In all the years I have been following the Western media, I have never seen such an outpouring of sorrow and affection for a politician as was on display after Benazir Bhutto's assassination last week.

All the major networks and dailies have devoted hours of discussions and long articles to the slain Pakistani leader. They have scrambled teams of journalists to Pakistan, and marshalled platoons of experts in their studios to throw light on this latest development in the country's turbulent politics.

Apart from the media's fascination with Benazir Bhutto's murder and its fallout, ordinary people here in Britain have been deeply saddened by the event. Within hours of the fatal attack, I received calls from my 88-year old (English) father-in-law and my 18-year old stepdaughter to express their condolences. Many English friends have called me, if only because I am the only Pakistani they know.

Obviously, one reason for this interest is the nature of the PPP leader's demise. The fact that she decided to return to her country despite the known danger to her life cast her death as a Greek tragedy in which the audience can see the approaching disaster, but is powerless to prevent it. Indeed, there was a certain Joan of Arc quality to Benazir Bhutto's life and death as she went forth to battle with tyrants. In this epic fight between good and evil depicted by the media, there were few whispers of backroom deals.

Another reason for this fascination with Pakistan and its deadly politics is the image the country has acquired over the years. Virtually all news coming from there has been bad, ranging from a greedy, grasping military to mad mullahs bent on the destruction of civilisation as it is known in the West. This mental picture of an unholy alliance of military dictatorship and fanatical holy warriors was reinforced by 9/11 and its aftermath.

As the Taliban regrouped in Pakistan's tribal areas and mounted deadly attacks on Western troops in Afghanistan, the impression that President Musharraf was dragging his feet about fighting the terrorists grew. Then came his self-serving pre-emptive strike against the judiciary early last year, and its months-long fallout, culminating in the imposition of quasi-martial law on Nov 30.

Given Pakistan's geopolitical location and the constant concerns about its stability and long-term viability caused by unending military intervention, recent developments there have been followed with a kind of sick fascination. We in Pakistan are prone to ascribe adverse media commentary in the West to some kind of anti-Pakistan plot. The truth is far more prosaic than this paranoid conspiracy theory.

The sad reality is that over the years, Pakistan has become an increasingly dysfunctional state. Where else do we see such a breakdown in law and order, apart from countries in a state of meltdown? Instead of strengthening our institutions and our political system, we have seen a sharp and progressive deterioration. And if we see it, so does the rest of the world.

Had the results of this slide been restricted to our borders, the rest of the world might not have cared very much. But unfortunately, terrorism and religious fanaticism have become our best-known exports. So whether we like it or not, the West has a certain stake in what goes on here.

Thus, when BB decided to plunge back into the cauldron of Pakistani politics, it was front-page news. This was inevitable, given her pledge to battle the forces of darkness that had grown more powerful under Mr Musharraf.

Another reason why there is this strong interest in the slain Pakistani leader is the fact that she was as much a public figure in the West as she was viewed as a Third World leader. Due to her education in the United States and Britain, as well as her regular presence on TV and the lecture tour, she was familiar in a way few politicians from the developing world are.

About six months ago, we were invited to dinner by a family of Australians in Sri Lanka, close to the dream house my wife is determined to build on the beach. Our host's daughter was Thea, a journalist who had covered Pakistan and Benazir Bhutto for the BBC in the Nineties, and she told me how disappointed she had been by the charges of corruption that had swirled around the Pakistani leader and her husband. I pointed out that many politicians, including Western ones, had been similarly accused of financial irregularities, but governments weren't overthrown as a result. She agreed, and said “I suppose the problem was that we considered her as one of us.”

Then there was the unfamiliar phenomenon of a beautiful, secular, educated and articulate young woman becoming the prime minister of a deeply conservative, male-dominated Muslim country. For many in the West, this seemed to indicate a welcome shift in attitude.

Whether we like it or not, the least attractive aspect about Muslims in Western eyes is the perception of the way they treat women. The whole business of forced marriages, honour killings and all-enveloping burqas is anathema to a society long accustomed to the fact of gender equality. From this perspective, one of the most exciting things about Benazir Bhutto was her determination to challenge the misogynistic status quo that relegated women to second-class status.

For this reason alone, she was bound to be a target for zealots who choose to interpret the scriptures in a way that is to their advantage. If you were to ask the average European or American which three words best described Pakistan, high among this list would be 'macho', 'mullahs' and 'military'. The fact that Benazir Bhutto was willing to take on this formidable combine made her a heroine for millions in Pakistan and abroad.

As we face a world without Benazir Bhutto, we come to realise the magnitude of our loss. In his assessment, Ian Black writes in the Guardian

“...She was insistent that Islam awarded equal rights to men and women, despite evidence (cultural if not theological) to the contrary... Eventually men had murdered her.”