Why Imran Khan’s political revolution hits the wrong note

Imran Khan tried to sell dreams, but he has no idea of how to make that dream come true, writes Shaukat Qadir

Imran Khan gestures after arriving at an anti-government rally in Multan. SS Mirza / AFP

Until August this year, Imran Khan enjoyed a reputation of undisputed honesty. There were those, like myself, who doubted his political abilities, his statesmanship and even his intellect, but one and all accepted him as honest.

I sincerely regret the fact that he put his reputation on the line in this context and that he has sullied himself to the same degree as any other politician. I dearly wanted one example of a truly honest politician in our house who one could have sworn by. I regret my loss.

Having egged them on to do it, Mr Khan asserted that none of his followers “captured” a state-owned Pakistan TV station last month and fell silent only when video footage from other channels identified his followers among the “proud captors” of the station during the tense standoff that unfolded in Islamabad.

His references to the “third umpire’s” raised fingers were universally recognised as references towards another military intervention. Finally, when it dawned on him that no intervention was going to occur, he claimed that his references were to God and the people of the country.

He has levelled accusations at all and sundry without discrimination. Some deservedly, but many are manifestly false assertions. He has been cited for defamation in numerous court references.

Having previously asserted that he did not expect justice at the hands of a judiciary under prime minister Nawaz Sharif, in desperation he sought relief from that same judiciary. Once again, he was disappointed to learn that the judiciary would work only within constitutional bounds.

Likening himself to Mahatma Gandhi and Nelson Mandela, he wanted to initiate a movement of “civil disobedience” without realising that this would be tantamount to a rebellion for which there was neither constitutional nor moral cover available, and then he violated his own call for disobedience.

While many of his original followers deserted him in disillusionment, there are many more answering his call every day.

Many retired military officers and bureaucrats are swelling his numbers. I know some of them and cannot help but be astonished.

These are level-headed, experienced officers. Many of them are naturally sceptical of politicians. And yet they fail to register Mr Khan’s inconsistencies. What is more, the slightest hint of criticism evokes a response – almost invariably either violent or bordering on violence.

It took time for me to realise that what Mr Khan is selling is a dream. But he has no idea of how to make that dream come true.

It is a dream all humanity has shared throughout history. It is a dream that knows no physical, mental or linguistic boundaries.

A dream in which all mankind is born equal, with equal opportunities, where justice is swift and fair for all. Where there is no discrimination on the basis of religion, colour, caste or creed. Where there is no corruption.

It is a dream that has never been realised but it is certainly a dream worth living for and also well worth dying for.

Only when I realised this did I begin to comprehend the reason for the violence inherent in the response of those defending Mr Khan.

They are not defending Mr Khan. They are defending their own dream – the one worth that is supposedly worth dying for. This point was tragically illustrated in Multan late last week, when at least seven people died and scores more were injured at one of Mr Khan’s political rallies. The stampede that led to the fatalities happened after Mr Khan had given a speech calling for Mr Sharif to step down.

The Pied Piper of Hamelin is a fairy tale that most of us are familiar with. In it, the Piper agreed to rid the town of Hamelin of the rats it was infested with. He lured the rodents away with his lilting music and drove them into the sea.

However, when the mayor of Hamelin shortchanged him, the Piper changed the tune of his flute and took away all the children, all of them except one little boy who was unable to keep up with the rest since he was on crutches.

Is Mr Khan Pakistan’s very own political Pied Piper? Only time will tell, but I am concerned he might be.

Brig Shaukat Qadir is a retired ­Pakistani infantry officer