Nawaz Sharif takes oath of office, June 5, 2013

“If he arrives as a prime minister but stays as an exile,” said Sandy Berger, any hope of a deal to withdraw Pakistani-backed forces from Indian territory would be quelled. Importantly, argued the then national security adviser to President Bill Clinton, Nawaz Sharif’s political life would all but end. To be sure, the then 49-year-old Sharif was desperate for American intervention to end the war in Kargil: initiated and executed by his military chief. In early July 1999, Sharif arrived (uninvited) in Washington. Tellingly, he brought his family and children with him. Refuge was clearly on his mind. Yet, asylum was not on offer, at least not as yet. Instead, he was pressured by Clinton to order his troops to withdraw.

Sharif returned to Pakistan as an American favourite, but one who was seen to betray his own men in uniform. Four months later, and as is well recounted, he was sentenced to death by Pervez Musharraf, the successor-dictator who in turn was forced to spare Sharif’s life. For Musharraf, Sharif tried his best to play the part of a ‘medieval monarch,’ a charge with some evidence. After all, Sharif supported and passed a Shariat bill (or the 15th amendment to the Pakistani constitution) in the National Assembly. Had he not been deposed, there is every chance that the businessman-turned-politician might have rebranded himself as a self-recognized tsar allied to ideas closer to that of Islamic revivalists than his own when he started public life in the 1970s. Equally, his cunning and proven skills in commerce could well have helped to rescue Pakistan from a state of bankruptcy, which, somewhat paradoxically, was thought to be his to blame.

Essentially, there is no real support for steadiness in what might be called Nawaz Sharif’s track-record. During his two short terms as prime minister in the 1990s, he promised modernity and infrastructural growth whilst his party — the Pakistan Muslim League (Nawaz) or PML-N — entertained alliances with groups designed to widen Pakistan’s fragile sectarian divide. Insiders openly claim that members of the Sipah-e-Sahaba Pakistan, the fervidly anti-Shia organization formed in 1985, are supported by the PML-N. Similarly, whilst Sharif inked the so-called Lahore Declaration — with the then Indian prime minister, Atal Bihari Vajpayee — and placed some curbs on the activities of the Lashkar-e-Toiba, he was — according to Musharraf — at least vaguely aware of the designs to cross the line of control into Kargil.

Now 63 and prime minister for the third time in two-and-a-half decades, Sharif represents an enigma of sorts. For India, key questions remain unanswered. Will the new premier seek out an agreement on Kashmir? Will he be able to restrain the LeT? How will he deal with the expected backlash following the withdrawal of a majority of American troops from Afghanistan in less than a year’s time? From the outset, most of these questions would invite less than exciting responses from those within India and even outside. Given the above-mentioned inconsistencies in Sharif’s politicking, this is, of course, expected. Yet, perhaps two points merit mention, even if only to lightly indicate the potential and possibilities underlying what has been an unprecedented transition of democratic authority in Pakistan from one incumbent to another.

First, Sharif’s carefully crafted choice of words in his interview with an Indian television station should in no way suggest that he will indeed “make sure that the Pakistani soil is not used for any such [terrorist] designs against India”. He was of course referring to the Mumbai attacks. This is not to say that Sharif desires otherwise, but that neither he nor his party’s base and leadership — in Punjab — have the ability to place a dead-stop on LeT or LeT-inspired operations across the fence into India. Unlike the 1990s, the LeT has evolved — as the scholar, Stephen Tankel, convincingly argues — into “two defining dualities”: that of a militant outfit as well as one drawn by social creed. As far as the latter is concerned, the LeT’s — or that of its nom de plume, Jamaat-ud-Dawa — outreach program is said to far outpace what the local government in southern Punjab can offer its citizens. It administers some 170 educational institutions including 29 madaris, timely ambulance services and well-stocked hospitals. Willy-nilly, its economic program — if it might be called that — is inextricably, even if not obviously, linked to the success, expansion, and survival of the PML-N.

In turn, forcing Sharif to immediately disentangle this unapparent but intricate web may do more harm than good. There is no doubt whatsoever that those behind the attacks on 26/11 need to be brought to book. Yet, placing unlikely expectations on an incumbent who will need more time than most to find a balance between his domestic compulsions and India-specific commitments — even if these are simply rhetorically optimistic pledges — will only derail the opportunity for cooperation. To be sure, it was sensible not to send a minister or a senior Indian envoy for Sharif’s swearing-in ceremony on June 5. There is little point in raising false expectations in either country.

Rather than rush to re-vitalize the back channel or seek out ways to instantly capitalize on the tone of goodwill and warm courtesies evident in the public grammar of both both Sharif and the Indian prime minister, Manmohan Singh, a degree of pause would better serve the cause of peace and dialogue. The key will be to temper the hype around cooperation initiated by Sharif himself. The sceptic would, of course, argue that India should not have to double-guess the pressures and compulsions placed upon another nation’s sovereign leader. Such suggestions are simply academic.

Strategy is about considering the choices available to opposite sides. Neglecting the same is as detrimental to the objective of dialogue as ignoring one’s own domestic impulses and drivers. This is of course another matter. At the moment there is nothing to suggest that Singh enjoys the support of his own party to actively pursue a settlement of sorts, leave alone that of the Opposition, many among whom were more than irked by the contradictory offer of peace and war in 1999 that eventually pushed Sharif to pay homage to Clinton.

Second, there is much discussion about the future of Afghanistan following Sharif’s electoral victory. His alleged ties to those — like the LeT — found fighting in the southern provinces of Helmand and Kandahar raise further questions about the PML-N’s position come 2014, when a large chunk of American battalions, equipment, and monies will leave Afghanistan. Yet, and much like the Pakistani military’s stranglehold over the issue of Kashmir, Pakistan’s approach to Afghanistan and any potential agreement with some part of the Taliban will continue to be made in Rawalpindi and not Islamabad. For his part, General Ashfaq Kayani shares little in common with a premier who ultimately limited the scope of the conflict in Kargil. Further, Sharif has made clear that he is averse to extending service tenures. Kayani is supposed to retire in November, 2013.

In sum, whilst the election of a new prime minister understandably pushes commentators to consider changing patterns of behaviour, the outcome of the Western withdrawal from Afghanistan is unlikely to witness any shift in form or desire. To be sure, it remains as uncertain today as it did on May 10, 2013, a day before Pakistan went to the polls. To remain relevant, India might focus more on capitalizing on the investments — in terms of human relationships forged and material projects jet-started — it has made rather than worrying about the return of an old hand to a new era of Afghanistan’s political fortunes: one in which India’s role is guaranteed as long as it continues to remain invested.