Asif Mahmood
Gandapur has come dangerously close to the Rubicon. Whether he has crossed it or not will be determined by his next steps.
No matter which political party it may be, regardless of how sharp its internal disagreements or ideological differences might be, one truth remains constant: every party has to stay rooted in the national mainstream. The national mainstream is not simply a political metaphor, it is the collective sentiment of the state, the people, and the sacrifices made for the survival of Pakistan. Any political party that detaches itself from this current ultimately weakens not only its own legitimacy but also distances itself from the very soul of the nation. Unfortunately, Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf seems to be drifting further away from this mainstream with every passing day. The question that must be asked is whether PTI itself is aware of the dangerous trajectory it is following.
The incident in Bannu illustrates this reality more starkly than anything else. When brave soldiers and civilians lay down their lives in the fight against terrorism, their funerals are not ordinary ceremonies. They are moments of national grief, national unity, and a reminder of the price that is continually being paid for peace. In such moments, the presence of political leadership is not just expected, it is essential.
It is in this context that the absence of the Chief Minister from the funeral of the martyrs in Bannu cannot be brushed aside as a minor issue. It is far more than a simple scheduling lapse. It reflects something deeper: a lack of empathy, a detachment from the frontline realities of the war against terrorism, and a signal—intentional or not—that political priorities stand above national duty. Such an absence amounts to nothing less than a rejection of responsibility. At the very least, it reflects dissatisfaction with the sacrifices being made. At its worst, it is a grievous dereliction of duty, bordering on criminal negligence.
The contrast in PTI’s behavior becomes even more glaring when one observes how swiftly and firmly party directives are enforced for purely political matters. For example, when Imran Khan is summoned to appear in court, official notifications are issued demanding the presence of all provincial assembly members and ticket holders. The party machine mobilizes with urgency, and compliance is expected without delay. The question arises: if such discipline and loyalty can be commanded for the personal and political challenges of the party leader, why can the same commitment not be demonstrated when it comes to the funerals of our martyrs?
The symbolism here is undeniable. Attending funerals is not about protocol or political scoring, it is about showing that the blood of those who sacrifice for Pakistan is valued more than any political theater. It is about reinforcing the bond between the state and its defenders. When a government fails to stand by its martyrs, it sends a chilling message to every soldier on the frontline and every citizen enduring the shadow of terrorism: that their sacrifices may not matter as much as the ambitions of political leaders.
Such a course of action cannot be tolerated in any sovereign state, least of all in Pakistan, where the fight against terrorism has claimed tens of thousands of lives. The sacrifices made in this struggle have kept the very existence of the nation intact. To disregard these sacrifices, even symbolically, is to erode the foundations upon which the state stands.
If PTI truly aspires to lead and to be recognized as a responsible national party, it must introspect and correct its course. It must realize that national duty comes before party politics, that solidarity with martyrs and their families is not optional, and that detachment from the national mainstream leads only to isolation and irrelevance.
If such attitudes persist, history will not forgive, and the people of Pakistan will not forget.