“When fear appears in the eyes of the Pashtuns, you will behave. And when they rise in madness, you’ll see your torn collar.”
THESE words were delivered with fiery zeal by Sohail Afridi, the newly elected Chief Minister of Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa, who proudly anointed himself the “champion of protests.” But his speech wasn’t just charged rhetoric; it was a warning, a calculated message aimed at the State and its institutions. And yet, this language is not new. For generations, the same slogans, the same emotional appeals, the same glorification of “bravery,” “honour” and “loyalty” have been used to mobilize and manipulate Pashtuns. Time and again, their emotions were weaponized. And once the objective was achieved, they were abandoned, wounded, forgotten and left to rebuild from ruins.
People don’t vote to be dragged into street battles or endless agitation. They vote for governance, stability and solutions. When a political party scrapes together 30 to 35 percent of the vote and forms a government, it does not inherit a blank cheque to rule unchecked. It must also respect the 65 percent who didn’t vote for it. Unfortunately, for over a decade, this principle has been ignored in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI), even while in government, never shed its oppositional skin. It preferred confrontation over governance, slogans over systems and internal feuds over institutional reform. The result has been a steady erosion of the provincial administrative structure and public trust.
A responsible party would choose a leader who is honest, mature, visionary, capable of governance and deeply connected to the people, not a protest mascot. True leadership champions reconciliation, peace, development and prosperity through transparent governance, merit-based systems and rule of law. Progress arises from focus on education, health, economy, infrastructure, social welfare and digital transformation, not perpetual conflict. Visionary leaders think in decades, not election cycles. Yet in Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa, political leadership trapped in ego repeatedly selects protest champions who achieve nothing and obstruct others, pushing society deeper into underdevelopment.
The Pashtun experience is not one of simple neglect but of systematic exploitation. For centuries, their homeland has served as an arena for other people’s wars — from the British Empire to modern powers. Their courage was used as a shield, their bodies as battlegrounds. They raised slogans, proved loyalty, sent their sons to fight, yet the outcome remained unchanged: broken homes, impoverished lands and blood-soaked soil.
During the British Raj, the Pashtun Belt became a buffer zone for imperial frontiers. Declared a “martial race,” they were recruited for Britain’s wars and discarded when those ended. Independence merely changed faces, not logic — appeals to tribe, faith and loyalty continued, while Pashtuns bore the cost. In the 1980s, the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan began another cycle: Pashtun youth were armed for jihad, their land turned into a global pawn. They fought, died and were forgotten — left without schools, hospitals, or jobs. One war ended; another form of subjugation began.
The persistent underdevelopment of Pashtun areas is not a natural condition. It is the product of deliberate neglect. Even today, many communities lack clean drinking water, proper roads, functioning schools and healthcare systems. This deprivation is structural , a way to keep a population undereducated, dependent and easily manipulated. When people are denied education and opportunity, slogans become more powerful than reason. It becomes easy to rally them around emotions, to turn their loyalty into someone else’s political capital.
Another uncomfortable truth lies within Pashtun political culture itself: a historic tendency to trust personalities rather than build institutions. Tribal chiefs, religious leaders, politicians, warlords and now cult figures, have commanded blind loyalty. These figures inflamed emotions in the name of honour and sacrifice, but when real danger came, they fled, leaving their followers behind to face the consequences. That is why institutions never took root, systems never matured and the nation stands frozen in place, century after century.
History is filled with betrayals: the British used Pashtuns as soldiers of empire, Afghan rulers used their blood for power, Pakistani elites advanced their own ends through them and global powers armed them during the Cold War—only to rebrand them from “Mujahideen” to “terrorists.” No one returned to rebuild their homes or invest in their children’s future. Yet many still follow slogans blindly, mistaking noise for leadership. The enemy isn’t always external; it often lies in the culture of uncritical obedience. Nations now rise through education, economic strength and institutions, not guns and slogans. Courage is noble, but without knowledge and progress, it serves others, not oneself.
The time has come for the Pashtuns to look inward, to learn from their past and to break free from the chains of empty slogans. Education, strong institutions, self-respect and awareness are the foundations of true power. No external force will carve their destiny for them. If they continue to follow hollow rhetoric and false messiahs, the outcome will be the same: destroyed homes, ruined lands and despair. But if they reclaim their agency, if they transform raw emotion into informed consciousness, they can bend the course of history.“My greatest sin is that I am a Pashtun.” This lament has echoed for too long. But it is not destiny. Destiny belongs to those who choose to change it.
—The writer is Barrister, Solicitor & Notary Public, Usman Law Professional Corporation, based in Canada.
