The trial of Bhutto

Victoria Schofield

Rawalpindi

Already the building has an air of tragedy about it. Once it was East Pakistan House, where the Bengalis came to plead their case before their Punj abi masters. Then, after the war of liberation, it became redundant. Today the undistinguished white marble structure, a mile or so east of Rawalpindi's main bazaar, is Pakistan's Supreme Court, and it still has an atmosphere of impending tragedy and disaster. The appeal of Mr Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, former President and Prime Minister of Pakistan, against his Inurder conviction proceeds there, Saturday to Wednesday each week. It is about halfway through now and none of the Protagonists— the nine justices, the lawyers, the thirty or so regular spectators — seem to !)c enjoying it very much. As law, the appeal Is unfolding tediously: but as politics, it is a gripping drama.

.This month marks the end of General

Zia ul-Haq's first year in office. Mr Bhutto waS deposed in a bloodless coup a year ago. The military came to arrest him again last September and his trial — on the charge of conspiring to murder a political opponent (though it was the opponent's elderly father ‘vho actually died in the subsequent fusillade of automatic fire) — was over by the beginning of March. The death sentence that astonished the whole world — after all, rio elected Prime Minister had been sentenced to death anywhere for nearly twenty Years — came on 18 March.

Now the appeal is well into its second

Month: the entire proceedings of the convicting court have been read out — such is the way of subcontinental appellate procedure: a procedure which, it sometimes seems, is British-based in name alone, and the statements of all forty-one prosecution witnesses have been read again. It looks as though there is another month to go until the justices retire to write their difficult decision — and until then Pakistan waits in t.ense anticipation: no real politics, no investment, no policy making — nothing goes on and will not until 'the problem of

Mr Bhutto' is solved once and for all.

The implications of the case which the Chief Justice, Anwar ul-Haq, and his eight Pistices have to decide evidently require sober consideration — one reason why the atmosphere inside the court is often unduly oPPressive (the heat before the monsoon is Perhaps another). Mr Bhutto is still, despite the oblivion to which he is confined in Prison (at least as far as readers of Pakistani newspapers are concerned), an incredibly Popular figure. His support out in the fields and villages of the plains is, by all accounts, undiminished and even increasing. Execut

ing Mr Bhutto would in all probability bring a hail of vengeance. Those who prophesy the break-up of the country itself, a civil war, a house divided and so on are listened to these days: such is the fear of what might happen once the justices hand down their opinion.

So far the bulk of the Court's time has been taken up with listening to a rerun of the Lahore evidence, with annotations by Mr Bhutto's senior lawyer, Mr Yahya Bakhtiar. The basic strategy of the defence team is to prove the alleged bias of the court, that the atmosphere in which the case was held was poisoned by a prejudiced administration, and that, anyway, the evidence was pretty thin. This task is made more difficult by the defence's uncertainty as to the impartiality of the Chief Justice. He protests and has repeatedly protested that he has 'no personal bias of any kind what-so-ever against the appellant'. Mr Bhutto, although he is not permitted to appear in Court, believes that the Chief Justice has already prejudged his case by maintaining that it has nothing to do with Pakistan's politics, whilst one of the main contentions put forward by the defence is that it is indeed a 'False, fabricated and politically motivated case.' As regards the evidence, some clues have already emerged to suggest to relatively impartial observers that the case was not all that it might have been.

The witnesses, for example. How reliable were they? Most of them were in the pay of the Government that brought the case: most were kept in detention and subjected to unnamed pressures from their captors. Was their evidence genuine? One man who has since come forward, Rao Abdur Rashid (formerly Director of the Pakistan Intelligence Bureau), says in his affidavit that he was approached by the martial authorities and asked, quite bluntly, to fabricate evidence against the former premier. When he was asked how he should cooperate he was told: 'You are yourself an intelligent man. You should understand.' Everything, the persuaders said 'will be taken care of for you, if only you provide us material against Bhutto.' I knew the price,' Rashid adds in the affidavit, 'I would have to pay for telling the truth. I think it is my duty. . . I am also aware of the consequences of submitting this affidavit . . .' As well he might. Rashid came to court the other day, just as a spectator, after which he was taken to jail: he languishes today in the prison at Attock, one of the country's least pleasant. The press has been forbidden to publish details of his petition to secure his release. His wife is under house arrest. Small wonder Mr Bakhtiar — and Mr Bhutto, of course, who speaks from his cell in the Pindi jail — talk about government interference in the case.

The appeal has also brought to light what was said during those days early this year when, because of the alleged 'distemper' of Mr Bhutto, the Lahore judges moved the murder case into secret session. The judges, headed by a warhorse of known antipathy to Mr Bhutto, Maulvi Mushtaq Hussain, said at the time that Mr Bhutto's `extreme' statement in court might lead to a breach of public order. It seems doubtful: just about the most extreme comment he made, according to the transcript presented in court last week was: 'You call this a trial? You call this justice? Forget the fact that I have been the President and Prime Minister of Pakistan. Forget the fact that I am the leader of the premier party of this country. Forget all these things. But I am a citizen of this country, and I am facing a murder trial. Even the ordinary citizen — and I consider myself one — is not denied justice.' Hardly enough it would appear, to justify the conclusion of the trial 'in camera'.

It looks as though the appeal will wind up in mid-August. The conventional assumption among Pakistanis is that the court, though divided, will uphold the Lahore verdict, partly to sustain the reputation and credibility of those Punjabi justices. It could well be, of course, that Anwar ul-Haq and his men will seek to amend the sentence, in accordance with the murder laws, to one of life imprisonment. On merit there is a strong case for acquittal, but lawyers fear the death sentence will stand — to be left to the political masters, or the martial law authorities, to confirm or otherwise in the pure atmosphere of national politics rather than national justice.

If it is to be death, then Mr Bhutto has two avenues of escape. Mr Bhutto will not ask, for mercy, but the Governor of the Punjab can commute, and so can the President of Pakistan. Or, on the advice of General Zia, he can order Mr Bhutto into exile. Five countries have offered sanctuary, even accepting rumoured conditions like a ten year 'no return' clause. Yet the logic of political expediency argues pow erfully for the most extreme punishment. After all, Mr Bhutto is still a charismatic figure, beloved by millions (the same argu ment is used both by those who want him dead, and those who fear the repercussions of his death). The Pakistan Peoples Party is still vastly powerful. An election held tomorrow in the political wilderness Zia has managed to create in the country would probably secure a Pakistan Peoples Party victory. Zia knows this full well.

But long-term considerations have to be taken into account as well. The Afghan coup, for example, has altered some of the critical parameters. The new, marxist leader of the Afghans, Mr Taraki, has something of a following among the students here, and at Peshawar recently students put up posters showing Mr Bhutto and Mr Taraki side-by-side. Similar sentiments were expressed in Karachi, and may well be in elections in the Punjab University. It is a worrying phenomenon for Zia and his junta.

To remove, violently, the hero of the Pakistan peasantry, a man with mythical associations with the regime of Pakistan's western borders, a man with a following in Indian Kashmir — does it make sense? Would it not be to invite disaster, Zia must be asking himself. The Court, if indeed it does pass on the final decision next month, will be doing its justices a great service, and leaving Zia with an awesome problem. For it remains clear that the answer the 'simple soldier' gives to a question he forced, inevitably, upon himself by assuming power a year ago, will be crucial for Pakistan, and the whole region, for a long while to come.