Is
she just a sad child mourning her father? Is she a young
woman angry with a cruel and unjust system and pointing
out its faults? Is she the future of Pakistan’s
politics? Or is she part of fiction being written by a
hidden hand for the future of Pakistan, but made to look
like fact?
These
are some of the questions that come to mind when
observing Fatima Bhutto.
Answering
these questions, in any case, are difficult in an
environment where telling fact from fiction has become
tedious. Fatima Bhutto is certainly trying to create an
alternative narrative which may one day lead her to
power. She doesn’t seem alone in her effort but seems
to be helped by important people who introduce her to
policy-making circles in the US and other capitals of
the world. Fatima, these people believe, is the future
of the PPP. But then she denies having any desire for
power.
Murtaza
Bhutto’s daughter says she does not want to follow her
aunt Benazir Bhutto and become a part of dynastic
politics. One is tempted to feel tenderly towards the
young lady who probably has little knowledge of how
dynastic politics operate. The magic is not just in the
name but in a person’s ability to connect with people
and become a force which can deliver, though imperfectly.
She probably doesn’t realise that it was not her
father or uncle or even her sole surviving aunt who
represented Bhutto’s legacy.
It
was Benazir Bhutto alone, who, for the people,
represents the legacy of political empowerment. Had
dynastic politics been as Fatima imagines, the people of
Larkana would have obliged Zulfikar Ali Bhutto Jr and
voted for Ghinwa particularly after Benazir’s death.
People connect with Benazir Bhutto — the woman who
went to jail, led processions and went on hunger strikes
during General Zia’s dictatorship.
This
was the time when Fatima’s father was busy creating
his imagined revolution. Perhaps, she echoes the anger
and disappointment of her father who could not displace
his sister after he returned to the country. Murtaza
Bhutto never regained sanity and was a liability for the
government and the local bureaucracy. Surely, Fatima is
mistaken when she sees him as a victim. But Murtaza’s
daughter is certainly no simpleton. She is consciously
part of the fiction which is being created around her: a
young Bhutto who denounces dynastic politics and
disagrees with all that her aunt stood for.
At
home in Karachi, she uses her Bhutto name and Zulfikar
Ali Bhutto’s relics to draw the intelligentsia and
local and foreign media into a conversation. Despite all
her rhetoric about democracy and shunning of elite
politics, she is a symbol of that very system. Hopefully,
Fatima realises that people are attracted into a
conversation with her not just due to her pretty face
and demeanour but because of her brand name.
Unfortunately, she is party to the nefarious plan to
replace the memory of Bhuttos that many amongst the
elite would like to hate.
The
older Bhutto and his daughter represent a political
legacy that no one may be able to replicate. Both
Bhuttos were similar. The British High Commissioner in
Pakistan during the mid-1960s, Sir James Morrice,
described the older Bhutto as “a lucifer, a flawed
angel”. But both the father and daughter were like
Marlowe’s Dr Faustus — victims of their own
intellect.
Nevertheless,
they are remembered for their ability to connect with
ordinary people. What distinguishes Benazir from other
leaders including female political icons such as Golda
Meir, Indira Gandhi and Margaret Thatcher is her ability
to keep the woman in her alive. More importantly, she
was a doting mother and a kind aunt who facilitated
Sassui Bhutto’s US citizenship, and her studies there.
Benazir
even reached out to Fatima despite the latter’s anger.
At this juncture, one can sympathise with Fatima and
advise her not to build her fame on the dead body of her
aunt.
