John McBeth – A descendant of Islamic-proselytising Yemeni traders, educated in the then-Marxist-ruled states of Angola and Mozambique, the newly deposed prime minister of Timor Leste Mari Alkatiri is a complex and enigmatic figure who has easily worn the image of the villain in the months of unrest that has wracked Asia's newest country.

Labelled variously as corrupt, a control freak and even a communist, the slight 55-year-old technocrat is facing the same accusations now formally levelled against ex-interior minister and close ally Rogerio Lobato – that he distributed weapons to civilian militia, allegedly with the intention of liquidating his political opponents.

But if Lobato has implicated him in the purported conspiracy, many questions remain unanswered. "More evidence is needed to determine conclusively that he was involved," says one Western diplomat in Dili. "The difference between arming civilians and actually hiring hit squads has been lost on most people."

Diplomats also question the capacity of the Timor Leste authorities to conduct a proper investigation, given the ethnic, political and historical factors that continue to divide the society. Chief among them, according to one analyst, is the struggle for the levers of power between those who fought for independence on the ground and those who worked in the political underground abroad.

Mr Alkatiri, who often comes across as cold and autocratic, is no match for President Xanana Gusmao in the popularity stakes. Although he and his Revolutionary Front of Independent Timor (Fretilin) may have outgunned the President in drafting the country's Constitution, the charismatic former guerilla fighter has demonstrated that he still commands moral authority when the chips are down.

Not everyone seeks to demonise Mr Alkatiri, a constitutional expert who appears to genuinely believe he is doing the best for his country.

"He's very capable and has an immense understanding of things Timorese," says one Western diplomat, who admits he is baffled by current events. "He's hugely astute, there wouldn't be a strategic thinker better than him. But he does have a penchant for going off the rails."

That showed in the inflammatory speech Mr Alkatiri delivered after he was forced to step down. It may also be shown in the current investigation into why as many as 4,000 automatic weapons were imported over the past four years and why the Lobato-controlled police force grew in the same timeframe from 1,800 to 3,000 men - more than twice that of the army, which is generally loyal to Mr Gusmao.

Mr Alkatiri was born in Dili in November 1949, one of 10 brothers and sisters. After completing primary and secondary school, he left in 1970 to pursue higher education in other sleepy Portuguese colonies, graduating as a chartered surveyor at the Angolan School of Geography and then earning a law degree at Mozambique's Eduardo Mondlane University.

He was already active in the independence struggle, helping to establish the Movement for the Liberation of Timor Leste and then, in 1974, co-founding Fretilin and its armed wing, the National Liberation Armed Forces of Timor Leste.

Returning to Dili after the Portuguese abandoned the enclave in 1975, he became Minister for Political Affairs in the newly declared Democratic Republic of Timor Leste.

But it was all to be short-lived, with the impoverished island colony sliding into a bitter civil war between followers of the Marxist-orientated Fretilin and Indonesian-backed rightists. In December 1975, Mr Alkatiri left Dili as a member of a three-man delegation seeking to head off Jakarta's impending invasion. It was to be the last flight out.

Three days later, Indonesian troops poured across the border, leaving Mr Alkatiri to spend the next 24 years in Mozambique, working in the shadow of leading Timorese lobbyist Jose Ramos-Horta to rally international support for the resistance movement. He was not to return to the country until October 1999, six weeks after the country's bloody vote for independence from harsh Indonesian rule.

In September 2001, Mr Alkatiri was appointed Chief Minister of the United Nations-guided Second Transitional Government and Minister for Economy and Development. Six months later, on May 20, 2002, he became Prime Minister and Minister for Development and Environment of the fully independent Democratic Republic of Timor Leste.

In the four years since then, Mr Alkatiri has been unable to shake the suspicion with which he is viewed by a majority of Timorese – not least because he is a practising Muslim in a staunchly Catholic country. His plan last year to make religious education optional in schools only alienated him even further from influential church leaders.

Then there is the Marxist tag, which continues to haunt him in an era when the Cold War template seems strangely out of place.

Australian-educated Resources Minister Jose Texeira, who worked closely with him in the testy negotiations with the Australian government over oil and gas rights in the Timor Sea, described that accusation in one recent interview as "very, very foul".

Certainly, Mr Alkatiri is not popular in Canberra. But he was not alone in taking a tough line. UN administrator Sergio de Mello, later killed in the bombing of the UN headquarters in Baghdad, brought former US diplomat Peter Galbraith on board in 2000, first as director of external affairs and then as minister of external affairs in the first transitional administration.

According to Mr Galbraith, Mr de Mello "smelt a rat" over Australia's rush to negotiate a new agreement to replace the controversial Timor Gap treaty it had signed with Indonesia in 1989 – seen as quasi-recognition of Jakarta's 1975 annexation of the territory. Mr Galbraith and Mr Alkatiri, both equally combative, proved to be an effective tag team.

Still, there is something familiar and old-fashioned about what Mr Alkatiri's government hoped to achieve, electing to force the Portuguese language on a population that overwhelmingly speaks Tetum and Indonesian. Dominated by other like-minded exiles from Mozambique, it has been edging towards the establishment of a one-party state with little adherence to the most basic of democratic principles.

The approach to free and fair elections has been one major cause for concern, given the fact that Timorese have yet to directly elect their representatives – something they perhaps should have done under initial UN tutelage. Although the first parliamentary elections are due next year, little effort has been made so far to introduce a new electoral law or form an independent commission to conduct the exercise.

Particularly worrying for critics is the way Mr Alkatiri retained his controlling position as secretary-general of Fretilin by replacing a secret ballot with a show of hands at last month's party congress. Diplomatic sources say he had hired goons sitting next to each voting candidate to ensure they voted the right way.

Would-be challenger Jose Luis Guterres, the former ambassador to the UN and the US, dropped out of the running in disgust. As he put it: "They have chosen an electoral method that is typically Leninist and used by the leaders of communist countries to maintain their hold on power."

As the architect of the country's national development plan, Mr Alkatiri was popular with donors. But analysts say while the plan was fine on paper and did not betray any ideological bias, its implementation has become bogged down because he was trying to keep everything under Fretilin's control, including jobs in the civil service. The result has been a grossly underspent budget for 2005-2006 and a failure to build on what the UN prematurely left behind.

Mr Alkatiri's ultimate fate will be decided over the next few weeks as the political drama plays itself out. The father of three children may have his back to the wall, but no one is counting him out just yet.