Among many an enduring legacies of the British Raj in India is the metaphor repeatedly drilled into the hearts of its native subjects: ‘The king is dead; long live the king.’

What the denizens of the ‘Raj’ intended to convey to the wogs was the sense that sovereignty went on, unabated and unstinted, despite the passage of a sovereign from the scene. Their intent was crystal clear: the subjects of the Empire must not rejoice the passing of a sovereign, for it didn’t mean relief for them from the long arm of the oppressive imperial order.

The much-feared—and also maligned in the same measure—GHQ in Rawalpindi seemed to have more or less a similar message to convey to the people of Pakistan on the morning of August 18 when General ( R ) Pervez Musharraf finally accepted the writing that had been there on the wall, since last February 18’s general elections in the country, and decided to bow out, but certainly not in grace; no, sir, with no dignity, at all.

Why should a president, in obvious disgrace, have been given a guard of honour is no mystery, when seen through the cracked mirror of the ‘Raj.’

The army and the civil services in independent Pakistan inherited by far the lion’s share of the Raj’s bequest of ruling over the natives with panache, though treating them with disdain. Neither the army nor the civil service had any contribution to make in the epic battle for Pakistan. Both remained faithful and duty-bound to the Raj’s edict till its last gasp. However both were quick to collect the spoils and get to the top of Pakistan’s national scene, after consigning its befuddled politicians to the dungeons of infamy and ignominy. In the intra-contest between the two, the army outsmarted the civilian arm of the oligarchy, simply because it happened to have the barrel of the gun through which, in the immortal words of Mao Tse Tung, all power flowed.

Musharraf bowed out of Pakistan’s centre-stage only a day after the 20th anniversary of his equally controversial military predecessor—soldier of fortune, bounty-hunter, adventurer and carpet-bagger, General Ziaul Haq’s tragic death in an air crash. Had he shown a better sense of history and faded out just a day sooner, the nation of Pakistan would be celebrating Zia’s physical demise and Musharraf’s political oblivion on one-and-the-same day.

Musharraf’s downfall, long- anticipated and so-much-speculated-about, comes barely a few weeks ahead of the 50th anniversary of Pakistan’s first military takeover, by General Ayub Khan, in cahoots with the then President Iskandar Mirza, on that black day of October 7, 1958—a day that should remain forever mired in infamy, so long as the Pakistanis may remember their chequered and brutal history.

However, from that first moment of seizing political power the army hasn’t looked back, to date. In half a century of total domination over Pakistan’s national fortunes, the army has produced at least four Bonapartes, ruling upfront. But even when it may have, reluctantly or for tactical reasons, yielded the front stage to civilian leaders, its power-conscious generals and adventurers have managed to calibrate the process by pulling the strings from behind the scene.

The current chief of army staff, General Ashfaq Pervez Kiyani—anointed and groomed by Musharraf, and also blessed by Washington—may have opted to give primacy to actual soldering rather than getting himself embroiled into the country’s political process. He seems to be a smart and no-nonsense soldier with an astute sense of commitment to the call of his profession. However, he’s not above the dictates of that military culture which thrives on its own primal sense of superiority in the overall scheme of things in Pakistan.

The abiding legacy of 50 years of military intrusion into Pakistan’s political mainstream is that the army considers itself to be the guardian of both the physical and ideological parameters of the country, in the making of which it has absolutely had no role.

Indeed the Pakistan Army isn’t the only one suffering from this syndrome of self-importance and misconceived sense of its own glory.

In my long and meandering diplomatic career, I’d the good or bad fortune (the adjective being entirely subjective) of serving as ambassador in at least two countries, both Muslim, where the military were afflicted by exactly the same overpowering, though misplaced, sense of mission. In Algeria, the army posited itself in the role of a ‘savior’ by blocking the country’s transition to pluralistic democracy, only because its generals swallowed the western propaganda—hook, line and sinker—that the Islamic Salvation Front, led by a messianic Abbasi Madani, would throttle democracy and secularism—a blatantly false and conjured up fear.

I’ll never forget what one of the military generals—not half as tipsy under the influence of alcohol as he was inebriated by the arrogance of power—said to me at one of my farewell dinners, in December 1991, barely a month before the coup d’etat that sent the electoral process packing. He quipped to me, in reference to Madani and his proteges that the Barbous (the derisive term coined by the generals to denounce those of the Madani followers who sported a beard like him) would come to power only ‘over our dead bodies.’

The power thirst of the generals in Turkey—role- models to the likes of Musharraf—is well-known and has been a legend in our times. Every time, in my frequent interaction with the mostly-snooty Turkish generals, when the conversation involved discussion of political parties and leaders I was struck by the vehemence of their distaste for both the parties and the leaders.

The Pakistan army has been tactically more circumspect and manipulative than its Algerian or Turkish counterparts. It may have co-opted civilians in its unbridled lust for governance, for political reasons and in order to put up a better face before the world, but there was never a doubt as to who was calling the shots and whose agenda was being implemented. Musharraf took manipulation to heights never before reached by any of his Bonapartist forebears.

Musharraf’s legacy of ruthlessly bulldozing the constitution of Pakistan and willfully destroying the national institutions is such that he shouldn’t deserve any mercy, at all, from the new rulers of Pakistan as well as its people. There is a long list of his ‘crimes,’ including among others his total sell-out to the spurious ‘war on terror’ largely to get on the better side of Washington, which did help him, personally, a lot and sanctified his illegal seizure of power.

But it’s the army that has once again stepped into the breach and spoiled the party for the likes of Asif Zardari and Nawaz Sharif. The coalition in Pakistan had finally come around to the point to impeach Musharraf and hold him accountable for his acts of commission and omission. However, the army, backed by Bush in his twilight days, has again managed to dictate its terms to the civilian leadership, although for the record the army stood aloof from the political wrangling preceding the decision to impeach the President.

Nothing came out publicly from GHQ about Musharraf’s impeachment when the civilian government made its decision known. But bells had started ringing in both Rawalpindi and Washington. The GHQ didn’t want its former ‘chief’ disgraced. Likewise, Bush wouldn’t stomach the thought of his ‘front-line’ soldier in the war against terror being dragged through the courts. There has, traditionally, been great camaraderie between Pentagon in Washington and GHQ in Rawalpindi. On this occasion the White House has played the stellar role in bailing out ‘Mush’ from the clutches of his nemeses. And if the Bush ‘Tribune’ for Pakistan, the States’ Richard Boucher is to be trusted, Washington will have no objection to Mush seeking shelter in U.S., or anywhere else in the world.

So much as Zardari and Nawaz may feel jubilant over their triumph in getting rid of a cantankerous and conspiratorial Musharraf, the army, in its own inimitable and emphatic way, has robustly put its own cachet of authority on the unfolding scenario. The guard-of-honour to their departing former chief is the GHQ’s way of reminding the new denizens of power corridors of Islamabad that the last laugh in all matters of prime importance to the nation still is its exclusive prerogative.

In simple words, General Kiyani and his cohorts, were telling the politicians that the buck stops at GHQ, and the military’s culture—honed and sharpened over the past half century—of lording over politics is well and truly alive and kicking. The GHQ seems to be rubbing salt into the wounds of the civilian government by standing guard at Musharraf’s security, in the Army House, for as long as he remains in Pakistan after standing down. There’s nothing that the political coalition could do about it.

It’s this mindset of dictation and culture of raw interference in the country’s political process that needs to be weeded out in the national interest, and for the sake of democracy striking roots in a barren land.

What a cruel irony it is, when one thinks of how the poor politicians have been dealt with, even for the crimes they didn’t commit. Two PMs murdered in cold blood, both in the vicinity of Liaqat Gardens, not far from GHQ; two PMs hounded out of power and sent exile; one PM hanged on concocted charges; and at least six PMs dismissed from office in typically Machiavellian fashion. What a terrible legacy.

Compared to this, every Bonaparte in Pakistan’s sordid history has managed to go scot-free, except Zia killed in an accident. No accountability for the generals who tore Pakistan into half of Jinnah’s dream-come-true. Musharraf may soon end up in plush retirement in U.S. while the judges trashed by him are still crying for justice.