Soon after General Pervez Musharraf seized power in Pakistan through a coup in October 1999, a former Indian intelligence official wrote a personality profile of the new man in power. One sentence read: “Musharraf, the commando, believes in achieving his objective by hook or by crook, without worrying about the means used.” That somewhat harsh assessment rings true in the light of subsequent events, from his about-turn on the Taliban to playing the double game of running with the hare and hunting with the hounds when it comes to Pakistan’s role in the “war on terror”. Seizing whatever opportunity the moment has offered, he has managed to cling to office. In that respect he remains very much the commando that he was trained to be. Hence the next question, posed by the same official: “Has the commando turned into a statesman?” He certainly seems to be trying, but of more immediate interest is the query: “Has the commando turned into a saleable author?” Going by the brisk sales his book is enjoying—a somewhat fictionalised version of history—it would appear so. When the dust settles, President Musharraf will be a much richer man.
It is hard not to admire his unusual combination of make-believe and chutzpah, though some would say that it typifies Pakistan itself. To say that India started the Kargil war, and that it lost, requires a galactic distance from reality, while the belated admission that Pakistani regulars were involved reflects on his country’s previous lies on the subject. He says he was surprised at the US and western powers demanding complete withdrawal from Kargil—evidence of the tactician not understanding strategy. And to not recognise his own role in the failure of the Agra summit—the public grandstanding that boomeranged, the misreading of his counter-party’s mood—is more evidence of a make-believe world. His rapid backtracking on the claim that the US Central Intelligence Agency paid Pakistan large sums for handing over Al Qaeda operatives adds now to the question-marks over the book’s claim to being non-fiction. What is more interesting though is the reflection a head of state casts on his own country when he paints it in mercenary colours.
Had it been someone else, the general may have been called a deluded fool. But the Pakistani president, even if deluded, is a smart alec who does not hesitate to use a White House press conference to indulge in a publicity gimmick for his book. Perhaps all that he is after is some money from Simon and Schuster. And that surely is the point that India needs to grasp, instead of hyper-ventilating over what he has written. The retired chief of army staff, General V P Malik, who was not in India when the Kargil incursion came to light and who returned home only four days after being informed, has argued that the government should respond to President Musharraf. He has said that failure to do so would cause demoralisation in the army. This seems as implausible as Gen. Musharraf’s claims, because the Indian army is made of sterner stuff. Other accounts of what happened already cast doubts on a good deal of what the general has said. In short, read the book if you wish, but don’t take it too seriously.
Read it, forget it
Business Standard / New Delhi Sep 29, 2006, 23:48 IST
Content Guide
