Benazir Bhutto’s assassination might mean prolonged turmoil for Pakistan – and an emboldened Islamic militancy that already has a strong foothold in the country.

The only way to prevent chaos is if President Pervez Musharraf and Bhutto’s bitter rivals publicly join hands and form a strong coalition.

The United States – which has an enormous stake in Pakistan’s success – can play only a distant, supportive role. It’s up to Pakistanis themselves to pull through.

I first met Bhutto at a political rally north of Karachi in November 1988. Three months earlier, ruler Zia ul-Haq had died in a plane crash, setting up Pakistan’s first contested elections in more than a decade. Bhutto enjoyed the political potency of a martyr – in 1979, Zia had hanged her father, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, and jailed her – and she was running hard on that image for election to Parliament.

It would be an understatement to say that Bhutto, then 36, was immensely popular at home in the southern Sindh province, and across the country among followers of her Pakistan People’s Party. These people treated her like a rock star, and she and her husband, the polo-playing Asif Ali Zardari, behaved as if they were.

Bhutto, educated at Harvard and Oxford, promised to bring the fruits of democracy home, and many people – including much of the West – believed her. I know that I did.

Nineteen years later, Bhutto had served two terms as prime minister and was living in exile in London. She had been removed both times by the nation’s strong president on allegations of corruption and incompetence. Her political rival Nawaz Sharif also had been ousted twice as prime minister in intervals with her on similar accusations. When Musharraf came to power in a 1999 coup, both took the opportunity to live abroad and not be imprisoned at home.

Invited by Musharraf, Bhutto returned home in October to run in parliamentary elections scheduled Jan. 8. Musharraf seemed to regard Bhutto as a prime minister with whom he could work.

As a candidate, Bhutto made the same promises of democracy that she did during the 1980s and ’90s. The vows had worn thin – people knew that she had failed previously to transcend her feudal roots and that, at heart and in behavior, she was imperious, her strongest sense seeming to be one of self-entitlement.

Yet Bhutto’s legacy, I think, is the hope she brought the country back in 1988. Young, beautiful and confident, she promised to take on fearlessly those who would challenge democracy. And she continued to do so until the end.

The response of her rival, Sharif, to her death is troubling. He rushed immediately to the hospital where Bhutto was declared dead, and addressed the crowd. “Benazir Bhutto was also my sister, and I will be with you to take the revenge for her death,” he said. “Don’t feel alone. I am with you. We will take the revenge on the rulers.”

In other words, Sharif’s impulse was to encourage the base instincts of Bhutto’s supporters and try to force Musharraf out of office through street power. If Sharif proceeds on that track, he will be playing into the hands of Pakistan’s militants, who themselves will be seeking to make Pakistan ungovernable.

One reason for Musharraf’s political crisis this year has been a standoff with the country’s judiciary and lawyers. The legal establishment thinks that Pakistan is a democracy, while Musharraf has made it clear that it is not quite yet.

A reconciliation between Musharraf and Aitzaz Ahsan, the leader of the lawyers’ rebellion, would be a truly positive sign. Ahsan has no visible base of support outside the lawyers, but one wonders whether he might emerge as a strong, neutral center during this crisis.

Musharraf himself declared a mourning period and struck the right tone.

“Terrorists are the greatest threat to Pakistan,” he said, “and we won’t rest till we defeat terrorism.”