromise when it went against her moral values and caused a domino effect with more women in power around the world.
The events of the last few months have made the significance of her legacy even more relevant. Her legacy may be tainted by allegations of corruption and her marriage with Asif Ali Zardari, who ruled rather unsuccessfully in her name after her death, but one thing stands clear: had Benazir survived that day; the rules of the game would have been different. Pakistani politics would not have had a Machiavellian touch, where everything and anything is possible, and fair play is a word unknown. Pakistani democracy would have been stronger, as she was its greatest advocate.
Was she just a political heiress, a politician in the business of power? Or was she a trailblazer gone too soon? One thing is clear: there would still have been a Benazir, even if there had not been a Bhutto. Today, Pakistan needs to revive her legacy more than ever.
“You can imprison a man, but not an idea. You can exile a man, but not an idea. You can kill a man, but not an idea.”
― Benazir Bhutto