If ever a country were ripe for a coup, it is Pakistan. The besieged government of President Asif Ali Zardari is assailed on all fronts by man-made conflict and natural disaster and there is a palpable sense in Islamabad that the return of the generals to the presidential palace would come as something of a relief.
Before the monsoon waters broke, Mr Zardari was under intense pressure from his allies to do more to counter the militant Islamist groups that pose as great a threat to Pakistans government as they do to the security of the West. A measure of the challenge involved in restoring security in this cricket-mad country is that the national team is obliged to play its international fixtures overseas following last years brutal attack on the Sri Lankan team in Lahore, which killed eight people, including six policemen.
David Camerons blunt declaration that Pakistan was looking both ways in the fight against Islamist terrorism may not have won him many friends in the Zardari government. But it certainly articulated the deeply held view of many Western policy-makers that it could do more to tackle extremism.
Now, following the widespread devastation unleashed by the floods, the President finds himself the subject of bitter criticism at home as well. It began with his ill-considered decision to continue with his tour of France and Britain earlier this month as the crisis deepened, when he visited his elegant chateau and made arrangements to launch the political career of his 21-year-old son, Bilawal Zardari Bhutto. Now his opponents are directing their ire at the governments inept response to the wider crisis caused by the floods.
In a country where most of the agricultural wealth is concentrated in the hands of a few feudal landlords, the misery being experienced by millions of dispossessed and impoverished citizens is inevitably going to stoke the fires of dissent. Atlaf Hussain, the exiled leader of the Muttahuda Quami Movement, articulated the suspicions of many Pakistanis when he accused some landlords of deliberately diverting the waters to neighbouring villages in order to protect their own crops and livestock. He is now demanding a French Revolution-style redistribution of land among the masses, and has issued a call to "patriotic generals" to fulfil their duty by establishing martial law.
However, what is different about this crisis is that, for once, the generals dont appear at all interested in taking responsibility for a country that is teetering on the verge of collapse. Pakistan has a history of military coups, many initiated to tackle the corruption and ineptitude of civilian administrations. The countrys most recent military dictatorship, under General Pervez Musharraf. was instigated in 1999, in part due to allegations of corruption against the government of Nawaz Sharif, the current leader of the opposition. He, in turn, had replaced Benazir Bhutto, Mr Zardaris murdered wife, who had been dismissed over allegations of corruption.
Since winning independence in 1947, Pakistan has endured more years of military dictatorship than civilian rule. Yet on this occasion, the military appears disinclined to enter the political fray. This is partly because it is still recovering from the bruising experience of Gen Musharrafs nine-year rule. It is just two years since he departed his homeland to live in exile in London. But even though he worked stoically to hold the country together, particularly during the tumult that followed the September 11 attacks, his tenure ended in opprobrium, as he was accused of excessive pro-Americanism and trying to destroy the independence of the judiciary.
Many of those now running Pakistans military, such as General Ashfaq Kayani, the army chief, and Lt Gen Ahmed Pasha, the head of the ISI intelligence service, are Gen Musharrafs protégés, and have little desire to suffer the humiliation heaped on the former dictator by the current civilian administration, which has threatened to prosecute him for alleged abuse of power. They also have their hands full fighting a bitter counter-insurgency campaign against the Taliban and its allies, as well as supporting Natos effort to bring stability to Afghanistan.
Of course, if they felt the countrys very survival were in jeopardy because of the political fallout from the flooding crisis, even the most apolitical military officers might feel obliged to involve themselves. That is certainly what happened the last time the country faced a disaster on this scale: in 1970, the Pakistani governments totally inadequate response to the cyclone that devastated the coast of what was then East Pakistan, killing between 300,000 and 500,000 people, ultimately caused the civil war that resulted in the creation of Bangladesh.
The death toll from this months flood is – for the moment, at least – only a fraction of that figure. But the governments handling of the crisis has revived perceptions that the countrys political elite is interested only in taking care of its own interests, rather than those of the people its members have been elected to serve.
Nowhere is this sense of alienation more keenly felt than in the newly-created province of Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa, the Pashtun-dominated region formerly known as the North West Frontier Provine. As the crisis has unfolded, the provincial government has consistently accused Islamabad of ignoring the plight of the Pashtuns, claiming that insufficient numbers of rescue helicopters were dispatched as the crisis developed and that vital foreign aid was diverted to the less needy province of Punjab, for political reasons.
Pashtun anger at Islamabads perceived indifference is unlikely to result in a Bangladesh-style campaign for secession. But it does illustrate the damage that the floods have inflicted on the governments reputation for competence, as well as on the country at large. Extreme measures will be required to rebuild large swathes of the country once the waters have receded – but building the effective and inclusive government that Pakistan deserves will be an even greater challenge.