THE good thing about elections is that they help us distinguish between ‘what should be’ and ‘what actually is’.
I am not suggesting that ideal visions of ‘what should be’ are unimportant; in fact putting forth an agenda for change and striving towards it is arguably the most important duty of those who do politics.
Yet given our penchant for delusional narratives, confronting the empirical evidence and drawing meaningful conclusions about what it means is imperative.
It is necessary, however, to begin with a caveat. Just about everyone with a stake in the electoral exercise — with the exception of the big victor PML-N — has been claiming that their mandate has been hijacked through various types of rigging.
I concur that there were many irregularities both in the lead-up to May 11 and on the day itself. Nonsensical turnout numbers have confirmed many people’s suspicions.
Having said this, there is little doubt that many more voters turned out to make themselves heard in this election than is usually the case. It is as yet impossible to know how many first-timers cast their ballot. The sense one gets, however, particularly in urban areas, is that the ‘youth’ factor was indeed significant.
In this sense alone the change prophesied by the purported harbingers of a ‘Naya Pakistan’ materialised. Unfortunately for them, the ‘youth’ did not prove to be a large enough demographic to actually win a large number of the contests, or, put differently, the ‘youth’ proved to be not as coherent a constituency as the pre-election slogans suggested.
All anecdotal evidence suggests that those hailing from relatively affluent, urban backgrounds — young and old, men and women — were mobilised to vote for the Pakistan Tehreek-i-Insaf (PTI).
But amongst the poorer segments of society — here I include both the lower-middle and working classes — voting preferences would appear to be far more ambiguous. The truth is that there are not enough affluent Pakistanis harbouring the very particular sensibilities that such classes do to be able to radically influence an election outcome.
In most cases, ‘traditional’ parties were able to secure a majority of the lower-middle and working class vote; the PML-N took Punjab, the Muttahida Qaumi Movement took urban Sindh and the PPP took rural Sindh. If anything, these parties benefited from the rhetoric of the PTI inasmuch as new voters from across the class divide were encouraged to make clear where they stood.
The ‘Naya Pakistan’ slogan did bear fruit, albeit in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. But even a cursory look beneath the surface indicates that the PTI’s victory in KP does not reflect change as much as continuity insofar as voters in that province have resoundingly punished incumbents in each of the past three elections.
Indeed, the similarities between the current election outcome and that which brought the Muttahida Majlis-i-Amal to power in 2002 are eerie. Recall that the Awami National Party suffered an even worse result 11 years ago than on this occasion, which indicates how prone KP has been to major electoral swings.
It would be hard to overlook the effects of war on the psychology of the ordinary Pakhtun — and less so Hindko-speaking — voter. The fact that all of the major protagonists of the war — the Pakistani military, the militants, mainstream parties, the empire and its various middlemen — represent part of the problem rather than the solution cannot be understated when thinking about how silent sufferers react when presented with a chance to express themselves.
In the case of the other conflict-ridden area of the country, the situation is dire. If in most provinces voter turnout was the standout feature of the election, in Balochistan it was predictably pathetic. Single-digit figures were common, and the media conveniently chose only to publish results rather than provide any on-ground evidence of the actual balloting.
Yes some sort of mandate has been forged and a government will be cobbled together but as military operations and the insurgency intensify, it will be quite a feat for the parties who ‘won’ to actually verify their claims to being the legitimate representatives of Balochistan’s people.
So in the final analysis, what has actually changed? The short answer to the question is that things are changing slowly, and will continue to do so as the new demographic realities of Pakistani society become more clearly articulated.
It is misleading to argue that a ‘new force’ has emerged on the political scene; it is more accurate to suggest that established political behaviour is changing across class lines, and will continue to do so as information technologies penetrate deeper into society and old ideological fault lines are transgressed.
On the other hand, some fault lines appear to be as entrenched as ever. The mandate that Pakistan’s people have granted mainstream parties is an indicator of the distinct perceptions and material interests of the various ethnic communities that make up the country.
Sindhis, Punjabis, Mohajirs, Pakhtuns and even the Baloch — by not voting — have indicated that they neither share political preferences nor a common vision for the future (Seraikis may appear to have voted for the PML-N, but this hardly means resentment vis-à-vis north and central Punjab has dissipated).Ethnic and regional divides exist in many democratic countries, including India, and so such a divided electoral mandate is not a problem, per se. What matters is whether or not our democracy is capable of redressing this divide.
In any case, the lesson we should learn from our latest experiment with democracy is that there are no quick fixes to our myriad structural crises. People want change, yes, but most still remain unconvinced that there is a party that can deliver it. This is good news for those who want to build a real alternative to status quo, and bad news for those who continue to defend it.
The writer teaches at Quaid-i-Azam University, Islamabad.