It is an occasion for either congratulations or lamentation. Congratulations, because a leader from Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) herself described her leadership’s failed strategy as “release, access, and medicine”—words arranged with rhyme and rhythm, proving that even when politics fails, literary talents remain alive and vibrant among politicians. The occasion for lamentation, however, stems from the weakness, failure, and near-death state of politics. Lamentation it is, indeed! Because look at where the heights of politics once were: boasting of popularity, refusing to accept public acknowledgment, and shunning critical opinion were the hallmarks of this party. And look at its decline now: negotiations were supposed to begin with the demand for release, but forget securing a release, they could not even manage access; the matter ultimately boiled down to just medicine—which is perhaps both an obligation and a compulsion for those in power.
There was a time when the “Insafians” held absolute sway; neither opposition politicians appealed to them, nor dissenting voices pleased them, and no democratic advice suited their taste. Opposition politicians were locked up in jails, and narratives were crafted against the media to stifle dissenting voices. It was argued that the media’s business model was flawed and that they believed in unbridled freedom. When reminded that tables turn and positions in power alternate while putting the opposition behind bars, they simply failed to understand. Being on the “same page” with the establishment made them as arrogant as today’s government is. Again and again, the Insafians were advised that times change, and when the traveler’s caravan moves on, all the pomp and show is left behind. Yet, they refused to listen. To be fair, no ruler sitting in power—whether of today or yesteryear—ever listens. However, the sins of the Insafians are far greater, because whenever the Pakistan Peoples Party (PPP) and the Pakistan Muslim League (PML-N) finished their terms and entered the opposition, they unfailingly sought forgiveness for the mistakes of their governance. In contrast, the Insafians—on the back of their social media, their narrative, and their popularity—are to this day neither willing to apologize for any of their mistakes nor even ready to admit them. The primary reason for the failure of the Insafians’ opposition politics is their exclusive reliance on themselves. They are neither apologetic about their past attitudes toward any segment of society—be it journalists, lawyers, traders, or human rights advocates—nor do they seek anyone’s support. And if anyone out of sincerity and by a mere slip of the tongue supports any of their stances, they successfully drive them away from their ranks through jeering and shouting, believing that if they return to power tomorrow, this person shouldn’t share in the spoils. Oh, what a world! Which leg of this camel is ever straight?
When the intoxication of popularity was at its peak, attention was drawn toward public acceptance, for which the Insafians hurled abuses. Today, however, the situation is that acceptance has devoured popularity. Launching fierce attacks on critical opinions proved very successful in the beginning, but now, having hurled so many false accusations and lies against everyone and anyone—supporters and opponents, civilian and military, journalists and politicians—doubts have naturally crept into people’s hearts regarding the Insafian narrative despite their popularity. The Insafians took immense pride in the power of social media, hailing it as their most valuable asset and weapon. Like every new and unseen power, social media is a Frankenstein or a genie: while trapped inside the bottle, it remains the master’s asset and wealth, but once it escapes the bottle, it might play servant for a while, but ultimately it ends up devouring its own master or creator. The overseas and domestic PTI YouTubers—brave runaways—have inflicted as much damage on PTI, its organization, and its policies as its opposition circles have yet to manage. Whether out of naivety, a quest to speak the truth, or simply to earn dollars, these brave runaways frequently subject Gohar Khan, Asad Qaiser, Mahmood Achakzai, Gandapur, or Afridi to humiliating criticism, but this criticism has brought more harm than good.
The demands of governance are different, and those who wield and manage power know them well. However, the fundamental requirement of being in opposition is to consolidate one’s strength, yet the Insafians’ strategy is neither to ally with anyone nor to let anyone ally with them. Every movement in the past succeeded because the opposition formed alliances with other political parties, brought together journalists, traders, intellectuals, and social workers, raised the issues of peasants, workers, the poor, and the destitute, and sought solutions by highlighting economic hardships and poverty. Most importantly, the alternative to the current hybrid system cannot be another hybrid system; rather, its alternative must be a purely democratic and constitutional system. Every movement of the past declared democracy as its ultimate destination, rallied democracy-associated professions—such as journalists, lawyers, political workers, and human rights activists—demanded their rights, and every movement consistently promised that upon coming to power, it would establish complete democracy, absolute freedom of expression, and safeguard constitutional human rights provisions, including judicial independence, minority rights, and public rights. Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf, or today’s opposition, has failed to lay even the first brick of such a movement. Where, then, will the passion for a movement come from? Who will court arrest, and who will risk their lives to heat up the streets for rallies? A proper analysis of PTI correctly points out that its foundational slogan was to shatter dynastic politics and personal idols, but now the extremists within PTI have become blind worshippers of a single individual, thereby rebelling against their own foundational ideology.
Someone from within the ranks of PTI aptly yet sarcastically remarked that if “release, access, and medicine” constitute the party’s strategy, where is the national and public dimension in it? A release is only possible if a miracle occurs, a revolution breaks out, or a physical tussle begins between the PML-N and the establishment—none of which can be predicted at present. The second option is a movement or an effective opposition, which is impossible without incorporating other segments of society and speaking for public rights. This is precisely why there is a lamentation: while government politics has already died in the country, the opposition too possesses neither a strategy nor a path forward. When the opposition is strong, even the government is compelled to invoke democratic principles. But when both wheels of the vehicle are punctured, the democratic journey comes to a halt. The government’s wheel is punctured because the system itself is not functioning, and the opposition’s wheel is punctured because they are locked inside the dome of their own egos and personalities. Deprived of fresh air, they are slowly suffocating.