The Islamic Republic of Pakistan is a multi-party democracy. The preamble to its constitution affirms that the state shall be founded on the principles of democracy, freedom, equality, tolerance and social justice, as enunciated by Islam.
It echoes the vision of Quaid-e-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah, who envisioned Pakistan as a democratic state rooted in Islamic ideals of justice and accountability. It further pledges unwavering commitment to the preservation of democracy, a democracy that was not a gift, but the outcome of an unyielding struggle against oppression and tyranny.
Abraham Lincoln aptly described democracy as “government of the people, by the people, and for the people.” Hence, democracy is both a right and a responsibility, safeguarded by the constitution and sustained through the will of the people.
In ‘How Democracies Die’, Levitsky and Ziblatt note that democracies today collapse not through military coups at the hands of generals, but by elected autocratic leaders who subvert the very democratic process that brought them to power. Cloaked in legality, they silence dissent, suppress the press, and convert watchdogs into instruments of political victimisation. Rules are rewritten, institutions are captured and political opponents are branded as traitors. What appears as reform is, in truth, the slow, deliberate and devastating erosion of democracy.
This authoritarian drift follows a familiar pattern. The litmus test, includes: rejection of democratic rules of the game (through mass protests, delegitimisation of elections, or refusal to accept electoral results); denial of the legitimacy of political opponents, branding them as criminals or foreign agents; endorsement or encouragement of violence against state or political opponents; and a readiness to curtail civil liberties, especially of opponents and the media. In such regimes, opposition is no longer viewed as part of a democratic process, but rather as an existential threat to be eliminated, paving the way for the endless consolidation of power.
Democracy is not safeguarded by written constitutions alone. It rests on democratic guardrails, the unwritten norms of mutual toleration and institutional forbearance. Mutual toleration means accepting political opponents as legitimate adversaries, not existential threats. Forbearance demands restraint: the conscious decision not to weaponise the letter of the law for partisan gain, even when one holds the power to do so. When these norms collapse, democratic institutions, no matter how well-designed, become weapons in the hands of majoritarian rule and the facade of democracy remains while its spirit is hollowed out.
Post-1988, Pakistan functioned as an essentially two-party system dominated by the PPP and the PML-N. Neither party completed a full constitutional term. Instead of upholding democratic norms, both engaged in political vendettas, institutional manipulation, and mutual delegitimisation, subverting democracy in the process. It took nearly two decades, repeated cycles of instability, and ultimately exile under dictatorial rule for both parties to confront the cost of mutual destruction.
In 2006, the Charter of Democracy, signed abroad during military rule, marked a turning point: a pact of mutual forbearance and tolerance, recognising each other not as existential enemies but as legitimate political rivals. It was more than a political agreement; it was an acknowledgement that democracy cannot survive without restraint, recognition and respect for the rules of the game.
However, the political landscape was evolving, and the old guard failed to grasp the shifting rules of the game. Social media emerged as a powerful, unregulated tool of political communication, bypassing traditional media and institutional filters. In this new terrain, populist leaders gained traction through demagoguery, appealing directly to public emotions by vilifying opponents, promising moral purity, and offering simplistic solutions to complex problems.
In Pakistan, this space was seized by Imran Khan. Despite his incendiary rhetoric in the lead-up to the 2013 elections, the PML-N-led government at the time exercised remarkable restraint, remaining true to the spirit of the Charter of Democracy: it allowed the PTI to form a government in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa rather than forging an alliance to block it, and it tolerated the 126-day sit-in at D-Chowk in 2014 without resorting to coercive state force.
Yet, from the outset, Imran Khan systematically checked all four boxes of the authoritarian litmus test: (i) he challenged the legitimacy of the 2013 elections and led prolonged street protests; (ii) denied the legitimacy of his political opponents, repeatedly branding them as traitors and thieves; (iii) tolerated or encouraged violence, as seen in the 2014 PTV and parliament attack cases; and (iv) displayed a willingness to suppress civil liberties by jailing rivals.
Upon taking power in 2018, the PTI government focused less on reform and governance and more on political vendetta, weaponising accountability institutions and regulatory bodies to target its opponents. It ultimately ended in a failed bid to subvert its ouster through resistance to a constitutionally sanctioned no-confidence vote, marking the collapse of the democratic guardrails it once benefited from.
Following the ouster, the vicious cycle has come full circle. Imran Khan, once the political outsider challenging entrenched power, again checked the boxes for authoritarianism, undermining democratic principles by rejecting the no-confidence vote as illegitimate, invoking a foreign conspiracy, framing May 9 as persecution and rallying supporters against state institutions.
In response, the ruling coalition has reverted to familiar tools: curbing civil liberties, silencing dissent and weaponising institutions. From mass arrests and military trials to media censorship and court-packing through executive-driven amendments, democracy today stands hollow, its framework intact, its soul stripped.
Political victimisation has resumed; only the roles have reversed. And when the PTI returns to power, it too will wield the same retributive force again. The question is not whether we can endure another round of decay, but whether we must again wait decades, and another Charter of Democracy, to relearn how to coexist.
What Pakistan needs now is not another agreement signed in exile or in crisis, but a simple, honest pact of mutual forbearance and tolerance across the political spectrum. Nothing more. Nothing less.
The writer is an advocate of the high courts of Pakistan. His practice focuses on constitutional, regulatory and commercial matters.