How Zulfiqar rose as Yahya fell after Pak defeat in 1971
Among the more surreal moments in Pakistani history there was the occasion 50 years ago when the nation was addressed by the man who wasn’t there. He was, obviously, sequestered somewhere. But for reasons that have never been publicly shared, Gen. Yahya Khan’s exit speech could not be broadcast on television. It has been claimed that Yahya Khan, the de facto President and head of the military junta that then ran Pakistan in his capacity as the “Chief Martial Law Administrator”, and a couple of other leading generals were no longer bothering to add water to their favourite tipple, so it’s perfectly possible that the outgoing dictator was unfit to be displayed on national television.
It wasn’t just the leadership’s beverages, though. Pakistan, too, was on the rocks, after a ceasefire on one battlefront and an unconditional surrender in its eastern wing, which had been proclaimed as the new nation of Bangladesh. Which was the wisest option at the time — even though it came as a shock to most West Pakistanis, who had for months been primed for a victory, through fake news sanctioned by the government and unquestioningly transmitted by much of the media.
Yahya Khan was persuaded to step down. He might have preferred to shuffle off without a public whimper, but an address to the nation was deemed necessary to formalise the transition. That posed a dilemma for Pakistan Television (PTV). Once the powers that be had concluded that the outgoing dictator was only fit to be heard, not seen, instead of changing the schedule or relaying the audio alongside stills of the speaker’s visage, it was decided to display a transistor instead — artistically filmed, if memory serves, from various angles.
The absurdity of the experience was mitigated by relief at Yahya Khan’s departure. The only obvious civilian alternative had by then flown back from New York, where he had kept the United Nations entertained with his dramatic antics. On the way home he had lapped up the imprimatur of Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger in Florida, and the Shah of Iran in Tehran. In New York, Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto told the UNSC: “My country beckons me.”
At the UN, Bhutto had also declared: “I am talking as the authentic leader of the people of West Pakistan who elected me at the polls in a more impressive victory than the victory that Mujibur Rahman received in East Pakistan…”
That’s obviously nonsense. Sheikh Mujib’s Awami League accomplished almost a clean sweep in the eastern wing. In the west, Bhutto’s Pakistan People’s Party had performed impressively well in Sindh and Punjab, but failed to make substantial inroads into what was then the North-West Frontier Province and was practically ignored in Balochistan.
Notwithstanding that, it was clearly the most successful party in the western wing, and Bhutto could credibly claim a democratic mandate in what remained of Pakistan. There are many who claim that this was always his aim in refusing to strike a deal with Mujib that would have made it incredibly hard for the Yahya junta to thwart the convening of a constituent assembly. At the same time, though, had the Pakistan Army truly been determined to make way for a democratic dispensation, Bhutto would have found it hard to stand in the way.
The two sides played off one another, and the consequence was a catastrophe. It is intriguing, though, to find — in Stanley Wolpert’s biography — that in his talks with Mujib before the
Bengali leader was freed, after Bhutto had already risen to power, that Zulfiqar was still probing the possibility of a Mujib-led confederation. Sheikh Mujib — who had been kept in the dark about events since his incarceration in March — wasn’t overtly hostile to the idea, saying he opposed an Indian occupation, but sensibly declared that he would need to consult his people before agreeing to anything.
The big question was what was to become of what was left of Pakistan. Bhutto’s first speech as the President — as well as the Chief Martial Law Administrator and foreign, finance and interior minister — was not televised, as far as I can recall. I remember listening to it in bed, way past my usual bedtime, and the bit about picking up the pieces — “very small pieces” — has stuck in the memory.
It did not turn out too well. Bhutto was a bundle of contradictions ranging from radical impulses to reactionary instincts. He briefly held near-absolute power. The new Pakistan he liked to talk about was within his grasp. But he let it slip away.