POLITICS has a habit of confronting people with the culture they once helped create. Harsh rhetoric, ridicule and personal attacks used against opponents rarely remain confined to the other side. Sooner or later, the same habits can turn inward. Shaukat Yousafzai, PTI’s Provincial Information Secretary in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, wrote to the party leadership suggesting that its October 4 long march be postponed because of the security situation and increased terrorist activity.
In a democratic political party, such a proposal should not be controversial. Political organizations are expected to debate competing views before reaching decisions. A proposal may be accepted or rejected, but disagreement itself should not become a test of loyalty. Yet that is where the controversy shifted. Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Chief Minister Sohail Afridi said that if Yousafzai’s letter reached him, he would tear it up and throw it in the dustbin. A fierce social-media reaction followed. Yousafzai later said his loyalty had been questioned and that he had been branded a traitor and accused of having been “bought off”. During a television appearance, he became visibly emotional.
His distress appeared to reflect something deeper than the rejection of a political suggestion. After years with the party, he found himself having to reaffirm his loyalty simply because he had expressed a different view. If a senior provincial office-holder must defend his political credentials after offering internal advice, how freely can an ordinary party worker speak? PTI’s success in turning social media into a major political force in Pakistan is widely recognized. Digital platforms helped it shape narratives, mobilize supporters and communicate directly with the public. But the same power can become damaging when disagreement is treated as disloyalty.
Opposition politicians, journalists and critics have often faced derogatory labels and personal attacks. Other parties are not innocent of such behaviour, but PTI’s large online ecosystem gives the issue particular significance. Leadership shapes political conduct. When aggressive language is rewarded as proof of commitment, it can become part of the wider culture. Imran Khan has frequently used sharp language for political opponents, while colleagues known for attacking rivals were at times publicly praised. Terms such as “thieves”, “traitors” and “dacoits” became familiar features of political rhetoric. When loyalty rests more on personalities than principles, attitudes can swing rapidly from one extreme to another. A culture that routinely labels opponents as thieves, traitors, enemies or conspirators trains supporters to attack rather than argue. Once normalized, that instinct can eventually be directed at dissenters within the party itself. The role of some overseas-based YouTubers and social-media activists also merits scrutiny. Content centred on Imran Khan and PTI attracts large audiences. Confrontation often attracts more attention than moderation. When a politician proposes talks or a change in strategy, he may spend more time defending his loyalty than explaining his proposal.
Such an environment harms the leadership. Serious advisers may become reluctant to speak. Those advocating negotiations can fear being branded weak or disloyal. Gradually, leaders hear more from people who reinforce existing views and less from those willing to challenge them. That is why the Yousafzai episode matters. Debate moved quickly from the substance of his proposal to his loyalty. He was compelled to stress that he remained with PTI and Imran Khan and would abide by the party’s decision. This goes to the heart of the difference between a democratic party and personality-centred politics. In the latter, unconditional loyalty to the leader can become the highest measure of political virtue. In an institutional party, disagreement is normal: members debate, challenge one another and continue working together.
A party’s democratic character cannot be measured merely by rallies or social-media following. A better test is whether its workers and leaders can disagree with the party chief without having to produce a certificate of loyalty afterwards. Shaukat Yousafzai’s tears represent more than one politician’s personal hurt. They raise a broader question about a culture in which trolling, humiliation and personal attacks may first be used against opponents and later against dissenting voices within the same movement. It can also be read as a warning about institutional decline. When disagreement becomes dangerous, serious voices retreat. When loyalty matters more than judgment, debate weakens. And when every difference of opinion is treated as betrayal, a political party loses part of its capacity to correct its own mistakes. For PTI, the episode presents an opportunity for reflection: greater internal consultation, political education for workers, clearer boundaries against abusive online conduct and more room for disagreement without questioning a member’s loyalty. Political parties do not become strong merely through slogans, rallies or social-media reach. Their institutional strength is tested when a worker can disagree with the leader and still be accepted as one of their own.
—The writer is Barrister, based in Canada.
