What happens after the elections?

This is only the second time that a democratic government has made way for another as per the Constitution

Pakistan is fractured. Beyond the electioneering, beyond the initially captivating and increasingly excessive party ads on television, beyond the debates, accusations, conspiracy theories and beyond the 25th of July, regardless of who occupies the Prime Minister Office, Pakistan will likely be fractured.

It’s almost easy to forget that this is only the second time in the history of this nuclear-armed, precariously-populous country that a democratic government has made way for another as per the Constitution. To say that Pakistan is a fragile political polity would be an understatement. It is perhaps little surprising that what is most characteristic of our democracy, our electoral systems, is singularly their fragility. To put this characterisation to the test, here’s an exercise. Pick another country, its political system and think about the first word that comes to your mind. Now do the same with Pakistan and wonder if fragile is not the first word you thought of, or should have thought of. Enter Elections 2018.

The elections in 2008 and 2013 were fiercely contested, of course. Parties and their supporters went head on and both the elections had the vibrancy and mercurialness expected of all things that are Pakistani. This is true for the 2013 elections more so than the 2008 elections, thanks to Imran Khan’s galvanising political campaign that at the very least greatly increased political participation. And yes, there were vicious exchanges and belligerent campaigns, but at least as far as the pre-poll situation of the 2013 elections is concerned, there wasn’t really any “bad blood.” To be clear, of course there was bad blood, it was a Pakistani election, but if that were bad blood, what do we call the situation today?

It seemed for a time that Pakistan had finally caught on to the democratic bandwagon. One expectedly viewed Pakistan’s experiences with the 2008 and then the 2013 elections as a sign of increasing democratic maturity. Again, to be clear, we were, and are, pretty far off from democratic maturity. But with the last two elections we progressively saw Pakistan’s growing comfortability with the electoral process. Popular politics were suddenly relevant again. And characteristically unexpectedly, and thus habitually paradoxically, Pakistan found itself to be comfortable with political partisanship.

In a rally on a steamy Lahori evening, roughly a week before the May 2013 elections, Lahore’s Lalik Jan Chowk found itself playing host to both PML-N and PTI rallies at once. The PTI rally, on one side of the two-lane road, was full of cars with the young and old alike popping out of windows and waving flags to catchy PTI anthems. In the parallel lane, diehard PML-N fans had outdone themselves and carried a live caged tiger, which is the symbol for the party, as part of the rally. For the record, one is sure that the aforementioned (mis)use of the unfortunate tiger counts as animal abuse and so doesn’t warrant any encouragement, rather the opposite, but let’s not digress. The rallies kept on crossing the road parallel to each other, with either rally collectively attempting to stare down, and/or outshout the other. In the middle of the road, however, there was a roundabout. Here, as the rallies approached the roundabout, an impending encounter loomed, so did the ubiquitous threat of conflict. The supporters got even more charged as they approached the roundabout, anticipating facing their respective “rivals”. And then, the two rallies merged at the roundabout.

With emotions about to flood the roundabout, participants of both rallies started shouting at each other, and as the first few cars, each laden with diehard PTI and PML-N supporters extending out met each other, the supporters with sharp wooden flag sticks in their hands, started shouting, then laughing, and then high-fived each other. This is a true story.

In their moment of extreme adrenaline rush, both the PTI and PML-N supporters laughed at each other uncontrollably and started high-fiving each other, while at the same time chanting against their rivals, as they met for a few brief seconds in the heart of Pakistani politics. In their political immaturity and concurrent growth, the Pakistani voter had raised one fist at its rival but had high-fived him uncontrollably with the other hand. It’s not explainable, this behaviour, and that’s why it’s so inherently Pakistani. It’s just pure, unadulterated, mind-numbing, emotion. It was almost adorable, if one could comprehend what had just happened. But what was comprehendible and admirable was the lack of violence, in a society so prone to it. That given the chance, bitterly-opposed political workers had decided not to stick flag sticks in each other’s throats, but to inexplicably, yet endearingly, high-five each other instead.

Aside from romanticising Pakistani politics though, my point is that the elections this time around have divided Pakistan at an unprecedented level. This division was expected and natural, yet, importantly, only partially. It was natural because this time around, inter alia, the elections are primarily an intense face-off between two ultra-distinct ideological positions, that of the PTI and that of the PML-N. The ideological positions are so distinct, as illustrated by recent events, that there is hardly any grey area, thus allowing for the naturally-occurring division. Partially, though, because this natural division has been consciously aggravated by both sides. Both the PTI and the PML-N in pursuit of their respective ideologies have been quick to cross the point of no return. A point where support for either is mutually exclusive as far as the other is concerned. Both parties have led their supporters down a path where the supporter is unable to claim appreciation for one party while simultaneously partially appreciating the other. This itself is not so dangerous, but the aggravation is now such that supporting either of the two renders a party supporter unable even to allow another person the space to appreciate the other. This is dangerous. When subscribing to certain political beliefs does not allow a person to entertain another’s differing point of view, the dark chapters of a people’s history are written. These dark chapters are often the quelling of debate and dissent, the marginalisation of minorities, the tyranny of the majority and ultimately, conflict. I could go on and on about how a certain person triggered this, or a certain event, but neither would be true. This was definitely a collective effort, where each one of us entrenched ourselves to the extent that it was impossible to accommodate the other. Now, while I write this, I am aware of how terribly preachy all this sounds. But just think about it for a second, and ask yourself this:

Who do you support? Who will you vote for? And when on a sweltering summer evening in the course of the next week or so, you come across a supporter of the “bitter rival” party, and when you hear her or him chanting slogans against your leader, with a sharp flag stick in your hand, and another hand quite free for an inexplicable yet adorable high-five, what will you want to do?

Published in The Express Tribune, July 20^th, 2018.

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