By Muhammad Uzair Aslam
It has been seven decades since Pakistan came into being, yet we are still circling around one question: have we ever had a real leader?
In our country, the definition of leadership is rather strange. The one we call a “leader” is usually someone who adds a religious tone to his speeches, reopens old wounds to stir emotions, or hurls insults at his opponents to prove his own virtue But the truth is, leadership is not recognized by words, but by the dignity a person shows after failing to gain power.
A real leader is one who runs an election campaign honestly, strives to win the trust of the people, and reaches the hearts of voters while remaining within legal and moral boundaries. And if he loses, he addresses his workers like this:
“We have no personal enmity with our opponents. This was merely a game of fate that we did not win. Now that power rests with them, we must respect them and encourage them to work for the welfare of the common man. If they introduce any harmful law, our protest will not be against the government but against that law itself.”
But can we name even a single politician in Pakistan who meets this standard?
The truth is, no single individual can fix the system alone. The real test of leadership is to sit with your opponent and talk in the interest of the nation. Yet our tradition is to brand the other as corrupt, without first asking ourselves: “Am I honest myself?” If politics is being done in the name of Islam, then why are the principles of the Caliphate of Umar not followed?
One of the great tragedies of our nation is that politics is no longer seen through the lens of reason and debate but rather through blind love and hate. If someone acknowledges a positive step or policy of a political leader, they are instantly branded as the enemy of the opposing party. On the other hand, if someone dares to highlight the mistakes or shortcomings of their own leader, they are quickly labelled a traitor or conspirator. This attitude is nothing but a manifestation of personality worship, where principles and ideas fade into the background while individuals are placed on a pedestal.
A truly conscious and progressive nation is one that appreciates the good deeds of its leaders while holding them accountable for their errors. Unfortunately, in our society, criticism is often equated with disloyalty, and praise is mistaken for blind devotion. Unless we learn to prioritize principles over personalities, our politics will continue to wander in the barren desert of prejudice and blind following, instead of flourishing in the fertile soil of wisdom and constructive debate.
In our country, respect for the judiciary is also conditional. When a verdict is in one’s favour, the courts are praised. But if it goes against, party workers are provoked and pushed onto the streets. Anyone who truly stands for justice must guarantee an independent judiciary and merit-based decisions during his own tenure, even if the judgment goes against him.
Our biggest problem is protest politics. We take to the streets not against unjust laws but against governments. The result is that governments label protesters as “terrorists” and crack down on them. Had we protested against laws, the government would have had no justification to suppress us. But here, it is the opposite. We name such protests “freedom movements.” Public property is then set ablaze, historical heritage destroyed, and national assets reduced to ashes. When the government steps in to protect them, propaganda campaigns mislead the people.
The question is: freedom from whom do we seek? From the government? From the establishment? From the army? Or from Islam itself?
This crisis is not new it has continued since 1951. And if we truly stand for justice, then tell me: what have we done until today to deliver justice in the case of the assassination of Pakistan’s first Prime Minister, Liaquat Ali Khan?
