Originally published for The Tribune: https://www.tribuneindia.com/news/pakistan/why-imran-khan-remains-in-jail-what-its-got-to-do-with-pakistan-army-chief-asim-munir/
In recent days, an Anti-Terrorism Court in Pakistan’s Faisalabad sentenced over a hundred other Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaaf (PTI) members, including its leaders Omar Ayub Khan, Shibli Faraz, Zartaj Gul to ten years imprisonment. The message from the state is clear: dissent, especially if it challenges the military, will not go unpunished. This happened just as the party gets ready to observe the second anniversary of the imprisonment of their leader, former Prime Minister Imran Khan on August 5, 2023.
On this day, Pakistan crossed a political rubicon. Khan was arrested on corruption charges, particularly the Toshakhana case, triggering violent protests nationwide. Military installations were torched, the Lahore Corps Commander’s house was ransacked, the fortified Pakistan Army’s General Headquarters at Rawalpindi was attacked, and PTI’s rank and file took to the streets in what became one of Pakistan’s most traumatic civil episodes in recent memory. This was more than just mob fury; it was the unravelling of a political compact long held in place by shadowy military strings. The state’s response was swift and severe.
The Planned Protests and Internal Fissures
For the PTI, this year’s anniversary of Imran Khan’s arrest is more than symbolic. It is a call to arms, a 90-day “do-or-die” protest campaign launched by the chief minister of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province, Ali Amin Gandapur, designed to culminate in a show of defiance against what the party calls a “fascist regime” and the unjust incarceration of its founder. Nationwide mobilisation plans are in full swing. PTI leaders such as Asad Qaiser have declared that protest preparations are complete. Khan’s family, including his UK-based sons, Suleiman and Qasim, are expected to participate. Provincial chapters are finalising district-wise events.
The party insists its demand is non-negotiable, the release of Imran Khan. And yet, cracks have emerged that raise questions not only about the unity of the movement but also about the future of Pakistan’s political landscape. The PTI, despite its public assurances, is reportedly grappling with deep internal tensions and a “complete lack of trust”. Aliya Hamza Malik, the party’s chief organiser in Punjab, openly questioned the legitimacy of the 90-day plan, preferring Khan’s original call for a focused August 5 mobilisation. Her exclusion from a key Lahore strategy meeting only deepened speculation about fractures between provincial and central leadership.
Though the party’s central spokesperson later called such disagreements “minor differences” born of communication gaps, the optics of disharmony linger. These were not isolated developments. In July 2025, the PTI’s internal unrest flared again, this time over Senate ticket allocations in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. Senior members, long-time loyalists like Irfan Saleem and Ayesha Bano, accused the leadership of favouritism and sidelining core workers. Though reconciliation efforts began, they revealed once again the simmering frustrations within the party machine, one still struggling to adjust to a leadership vacuum in Khan’s absence.
Emerging Voices in a Crumbling Political Order
The dysfunction is not confined to PTI alone. Across Pakistan’s brittle political theatre, signs of institutional erosion are becoming unmissable. New political actors are emerging not merely as challengers to the old guard but as symptoms of a decaying political order. Take Zulfikar Ali Bhutto Jr, the estranged cousin of Bilawal Bhutto and grandson of the former prime minister. In a stunning break from his family’s legacy, he declared the current Pakistan Peoples Party (PPP) “dead,” dismissing it as a Zardari-run shell of its former self. Alongside his sister Fatima Bhutto, he has vowed to launch a new political platform, one rooted in constitutionalism and grassroots justice. “We reject the Zardari League,” Zulfiqar Jr said, echoing the disillusionment of a generation that sees dynasties as barriers, not bridges.
Then there’s Reham Khan, journalist and ex-wife of Imran Khan, who launched the Pakistan Republic Party, pledging to dismantle the stranglehold of five political families and usher in a service-oriented, class-representative politics. “This is not a party, it’s a movement,” she said, lambasting the elite consensus that has crippled basic governance. With vows to stay independent and push for clean water, healthcare and dignity for the voiceless, her entry signals that public fatigue with conventional power is not just deepening, it’s looking for exits.
A Democracy in Retreat
With a former prime minister in jail and the current prime minister clearly playing second fiddle to the military establishment, Pakistan’s democracy, more and more, seems like a stage-managed carousel of influence, repression, and manufactured legitimacy. The February 2024 general elections were marred by allegations of rigging and selective accountability; yet, the state speaks of order, claiming that the election restored stability, that the protests are disruptive, and that winning is the narrative, both domestically and across the Line of Control.
While Islamabad’s power brokers proclaim so-called ‘victories,’ from economic stabilisation to national security operations, the country continues to crumble under the weight of unresolved contradictions. The military’s triumphalism following the events of April 22 may offer some temporary relief in Pakistan, but these headlines are a distraction from the more urgent reality: Pakistan’s democratic core is withering, and with it, the legitimacy of the very victories it touts.
For PTI, the path forward hinges on unity of purpose and demand for Imran Khan’s release. It is this singular cause, combined with efforts from foreign pressure groups, that may still breathe coherence into a fractured movement.
Khan’s enduring appeal lies not only in political manoeuvring but in his endearing image as an incorruptible figure in a system mired in rot. While Khan voiced public support for the military’s post-Sindoor operations, his relationship with the top brass remains hostile. In a prison note from May this year, he branded Field Marshal Asim Munir the “king of the jungle,” a scathing metaphor that laid bare the escalating tensions between the PTI and the Pakistani Army.
If PTI is to survive its internal fissures and reclaim its political ground, it will be through the re-emergence of Khan himself. Nothing less will suffice. As August 5 arrives, Pakistan must ask itself: Will it continue this charade of control and conquest, or will it confront the fire at its own doorstep?
