History is much more the product of chaos than of conspiracy ― Zbigniew Brzezinski
It is August; there’s a sense of gloomy joy in the atmosphere. The urban middle classes across the country are celebrating their win against ‘dynastic’ politics. Things are expected to change – there’s a messiah in town. Imran Khan takes charge, his followers are flooding streets across the country wearing overpriced designer red and green adorned shirts and scarves. There are promises, there’s the dream of an Islamic welfare state, the ‘Riasat-e-Medina’. The perfection of the Islamic touch, Nawaz Sharif’s corruption and Zardari’s dynasty are the only things driving this beastly machine forward. The liberator’s name is Khan, Imran Khan.
There are salutes, there are parades in honor of Pakistan’s first ‘handsome’ Prime Minister – someone who doesn’t mouthpiece speeches dictated by bureaucrats from pieces of paper, someone presentable, someone ‘adorable.’ One senior party member, though not so senior in years or wit, claims that Khan is to conduct summary trials of people who have looted the nation for years – money embezzled would be immediately confiscated, and the IMF’s doors would be immediately shut after loot returns and Khan, dramatically, “throws money on IMF’s face.” The whole nation is in awe of the progress and justice’s drumbeat – keyboard warriors are busy declaring anyone and everyone criticizing Khan as traitors. WhatsApp University is working at full pace; sensible, at least somewhat sensible till then, middle-aged upper-middle-class men and women turn into zombies. Answerable to none but his conscience, Khan’s persona, catapulted into fame by a faction of the deep state, is all over TV and print news.
A new breed of ‘revolutionary’ and ‘intellectual’ newscasters and analysts surfaces - cleanshaven and neatly trimmed white-bearded former bureaucrats and generals take to the screen chronicling dreams, sometimes of a religious character, of Khan’s mission to change Pakistan.
Days go by and nothing constructive happens; the economy is crumbling, fundamental rights have been stifled and erstwhile decency, or so claimed, in the political arena vanishes. Cries of ‘chor’ and ‘daaku’ are, unfortunately, not sufficient to make the government function well. ‘Sugar’ daddy, for he surely is father to some and owns sugar mills - who became teary at Khan’s oath-taking ceremony out of pure emotions for Khan and the country’s progress, parts ways.
There are new allies; people he once termed unfit to be his peon and Daaku of Punjab are now his closest comrades. The scene has changed, promises have gone unfulfilled, and the only tsunami in view is a deluge of poverty, corruption, and most important of all, incompetence.
Fast forward to April 2022. There’s a motion for a vote of no-confidence against Imran Khan pending for voting in the Parliament. The swords of the opposition parties’ alliance are outside their scabbard but Khan, and his regiment of lackeys, are unwilling to step outside their castle built on hallucinations. What constitutionally ought to have been a simple change of command turns into complete mayhem, since no constitutionally straightforward task is ever executed straight-forwardly in Pakistan. Khan’s appointed Deputy Speaker of the National Assembly trashes the motion, terming it prima facie reeking of a ‘conspiracy against Pakistan.’ Despite a pending motion of no-confidence, Khan, in a blatant violation of Article 58 of the Constitution, attempts to dissolve the National Assembly. Opposition parties rush to the Supreme Court, the Assembly is restored.
With Khan outside the House, not that he was too interested in visiting the House in the first place, Shahbaz Sharif is elected as the Prime Minister. The new PM promises to not let vengeance influence his executive power but “the law shall take its course,” and the law did take its course – depending, purely, on what is construed as ‘law’ in Pakistan’s context.
Khan is back on his rally container again – where he feels the strongest. A piece of paper, most probably a plain sheet, is fluttered in front of charged followers. Nicknaming the newly elected government ‘imported,’ Khan is adamant on proving that America’s Assistant Secretary of State David Lu, greased his ousting. There’s no evidence, just a fluttering piece paper – but since when do cult followers of populist politicians, especially when the leader is handsome and physically appealing, require evidence to believe in something that the leader claims to be true? There’s an alleged ‘attempt’ on Khan’s life; he doesn’t rush to get himself a medico-legal examination, an essential requirement under the country’s criminal law for prosecution in such cases, but travels to Lahore’s Shaukat Khanum Hospital, some four hours’ drive from where he was allegedly targeted for assassination. What follows is a teledrama between Khan’s extravagant claims regarding his post-attack health condition and PML-N’s ministers’ denials of such claims. With time, the Americans’ involvement mantra is recanted, reports of Khan reaching out to David Lu with a formal apology surface, and the story is soon forgotten.
The last scene starts. Imran Khan puts a target on former Army Chief Qamar Javed Bajwa’s back. Keep in mind that it was Mr. Khan’s government that had traveled the extra mile to get the Pakistan Army (Amendment) Act 2020 passed to get Mr. Bajwa’s tenure as COAS extended for three years. A party whose senior minister, had hitherto declared Army Chief to be the nation’s father, is now inventing new expletives in honor of the former patriarch. “Bajwa orchestrated my ouster" comes the cry – there’s a new target for the frustrated cult’s catharsis. This too shall pass – frenzied herds rarely remember things for too long.
It’s Tuesday, the 9th of May, 2023. Khan is arrested from the Islamabad High Court’s filing branch by Pakistan Rangers on arrest warrants issued by the Accountability Court. His custody is immediately secured in Police Lines Islamabad’s rest house; a place usually used by high-ranking police officials is declared a sub-jail for Khan’s ‘security’. There’s violence all around. Army installations and buildings, including the General Headquarters situated in the heart of Rawalpindi Cantonment, are tsunami-ed by Khan’s followers. The Corps Commander Lahore’s House, once Pakistan’s founder Muhammad Ali Jinnah’s residence, is stormed. Some ignorant ‘intellectuals’ take to Twitter and start comparing the peacock and strawberry theft on 9th May from Corps Commander’s House to the Bolshevik siege of the Winter Palace. Armed personnel are sworn at by latent revolutionaries.
An upper-middle-class revolution has started. The uprising, comically, ends the moment the first police van arrives. Truly how could one bring revolution if police start baton charging Che Guevara rip-offs?
Enter the Supreme Court, and the Chief Justice of Pakistan demands Khan’s immediate attendance in his court – he’s driven in a brand-new Mercedes to the CJ’s court. One might ask how did Pakistan prosper to the extent that even persons under custody are being driven by police in imported luxury cars, but that’s another question for another day. One might also ask why a public institution of a poor country on the verge of sovereign default owns a fleet of imported luxury vehicles in the first place. The arrest is declared illegal, void-ab-initio; Khan gets blanket bail from Islamabad High Court the very next day. He’s become invincible, but unfortunately, his party’s leadership isn’t. There’s a series of arrests, and former ministers and advisors of his regime are promptly taken under custody.
People who fooled a major chunk of the upper middle class with slogans of ‘tabdeeli,’ ‘insaf,’ and ‘inquilab’ can’t withstand the state’s hand for more than a week. Shireen Mazari, Pervez Khattak, Fawad Chaudhry, Imran Ismail, Fayaz-ul-Hassan Chauhan and dozens of other ‘revolutionaries’ are the first to jump ship. The party tumbles quicker than a house of cards – the rapidity is, maybe, only comparable to its flight to power. The tapestry woven by “they, who cannot be named” quickly unwove itself.
Khan, as Nadeem Farooq Paracha joked, is left behind like Monty Python’s Black Knight; adamant on limblessly fighting with a perceived enemy who isn’t interested in the fight anymore. There’s no narrative, ‘ideology,’ momentum, or even cadre left – the malangs and insafians who haven’t absconded yet are either silent or AWOL. He is still here, at least physically, but his political presence and relevance are migrating back to their origin, the periphery of the political arena – in oblivion and largely irrelevant.
The name was Khan, Imran Khan.
It is August; there’s a sense of gloomy joy in the atmosphere. The urban middle classes across the country are celebrating their win against ‘dynastic’ politics. Things are expected to change – there’s a messiah in town. Imran Khan takes charge, his followers are flooding streets across the country wearing overpriced designer red and green adorned shirts and scarves. There are promises, there’s the dream of an Islamic welfare state, the ‘Riasat-e-Medina’. The perfection of the Islamic touch, Nawaz Sharif’s corruption and Zardari’s dynasty are the only things driving this beastly machine forward. The liberator’s name is Khan, Imran Khan.
There are salutes, there are parades in honor of Pakistan’s first ‘handsome’ Prime Minister – someone who doesn’t mouthpiece speeches dictated by bureaucrats from pieces of paper, someone presentable, someone ‘adorable.’ One senior party member, though not so senior in years or wit, claims that Khan is to conduct summary trials of people who have looted the nation for years – money embezzled would be immediately confiscated, and the IMF’s doors would be immediately shut after loot returns and Khan, dramatically, “throws money on IMF’s face.” The whole nation is in awe of the progress and justice’s drumbeat – keyboard warriors are busy declaring anyone and everyone criticizing Khan as traitors. WhatsApp University is working at full pace; sensible, at least somewhat sensible till then, middle-aged upper-middle-class men and women turn into zombies. Answerable to none but his conscience, Khan’s persona, catapulted into fame by a faction of the deep state, is all over TV and print news.
The perfection of the Islamic touch, Nawaz Sharif’s corruption and Zardari’s dynasty are the only things driving this beastly machine forward. The liberator’s name is Khan, Imran Khan.
A new breed of ‘revolutionary’ and ‘intellectual’ newscasters and analysts surfaces - cleanshaven and neatly trimmed white-bearded former bureaucrats and generals take to the screen chronicling dreams, sometimes of a religious character, of Khan’s mission to change Pakistan.
Days go by and nothing constructive happens; the economy is crumbling, fundamental rights have been stifled and erstwhile decency, or so claimed, in the political arena vanishes. Cries of ‘chor’ and ‘daaku’ are, unfortunately, not sufficient to make the government function well. ‘Sugar’ daddy, for he surely is father to some and owns sugar mills - who became teary at Khan’s oath-taking ceremony out of pure emotions for Khan and the country’s progress, parts ways.
There are new allies; people he once termed unfit to be his peon and Daaku of Punjab are now his closest comrades. The scene has changed, promises have gone unfulfilled, and the only tsunami in view is a deluge of poverty, corruption, and most important of all, incompetence.
Fast forward to April 2022. There’s a motion for a vote of no-confidence against Imran Khan pending for voting in the Parliament. The swords of the opposition parties’ alliance are outside their scabbard but Khan, and his regiment of lackeys, are unwilling to step outside their castle built on hallucinations. What constitutionally ought to have been a simple change of command turns into complete mayhem, since no constitutionally straightforward task is ever executed straight-forwardly in Pakistan. Khan’s appointed Deputy Speaker of the National Assembly trashes the motion, terming it prima facie reeking of a ‘conspiracy against Pakistan.’ Despite a pending motion of no-confidence, Khan, in a blatant violation of Article 58 of the Constitution, attempts to dissolve the National Assembly. Opposition parties rush to the Supreme Court, the Assembly is restored.
Khan is back on his rally container again – where he feels the strongest. A piece of paper, most probably a plain sheet, is fluttered in front of charged followers.
With Khan outside the House, not that he was too interested in visiting the House in the first place, Shahbaz Sharif is elected as the Prime Minister. The new PM promises to not let vengeance influence his executive power but “the law shall take its course,” and the law did take its course – depending, purely, on what is construed as ‘law’ in Pakistan’s context.
Khan is back on his rally container again – where he feels the strongest. A piece of paper, most probably a plain sheet, is fluttered in front of charged followers. Nicknaming the newly elected government ‘imported,’ Khan is adamant on proving that America’s Assistant Secretary of State David Lu, greased his ousting. There’s no evidence, just a fluttering piece paper – but since when do cult followers of populist politicians, especially when the leader is handsome and physically appealing, require evidence to believe in something that the leader claims to be true? There’s an alleged ‘attempt’ on Khan’s life; he doesn’t rush to get himself a medico-legal examination, an essential requirement under the country’s criminal law for prosecution in such cases, but travels to Lahore’s Shaukat Khanum Hospital, some four hours’ drive from where he was allegedly targeted for assassination. What follows is a teledrama between Khan’s extravagant claims regarding his post-attack health condition and PML-N’s ministers’ denials of such claims. With time, the Americans’ involvement mantra is recanted, reports of Khan reaching out to David Lu with a formal apology surface, and the story is soon forgotten.
The last scene starts. Imran Khan puts a target on former Army Chief Qamar Javed Bajwa’s back. Keep in mind that it was Mr. Khan’s government that had traveled the extra mile to get the Pakistan Army (Amendment) Act 2020 passed to get Mr. Bajwa’s tenure as COAS extended for three years. A party whose senior minister, had hitherto declared Army Chief to be the nation’s father, is now inventing new expletives in honor of the former patriarch. “Bajwa orchestrated my ouster" comes the cry – there’s a new target for the frustrated cult’s catharsis. This too shall pass – frenzied herds rarely remember things for too long.
An upper-middle-class revolution has started. The uprising, comically, ends the moment the first police van arrives.
It’s Tuesday, the 9th of May, 2023. Khan is arrested from the Islamabad High Court’s filing branch by Pakistan Rangers on arrest warrants issued by the Accountability Court. His custody is immediately secured in Police Lines Islamabad’s rest house; a place usually used by high-ranking police officials is declared a sub-jail for Khan’s ‘security’. There’s violence all around. Army installations and buildings, including the General Headquarters situated in the heart of Rawalpindi Cantonment, are tsunami-ed by Khan’s followers. The Corps Commander Lahore’s House, once Pakistan’s founder Muhammad Ali Jinnah’s residence, is stormed. Some ignorant ‘intellectuals’ take to Twitter and start comparing the peacock and strawberry theft on 9th May from Corps Commander’s House to the Bolshevik siege of the Winter Palace. Armed personnel are sworn at by latent revolutionaries.
An upper-middle-class revolution has started. The uprising, comically, ends the moment the first police van arrives. Truly how could one bring revolution if police start baton charging Che Guevara rip-offs?
Enter the Supreme Court, and the Chief Justice of Pakistan demands Khan’s immediate attendance in his court – he’s driven in a brand-new Mercedes to the CJ’s court. One might ask how did Pakistan prosper to the extent that even persons under custody are being driven by police in imported luxury cars, but that’s another question for another day. One might also ask why a public institution of a poor country on the verge of sovereign default owns a fleet of imported luxury vehicles in the first place. The arrest is declared illegal, void-ab-initio; Khan gets blanket bail from Islamabad High Court the very next day. He’s become invincible, but unfortunately, his party’s leadership isn’t. There’s a series of arrests, and former ministers and advisors of his regime are promptly taken under custody.
People who fooled a major chunk of the upper middle class with slogans of ‘tabdeeli,’ ‘insaf,’ and ‘inquilab’ can’t withstand the state’s hand for more than a week. Shireen Mazari, Pervez Khattak, Fawad Chaudhry, Imran Ismail, Fayaz-ul-Hassan Chauhan and dozens of other ‘revolutionaries’ are the first to jump ship. The party tumbles quicker than a house of cards – the rapidity is, maybe, only comparable to its flight to power. The tapestry woven by “they, who cannot be named” quickly unwove itself.
Khan, as Nadeem Farooq Paracha joked, is left behind like Monty Python’s Black Knight; adamant on limblessly fighting with a perceived enemy who isn’t interested in the fight anymore. There’s no narrative, ‘ideology,’ momentum, or even cadre left – the malangs and insafians who haven’t absconded yet are either silent or AWOL. He is still here, at least physically, but his political presence and relevance are migrating back to their origin, the periphery of the political arena – in oblivion and largely irrelevant.
The name was Khan, Imran Khan.