Pakistan's President Musharraf is facing the worst crisis of his seven-year rule -- brought on by a truculent chief justice, writes Graham Usher in Islamabad It was a triumphant entry. The motorcade, flocked by flag-waving barristers, edged toward the Supreme Court in Islamabad. In the front car sat Iftikar Mohamed Chaudhry, Pakistan's "suspended" chief justice, looking emotional. Clearing a pathway were rows of cheering, black-suited lawyers, throwing flowers. As the tumult pressed through the gates to the courthouse, the police were swept aside like jetsam before a tide. "Lead Justice, and we will follow," cried the crowd. Chaudhry had come to defend himself before the Supreme Judicial Council (SJC) against charges of misconduct referred by Pakistan's President-General Pervez Musharraf. "But I am not here merely to clear my name," he told reporters. "This is a battle for the supremacy of the constitution and the rule of law in the country." For many Pakistanis, the battle is between the judiciary and the army, and whether the former can be independent in a society ruled by the latter. For Musharraf, it is the worst domestic crisis he has faced since he took power in a military coup in October 1999. "Go Musharraf go!" was the other ubiquitous cry outside the Supreme Court. The crisis began on 9 March. Dressed in military fatigues Musharraf summoned Chaudhry to the Army House in Rawalpindi. He told the chief justice that he could either resign or face undisclosed charges of misuse of office by the SJC. The chief justice denied the charges and refused to resign. Musharraf then rendered him "non-functional" and appointed an acting chief justice in his place. According to experts, both moves were illegal. But given Pakistan's history of military rule they were not unusual. What caused outrage was the treatment meted out to the chief justice and those who came out to defend him. For the next four days Chaudhry was kept a prisoner in his home, held incommunicado from his colleagues and generally deemed guilty until proven innocent. When lawyers took to the streets in Lahore protesting his cause, they were beaten to a pulp by the police and had their chambers stormed. When independent Pakistan TV stations aired programmes about the case they were pulled by the government. The paranoia reached a peak in Islamabad on 16 March, the day Chaudhry went before the SJC. All roads to the capital were blocked. Hundreds were arrested in overnight raids, including leaders of political parties. Those who somehow snuck inside the cordon were doused with tear gas. Those who had the temerity to film the confrontation -- like Pakstan's Geo TV station -- had their studios ransacked by lath-swinging police officers, acting on orders from "above". The assault went live around the country, forcing Musharraf himself to go live, condemning the "deplorable" attack on "press freedom". It cut little slack with Pakistan's forces of law and order. The next day the police trashed a lawyers' demonstration in Lahore, injuring 50. In seven years of military rule rarely has the state looked so draconian and so scared. But what made it so? When Chaudhry was appointed chief justice in 2005, few expected much change in a judiciary that has historically legitimised military coups rather than challenged them. But from the outset it was clear that Chaudhry had an independent streak. In June 2006, he reversed the privatisation of Pakistan Steel Mills, citing legal violations by a cabinet committee on the sale. Pakistan Prime Minister Shaukat Aziz chaired the committee. Chaudhry has also taken up the cause of the "disappeared", those hundreds of Pakistanis who have vanished without a trace in the "war on terror". In December he procured the release of 25 "disappeared", giving lie to Musharraf's claim that they were not held by Pakistan's intelligence agencies. But, say sources, the main motive for Chaudhry's ousting was that he could not be trusted to "do the needful" thing, ahead of Pakistan's elections later this year. Musharraf is known to want the existing parliament to re- elect him for a second five-year presidential term. He also wants to remain president as well as the army's chief of staff. There is a petition looming before the Supreme Court that describes both ambitions as unconstitutional. Musharraf will want a chief justice pliant enough to rule in his favor. In February Chaudhry told trainee military officers that, in his opinion, Musharraf could not continue as army chief beyond his present term as president. "That was why he was suspended," comments one government insider. It is difficult to predict where the crisis will go from here. Chaudhry says he won't resign. And, whatever Musharraf does, he will seem to lose. For now, only two things are clear. In less than a week Pakistan's chief Justice has not only become a figurehead for Pakistan's beleaguered legal community, a civil society exhausted by seven years of military rule and opposition parties too divided to reverse it. He has also exposed that Musharraf's regime remains what it was the day after he took power -- a military dictatorship that acts like what it is, when challenged. "Caesar has shown his face," commented Pakistani analyst Moeen Cheema, on 15 March, the ides of March. "It is not a pretty sight".
