An Open Letter to PTI Supporters: Reflecting on the Past, Understanding the Present, and Guiding the Future
By: Raja Zahid Akhtar Khanzada
The night is dark, with a single dim lamp casting shadows in my room. Those shadows seem to narrate stories from a time gone by. I sit in my study, a bookshelf brimming with books on my right, a pen in my hand. But tonight, I am more inclined to reflect than to write. Faint memories from the past play on the screen of my mind, as if replaying an old movie. Holding the pen between my fingers, I take a deep breath, and as I begin to write, the silence in the room grows deeper.
“My friends…”
I say to myself, “This is a moment to pause, look back at the past, and seek light in the darkness of the present.” Let us dive into the river of history, from which there is much to learn. One of life’s most valuable lessons is that the experiences of the past cannot be ignored. They are a mirror of our mistakes, successes, and their consequences.
Sometimes, we must pause and reflect on ourselves through the lens of the past to recognize where we went wrong and where we were right. It is in these moments of self-reflection that we admit our failures and resolve not to repeat them. Today, I address PTI supporters with this sentiment.
In the theater of my memories, a scene emerges of a time when you accepted every decision of Imran Khan as predestined, when you considered the establishment your unshakable fortress. It was a time when you labeled truth-seeking journalists as traitors and condemned those who dared to criticize generals or their allies.
Recall the days when you branded journalists, including myself, as traitors simply for questioning the political role of the establishment. Those columnists who upheld the supremacy of the Constitution, the politicians who defended the public mandate—you dismissed them as enemies and rejected their words.
Do you remember how, in the past, anyone who criticized the military’s interventions was labeled a traitor, a sellout, or a “paid journalist”? Those who wrote for constitutional supremacy and civilian leadership were vilified by your hatred. You also ridiculed politicians who differed from your views, calling them thieves and crooks.
This is the same establishment you once celebrated as the backbone of your politics, and today, it has become the focus of your criticism.
It was 2011—a time when the military and ISI aligned with you, offering their support as a key to your success. PTI laid the foundation of its unofficial alliance with the establishment. Imran Khan’s speeches and rallies openly supported the establishment, and the “umpire’s finger” was a source of pride.
With their backing, your movement gained new energy, as if a noble minister had been crowned king. Every statement and every rally became a force, strengthened by powerful hands behind the scenes. But such games are never one-sided.
Let us revisit the events of 2014—the sit-ins when you attacked Parliament, broke its gates, and occupied PTV’s offices, attempting to topple an elected government. At that time, the military stood behind you, and you labeled all politicians as corrupt.
These actions posed a direct threat to the democratic system you claimed to support. Yet, you used force to try and bring down a government with public mandate. The sit-ins continued, chaos prevailed, and eventually, the military helped you win the elections through manipulation. Did you ever think at that time that this was a violation of democratic principles?
I remember the time when Maulana Fazlur Rehman staged a sit-in during your government. You mocked him, calling him “Maulana Diesel.” People dismissed his tears as a sign of weakness. But those tears reflected foresight and wisdom. He chose not to escalate tensions, prioritizing the safety of his workers.
In my memories, the face of Asif Ali Zardari also emerges. If Zardari chose a middle ground, it was for a reason. Behind every decision of his lies a deep strategy, understanding that politics is like a chessboard, where sometimes, stepping back is necessary to safeguard one’s pieces.
And Nawaz Sharif—his silence during a difficult time spoke volumes. His quiet demeanor hid the pain of being separated from his wife, Kulsoom Nawaz, during her final moments. When he went to London for her treatment, your supporters protested against him, accusing him of staging her illness. She had to prove her truth by ultimately losing her life. Even in her final moments, Nawaz Sharif was denied the chance to say goodbye.
Can you imagine the agony of being unable to bid farewell to a loved one? Nawaz Sharif bore this pain quietly.
Do you remember turning politics into personal enmity, mocking Maulana Fazlur Rehman, criticizing Bilawal Bhutto’s youth, and fueling a culture of disrespect? Was this politics or an emotional battlefield?
Reflecting further, my mind drifts to 1977—a time when Bhutto was in power, and the establishment had turned against him. They used Jamaat-e-Islami and other parties as puppets to oust Bhutto, not only from politics but from life itself.
The same establishment that empowers one can abandon them in a heartbeat. The politics of the 1990s saw similar games, with Nawaz Sharif and Benazir Bhutto pitted against each other. It was only after bitter experiences that they learned to unite, signing the Charter of Democracy to limit the establishment’s influence.
Yet, despite these lessons, mistakes continue to repeat. PTI finds itself in the same predicament today. The establishment that once empowered you has become your biggest obstacle.
I am gazing at the glow of the light in the lamp, as if perhaps the answers to my questions are hidden within it. Sometimes, losing is actually winning. Stepping back is also a kind of victory, provided you know when and why. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and let myself sink into the profound silence of the night. Yet, within my heart, the echoes of the past remain alive, giving me the courage to make decisions for the future. At this moment, a strange stillness has enveloped the air in the room. I picked up the pen and wrote one final sentence:
“The greatest lesson of history is that we learn nothing from it.”
And here we are, repeating the same mistakes that your political adversaries made in the past. The same game, the same roles—only the faces change. But if we fail to learn from the past, this cycle will never end, and we will forever remain trapped in a loop.
Today, your leaders and workers are caught in the same web that, once upon a time, you yourselves spun for others. The support of the establishment gave you temporary power but weakened your roots. Today, you are a victim of the same political environment you once crafted. Those who were called traitors yesterday are the very ones hurling similar accusations at you now. You considered the establishment your strength, but when it shifted its stance, you were left powerless. This is a lesson that true strength always comes from the people. Riding on someone else’s shoulders, you can never achieve sustainable politics.
“My dear friends,”
This is the time to break free from the chains of the past and embark on politics grounded in principles. Replace emotions and revenge with reasoning and dialogue. Embrace democracy, the constitution, and the supremacy of civilian leadership as your guiding principles. Learn from the mistakes of the past and lay the foundation of a politics that serves the people and contributes to the nation’s progress. This is your opportunity to correct your course and take the first step toward a brighter future.
Your well-wisher,
A sincere fellow citizen.
The light of the lamp dimmed, and I sat amidst my papers, gazing at the reflection of the present in the mirror of the past.
