Editors Note: I want to tell you a story about voter suppression and political chaos on the eve of a national election. My country, Pakistan, has some unfortunate first-hand experience in what might happen if your leaders abandon the Constitution.
On May 9, 2023, I had just finished my Pakistani A-levels, and was preparing to give my final examinations (Cambridge Board). Unfortunately, it wasn’t just a routine day of losing myself into a thick – boring – textbook. My phone blew up with every news outlet I subscribed to sending ‘breaking news’ notifications: 90 people had barged into the Islamabad High Court to arrest former Prime Minister Imran Khan on charges of corruption with the Al Qadir trust. He had been accused of illegally selling state gifts.
This sensationalized arrest was no surprise, Khan, who had been removed from office by a no confidence vote in 2022, had been criticizing the military of Pakistan for months. This was the first time this had ever happened, but no one was surprised. After all, we have never had a Prime Minister complete a five-year term since 1947.
Even though the public had seen it coming, they weren’t going to remain silent; violent protests broke out everywhere. I was at my friend’s house at the time. We heard something was going on but didn’t make much of it. Protests are normal.
We were wrong. The public was outraged by Khan’s arrest, and their reaction matched that anger.
I didn’t know all the facts to make up a strong opinion. Honestly, no one did. We just knew that we had to fight for Khan – the evidence behind his charges weren’t strong and his arrest seemed illegal. (It was, the Supreme Court recently ruled.) The arrest felt planned by the military and the PMLN (Pakistan Muslim League Nawaz – a dynastic political party run by Nawaz and Shahbaz Sharif, one of the richest men in Pakistan).
I remember returning from my friend’s house during a media and electricity blackout. We were minutes away from the protest happening in my city, Lahore. With no uber or signals on our phones, we took a Rickshaw (open-air taxi) to get closer. Little did I know I would be witnessing the protest first-hand; it quickly turned violent. As chaos erupted around me, I sat in the rickshaw, covering my face, praying for my dear life while people mere feet away from me were wielding sticks, breaking cars and windows. They were angry at the system and this was their way of vocalizing it.
I was so shaken by the experience that I didn’t leave my house for weeks after. But I was also constricted by choice. The protests spiraled into brutality.
Protesters stormed the General Headquarters of the Pakistan Army in Rawalpindi and torched the corps commander’s residence in Lahore. They also attempted to vandalize the ISI headquarters. In retaliation, the army resorted to using firearms to scatter the demonstrators, further intensifying the unrest.
I recall discussing this with my mother: were the protestors wrong? The governance of the country had failed them – it had imposed unlawful methods to arrest not only Imran Khan, but over 105 workers of PTI (Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf), the party he led.
Perhaps the truth is that there is no right or wrong answer to this question. From a democratic perspective, the people wanted Khan to lead them. And from a legal standpoint, his arrest was illegal. But the violence in the protests seemed rather extreme.
On the other hand, if it wasn’t extreme, would they even be noticed?
Ultimately, all these questions amounted to nothing: PTI workers were leaving the party or getting arrested with over 3,100 protestors country-wide. Essentially, demolishing the political party. The military was not going to tolerate unrest, and their actions were a testament to that. The protests stopped, by force, not choice.
A few months later, the Election Commission of Pakistan set a date for elections on February 8, 2024.
Imran Khan? Still in jail. PTI workers? Still in jail.
Who would stand for elections? PTI party members as independents, and of course, PMLN and PPP (Pakistan People’s Party – another dynastic political party – led by Bilalwal Bhutto).
I was lucky enough to leave Duke for a week to visit Pakistan during this time. Voting has always been important to me, so I wasn’t going to waste that right (just as Americans should vote on November 5th!).
From what I witnessed, Punjab (the province I live in) was largely in favor of Khan and supported the PTI independents, and the opinion polls proved that. The elections, however, didn’t go as planned. Allegedly, the elections were rigged by the PMLN and the army.
I thought so too. Casting a vote was hard. There was a media blackout and the voting process was way more complicated than it needed to be. In Pakistan, you vote by stamping a symbol of a political party on your ballot. Most people rely on symbols rather than the name written next to it. The famous cricket bat symbol long associated with PTI was instead being used by PMLN members. It seemed like an attempt to baffle the public. A vote for the bat symbol was no longer a vote for PTI.
When I went to vote, there were tents outside the building: hundreds of people were attempting to educate the public on the meaning of the symbols. They gave out a pamphlet explaining in detail who you should vote for, given who you support. This was a sight I had never witnessed. People weren’t spreading awareness on the significance of voting, they were spreading awareness on the logistics of voting. It was that complicated.
Election results were supposed to come out 24 hours after polling had stopped, but they were delayed for more than 48 hours. Many of the voting numbers didn’t add up while, in my house, we had the news on constantly that week. First, the independents were winning. Suddenly, the votes for PMLN skyrocketed overnight. We already had an inkling of the impossibility of PTI’s win, despite the overwhelming sentiment of the public. The initial nation-wide celebrations took a sharp turn.
A part of us already knew the outcome, but the feeling of defeat still lingered. The PTI independents had lost in Punjab. A coalition government between PMLN and PPP was officially in office. The rest is history.
This is a story that began two years ago and still remains unresolved. Imran Khan is still behind bars, and people are left disillusioned. Something has felt ‘off’ from the start, and it continues to feel that way. Yet, despite the uncertainty, we find ourselves unable to act. Protesting leads to arrests, and questioning the system is seen as defiance.
My love for Pakistan runs deep. It’s not just the corrupt system or the unanswered questions that frustrate me—it’s the silencing of a nation that, at its core, is full of resilient, passionate people. Pakistanis are fighters. We’ve always stood up for what we believe in. What we need now is the freedom to express that belief without fear.
Until then, the fight continues in Pakistan, in whatever form it can take.
Democracy isn’t just a word, it’s an action, a responsibility. When the people’s voice is stifled, when powerful figures twist the law for their gain, it’s not just the system that crumbles—it’s the spirit of a nation. Don’t take your freedoms for granted, because once they’re stripped away, it’s a long, painful battle to win them back. So, let’s fight for our future on November 5th!