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An extraordinary encounter with Musharraf

As Pakistan votes tomorrow in its postponed elections, Jemima Khan is granted a rare interview with Pervez Musharraf, the country's beleaguered leader.

Sunday, 17 February 2008

'Since you were so kind as to greet us in London at Downing Street last month, the President would like to return the favour," announces Major-General Rashid Qureshi, President Pervez Musharraf's PR man over the phone. Only in Pakistan could the government's head of spin be a retired major-general. He is referring to my last encounter with the President on 28 January – when, along with a 2,000-strong, placard-waving, slogan-jeering mob, I protested on the main road outside 10 Downing Street while Musharraf discussed democracy with Gordon Brown over lunch inside. On the way in he waved at us. Clearly he's a man who is not afraid of confrontation. Much to the justifiable fury of every journalist in Islamabad, he has now granted me an exclusive half-hour interview despite or perhaps because of the fact that I have recently described him as one of the most repressive dictators Pakistan has ever known.

On the way to the Camp Office in Rawalpindi, I cross the bridge and pass the petrol station, which mark the spots of two recent attempts on the life of the now deeply unpopular President. I have a horrible fear that, bamboozled under the spotlight of his renowned charm, I may start to simper. My ex-husband, one of the President's most vocal critics, has already told me he thinks this is all a terrible idea. "It will be misinterpreted in Pakistan. Besides, you'll be too soft on him," he said.

The Camp Office turns out to be an old colonial building which used to be the HQ of the northern command under the British. With its delicately carved, wooden, double-height ceilings, sweeping central staircase, marble floors and ornate carpets, it's not hard to see why the President chose this as his private office in Rawalpindi. His residence is just up the driveway.

A dozen straight-backed men in uniform – red waistcoats over starched cream kurtas – are ready to greet me outside. The President, I'm informed, is not quite ready so I am led to the staff office for a "tea break" with a group of army officers who make up his presidential office team. Musharraf's personal assistant, a dashing, grey-haired, light-eyed naval commander, and a jovial head of security, also a young army officer, joke that the delay is just an excuse for them to do a little preparatory brainwashing.

A bright yellow cake, some intimidating-looking chicken vol-au-vents and chai (milky tea) are wheeled in. Major Qureshi, Musharraf's Alastair Campbell, tucks in happily and regales me for an hour with stories about Soviet-era Pakistani military triumphs and the magnanimity and general excellence of his boss. "Any country in the world would like to have this person as their leader," he tells us proudly.

After an hour I am shown into a huge sitting room, divided in the middle by a latticed wood screen to segregate ladies from men at more formal functions. Musharraf enters. The last time I saw him in the flesh he was in his full army regalia. Somehow his civilian clothes have diminished him. I find his brown business suit and dainty penny loafers which have replaced the sturdy army boots almost unsettling. He seems to have lost both height and swagger. And his body language seems just a touch defensive. The immaculate hair also troubles me. Boot-polish black, artfully grey at the temples, it shows signs of some work.

I start the interview on an unfortunate note. "Given that the last time you saw me, I was protesting outside No 10, I'm grateful that you've granted me this opportunity. It's quite a coup." Bad word. There's a moment's silence while it hangs in the air.

The President, it turns out, is very disappointed in me. For a moment I think I have been called to his office for a sound ticking-off. "I was disappointed. Very disappointed," he says. "I was disappointed because you ought to be knowing our environment ... what Pakistanis are like ... what is our society. Well, it's acceptable if a person has never visited Pakistan and doesn't know Pakistan to have ideal views [presumably, he means idealistic views]. But I thought you ought to be knowing what Pakistan is ... This is not an ideal society."

He goes on. Mindful that I have only limited time and that there's a man in uniform sitting at the back of the room already checking his watch before I've even asked my first question, I politely interrupt. I remind him that when I first met him he too was an idealist. There is strange symmetry to this visit. I last met Musharraf three days before the last elections in 2002. And now here I am, five and a half years on, three days before elections on Monday. Back then, especially when Musharraf first came to power, I was a somewhat naive supporter. Selfishly, I was relieved when he succeeded came to power by military coup on 12 October 1999. Nawaz Sharif, the prime minister he deposed, had tried to have me jailed on trumped-up, politically motivated charges of smuggling – a non-bailable offence in Pakistan.

I suspect it was to intimidate my ex-husband, who at that time was a noisy critic. I had scarpered to London before I could be arrested and was able to return with my two children to Pakistan six months later only after Musharraf seized power and the charges against me were duly dropped. More importantly, though, Musharraf took over with the express aim of cleaning up Pakistani politics. He despised the corrupt politicians as much as anyone. He immediately set up his own national accountability bureau and declared that his mission was to hold the corrupt accountable.

I'm also disappointed, I tell him. The corrupt got off scot-free. And now it looks as though he will shortly be doing business with the very same politicians he wanted to get rid of.

Disarmingly he agrees – something he does a lot of. And I sense it's genuine rather than appeasement. He argues that he had no other choice but to deal with the existing leaders of the main parties. This is a little disingenuous. The national reconciliation ordinance which he passed in October 2007 effectively guaranteed lifelong immunity from prosecution to corrupt politicians such as Benazir Bhutto, her husband Zardari and others, and enabled her to return to Pakistan to contest elections. He asks if he is being recorded. I say yes. He hesitates, then answers tellingly, "Yes, I agree with you [that charges should not have been dropped]. But then Benazir has good contacts abroad in your country, who thought she was the future of the country."

I press him further. Surely even in spite of pressure from outside, given his feelings about the effects of corruption on Pakistani politics, those charges should never have been dropped. There should have been a proper judicial process.

I put this to him. "No," he replies, "because they would have all joined and then I would have been out." At this point he looks a bit wild eyed. He quickly adds that, of course, being in power has never been his ultimate goal. How much easier it would be, he adds wistfully and a touch unconvincingly, if he'd just resigned to play golf.

A uniformed bearer offers fruit juice and warm roasted almonds. I down my juice in one gulp, then worry it may have looked unseemly. In the past four years I'd forgotten that Pakistani women are expected to overplay their femininity. I'm lounging like a bloke and downing pomegranate juice like lager.

Often he fails to see the irony in his own words, which can be unintentionally comic. Several times I have to suppress a smile. When confronted with the suggestion, for example, that he will have to work with a coalition government consisting of some the most infamous crooks in Pakistan, he responds with great sincerity, "I'm not running a martial law here. What can I do?" He adds, "My role as a president is simply the checks and balances – the seatbelts ... a sort of father figure to the Prime Minister but I won't have to see him for weeks."

The image he paints of himself as a benign, legitimised dictator is at odds with the recent Human Rights Watch report that accuses his regime of hundreds of enforced disappearances, arbitrary detentions, harassment, intimidation and extrajudicial killings

Later when I point out that his old opponent Nawaz Sharif, leader of the Pakistan Muslim League (PML-N), has vowed that if elected he will reinstate the judges who were unconstitutionally deposed by Musharraf, he retorts incredulously, "It is not a dictatorship here! How can you reinstate judges if you become prime minister? How?" This rhetorical question comes from a man who on 3 November dismissed 60 per cent of the superior court judges, including three chief justices, in anticipation of their ruling against his re-election as President while still head of the army. Many remain under house arrest.

He seems to be someone who feels painfully let down and misunderstood. This is particularly the case when he talks about my ex-husband, Imran. "You know, I liked him. But he is the most unrealistic person. I wanted to support him." He mentions him a few times in the interview. And the strange thing is, I detect hurt. President Musharraf, dictator, despot, guardian of the West against al-Qa'ida – and all I can see are the wounded eyes of a betrayed lover when he talks about my ex. Under his regime, in the past year, Imran has been held under house arrest, jailed, then released and has had his movements restricted. Hell hath no fury like a general scorned.

I change the subject. Last time I visited him here in Rawalpindi he gave me a spookily accurate prediction of the imminent election results, which suggested information more than insight. Who will win this election? His answer is definitive. The PML-Q (the party otherwise known as the King's Party, assembled by President Musharraf himself six years ago to legitimise his "managed" democracy) allied with the Muttahida Qaumi Movement will "certainly have the majority. Whether they'll be able to form a government is a question mark." This contradicts all the recent opinion polls, which have shown that the popularity of his favoured party is right down, at just 12 per cent. I point out this out to him.

He dismisses the polls. They are biased, conducted by local organisations that are against him. "They have been abusing me right from the beginning and you will never get good results from them."

He seems increasingly paranoid. "The media have let me down ... The NGOs are against me. I don't know why. I think I have been the strongest proponent of human rights ..." In fact, the only people who are not against him, according to him, are the Western leaders who he says are "absolutely supportive" and "express total solidarity".

I don't doubt Musharraf's bravery or even his initial good intentions. Nor is anyone underestimating the scale of the problems that Pakistan faces today.

If anything, the impression is one of amateurishness and of a naivety that would be endearing if it had not been so profoundly damaging to his country. And in recent months he has become belligerent with local journalists. In London last month a respected Pakistani editor was castigated for asking about Rashid Rauf, the escaped terror suspect, and the fact that many believe he was deliberately freed by the police. Such impertinent journalists "should be roughed up", he was alleged to have told the assembled crowds in response.

When I ask about the deposed chief justice, Iftikhar Chaudhry, who is still under house arrest, he denounces him as "the scum of the earth – a third-rate man – a corrupt man". And the lawyers' movement? The lawyers have vowed to continue protesting on the streets and boycotting the courts until the deposed judges are reinstated and the constitution is restored to its pre-3 November status. "With hindsight," he replies solemnly, "it was my personal error that I allowed them to go and express their views in the street... We should have controlled them in the beginning before it got out of control." To those more used to seeing beards and white robes at protests, the images of suited, bookish-looking lawyers fighting off police batons were a memorable spectacle.

Musharraf mentions democracy a great deal. He seems sincere. He is genuinely likeable. But it seems he just can't help himself. You can take the general out of the army but not the army out of the general. It reminds me of the Aesop fable about the scorpion and the frog. The frog gives the scorpion, who cannot swim, a lift across the river. Halfway across, the scorpion stings him. "Why did you do that?" asks the frog. "Now we'll both die." "I'm a scorpion; it's my nature."

As I leave he presents me with a clock inscribed "from the President of the Islamic Republic of Pakistan". It seems an inauspicious gift from a man whose time may be up. He shakes my hand. "It will be the saddest day for Pakistan if Benazir's crooked widower is in power by Monday," I say. As the President walks away, he looks back. "At least we part on agreement."

Special report in tomorrow's 'Independent'

Independent

Kosovo Declares Independence From Serbia
Parliament Unanimously Approves Declaration Proclaiming Statehood CBS

Dozens dead, wounded in Kandahar bombing CNN

Pakistani polling stations, party workers targeted; 2 dead CNN

James Orange, civil rights activist, dies at 65 CNN

Grenades thrown at EU buildings as Kosovo celebrates independence Mail

The £7m number plate Metro

Jemima Khan in Islamabad: The politics of paranoia

After the killing of Benazir Bhutto and two deadly suicide attacks at the weekend, today's elections in Pakistan will take place in an atmosphere of fear and repression. Jemima Khan reports from Islamabad

Pakistani elections are excellent value for the spectator. There are the huge, colourful jalsas (rallies) providing free entertainment; the raucous but generally good-humoured demonstrations at which effigy-burning is a staple; the slanderous mud-slinging between candidates who will soon be making expedient last-minute deals with each other; and the endless titillating conspiracy theories.

As the wife and constant Achilles' heel of a hapless former contestant, I, too, have been in the line of fire. In 2002, I was apparently a Rushdie-loving apostate after admitting I had read his novel Shame. The previous time, I was a Zionist conspirator with a £40m election budget provided by my (half) Jewish father to further the cause of Israel. Yet the fact that Pakistan has become a nation of conspiracy theorists is hardly surprising, given the decades of fraudulent and mendacious politics.

Despite low voter turnouts, Pakistanis have always been highly politicised. Everyone from the rickshaw driver to the phal wallah (fruit seller) has an opinion and a well-rehearsed rant. And of course, the conspiracy theorists have had plenty to chew on since the brutal assassination of Benazir Bhutto on 27 December. "Benazir's husband, Zardari, gained most from her death," confides my driver on the way back from the airport.

This version is vehemently disputed later in the day by a shopkeeper and ardent PPP (Pakistan People's Party) supporter, who tells me, with the definitive authority of an insider, that "Musharraf killed Shaheed BB because she refused to do a deal".

Over dinner, I'm then soberly informed that "extremist elements were certainly responsible" by a civil servant. A fourth theory is proffered the next night: "Most probably the ISI [the inter-services intelligence agency] facilitated the terrorists," concludes a family friend as everyone at the table solemnly nods.

And on how she died, there are still more conflicting theories – "There was a bullet wound to her head. Sherry Rehman's best friend told my friend that she bathed her dead body and saw it with her own eyes. It's a big government cover-up." "Nothing doing," counters a relative of my ex-husband in the police force. "It was the explosion that fractured her skull and killed her." And so on.



This is my third consecutive election campaign in Pakistan. This time, I'm here only as an ex-wife and an observer. And, I suppose, as a bit of an irritant to the establishment, as in recent months, since the imposition of "the state of emergency" on 3 November (a military euphemism for a complete break with the constitution) and the subsequent arrest of the father of my children, I have attended a number of protests in London – most recently outside Downing Street to greet Pervez Musharraf on his way for lunch and a conflab with Gordon Brown. (He waved at us from his bullet-proof Mercedes.)

But the conspiracy theories and dining-room debates in Pakistan are all gratifyingly familiar. "I don't like any. They're all bad," followed by a shrug, is the most common response to my question about who people will vote for. Everything else about this election feels different, though. For a start, there's hardly any campaigning. Were it not for the banners and the party posters depicting Bollywood-style photos of shiny, smiling, big-haired candidates, you wouldn't know an election was about to happen. Campaigning is taking place largely in the media.

Above all, there is a palpable sense of fear. Pakistan used to be a country that looked frightening from the outside but felt safe when you were there. That has changed. Even in the clean, green capital, Islamabad (which, as the joke goes, is situated 10 miles from Pakistan), people are more reluctant to venture into public places.

The military operation against the Lal Masjid (Red Mosque) in July, in which more than 1,000 madrassa students and sympathisers were killed, including women and children, brought the battle against extremism uncomfortably close to home for diplomats and the air-conditioned elite. And Benazir Bhutto's assassination, and the ensuing riots, had an even greater impact on the prevailing sense of insecurity. There were 56 terrorist acts last year compared with six in 2006.

In a country with a literacy rate of just under 30 per cent, going out to talk directly to the masses is vital – which was the reason why Benazir continued publicly to address her supporters. Maulana Fazlur Rehman, a bearded mullah (and leader of the opposition in the last Assembly) is so anxious that he has resorted to addressing his rallies by telephone. He is now a prime target, as it transpired that he had been secretly making deals with Musharraf.

My ex-husband, Imran Khan, a vocal critic of Musharraf, who has already been arrested and then released, has now been banned from entering Sindh province – and he's not even contesting elections, as he's part of the coalition of 27 parties that has boycotted them. On the streets widespread disillusionment is expected to result in a turnout of just 30 per cent – the lowest in Pakistan's history.



In the absence of a neutral election commissioner, caretaker government and judiciary, as well as restrictions on the media, elections are unlikely to be as "free and fair" as Musharraf would have his friends in the West believe. The President's own election is legally dubious. He dismissed and imprisoned 60 per cent of the Superior Court judges in anticipation of their ruling against his re-election. He replaced them with more pliant types.

Many candidates have been unlawfully eliminated, including Nawaz Sharif, PML-N, or Pakistan Muslim League (Nawaz), and his brother, the ex-chief minister of Punjab, Shabaz, who both had their nomination papers rejected. There is controversy about every aspect of the electoral process.

This time, to pre-empt charges of rigging, the votes will be counted and the results announced at each polling station, as opposed to being sent to a central office. That hasn't stopped people from commenting that the only transparent thing about these elections is the new ballot boxes, imported from China. Rigging (of the old-fashioned kind; ballot box stuffing, etc) is expected, especially in areas that are less accessible to international observers, and in the women's booths, which are less busy.

But I sense a shift in people's attitudes. It seems that the recent anti-Musharraf protests since November have emboldened even the middle classes. This has led to fears that there will be Kenya-style riots if the PML-Q – which, according to polls, only has support of 12-14 per cent – wins. Musharraf has pledged that if the parties opposing him win a majority, he will resign. So this election is a referendum on Musharraf; 75 per cent of Pakistanis want him to resign immediately and only 8 per cent believe he is the right leader.

For most, the primary concerns are food inflation (at 12 per cent), unemployment, shortages of wheat, petrol and electricity. However, many in Pakistan also view Musharraf as a lightning rod for Islamist terrorism. In the Federally Administered Tribal Areas, what began as a fight against al-Qa'ida and the Taliban is becoming a Pashtun uprising against the army. And the majority sympathy is with the Pashtuns.



The reality is that Musharraf needs the extremists. And the extremists need Musharraf – an unpopular dictator – to give them something to rally against. The great fear in the West is the doomsday scenario of nukes falling into the hands of a Pakistani Taliban; a fear that Musharraf has consistently exploited to his advantage.

Despite his claims, the most likely outcome of this election will be once again be a moderate, if corrupt, government. The religious parties, strengthened at the last election, have proved to be as corrupt and inept as the rest and are expected to have their previous vote halved.

Equally, support for al-Qa'ida, Bin Laden and the Taliban all dropped sharply. Only 1 per cent of voters, according to one of last week's polls, would, if it were running, cast their ballots in favour of al-Qa'ida. The Taliban would get just 3 per cent.

The likely winners, boosted by the "martyr factor", are likely to be the PPP, followed by the party led by ex-prime minister Nawaz Sharif, the PML-N. There will have to be some uncomfortable but expedient alliances between sworn enemies. Sharif jailed Zardari. Musharraf jailed and exiled Sharif, Musharraf jailed Zardari, Zardari's wife jailed Sharif's father. Sharif brought corruption charges against Zardari's wife after she brought charges against him. And so on. It would be amusing to see this group all wrangling with each other for power, if only the consequences were not so dire.

The possible candidates for prime minister resemble a police line-up. Benazir's party, inherited from her father, Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, will be led either by Amin Makdoum Fahim or, more controversially, by her widower, Asif Ali Zardari. After his wife's wishes (though this has been disputed in Pakistan), he was made chairman of the party until his 19-year-old son, Bilawal Bhutto (*ée Zardari; he changed his name to legitimise his inheritance) is old enough to take over. Zardari has been barred from contesting elections, but he has not ruled himself out as prime minister. He earned the nickname "Mr Ten Per Cent" because of allegations that he siphoned off state funds and took kickbacks during his wife's first term in office. Upgraded to "Mr Fifty Per Cent!" during her second term, he is believed to have looted up to $1.5bn from the Treasury. He is now appealing against a money-laundering conviction by a Swiss court and faces a separate inquiry in Britain. He was also accused of complicity in the murder of his brother-in-law, Murtaza Bhutto. The consensus in the party seems to be that Zardari was to blame for his wife's transgressions; his rule may well lead to the disintegration of the PPP as the true horror of succession sinks in.

Then there is Nawaz Sharif, who has also said he will lead PML-N if it wins. Twice dismissed on corruption charges, during his last term he proposed a 15th amendment to the constitution that would have made him Amir ul Momineen (leader of the faithful) – a constitutional dictator in the name of sharia law. He, too, has been guilty of political intimidation and dishonesty, but has been adept at capitalising on popular grief. In Punjab, there seems to be genuine affection for him.

And I can confess to my own grievance; he tried to have me jailed on politically motivated charges of smuggling – a non-bailable offence – in 1999. I suspect it was to intimidate my ex-husband. I returned six months later, (thanks to Musharraf) and the charges against me were dropped.

I have nothing personal against Choudhry Pervez Elahi, a staunch ally of the President and leader of the government-backed PML-Q. But he is equally tarnished by accusations of corruption. He and his cousin Chaudhry Shujaat Hussain have, say local media, made millions out of their close relationship with Musharraf.

The most depressing fact about this election for many is that it is the same old crop of tried, tested and failed politicians on offer. In rural Sindh and southern Punjab, feudal landlords have always dominated politics and the educated middle class remain excluded. It is this system that fails to allow new leaders to emerge, not the lack of viable alternatives.

There's a consensus that another election will have to be held again soon and that this vote will exacerbate the problems. Pakistanis don't believe their vote can make any difference. Weak institutions (which suit the interests of the three main power structures – the military, the mullahs and the feudals), a very small middle class, and rising extremism are not promising ingredients for lasting democracy.

One positive, though, is that the demand for democracy appears to be stronger than ever. The most promising thing happening is that the judiciary has stood up to anyone in power, especially the military dictator.

Every Thursday, thousands of protesting lawyers take to the streets seeking reinstatement of the deposed judges and restoration of the constitution to its pre-3 November status. Their movement may well maintain its momentum after today.

To quote Churchill: "The future, though imminent, is obscure." But it is not entirely without hope – although only in the topsy-turvy world of Pakistani politics could the lawyers end up being the good guys.
Independent

Violence & vote-rigging, as results come in

Asif Ali Zardari is reported to be in Islamabad tonight for an emergency strategy meeting with Nawaz Sharif and other party leaders amid widespread fears of rigging.

Results are coming in, but the picture can still change. The PML (N) and the PPP, formally known as the PPPP (Pakistan Peoples Party Parliamentarians) to differentiate them from other PPP factions, are in front of the pack as far as National Assembly results are concerned. If they hold their joint lead then this will be a dramatic result but, I repeat, the night is still young.

Spectator

Opposition parties already celebrating, confident of victory

RAWALPINDI, Pakistan -- Supporters of Pakistan's two main opposition parties took to the streets in loud, jubilant convoys after polls closed Monday to celebrate what they were certain was their victory over parliamentary factions loyal to President Pervez Musharraf.


NationalPost

Fidel Castro resigns as Cuba's leader after 49 years in charge
By Chris Wilson


Ailing leader Fidel Castro today resigned as Cuba's leader nearly a half-century after he seized power in an armed revolution.

49-nine-years after he took charge of the country, Castro announced that he would not accept a new term when the newly elected parliament meets on Sunday.

“I will not aspire nor accept - I repeat I will not aspire or accept, the post of President of the Council of State and Commander in Chief,” read a letter signed by Castro published quietly overnight without advance warning in the online edition of the Communist Party daily Granma.

The new National Assembly is meeting for the first time on Sunday since January elections to pick the governing Council of State, including the presidency Castro holds.


There had been wide speculation about whether he would accept a nomination for re-election to that post or retire.

The 81-year-old Castro's overnight announcement effectively ends his rule of almost 50 years over Cuba, positioning his 76-year-old brother Raul for permanent succession to the presidency.

During his time in charge Fidel Castro was hated by the United States - whose secret service more than once tried to assassinate him - and was at the centre of the Cuban missile crisis which brought the US and the Soviet Union to the very brink of nuclear war.



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Mid 1950s: Castro lights his cigar while Argentine revolutionary Che Guevara looks on
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September 1973: Castro inspects a rifle during a visit to North Vietnam during the Vietnam war.
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October 1979: Castro addresses the United Nations General Assembly in New York
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1959: Castro speaks to the people of Camaguey, Cuba.
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Castro shares a joke with Yasser Arafat
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June 1992: Castro greets Zimbabwe's President Robert Mugabe in Havana
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July 1992: Castro tells reporters in Madrid, Spain, decline to comment as he arrives at the Senate building
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1995: Castro tasting the 'com vat' or compressed rice that Vietcong soldiers used to eat during the Vietnam War
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December 1995: Castro warms his hands in freezing temperatures on the Badaling section of the Great Wall of China
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CAugust 1999: Castro speaks in Matanzas, Cuba, on the 46th anniversary of the assault on the Moncada Barracks by Castro's rebels
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November 1999: Castro tries on a pair of sunglasses as he talks to the media
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December 2000: Castro gestures while he speaks with Russia's President Vladimir Putin
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October 2000: Castro speaks with Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez during their visit to the unknown soldier monument in Campo
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September 2001: Castro waves at reporters in Brasilia, after returning from Durban, South Africa, where he attended the UN conference on racism
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Castro delivers a speech attacking the media and groups opposed to his government following rumours of his death in September, 2001, Havana
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January 2001: Castro waves a flag during a visit to the Havana neighborhood of San Jose de las Lajas
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May 2002: Castro waves a Cuban flag while addresses a May Day rally in Havana
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South African President Nelson Mandela greets Castro on his arrival in Durban, south Africa, for the opening of the 12th Non-Aligned Movement summit
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December 2003: Castro and his younger brother Raul, Minister of the Revoutionary Armed Forces

Key events in Cuba's history under Fidel Castro

Jan. 1, 1959 — Dictator Fulgencio Batista flees Cuba and Fidel Castro's rebels take power.

February 1960 — Soviet Deputy Prime Minister Anastas Mikoyan visits Cuba, signs sugar and oil deals, first of many pacts over next 30 years.

June 1960 — Cuba nationalizes U.S.-owned oil refineries after they refuse to process Soviet oil. Nearly all other U.S. businesses expropriated by October.

October 1960 — Washington bans exports to Cuba, other than food and medicine.

April 16, 1961 — Castro declares Cuba socialist state.

April 17, 1961 — 1,297 Cuban exiles supported by CIA invade at Bay of Pigs; attack collapses two days later.

Jan. 22, 1962 — Cuba suspended from Organization of American States; Cuba responds with call for armed revolt across Latin America.

Feb, 7, 1962 — Washington bans all Cuban imports.

October 1962 — President Kennedy orders blockade of Cuba to force removal of Soviet nuclear-armed missiles; Soviets agree within days and Kennedy agrees privately not to invade Cuba.

March 1968 — Castro's government takes over almost all private businesses other than small farms.

July 1972 — Cuba joins Comecon, Soviet-led economic bloc.

April 1980 — Refugee crisis starts at Mariel port as Cuba says anyone can leave; some 125,000 Cubans flee by end of September.

December 1991 — Collapse of Soviet Union ends extensive aid and trade for Cuba; economic output plunges 35 percent by 1994.

August 1994 — Castro declares he will not stop Cubans trying to leave; some 40,000 take to sea heading for United States. Expanded U.S.-Cuba migration agreement signed in September.

October 1997 - Castro reaffirms younger brother, Raul Castro, as successor.

Jan. 21-25, 1998 — Pope John Paul II visits Cuba.

June 23, 2001 — Castro faints briefly giving speech in searing sun, stunning Cubans and forcing many for first time to accept his eventual mortality.

Dec. 16, 2001 — Shipments of corn and chicken arrive in Havana harbor, the first direct U.S. food sales to Cuba in nearly 40 years.

March 6, 2003 — Parliament elects Castro to sixth 5-year term as president of Council of State, Cuba's supreme governing body.

March 18, 2003 — Cuba cracks down on dissidents it alleges work with U.S.; 75 sentenced to prison terms ranging from six to 28 years.

Oct. 20, 2004 — Castro trips and falls after speech, shattering left kneecap and breaking right arm, underscoring advancing age.

November 2004 — Cuba releases half-dozen political prisoners, including dissident writer Raul Rivero, in move widely seen as intended to court favor with European Union.

Feb. 2, 2005 — Castro calls President Bush "deranged" for referring to Cuba as outpost of tyranny.

July 27, 2006 — Castro's final personal appearance as president: A four-hour Revolution Day speech urging Cubans to have patience that electrical problems will be solved.

July 31, 2006 — Castro temporarily cedes power to brother to recover from operation for gastrointestinal bleeding.

Aug. 13, 2006 — Castro turns 80. Birthday celebrations postponed to December to give him more recovery time.

Dec. 2, 2006 — Castro fails to appear at military parade marking the 50th anniversary of Cuba's Revolutionary Armed Forces, does not attend any of his birthday celebrations.

March 28, 2007 — Castro writes the first dozens of essays called "Reflections of the Commander in Chief" that give him a voice on international affairs while he remains off the public stage.

June 18, 2007 — Castro's sister-in-law Vilma Espin, Raul's longtime wife and a former fellow rebel fighter, dies at age 77.

Aug. 13, 2007 — Castro turns 81, again failing to appear in public.

Oct. 14, 2007 — Castro makes live broadcast telephone call to ally Hugo Chavez, who tells him, "You will never die."

Dec. 18, 2007 — Castro publishes essay saying he doesn't intend to cling to power forever, will not "obstruct the path of younger people." Repeats the theme 10 days later in letter to parliament.

Jan. 20, 2008 — Castro re-elected to parliament, leaving open possibility could remain as president.

Feb. 19, 2008 — Castro resigns as president, apparently will remain in parliament.

Source: Mirror

Al-Jazeera head attacks Arab League

The head of al-Jazeera has launched a scathing attack on Middle East governments, accusing them of framing new laws giving them powers to close down the Arabic-language news channel and other broadcasters.

Wadah Khanfar, al-Jazeera's director general, said a charter published last week by the Arab League, which represents 22 states in the Middle East, is the most serious threat to media freedom in the region for more than a decade.

The charter calls on broadcasters to avoid insulting Arab leaders, respect Muslim values and uphold the cultural and social traditions of Muslim states, stipulating that satellite TV channels "should not damage social harmony, national unity, public order or traditional values".

It adds that programming should also "conform with the religious and ethical values of Arab society and take account of its family structure".

The charter was adopted by 21 information ministers in a summit last Tuesday in Cairo, with Qatar the only Arab League country to vote against it. The Arab League's council of minsters also approved the document.

Al-Jazeera is based in the Qatari capital Doha and bankrolled by the Emir of Qatar, the kingdom's ruler.

"The document is aimed at the free press in the Arab world," Khanfar said. "It contains very general and ambiguous statements that could be used at any time to close a channel down or take if off air."

In the past, Arab governments have arrested correspondents, closed down bureaux or pursued al-Jazeera and rival broadcasters through the courts.

However, the new document goes much further, according to Khanfar. "Our concern is it puts certain rules and conditions in place," he said.

"Who is going to decide if a leader in a particular country has been 'insulted'? In this region, regimes have never been in favour of a free press or freedom of expression, so to hand over to them the right to decide [who broadcasts what] is very dangerous," Khanfar added.

Most seriously, al-Jazeera believes the charter could give Middle East governments the power to switch off satellite signals and force broadcasters off air. All satellite broadcasters rely on just two groups; Arabsat, based in Saudi Arabia, and Egypt's NileSat.

The Arab League does not have legislative or executive power, but member states are expected to act on last week's document.

"There is no mechanism of implementation but the league is saying it will introduce one in two or three months' time," said Khanfar.

"We are going back in time. We thought we'd left this behind us. Satellite TV has transformed the region into a much more democratic place. We might have expected this 10 years ago but not now after it has become an entrenched reality."

Khanfar said al-Jazeera was considering legal action. "Our lawyers are looking at it and many satellite companies are working to coordinate a position and a response," he added.

In an interview with Mena, the official Egyptian news agency yesterday, Egyptian information minister Anas al-Fiqi defended the charter, saying it was "not aimed at restricting freedom of the media but rather to organise it at a time when satellite channels are spreading ignorant [messages] and illegitimate religious edicts".

Al-Jazeera rose to international prominence after 9/11 when it began broadcasting videos by Osama bin Laden, and is widely criticised in the west, where many politicians and opinion formers regard it as a mouthpiece for al-Qaida, or an apologist for Islamic fundamentalism.

However, al-Jazeera has rarely enjoyed good relations with Middle East governments, many of whom dislike its stated editorial ambition to reflect the views and mood of the "Arab street".
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