IN Pakistan, political analysis is often approached as a subject exclusively focused on studying the conduct of the country’s political elite. Hardly anyone examines the societal aspect — the societal obligation, that is, to make the democratic system succeed.

Philosophically, the fate of the institution called ‘democracy’ is always contingent on a feedback loop — a constant conversation — between the rulers and the ruled. Political forces position themselves to become rulers by appealing to the likings of the voters; once elected, rulers decide; the ruled evaluate those decisions; and the rulers in turn adjust behaviour to satisfy the ruled but in a way that the long-term needs for growth and progress of the country are not compromised.

Important to note: truly mature democracies have never surfaced without the ‘state’ (read politicians who become rulers) and the electorate having agreed on the rules and norms that would underpin a successful (not only for the incumbents but for the country as a whole) democratic experiment.

Pakistan’s political discourse is entirely ignorant of the need for societal introspection. Let me elaborate by using one often-heard criticism against Imran Khan’s Pakistan Tehrik-i-Insaf (PTI) as an example.

Imran Khan’s ‘tsunami’ has captured the political headlines. Among other issues, there is much discussion about an obvious paradox in the PTI’s position: Imran Khan talks of a revolution but also seems to be welcoming ‘old’ political faces into his party with open arms. Critics are questioning as to how Khan will transform the system while working with individuals who, as some would argue, have contributed to its perpetuation in the first place.

The usual critique suggests that Khan is behaving more and more like traditional Pakistani political leaders. Idealism is giving way to pragmatism which is leading him to reach out to the ‘usual suspects’ to raise the stature of his party.

Correct. This is precisely what is happening. But the answer to ‘why’ must shed light on the role of the voter — read society — rather than banking on the convenient critique of the political elite.

To be sure, Khan’s paradox is a function of voter behaviour in Pakistan. The dilemma he is facing is not peculiar to him. It will hold true for any political leader attempting to create a ‘third force’.

Writer after writer on the subject of Pakistani voting patterns and elections over the years has underscored the importance of patronage networks. Most recently, British journalist-turned-academic Anatol Lieven, in his book Pakistan: A Hard Country exposes this fundamental anomaly in the makeup of Pakistani democracy: the voter, especially in peri-urban and rural areas is so firmly entrenched in the patronage networks that dictate Pakistani politics that meritocracy is seldom considered to be aprimary benchmark for voter choice.

For voters, patronage networks create expectations of personal — not necessarily societal — gains which often defy demands of the rule of law and merit but which the elected representatives must deliver on to retain the goodwill of their supporters.

Two other characteristics of Pakistani voters linked to patronage are relevant to this discussion: (i) voters are averse to ‘wasting’ their vote, i.e. they much rather support a winnable candidate rather than the ‘best’ one on purely meritocratic grounds; corollary: there is a high market entry barrier for ‘new’ faces not plugged into the patronage networks; and (ii) there is an anti-incumbent bias, partly based on performance, but the preference in the next election is still likely to be for theout-of-power alternative who is part of the patronage networks. Think as a social scientist and comprehend how transformational change can be brought about through such a system? The answer one quickly arrives at is that it is virtually impossible. The electorate elects on a basis that is not purely meritocratic; individual voters expect personal gains and preferences to be satisfied at the local level even at the cost of undermining the rule of law, but they still wish for efficient and honest governance at the national level.

This is an oxymoron: the average voter wants improvement in the country but is unwilling to propel individuals free of patronage-based demands for fear of losing individual privileges in society.

To be sure then, the paradox being faced by the PTI today is actually a paradox of the Pakistani voter, not of potential political leaders. In an ideal world, would any ‘new’ political leader want to be criticised for putting up status quo beneficiaries as harbingers of change? It makes no sense.

But then there is reality: the reality that PTI has contested elections previously with ‘new’ faces and posted dismal results. And while there is no doubt that PTI’s popularity today is astronomically higher than at any point in the past, the history of Pakistani elections suggests that this is not enough to win an election.

What if Khan were to ride on his popular wave and go to elections with exactly the same candidates he did in the 2002 elections. Will he have a real shot at winning?

Better yet, would PTI’s present appeal be as strong and lasting were it not for the ‘old’ names reaching out to swell PTI’s ranks.

Isn’t it true that the exuberance of those who wish to see Khan succeed is closely tied to the PTI finally featuring winnable candidates?

For some time now, I have maintained that Pakistan’s best hope for improvement is to allow the political process to continue uninterrupted. This has never implied too much faith in the present crop of political elite. Rather, it is based on the belief that continuation of the political process will throw up new, more efficient and functional systems and individuals capable of running them; this is how change came in democratic states which have progressed far beyond ours.

But there is one other implicit assumption in this view — even a prerequisite to achieving transformational change: constant societal introspection and a re-evaluation of who we vote for, why, and most importantly, what demands we choose to put on them.

Without changing voter preferences in the desired direction, civilian governments will continue failing, leaving open the possibility of unconstitutional or quasi-constitutional disruptions (not necessarily opposed by the people whose choices and demands would have contributed to civilian failure in the first place), and in turn, a further delay in consolidating democracy.

The writer is South Asia adviser at the US Institute of Peace, Washington, D.C.