Benazir Bhutto's Legacy

I first met Benazir Bhutto at a political rally north of Karachi in November 1988. Three months earlier, Pakistan ruler Zia ul-Haq had died in a plane crash, setting up Pakistan's first contested elections in more than a decade. Zia had hanged her father, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and jailed her, which gave Benazir Bhutto the political potency of a martyr, and she was running hard on that image for election to Parliament.

It would be an immense understatement to say that Bhutto, then 36, was immensely popular at home in southern Sindh province, and with followers of her Pakistan People's Party across the country. These people treated her like a rock star, and she and her husband, Asif Zardari, behaved like they were. Bhutto, educated at Harvard and Oxford, promised to bring democracy and its fruits home, and a lot of people -- including much of the West -- believed her. I know that I did. I went on to meet her a few times in three years as the Pakistan-based Newsweek correspondent.

Nineteen years later, Bhutto had served two terms as prime minister. She was removed both times by the nation's strong president for alleged corruption and incompetence. To be fair, her political rival, Nawaz Sharif, was removed twice as prime minister in intervals with her during the 1990s on similar charges. And when Pervez Musharraf came to power in a coup in 1999, both were sent into exile.

As a candidate for prime minister again the last two months, Bhutto made the same promises of democracy. The vows had worn thin -- people knew that she had failed twice as prime minister to transcend her feudal roots. At heart and in behavior, she was imperious, and her strongest sense was one of self-entitlement.

But Bhutto's legacy, I think, is the hope she brought the country back in 1988. Young, beautiful, and confident, she promised to fearlessly take on those who would challenge democracy. And she continued to do so until the end.