Defending Democracy in Pakistan

Sher Ahmed Durrani

Quetta: Democracies rarely collapse in a single dramatic moment. More often, they weaken gradually through the erosion of institutions, the shrinking of political space, the weakening of checks and balances, and the growing acceptance of extraordinary measures as ordinary politics.

Pakistan’s democratic experience illustrates this dilemma particularly well. 

Elections continue to take place, political parties compete and parliaments are formed. Yet democracy cannot be reduced to the act of voting. It also requires institutions capable of checking executive power, an independent judiciary, meaningful parliamentary opposition, a plural media, freedom of association and the ability of citizens to disagree with those in power without fear.

The central paradox for Pakistan’s democrats is therefore one of timing. When democratic institutions are under pressure, acting early is generally easier than acting later. But political actors often hesitate because the immediate measures required to defend democratic norms may themselves appear politically costly.

A government may regard criticism as destabilising. An opposition may see every institutional decision through the lens of partisan competition. Civil society may become divided along political lines. Meanwhile, citizens may become accustomed to restrictions that would once have been considered extraordinary.

This is how democratic erosion can become normalised.

Pakistan’s recent experience offers several examples of why institutional safeguards matter. The 2024 general election was followed by continuing controversy over electoral administration, political participation and allegations concerning the counting and consolidation of results.

Freedom House’s 2026 assessment notes that Pakistan continues to hold competitive multiparty elections but also identifies significant concerns regarding political competition, military influence and civil liberties.

The lesson is not that one political party is inherently democratic while another is inherently undemocratic. Pakistan’s history provides little justification for such a simplistic argument.

Parties that defend democratic principles in opposition can behave differently once they acquire power. The deeper problem is institutional: what happens when political survival becomes more important than democratic restraint?

Defending institutions, not governments

The first principle of democratic defence should be straightforward: democracy must be defended independently of which party occupies the government benches.

Parliamentary opposition has a legitimate arsenal. It can scrutinise legislation, demand transparency, challenge executive decisions, use parliamentary procedures and seek judicial review. Citizens, meanwhile, possess constitutional rights of political association, expression and peaceful assembly.

But these instruments must be used peacefully and constitutionally.

The same principle applies to governments. A government elected through a parliamentary majority has the authority to legislate, but a majority is not a licence to eliminate institutional constraints. Democracy is not simply majority rule; it is majority rule within a constitutional order.

Pakistan’s 26th Constitutional Amendment provides an instructive case. The amendment was passed by Parliament in October 2024 and altered the constitutional framework concerning the judiciary, including the composition and functioning of the Judicial Commission and the process for selecting the Chief Justice.

Supporters can argue that parliamentary involvement strengthens democratic accountability; critics, including international legal and human-rights organisations, have raised concerns about judicial independence.

The important democratic question is therefore not which political camp benefits from the amendment today, but whether institutional arrangements preserve meaningful checks on power over the long term.

From a war of manoeuvre

The original argument about democratic defence distinguishes between a war of manoeuvre and a war of position. The distinction is useful for Pakistan.

A war of manoeuvre is immediate. It involves elections, parliamentary confrontations, court cases, demonstrations and political campaigns. Pakistani politics has become highly experienced in this form of struggle.

But democracy cannot survive indefinitely through political manoeuvring alone.

A war of position is slower. It concerns institutions, political norms and public expectations. It asks whether parliament can become a genuinely deliberative institution; whether opposition parties can function without being treated as enemies of the state; whether courts can decide cases without political pressure; whether journalists can investigate powerful institutions; and whether citizens can organise peacefully without fearing retaliation.

These are less dramatic questions than an election or a street confrontation. Yet they determine the durability of democracy.

Freedom House’s assessment of Pakistan records restrictions affecting political participation, media freedom, assembly and online expression. Its 2025 internet-freedom report also documented continuing restrictions on digital political expression and internet access during its review period.

A democratic defence strategy must therefore extend beyond election day.

The opposition is not the enemy

One of Pakistan’s persistent democratic weaknesses is the tendency to treat political opposition as an existential threat.

Governments change. Parties rise and fall. Leaders who dominate politics today eventually become opposition leaders tomorrow. If every government uses state institutions to permanently weaken its opponents, it establishes a precedent that can later be used against itself.

The principle should be simple: today’s political weapon can become tomorrow’s political trap.

Pakistan’s recent political history demonstrates the danger. Different political parties have experienced imprisonment, accountability investigations, restrictions and political exclusion at different points in the country’s history. The cycle does not strengthen democracy; it teaches political actors that institutional power is more valuable than institutional restraint.

A mature democratic system must therefore protect the opposition even when the opposition is deeply unpopular with the government of the day.

This does not mean protecting violence, terrorism or unconstitutional conduct. It means distinguishing between legitimate political dissent and criminal activity.

The role of civil society

Democratic defence cannot be left exclusively to political parties.

Universities, lawyers, journalists, professional associations, human-rights organisations, trade unions and ordinary citizens are part of the democratic infrastructure. Their role is particularly important when formal institutions become polarised.

But civil society must also resist becoming an extension of partisan politics.

A democracy needs citizens who can criticise their own preferred political party. It needs journalists who can question both government and opposition. It needs lawyers who defend due process even when the defendant is politically unpopular. And it needs academics who can examine state policy without being compelled to reproduce official narratives.

The democratic citizen is therefore not merely a voter. The citizen is a participant, watchdog and constitutional stakeholder.

Militant Democracy

There is another concept worth considering: militant democracy.

The idea is that democracies sometimes need legal mechanisms to defend themselves against actors who seek to destroy democratic institutions. But this principle carries an inherent danger.

If every government defines its opponents as anti-state or extremist, militant democracy can become a justification for suppressing ordinary political disagreement.

Pakistan therefore needs a narrow and constitutional understanding of democratic defence. Restrictions should target demonstrable violence, incitement and unconstitutional attempts to dismantle democratic institutions, not peaceful opposition, journalism or political disagreement.

The state must be powerful enough to protect citizens from violence, but restrained enough not to become the source of political fear.

The Pakistani paradox

Pakistan’s democratic paradox is that political actors frequently demand institutional independence when they are in opposition and seek institutional control when they are in government.

Breaking this cycle requires a different political bargain.

Political parties need to accept that they may lose elections. Governments need to accept criticism. Opposition parties need to accept constitutional limits. Institutions need to remain within their legal mandates. The military, bureaucracy and judiciary need clearly defined institutional boundaries. And citizens need to reject the idea that political victory justifies every means of achieving it.

This is difficult because democratic politics is inherently competitive.

But competition is not the problem. The problem begins when political competition becomes institutional warfare.

Democracy as a long-term project

Pakistan does not need another temporary democratic settlement designed merely to survive the next political crisis. It needs a longer-term democratic strategy.

That strategy should include credible elections, parliamentary oversight, judicial independence, freedom of expression, transparent accountability, protection of peaceful assembly and stronger local governments. It should also create political incentives for parties to compete over public policy rather than over control of state institutions.

There will be setbacks. Democratic reconstruction is rarely linear. Governments will make mistakes, institutions will resist reform and political parties will continue to disagree.

That is not necessarily a sign of democratic failure.

A functioning democracy is supposed to contain disagreement.

The real test is whether disagreement can occur without destroying the rules of the game.

Pakistan’s democratic future will therefore depend less on discovering a perfect political party than on building institutions strong enough to survive imperfect politicians.

The objective should not be to protect one government, one leader or one party. It should be to protect the constitutional space in which governments can change, opposition can organise, citizens can dissent and institutions can restrain power.

Democracy is not defended only when tanks appear on the streets or when constitutions are suspended. It is defended much earlier, when an institution is asked to compromise its independence, when an opposition party is denied legitimate political space, when a journalist is pressured into silence, when parliament becomes merely a voting machine, or when citizens begin to believe that their political opponents have no legitimate place in the country.

The strategy of democratic defence must therefore begin with a simple recognition: no political victory is permanent, but the institutional damage caused in achieving it can be.

Pakistan’s democratic challenge is not merely to win the next political battle. It is to ensure that there remains a democratic arena in which the next generation can fight its political battles peacefully.

That is the longer war, and perhaps the more important one.

Sher Ahmed Durrani is a senior lecturer in Political Science at the University of Loralai, Pakistan, and a PhD candidate at Quaid-i-Azam University. His research focuses on socio-political systems and sustainable development in South Asia. He can be reached at sherahmed.durrani@gmail.com.

The article is the writer’s opinion, it may or may not adhere to the organization’s editorial policy.