■ BāBā-Tāl’s Whispered Wisdom: The God of Democracy versus the Jinn of Democracy ■
The moment I came out of the kitchenette at my rooftop studio apartment in F-10 Markaz — “The Eyrie,” the eagle’s nest — holding two steaming mugs of coffee, I saw him.
My wandering Darvesh, BāBā-Tāl, the Bell-man, was standing on the terrace, blowing soap bubbles.
I opened my eyes wide and asked abruptly, “BāBā, are you okay?”
He looked at me, smiled mischievously, and continued blowing bubbles. One floated towards the railing, caught the sunlight, and shimmered before bursting.
We settled inside and sat by the table. He took his mug. After the first sip, he looked at me and said:
“You see bubbles, Bacha?
Media makes bubbles. Big bubbles, shiny bubbles. Yankees went to vote… Bubbles did not impress them. Pop… pop… pop… All bubbles pop.”
At that point, I understood why BāBā-Tāl was blowing soap bubbles.
He put down his mug and blew one more, slowly. It floated, it shone, and for a moment, it seemed almost permanent.
He smiled.
“Bacha, you ask why I blow bubbles?
Look at Amreeka…
Once in decades, the people woke up. Not to admire bubbles but to burst them.
Media made big bubbles, Television made shiny bubbles, But people came. Young ones came. Old ones came.
Once in decades, the street speaks louder than the screen.
Bubble is bubble, Bacha. Vote is stone. Bubble pops. Stone stays.”
He blew one last bubble. It burst against the terrace floor.
He looked at me and said, “Coffee is getting cold.”
“Bacha! Recall when you stood still before the gigantic statue of Abraham Lincoln in Washington. What happened then?” BāBā-Tāl asked, his eyes smiling.
“Oh! That day!” I exclaimed.
“I was standing with both arms folded, my hands resting near my belly button, my eyes fixed on Lincoln’s face.”
I paused before continuing.
“Suddenly, I heard my friend Asef Chaudhry laughing. I turned towards him. My elder brother, Nurur Rehman Safi, and Asef were standing a few steps away, watching me pay tribute to the man I had called the God of Democracy since childhood, ever since I first read his immortal words about government of the people, by the people and for the people.
“My Bhai Jaan, my beloved elder brother, explained why Asef was laughing.
‘While you stood gazing at Abraham Lincoln’s statue inside the Lincoln Memorial, a beautiful Spanish woman in her twenties, with blue eyes and blonde hair, approached. Before crossing your path, she stopped abruptly. For at least two minutes, she stood looking at you, an expression of admiration on her face. Then, instead of walking between you and the statue, she quietly passed behind you.’
Asef burst into laughter.
‘Perhaps she thought you were praying to the statue!’ he joked.
I admitted, ‘Yes! I was actually absorbed in deep feelings, paying tribute to my democratic idol.’”
For me, Lincoln was never merely a historical president. His words represented an ideal that had captured my imagination since childhood.
The Lincoln Memorial, on the National Mall in Washington, D.C., not far from the White House, houses the monumental seated statue of Abraham Lincoln. Standing before it was an emotional experience that remains vivid in my memory.
In his Gettysburg Address of November 19, 1863, Lincoln gave democracy one of its most enduring expressions:
“Government of the people, by the people, for the people.”
I call him the God of Democracy as a literary tribute to that democratic ideal, not as a theological description.
The American Founding Fathers had established a constitutional framework based on popular sovereignty, representative government, and the division of powers. Lincoln, decades later, articulated the moral purpose behind that system with extraordinary simplicity.
The American Constitution was not designed to make political leaders permanent owners of public authority. It established institutions through which citizens could choose representatives, question authority, and change governments through elections.
Yet, BāBā-Tāl once whispered another thought into my ear:
“Bacha, every democracy has its Lincoln ideal. But beware! There is another creature that sometimes lives inside the machinery of democracy. People call him the Jinn.”
I smiled.
“Are you talking about your Jinn of Democracy, BāBā?”
He nodded.
“Exactly! The people put their votes inside the ballot box, but invisible powers may decide what comes out. The ballot is counted, the result is announced, and the people are left wondering whether their choice was truly respected.”
And so, the God and the Jinn of Democracy became two contrasting symbols in my mind: one representing the people’s sovereign voice, the other representing forces that may attempt to distort it.
WHEN THE PEOPLE SPEAK
The November 3, 2026, American midterm elections have offered a remarkable demonstration of the constitutional principle of popular sovereignty.
Democrats captured control of both the Senate and the House of Representatives, reversing the Republican congressional advantage. The Associated Press called Democratic control of the Senate on election night and the House early the following morning. The party gained at least seven Senate seats and approximately 30 House seats.
Their victories extended into traditionally Republican territory, including Texas, Kansas, South Carolina, Iowa, and Ohio. These were not merely routine electoral adjustments; they represented a substantial change in Washington’s political balance.
President Donald Trump’s second-term administration became a central issue in the election. Economic pressures, the cost of living, political confrontation, and the consequences of the war with Iran contributed to public dissatisfaction.
Midterm elections often become an indirect referendum on the performance of the president. This time, voters used their constitutional authority to change the balance of power in Congress.
The immediate consequence is the divided government. Democrats will have greater control over congressional committees, investigations, legislative priorities, and appropriations. They can scrutinise the administration and challenge its policies. However, the president retains executive authority, including the power to veto legislation.
The Democratic victory, therefore, brings both opportunity and responsibility. Electoral success does not guarantee successful governance. A majority must demonstrate that it can translate public confidence into practical results.
Republicans, meanwhile, face questions about the durability of their political coalition and the consequences of tying so much of their party’s identity to one presidential personality.
The most important democratic lesson is not simply that one party defeated another. It is that the electorate retained the ability to alter the political direction of its government.
THE JINN OF DEMOCRACY — AN INVISIBLE POWER
The Jinn of Democracy is not a supernatural creature. It is my metaphor for invisible, unaccountable forces that may interfere with the people’s electoral will.
In fragile political societies, the ballot box can become a symbol of a much larger struggle. Powerful networks, entrenched interests, unelected authorities, and opaque arrangements may influence political outcomes beyond the reach of ordinary voters.
Democracy is not merely the act of casting a vote. It requires transparent counting, credible institutions, an independent judiciary, a free press, and respect for the electorate’s decision.
The Jinn is not an excuse to declare every disputed election manipulated. It is a warning about the dangers of allowing unaccountable power to undermine the people’s mandate.
The contrast is unmistakable: Lincoln’s democratic ideal gives people a voice; the Jinn represents those forces that may attempt to silence or distort it.
THE MORAL FOUNDATION OF DEMOCRACY
Democracy also carries a moral responsibility. The authority entrusted to public representatives is not a private possession; it is a public trust.
The Holy Qur’an declares:
“Indeed, Allah commands you to render trusts to whom they are due and when you judge between people to judge with justice.”
— Surah An-Nisa, 4:58.
This command extends beyond individual conduct. It applies to rulers, public institutions, judges, administrators, and everyone entrusted with authority.
The Holy Prophet Muhammad [Peace and blessings be upon him] said:
“Each of you is a shepherd, and each of you is responsible for his flock.”
— Sahih al-Bukhari, Hadith 893; Sahih Muslim, Hadith 1829.
This teaching makes public responsibility a moral obligation. Leadership is not a licence to dominate; it is a responsibility to serve.
Lincoln’s democratic ideal and these moral teachings meet at an important point: authority must remain answerable to those whose lives it governs.
The Qur’anic principle of justice does not become irrelevant when a person enters a parliament, occupies a presidential office, or assumes command of a public institution. If anything, the greater the authority, the greater the responsibility.
A ruler may possess constitutional powers, but those powers do not grant moral ownership over the people. Public office is a trust, not an inheritance or personal entitlement.
The congressional realignment will have consequences beyond American domestic politics.
For Pakistan, the change deserves particular attention. Islamabad had invested considerable diplomatic capital in cultivating a personal relationship with President Trump. Pakistan publicly nominated him for the Nobel Peace Prize, while bilateral engagement also included commercial and cryptocurrency-related initiatives involving Trump-linked interests.
Such engagement may create diplomatic openings, but a relationship built too heavily around one president remains vulnerable to political change.
A Democratic-controlled Congress can intensify the scrutiny of executive decisions, foreign assistance, defence cooperation, and commercial arrangements involving American political interests. Congressional oversight does not automatically cancel agreements or determine foreign policy, but it can influence their continuation and implementation.
Pakistan should broaden its engagement beyond the White House. It needs sustained contacts with Democratic leadership, congressional committees, business circles, and policy institutions.
The relationship between Islamabad and Washington must rest on mutual interests, institutional continuity, and practical cooperation rather than personal political chemistry.
Pakistan must also recognise that American foreign policy is not shaped by presidential preferences alone. Congress controls appropriations, conducts oversight, influences legislation, and represents constituencies whose concerns can affect international engagement.
For a country seeking economic stability, investment, technological cooperation, and diplomatic support, cultivating institutional relationships is not optional. It is a strategic necessity.
India, meanwhile, retains considerable bipartisan support in Washington. Strategic cooperation, defence technology, trade, and shared concerns about China’s regional influence provide a strong foundation for the relationship.
However, Democratic lawmakers may also raise questions about India’s domestic policies, civil liberties, and minority rights. These differences can generate debate without necessarily overturning the broader strategic partnership.
China faces a different calculation. The bipartisan American consensus regarding Beijing as a strategic competitor remains significant. Democratic control of Congress does not mean an automatic change in export controls, investment scrutiny, Taiwan policy, or technological competition.
The Middle East presents another complicated dimension. The Iran conflict and its economic consequences contributed to American domestic discontent. A Democratic Congress can use hearings, appropriations, and legislative oversight to scrutinise the administration’s approach. Nevertheless, ending a military conflict is not something Congress can simply impose through a change of majority.
Israel, too, may face a more demanding congressional environment. Democratic lawmakers, particularly younger and progressive members, have increasingly debated military assistance, civilian casualties, and conditions attached to American support. The relationship remains important, but congressional scrutiny is becoming more visible.
These developments demonstrate that foreign policy is shaped not only by presidents but also by legislatures, institutions, public opinion, and changing political coalitions.
There is a difference between holding an election and practising democracy.
An election may produce a government, but democracy must produce accountability. A ballot may select a representative, but that representative must remain answerable to the people. A parliament may pass legislation, but the law must protect citizens rather than merely preserve the privileges of the powerful.
This is where the God and the Jinn of Democracy meet in a contest for the future of political society.
The God of Democracy represents the promise of popular sovereignty. The Jinn represents the temptation of invisible control.
The distinction is not between Democrats and Republicans or between one country and another. It is between accountable government and unaccountable power.
A party that wins an election does not acquire permanent ownership of the state. A government that enjoys a parliamentary majority does not become immune from criticism. Nor does an opposition party become irrelevant simply because it has lost office.
Democracy requires both government and opposition. It requires disagreement without persecution, criticism without intimidation, and political competition without the destruction of constitutional institutions.
The ordinary citizen must remain at the centre of this arrangement.
Here, I would like to offer a few lines of POETEARS:
The ballot is the people’s voice, their most enduring right,
It asks the seat of power to answer in the light;
No hidden hand should bend their choice or silence what they say,
Public trust must guard their vote and keep its promise bright.
*POETEARS* — Coined by S. T. Hejazi
[Where poetry becomes tears, and tears become poetry.]
The American midterms offer a lesson that reaches far beyond Washington.
No political party owns democracy. No president possesses a permanent mandate. No government can assume that yesterday’s electoral victory guarantees tomorrow’s public support.
The Founding Fathers established a constitutional system in which power is divided and elections provide citizens with recurring opportunities to hold representatives accountable. Lincoln gave that system a memorable democratic ideal. The 2026 midterms have demonstrated how voters can use its institutional machinery to change the balance of power.
A relevant Western political wisdom is that power must remain answerable to the people from whom its legitimacy originates. The democratic ideal is not fulfilled merely when a government is elected; it is fulfilled when that government respects the rights and interests of those it governs.
The American experience is not perfect, nor should it be presented as a flawless model for every society. Its political divisions, institutional tensions, lobbying influence, and inequalities remain subjects of legitimate debate. But the constitutional mechanism through which voters can change the balance of congressional power deserves recognition.
For countries struggling with fragile democratic institutions, the lesson is especially significant. Elections must not become ceremonial exercises. Political parties must not treat public mandates as private property. Institutions must not become instruments of personal or group interests.
The ballot must remain sovereign.
The ultimate test of democracy is not how loudly a party celebrates its victory, but how respectfully those in power accept the people’s right to withdraw their support.
Lord Acton, the British historian, offered a warning that remains relevant to every political system:
“Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
The Jinn thrives wherever power escapes accountability. It becomes stronger when institutions surrender their independence, when the press is silent, and when citizens begin to believe that their votescan nott change anything.
But democracy can resist that temptation. It does so through constitutional safeguards, independent institutions, public vigilanc, and the courage of ordinary citizens to exercise their rights.
BāBā-Tāl picked up his mug, looked towards the terrac, and whispered:
“Bacha! Remember, the God of Democracy gives people their voice. The Jinn tries to silence it. But when institutions work and the ballot remains sovereign, the people must have the final word.”
He paused, his brass bells chiming softly.
“Media bubbles may shine, political bubbles may grow, but no bubble can replace the people’s mandate.”
I looked at him.
He smiled.
“Now, Bacha, enough democracy for today. Tea is waiting, and the coffee has already gone cold!”
And perhaps that is the greatest lesson of all:
Democracy does not die merely when ballots disappear; it begins to decay when the people lose the power to make their ballots count.
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