Maham Khan Kakar
There are moments in a nation’s trajectory when speeches cease to be mere arguments and begin to resonate as premonitions. The recent all-parties opposition conference, amplified relentlessly across social media, felt like one such moment. It was not because any radical new ideas were expressed, but because every statement echoed with an unsettling familiarity. The resonance lay not in novelty but in recognition, a reminder of patterns that history has repeatedly highlighted.
Denial serves little purpose today. Social media has emerged as a formidable fourth pillar of the state, perhaps the most unforgiving. Unlike official narratives, it remembers what formal history often seeks to erase. Faces, statements, and directives are preserved digitally long after political tides have shifted. Regimes that believed they could manipulate or suppress narratives have historically underestimated this persistent memory. None survived its scrutiny intact.
Mahmood Khan Achakzai, chairing the opposition conference, spoke not as a negotiator but as a witness. His rejection of dialogue with the current civil dispensation was deliberate and pointed. This was not an expression of emotion; it was an indictment. Negotiation, he implied, cannot proceed with those who have violated homes, humiliated women, confiscated livelihoods, and undermined the electoral mandate unless a confession precedes engagement. History shows that power rarely confesses voluntarily—it waits for the streets to compel accountability.
The warnings of Habib Akram lent empirical weight to the unfolding political caution. Using Form-45-based surveys, Akram demonstrated that the official Form-47 results were catastrophically disconnected from reality, with a 67% deviation. This misalignment is not a novel phenomenon in Pakistan. In 1970, the refusal to honour electoral truth did not bring stability; it led to the disintegration of the state’s territorial integrity. Arithmetic ignored eventually becomes geography corrected.
Recent judicial developments, including the hurried Toshakhana-2 case proceedings at Adiala Jail, signal a familiar pattern. Advocates like Salman Safdar have begun preparing for potential street mobilisations, reflecting the classic trajectory of authoritarian missteps. History repeatedly illustrates that the courts, when hurried, and the prison administration, when assertive, often act as precursors to societal confrontation. Streets ultimately serve as the final forum when legitimacy falters.
Past authoritarian chapters—under Ayub Khan, Yahya Khan, and Musharraf—demonstrate the consequences of disregarding public sentiment. Even seemingly sophisticated doctrines, such as Musharraf’s “enlightened moderation,” collapsed when legitimacy evaporated. The danger now is heightened by a vacuum at the centre of power. Traditional political families, recycled and compromised, no longer inspire fear or loyalty. They lack the moral or structural authority to mediate between the state and a disenchanted populace.
External patrons, once decisive, now offer little beyond statements of concern. When persuasion fails and allies vanish, the instinctive response of the state is often force—the bullet. Historically, this has proven to be the most fatal choice. Mahmood Achakzai’s warning was clear: “We will come peacefully, but if bullets are fired, events will escape command.” The message is unambiguous—violence begets unpredictability, and bullets have a notorious habit of changing loyalties.
Institutions, often imagined as steel frameworks immune to societal pressures, are ultimately human constructs. Their effectiveness is contingent upon the people who inhabit them—people drawn from the same communities now simmering with discontent. When orders to fire confront familiar faces in the streets, history has shown that obedience is often replaced by hesitation or outright defection. The presumed rigidity of institutional authority is fragile when confronted with collective moral judgment.
A pervasive misconception among those in power is that time is on their side. History, however, refutes this assumption. Every authoritarian phase experiences a deceptive calm—a pause misinterpreted as submission. Pakistan has crossed this threshold multiple times, and in each instance, the cost was borne not by the decision-makers but by those who followed. The populace, fatigued yet resolute, is no longer in a mood to follow without reason or legitimacy.
The stakes now are exceptionally high. The political dice are in motion, and once they settle, no participant—planner, enforcer, or beneficiary—can claim ignorance of the consequences. Historical precedents have repeatedly provided warnings, yet they have rarely extended forgiveness. Institutions and political actors must acknowledge that legitimacy and public trust form the true bedrock of sustainable governance. Ignoring these principles risks the unraveling of social order and the delegitimisation of authority.
Mahmood Achakzai’s statements resonate as a sober reminder to all institutional actors. The people are determined, informed, and increasingly impatient with governance that disregards accountability. A failure to act reasonably, to consider historical lessons, and to prioritize the collective good over self-interest will inevitably invite instability. Pakistan’s political future is now balanced on a knife-edge, where prudence must outweigh hubris, and responsiveness must outweigh repression.
This moment demands introspection and responsibility. The power to enforce authority lies not solely in state apparatus or coercive instruments but ultimately in societal consent. If institutions heed history, embrace transparency, and act judiciously, the country can avert crisis and channel its energies into constructive dialogue and development. If they fail, the consequences will be immediate and uncompromising.
The message is stark and final: the People shall prevail. Institutional actors must now act with foresight, restraint, and reason. Political self-interest and short-term expediency cannot substitute for legitimacy and moral authority. History has provided ample warnings; it will not extend mercy to those who ignore them. Pakistan stands at a crossroads where accountability, prudence, and collective responsibility are not optional—they are imperative for the nation’s survival and future prosperity.
