And Then There Was One

It was a jovial scene. President Iskander Mirza and his new Premier, General Mohammed Ayub Khan, sat having tea together for the benefit of newsreel cameramen. Like the good friends they were, they joshed each other, and when Mirza noticed that the general was blinking in the glare of strong lights set up by the cameramen, he chuckled: "You've got to learn to be an actor." Two and a half hours later that evening. President Mirza was stunned to discover that General Ayub Khan was a better actor than he had thought. Three lieutenant generals appeared at the presidential palace, informed Mirza that they had been sent by General Ayub Khan. His message: get out. It was President Mirza's turn to blink, but, nonetheless, he took the blow gamely. "If it is in the interest of the country for me to resign," he said, "I will do so."

Single Helmsman. Next morning, Mirza, who less than a month ago had abolished parliamentary government and decided to rule with the army's help, was off to a holiday spot in the Quetta hills, while servants crated his personal belongings and prepared the presidential palace for its new occupant. At another Karachi mansion, General Ayub (pronounced: eye-yub) strode across the lawn to meet newsmen. Out of uniform, the general was wearing a blue cord suit with a red handkerchief peeping from a breast pocket, a pastel green shirt, a striped tie.

Standing 6 ft. 2 in., with a clipped British mustache and a clipped British accent, he has the look of a slightly heftier (210 Ibs.) Brian Donlevy. Offering the newsmen cigarettes and lemonade, he urged that no one worry about the deposed President because his good friend (and fellow graduate at Sandhurst) was being retired on a double pension and was leaving for Britain, as "it might be too embarrassing for him to stay here." Why had he fired Mirza? "Somehow or other, people felt that he was as much responsible for the political deterioration as anyone else." Besides, the armed farces wanted "a man at the helm that people have complete faith in."

Was democracy dead in Pakistan? "Of course not. Any country which does not have a Communist dictatorship has some form of democracy." What will happen to all the politicians thrown out of office by his coup? ''They should pray a little bit now and ask forgiveness from God for their sins." Pakistan's troubles, said Ayub Khan, arose from the clash of power between the President and the Prime Minister: "I say, after you have elected a man for a fixed period, it is much better to let him have a run instead of pulling his leg every day." Suppose, suggested a reporter, the people did not like all of his new system. Snorted General Ayub Khan: "Lots of people are bloody fools!"

Short War, Long War. On relations with India over the question of Kashmir and canal waters, he was equally inflexible: "We will endeavor to get a satisfactory solution through peaceful means. If we have to resort to extreme measures the responsibility will be that of India." Did he mean war? Answered Ayub Khan softly: "Yes, certainly, even though it would destroy both countries." Clutching his neck in both hands, he added: "If someone is doing this to you, what would you do? Lie back?"

But Ayub Khan, a Pathan brought up in the unruly North-West Frontier province, has no intention of launching his 200,000-man army across the Indian border. A lifetime military man who commanded a Punjab battalion in Burma during World War II, Ayub Khan is aware that he could not conquer India in a short war, and that, in a long one, the overwhelming Indian superiority in manpower and material would be decisive. Instead, he is using his troops to enforce a much needed sense of order in Pakistan. To the vast mass of the people it seemed apparent last week that the new regime is benign and intelligently run. Already the streets are both cleaner and safer since they have been cleared of pimps, masquerading cripples, and the Karachi version of Teddy boys who were addicted to publicly molesting women.

Ayub Khan has rigidly enforced such elementary rules as 1) hospitals must not turn away anyone who is dying, 2) doctors must charge "reasonable" prices for operations. Price controls must be firmly enforced to reduce high profits. Though this is still the honeymoon period, Pakistan seems revitalized by Ayub Khan's mild martial law. Most wrongdoers are lying low to see whether or not he seriously intends reform and, in particular, whether he has the power and the nerve to tackle Pakistan's entrenched and powerful landlords.

After years of parliamentary fumble and economic chaos, in a nation whose halves are 1,000 miles apart, Pakistan at last has a leader. India's Premier Nehru can no longer sarcastically complain, as he did several months ago, that he did not know "whom to address" in chaotic Pakistan. The man he should speak to is General Mohammed Ayub Khan.

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