LAHORE and KARACHI, PAKISTAN - - Never having so
much as attended a protest before, S.M. Shah was
not keen to be manhandled, pelted with rocks, and
accused of terrorism for leading rallies against
President Pervez Musharraf.

But he has been, many times. As he sat in his
office two weeks ago, surrounded by the hefty
tomes of Pakistani law, the gray-haired president
of the Lahore Bar Association gave a hint of the
zeal of a Mohandas Gandhi in leather loafers.

For three months, he and tens of thousands of
lawyers nationwide have mounted the most serious
challenge to Mr. Musharraf’s regime during his
eight-year tenure. They have taken to the streets
to protest the president’s controversial
dismissal of the chief justice of the Supreme
Court earlier this year.

For defying Musharraf when political parties and
the disgruntled masses did not dare, Mr. Shah and
his colleagues have become inadvertent
revolutionaries - and the great hope of a nation
longing for change. Pakistanis have showered them
with flowers, given them gold rings, and offered
them free merchandise in local shops.

The outpouring is a measure of how dissatisfied
many Pakistanis have become with Musharraf’s rule
as both president and Army chief. And it is only
appropriate that the challenge should rise from
the ranks of bar associations across Pakistan,
experts say, noting that they are one of the last
vestiges of democracy in a country ruled by the
military since Musharraf seized power in 1999.

"The bar is the only organization in Pakistan
that has consistently held elections, and we are
now reaping the benefits," says Asma Jahangir, a
human rights attorney in Lahore. "It is a very
functional democracy."

The protesting attorneys appear to have inspired
other dissenters. On Saturday, Musharraf
capitulated to a week of massive protests when he
rescinded an anti-media law designed to limit
coverage of the lawyers.

For its part, the Pakistani bar was first stirred
into action with remarkable effect on March 9,
when Musharraf tried to force Supreme Court Chief
Justice Iftikhar Chaudhry to quit, alleging that
he had misused his office for personal gain. Yet
despite reports of a five-hour private showdown,
in which Musharraf - in full military dress -
called in generals and politicians to intimidate
Mr. Chaudhry, the chief justice did not buckle.

Musharraf ended up tossing him off the court
anyway, but the judge’s defiance rallied a
nation. Like most experts here, Pakistan’s
lawyers were outraged, arguing that Musharraf
wished only to silence a judge who had been
ruling against him. "This was the first time a
person resisted all alone against the Army," says
Iftikhar Qasi, president of the Karachi Bar
Association.

At issue, lawyers say, was the independence of
the judiciary and the last check on Musharraf’s
authority, and their response was immediate. The
following day, bar associations from Karachi to
Lahore called emergency meetings, in which tens
of thousands of lawyers chose to fight the only
way they knew how. "Lawyers know the law, and the
law says everyone has a right to express
themselves," says Shah.

In doing so, he has led a gathering that was
pelted by tear gas. He has also been roughed up
by police and he is now being investigated for
terrorist activities. But Shah remains unbowed.
Now, he says, he will not stop until Musharraf
promises that he will abide by the results of
elections this autumn and that the poll will be
free and fair.

"In the past, the judiciary has been in collusion
with the military,“he says.”There is a chance
now - if it comes out from under the military,
that some relief will be given to the people of
Pakistan."

Since March 9, lawyers have led rallies to
coincide with every hearing on the chief
justice’s appeal, as well as one nationwide
boycott of the courts each Thursday. Mr. Qasi of
Karachi estimates he has held 46 rallies in 90
days, and that nationwide, lawyers are
collectively losing $170,000 in income a day to
support the protests. In Pakistan, the per capita
income per day is about $2.60.

Qasi doesn’t calculate how much money he has
personally lost, but he does estimate that he
works 18 to 20 hours a day and only eats one meal
a week with his family. Shah of the Lahore Bar
Association has dropped legal work entirely to
focus on organizing rallies and mobilizing
support, rising at 6:45 a.m. and returning home
at 12:30 a.m.

Such dedication has won the hearts of many
Pakistanis, partly because the lawyers are not
part of any political movement - and therefore
their sacrifice is seen to be selfless. Qasi says
he recently went into a shop to buy a car mat,
only to find that the owner would not allow him
to pay. Judges, who normally sneer at lawyers,
say Shah and others, have opened up their
chambers to help lawyers organize protests.

"When people see me in the black coat [of a
lawyer], they give me the thumbs up," Qasi says.

Standing beside a makeshift juice stand near the
Lahore Fort, repairman Shakil Ahmed says the
lawyers are “doing a good thing.” But for him,
the rallies are about much more than button-down
Clark Kents finding their inner Superman. In a
country where the military is perceived as acting
as a law unto itself, the question of justice
stirs people deeply - and the judiciary is seen
as the last bulwark of fairness.

"If someone like me needs justice, [the court] is
the only place I can go," Mr. Ahmed says, his
tunic stained and dirty.