Mubashar Nadeem
The recent controversy over the passage of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa’s FY2025–26 budget has once again revealed the deep fissures within the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI), and more importantly, it has reignited the debate over the so-called “minus Imran” formula. With the KP budget passed in apparent haste and without direct approval from incarcerated PTI founder Imran Khan, internal divisions have come to the surface. Party figures, including General Secretary Salman Akram Raja and Imran Khan’s sister Aleema Khan, have publicly criticized the move. Yet, Chief Minister Ali Amin Gandapur defended it as a constitutional necessity to avert a governance crisis. This clash of views is more than just a disagreement over procedure—it’s a mirror to PTI’s existential crisis.
The idea that PTI can function without Imran Khan is politically naïve and structurally flawed. Imran Khan is not merely the founder of PTI; he is its ideological compass, its charismatic force, and the reason for its mass appeal. To envision a PTI without Imran is to assume that the party has evolved into a mature, policy-driven institution capable of collective decision-making. That assumption couldn’t be farther from reality.
From its inception, PTI has been a highly centralized movement built around the singular personality of Imran Khan. His narrative—anti-corruption, sovereignty, Islamic welfare—resonated across classes and provinces, attracting a following that no other contemporary Pakistani leader enjoys. Even after his disqualification, arrest, and imprisonment, his popularity remains intact, as evident in multiple independent surveys and his enduring presence in political discourse. The masses don’t chant “PTI zindabad”; they chant “Imran Khan zindabad.” The distinction is critical.
That’s why the statement that “minus Imran has happened” is symbolically devastating. For a party so tightly bound to its leader’s persona, any attempt to detach the movement from Imran is bound to fail—both emotionally and electorally. The party’s supporters see such moves as betrayal, not pragmatism. The backlash faced by PTI leaders who supported the budget passage is proof of the deep loyalty Khan commands. PTI is not just a political party; it is a political phenomenon, one that revolves around a single gravitational force—Imran Khan.
Please, subscribe to the YouTube channel of republicpolicy.com for quality content;
Critics argue that no political entity should be hostage to one individual’s will. That’s theoretically correct, but practically irrelevant in the current Pakistani context. PTI hasn’t been built as an institutional party—it has been molded as a movement led by a messianic figure. While that model comes with limitations, attempting to abruptly transition into a leaderless collective only exposes the party to infighting, fragmentation, and strategic paralysis.
Ali Amin Gandapur’s decision to pass the KP budget may be legally sound, but politically, it underscores a lack of cohesion and vision within PTI’s post-Imran leadership. The party appears directionless, caught between the urgency of governance and the paralysis of loyalty. No province can afford to operate without a budget—but no political party can survive long when its actions are seen as undermining its own foundational leadership. This duality is unsustainable.
The problem isn’t just the party’s internal disarray. It’s also that the external political environment has shifted. The establishment, once on the defensive, has gained new legitimacy, especially in the aftermath of recent regional tensions. PTI, once the darling of the powers-that-be, now finds itself isolated and cornered. Its refusal to engage with political adversaries, build alliances, or articulate a policy alternative only worsens its predicament. Instead of evolving, the party is retreating—emotionally tied to a leader who cannot currently lead.
Still, the idea that PTI can simply discard Imran Khan and continue on a new trajectory is both unrealistic and strategically flawed. His incarceration has only added to his mystique among supporters. Rather than eroding his support base, it has strengthened the narrative of victimhood and resistance—a powerful political currency in a country like Pakistan. The more PTI appears to function without him, the more its core voters feel alienated. This isn’t a policy problem—it’s a legitimacy crisis.
A “minus Imran” formula cannot succeed without first building an alternative center of legitimacy within the party—a task no one has been able or willing to undertake. There is no second-tier leadership in PTI that commands even a fraction of the public trust that Imran does. Until that changes, sidelining him is not only impractical but suicidal.
If PTI truly wants to mature into a political force that outlasts one individual, it must begin a long, painful process of internal democratization, policy development, and institutional strengthening. That journey cannot be forced under pressure, nor can it be initiated from outside. It must begin from within—with Khan’s involvement, not exclusion. In fact, Khan’s own role in nurturing the next generation of leadership and setting a new direction is more crucial than ever.
The KP budget episode should serve as more than just a warning bell; it should be a strategic inflection point. PTI must stop oscillating between blind loyalty and reckless autonomy. It needs coherence, not confusion—direction, not desperation.
In the end, a party built around a leader cannot pretend to function without him, especially when that leader is still the most popular figure in the country. Imran Khan may be in jail, but politically, he remains at the center of gravity. Any attempt to remove him from the equation is not just unwise—it is impossible. Minus Imran is not a formula for PTI’s survival; it is a recipe for its disintegration.
