PESHAWAR, PAKISTAN -- A full moon is rising in the night sky over the ramshackle roofs of Peshawar, and a thousand voices are singing the praises of Osama bin Laden.

"Long live Osama!" screams the crowd of bearded Islamic militants who are gathered in a dusty soccer stadium, not far from the Khyber Pass and the road into Afghanistan. "Long live the Taliban! Our way, our way, jihad, jihad!"

One of their heroes, Mullah Sami-ul Haq, is in full cry.

"This is a holy war between the secular forces and the religious parties," he shouts. "The infidels want to suppress the spirit of jihad! We have to wage a holy war to get the Americans out of our country. We have to save our country from total destruction and slavery!"

To whip up more emotion, the Muslim clergyman launches into a bitter attack on Pakistan's plan to increase the number of parliamentary seats set aside for women. "This is a step toward secularization," he complains in outraged tones. "Do you think in an Islamic society this number of seats could be reserved for women?"

A year after Sept. 11, the rhetoric of Pakistan's religious extremists is as fiery as ever. The spotlight of the Western media has shifted, but these leaders continue to plot victory. Their slogans are the same, their anger as intense, their anti-Western and pro-Taliban goals as steadfast as always.

Having failed to win the battle in street protests last fall, Pakistan's religious parties have united in a new coalition that seeks power with smarter tactics: through elections, in voting booths and backroom deals with the government.

Although Pakistan's military dictator, President Pervez Musharraf, changed the country's constitution last month to ensure that no civilian can seriously challenge his rule, Mr. Haq and the fundamentalists remain serious foes. Their religious parties are better organized than at any time in the past. And as the country prepares to go to the polls Oct. 10, they have forged an election alliance, putting them in a good position to exploit Pakistan's rising resentment of U.S. regional dominance.

If everything goes their way, the parties could gain influence in the new parliament, and perhaps even get invited to join a coalition government under General Musharraf's watchful, and nervous, eye.

Historically, none of Pakistan's religious parties has gained more than about 6 per cent of the vote. They also failed last fall to mobilize much in the way of street protests against the U.S. military campaign in Afghanistan, which Gen. Musharraf was staunchly behind.

But a year after Pakistan's military overcame the fundamentalists in a confrontation that raised fears of civil war, the extremists believe they have regained their position of backroom power. Why else, they ask, would the President change the constitution? Why else would he deploy secret police to keep a close eye on them, they say, pointing to the intelligence agents and plainclothes policemen who lounge casually at the gate of Mr. Haq's compound, carrying two-way radios and making note of every vehicle that arrives?

Why else would Gen. Musharraf seem willing to co-operate with them -- a prospect that could enrage U.S. strategists who see their madrassas (religious schools) as breeding grounds for Islamic extremism and terrorism?

In a country where several hundred people are facing the death penalty for alleged blasphemy against Islam, it is indeed clear that the fundamentalists have retained a huge amount of influence.

Gen. Musharraf has met the religious parties in his office, where he assured them that Pakistan will remain an Islamic state with an Islamic army. And despite heavy U.S. pressure to crack down on the madrassas, he has backed away from a tough plan to regulate the schools.

In this volatile political drama, Mr. Haq is one of the shrewdest actors. He is a veteran powerbroker who can play both sides of the game, stoking the flames of Muslim radicalism while quietly striking his own private deals with the military regime. Some analysts in Pakistan are convinced he has secretly co-operated with the military government to boost his own influence.

The 64-year-old mullah with the henna-coloured beard is the chancellor of Pakistan's most famous madrassa, Darul Uloom Haqqania, which has trained more Taliban leaders than any other school. The madrassa, located in a palatial compound on the Grand Trunk Road of northwestern Pakistan, not far from the Khyber Pass, produced eight Taliban cabinet ministers and thousands of other soldiers and officials for the fallen regime.

With almost 3,000 students enrolled, it also churns out a constant flow of indoctrinated boys and men who harbour harsh anti-American views of the world -- so much so it has been called a "jihad factory" and a hotbed of future terrorists.

In the year since the terrorist attacks in the United States, Mr. Haq has been proven wrong many times. After Sept. 11, he warned that any military attack on Afghanistan would trigger a huge international war.

"It is the Americans who will lose," he predicted last September. "Their bombing will just ignite a fire . . . and they will never extinguish it."

Of course, the Taliban collapsed much faster than he expected, and the U.S. troops suffered relatively few casualties. Even still, the mullah today portrays the Taliban as martyrs to U.S. imperialism, and he remains confident that the regime's defeat will eventually become a rallying cry for the Pakistani masses.

Mr. Haq also sees the Taliban's defeat as a way to spur the broader Islamic world into a greater battle against the United States, a battle that could turn Pakistan into a fundamentalist Islamic state with a nuclear arsenal. It may be wishful thinking, but thousands of madrassa students believe.

"America has destroyed human beings, destroyed a popularly backed government and destroyed a civilization," he said. "I think this has sent a message around the world, to every corner of the world where Muslims live, that they should unite against their only enemy, America."

In retrospect, the most important change in Pakistan has been Gen. Musharraf's decision to reverse his pro-Taliban policy and begin co-operating with the United States. At the time, the general's decision seemed to herald a loss of power for the Islamic radicals. But he took this action when his strength was at its peak, boosted by his personal popularity and the prospect of U.S. financial support. Most Pakistanis accepted his decision, realizing that their country would face an American juggernaut if it resisted.

A year later, Gen. Musharraf is weaker and more isolated. His support is dwindling as ordinary people remain mired in joblessness and poverty, despite a sharp increase in U.S. financial aid since Sept. 11.

The military ruler has been forced to enter the unpredictable world of elections and domestic politics. It is a perilous field where he has already blundered by holding a rigged referendum to extend his rule, damaging his credibility and provoking sharp criticism from almost every corner of Pakistani society.

Meanwhile, he is under increasing U.S. pressure to broaden the antiterrorism campaign by cracking down on the Islamic fundamentalists who dominate the madrassas and the guerrilla campaign against Indian troops in Kashmir. But these groups are a key constituency that he will need in the elections, and they are important allies for the Pakistani army in the Kashmir crisis.

In fact, the classrooms are emerging as a crucial new battleground in the American antiterrorism campaign. And so far, the United States seems to be losing.

An estimated 1.5 million students, about one-third of all Pakistani children, are enrolled in the country's 10,000 madrassas, which are able to provide free tuition and boarding thanks to donations from wealthy Pakistanis, Persian Gulf states and Libya.

Critics say the madrassas promote a 12th-century world view, breeding bigotry and encouraging the notion of salvation through jihad and martyrdom in Afghanistan and Kashmir. Students spend up to eight hours a day memorizing the Koran in its original Arabic, a language they cannot understand. And because they live at their schools, they are cut off from all modern influences.

According to a recent report by the Brussels-based International Crisis Group, quoting sources from the Pakistani Ministry of Religious Affairs, as many as 15 per cent of the religious schools may have links to international terrorism or violent sectarian groups. Thousands of their students flocked to Afghanistan last fall to fight for the Taliban.

Under U.S. pressure, Gen. Musharraf's government finally unveiled a law in June to crack down on the schools. Among other measures, the law was to require madrassas to register with the government, allow financial audits, disclose their foreign students and foreign financing, and move toward a modern curriculum with new classes in computers, English, math and science.

At first, it appeared the rules would be mandatory, with prison terms for those failing to comply. But when the madrassas lobbied fiercely against the law, the situation became clouded in confusion. Finally, it became clear that the rules would be voluntary and probably never enforced.

In Peshawar, an Islamic stronghold, the fundamentalists are convinced they will completely defeat the proposed law.

"I think Musharraf is in great difficulty now," said Sahibzada Banoori, head of Peshawar's Sarhad madrassa. "Day and night he is issuing so many ordinances, numberless ordinances, but all the parties are against him. When he opposes something, he is actually making us more popular."

Mr. Banoori does not expect any changes at his madrassa, despite the new law. The religious schools are filling a need, he says. "Many people are unemployed and uneducated, and Pakistan cannot accommodate those people in its public schools."

Mullah Yousuf Qureshi, a relative of Mr. Haq and head of another Peshawar school, scoffs at the government's attempt to limit foreign funding.

"It won't have much effect. We can sustain our schools on our own funds. And you cannot cut the foreign funding. If someone wants to give us money, it can't be stopped. There are easy ways to do it."

The madrassas will never bow to pressure from Gen. Musharraf or the United States, he vows. "America thinks that the madrassas are the birthplace of Islam, so it is doing this to crush the minds of the Muslims. But people's hearts are full of hatred against America, and it's increasing every day."

The International Crisis Group, a non-profit organization that specializes in conflict resolution, says the militants are likely to win their battle.

"Instead of taking strong action and laying down a clear legal framework, the Musharraf government is dithering," the group said in its report, published this summer. "Its policy is incoherent and it has displayed a lack of will to introduce any law that might antagonize the clergy."

The Islamic groups share many of the same goals held by Gen. Musharraf and his military regime, the report goes on to say. "The militant clergy and the Pakistani military share a common hostility towards India and a common perception that Pakistan should be ruled not as a democracy but as an authoritarian state . . .. After the October vote, elected government could be powerless in the face of extremism nurtured by militant madrassas."

On the issue of terrorism in the Kashmir region, Gen. Musharraf has adopted the same approach he took with the religious schools: tough rhetoric and promises of a crackdown, followed by minor cosmetic changes to appease the United States, then a quiet back-down after the spotlight has shifted.

Last January, under intense U.S. pressure, Gen. Musharraf's government announced a ban on several militant groups with links to terrorism or sectarian violence, including some that were fighting in Kashmir. Their bank accounts were frozen, their offices were sealed, their schools were shut down and thousands of their activists were arrested. Yet it soon emerged that most of the activists were released after giving promises of good behaviour. Of the few who were charged, most were on minor offences. And most of the frozen bank accounts contained only small sums of money.

Many Pakistanis believe Gen. Musharraf is in too much political trouble to have done otherwise. He has been criticized for bowing to American demands on Kashmir, for distancing himself from the jihadis who are fighting against India and for making constitutional changes that give him unchecked power over any new parliament.

In this volatile situation, Gen. Musharraf's iron grip on Pakistan might begin to slip.

"There is a feeling that the country is under a cloud and things are abnormal," said Ijaz Gilani, head of the Pakistan office of the Gallup research company. "The ground is unsettled. If there is a combination of hurt pride and economic pain, it could be fertile ground for unexpected and dramatic changes."

As the election campaign heats up, Mr. Haq is moving swiftly to exploit the situation. At a rally of several hundred supporters in a town near Peshawar, he paints a picture of American atrocities in Afghanistan.

"On television, I have seen a two-year-old baby, killed in the lap of his mother," he shouts.

"This is our situation in Pakistan too. . . . All of the Islamic nations are in the shackles of America. This is a very critical situation."

Then, as his voice reaches its apex, his cellphone rings shrilly on a table behind him. Another cleric grabs it.

Mr. Haq finishes his speech and returns to his throne-like seat, several centimetres higher than any chair around him.

At the end of the rally, he is mobbed by a crowd of devotees, who queue up to kiss his hand. When they are gone, he slips into a small back room, shuts the door, bows toward Mecca and leads his closest followers in a prayer.

Beyond Ground Zero

A year after 9/11, our correspondents visit five points around the world still affected by the aftershocks.

Sept. 2: Afghanistan -- How the killing fields cope with peace

Sept. 3: Pakistan -- Where Jihad University finds new life

Sept. 4: Cairo -- Why Arabs are turning on the West

Sept. 5: Guantanamo Bay -- Where America redefines justice

Sept. 6: The Pentagon -- How the world's superpower plans to strike back