Daniel Hannan is Director-General of the Institute of Economic Affairs
Is Imran Khan being slowly poisoned? Are Pakistan’s military authorities probing to see whether the former cricketer might be quietly disposed of without triggering a civil war? Or does the order that he be released from solitary confinement to a hospital signal a readiness to free him as part of a deal with his supporters? There is a frenzy of speculation, both among Pakistanis and within the British diaspora community, where his PTI party is hugely popular.
The relative lack of interest in Khan’s fate, other than among Britons of Pakistani heritage, is mystifying. The all-rounder is one of us: he played for Oxford University and Worcestershire, spent his formative years here, speaks Urdu with an English accent. Yet his British fans are often astonished when they learn that he has spent more than three years in prison, largely in solitary confinement. His case has simply not been in the news.
It is worth recalling Khan’s story, not only because of the demographic links we have with Pakistan, but because of what it says about the fragility of the rule of law. Khan’s cricketing career culminated in 1992 when, in a Hollywood-like story, he led Pakistan’s underdog team to victory in the world cup.
He could have retired to a life of wealth and comfort. Instead, he threw himself into philanthropy, among other things, building Pakistan’s first cancer hospital. In 1996, ignoring offers from Pakistan’s established politicians, he founded his own party, the PTI. This was highly unusual in Pakistan, where party affiliation tended to be regional, hereditary and semi-tribal.
Instead of doing deals with local power-brokers, he built up the PTI from the ground. It was a slow process. At its first national election, in 1997, the party won just 1.6 per cent of the vote. At its second, in 2002, it won its first MP, Khan himself; but he was the only successful candidate in 342 constituencies.
Over the years, Khan began to convince Pakistanis, especially younger Pakistanis, that they did not have to vote according to blood ties or inherited fealties, the so-called baradari system. He was building a mass movement, which is why émigré Pakistanis, especially those who grew up in Western democracies, are disproportionately likely to support it.
In 2018, Khan finally won an election, and set about reducing the size of government, making great play of scrapping the perks of prime ministerial office. More seriously, he began to fall out with the army, the true power in Pakistan for all but the earliest years of its existence.
The pandemic hit Pakistan hard, lockdown being catastrophic for the informal economy. Taking advantage of Khan’s unpopularity, the generals orchestrated a parliamentary coup against him, and then mobilised the judiciary to present a series of preposterous charges. He was accused of not having properly declared diplomatic gifts that he had been given as head of government – an implausible charge against a man who had given away much of his wealth and become a religious ascetic.
It was alleged that his wife had married him without waiting for the time prescribed by Islamic law after the dissolution of her previous marriage – which led to the undignified spectacle of a court solemnly arguing about her menstrual cycle.
His real crime, as everyone understood, was that he would win a free election. Having locked him up, the generals and their civilian puppets can’t release him without risking their own imprisonment after he wins. Various attempts have been made to negotiate a compromise, but Khan – who, after a playboy youth, has become a spiritual and meditative Sufi – is quite ready to die in custody, and knows that he gets more popular with every month he spends behind bars.
Which brings us back to the question of his discharge to hospital. The move was ordered by Pakistan’s Supreme Court, but ministers have opposed it. Is there a split within the government? Might there be some readiness to bring the PTI back into the constitutional framework? Or is it all a charade, a prelude to claiming that Khan was getting the treatment he needed and did not die in prison?
No one really knows. But I do know this. Whatever mistakes he made as PM, Khan is a symbol of democratisation in a country that has been pillaged for decades by a military junta. “Pakistan Army”, say the wags in Lahore. “Never won a war, never lost an election.”
A man intimately connected to this country is paying a terrible price for standing by the principle of free elections under the rule of law. That should be enough to make his cause ours.