[In the last month, the civilian and military
authorities, led by the Sindh Rangers paramilitary force, have begun an
unparalleled assault on his authority and the network of armed street enforcers
that underpins it. Mr. Hussain has been living in self-imposed exile in London
for nearly a quarter-century.]
By Declan Walsh
and Zia Ur-Rehman
 |
|
Supporters held portraits of Altaf Hussain,
leader of the Muttahida Qaumi
Movement, in Karachi, Pakistan, last year.
|
LONDON — Hours before he was scheduled to be executed
last month, the Pakistani hit man made an incendiary accusation.
Speaking into a video camera at a remote desert jail,
Saulat Mirza, a death-row convict from the port city of Karachi, said his
orders to kill had come from Altaf Hussain, the city’s most powerful and, until
recently, untouchable political leader.
“Altaf Hussain directly gave us the murder
instructions,” Mr. Mirza said in footage that was broadcast on several
television news channels later that evening in March.
It was enough to earn Mr. Mirza a last-minute reprieve,
as the authorities investigated his claims. Mr. Hussain, for his part, called
it a conspiracy to damage his image.
But in Karachi, Pakistan’s largest and most volatile
city, the accusations were seen as further evidence that the political winds
were violently shifting against Mr. Hussain after decades of iron-fisted
dominance.
In the last month, the civilian and military
authorities, led by the Sindh Rangers paramilitary force, have begun an
unparalleled assault on his authority and the network of armed street enforcers
that underpins it. Mr. Hussain has been living in self-imposed exile in London
for nearly a quarter-century.
On March 11, Rangers in balaclavas raided Nine Zero, the
fortified headquarters of Mr. Hussain’s party, the Muttahida Qaumi Movement,
confiscating weapons and files. One political worker was killed by gunfire
during the raid, and several others were taken into custody, some on murder
charges.
On the political front, Mr. Hussain has come under
attack from the opposition leader Imran Khan, who has
started an aggressive foray into his electoral heartland. On Friday, in a
symbolic challenge, Mr. Khan held a small event just a few hundred yards from
Mr. Hussain’s party headquarters.
In London, the British police are continuing to press
criminal investigations of Mr. Hussain and his inner circle. On April 1, a
senior aide, Muhammad Anwar, was arrested on suspicion of money laundering.
Mr. Hussain, who was arrested in connection with the
same case in June, underwent further questioning at a London police station on
Tuesday. His bail has been extended until July.
Not long ago, any of those shocks would have caused an
immediate shutdown of Karachi, a city of 20 million people where Mr. Hussain’s
ability to empty the streets at an hour’s notice has long been a sign of his
immense influence.
But this past month, life has largely continued as
normal. Muttahida’s militant wing — organized groups of armed supporters who
carry out extortion and intimidation, and are seen as the enforcers of Mr.
Hussain’s authority — has melted off the streets.
The news media, which previously treated the party with
caution, has aired criticism of the party. (Among those arrested was a
Muttahida supporter charged with the murder of Wali Khan Babar, a prominent television
journalist who was shot dead in his car in 2011.) And in the city’s political
back rooms, senior Muttahida officials have begun to quietly consider the
possibility of a new leader — an unthinkable idea until recently.
“The fear factor is gone,” said a senior party official
who, like several others, spoke on the condition of anonymity out of fear of
retribution.
But the upheaval has also brought worries of new
instability in a city that is awash with armed groups. Noting that Karachi is
in a “state of flux,” the newspaper Dawn warned in an editorial this month that “when
the chips fall, they may not do so without considerable violence.”
The moves against Muttahida are part of a broader effort
to stem a cycle of political and criminal violence that has left Karachi prone
to Taliban infiltration in recent years. Militants disrupted election
campaigning in 2013, leading to a crackdown that has broken several Taliban
cells, according to police officials and ethnic Pashtun community leaders.
Now the authorities have turned their attention to the
armed wings of the city’s political parties, of which Muttahida is by far the
largest.
But few are writing off Mr. Hussain, a wily political
player with a long record of survival, just yet.
For much of the 1990s, Mr. Hussain’s supporters waged a
street war against the security forces in Karachi, only to ultimately re-emerge
stronger than ever.
Since then, he has enjoyed unquestioned support from the
city’s Mohajir population — mostly Urdu-speaking families that migrated from
India in 1947 — by playing on their sense of grievance at the hands of local
ethnic groups, creating a magnetic cult of personality in the process.
This time, however, the challenges also come from
within. Mr. Hussain’s stewardship of the party has become increasingly erratic
recently, several officials said.
In addresses to party rallies in Karachi, delivered over
the phone from London (his usual mode of communication with the party
faithful), he frequently appears to be under the influence of alcohol, they
said.
During one lengthy tirade on March 30, Mr. Hussain
publicly resigned his leadership and urged his followers to take up charity
work, only to reappoint himself hours later.
“We never know if it’s going to be happy hour or sad
hour,” said one senior official who privately advocated a change in leadership
and spoke on the condition of anonymity.
To many, it seems clear that the Pakistani military, which
has a long history of meddling in politics, is trying to engineer a change in
leadership. Journalists say the videotaped accusations from Mr. Mirza, the
death-row convict, bore the hallmarks of a military intelligence operation.
In political circles, the army has started to take
informal soundings about a possible successor to Mr. Hussain, the same party
official said.
“They want to keep the M.Q.M., but without Altaf or
anyone directly associated with violence,” he said.
But experts warn that such a strategy is fraught with
danger. “If the M.Q.M. implodes, what will happen to Karachi?” said Laurent
Gayer, author of “Ordered Disorder and the Struggle for the City,” a recent
book on Karachi. “It seems that few people are thinking about the consequences
of a militarized, fragmented party.”
In any event, Mr. Gayer said, Mr. Hussain is unlikely to
be unseated through conventional politics, and therefore much hinges on the
outcome of the long-running police investigation in London.
Mr. Hussain looked unsteady as he pushed through
reporters at the entrance to the London police station on Tuesday. He has said
a large sum of money found at his house — about $650,000, party officials say —
came from legitimate political donations.
But his circle faces potentially greater peril from a
related police investigation into the murder of Imran Farooq, a former ally who was stabbed to
death outside his London home in 2010. On Monday, the Pakistan Interior
Ministry announced that a suspect in the case had been arrested.
Still, the British police seem mainly interested in two
other suspects, both Muttahida supporters, who fled to Pakistan from London
just after the killing in 2010.
The police have not brought charges in either case. But
just the possibility of a prosecution has visibly destabilized Mr. Hussain’s
party and has weakened his grip on Karachi.
For now, though, the most immediate threat is political.
The opposition leader Mr. Khan, whose party is close to the military, and
Muttahida are running in an important by-election in Karachi on April 23. Mr.
Khan has declared his intention to “liberate” Karachi from Mr. Hussain.
“It is time for M.Q.M. and Altaf Hussain to decide whether
they want to be a democratic party or want to do politics through a militant
wing,” Mr. Khan told reporters last week.
Few believe the choice is that simple. But even among
Muttahida officials, there is a gnawing worry about what will happen if Mr. Hussain,
who long commanded the respect of figures like Mr. Mirza, suddenly loses
control.
“The militants are confused and worried,” another senior
party official said. “They don’t want to follow instructions from a man who
says one thing in the morning, and another in the afternoon. That’s a worry for
us all.”
Declan Walsh reported from
London, and Zia ur-Rehman from Karachi, Pakistan.
