If the spirit of accountability is absent, what becomes of democracy? When Nawaz Sharif was ousted, his chances of serving as prime minister a third time were severely limited by a court disqualification ruling, and the whole Sharif family was driven to the breaking point. It scarcely provided any solace. When the majority of the leadership, including Nawaz, Shehbaz, Maryam, and Hamza, were imprisoned on suspicion of laundering money through offshore businesses or for purchasing pricey apartments in the centre of London’s affluent neighbourhood, the money that vanished from Pakistan and was allegedly stored by the Sharif family abroad took on monster proportions before Imran Khan came into power and established himself as the establishment’s blue-eyed child.
Ishaq Dar, who is regarded as the brains behind the plan, was the point when the inquiry came to an end. Charges of fraud, kickbacks, and abuse of exchequer funds resulted from the fact that he was subpoenaed and sought in several instances. However, the then-finance minister left the nation for health reasons before the National Accountability Courts could take action against him. Nevertheless, he was elected senator in his place and served for four years. On his return to Pakistan on Tuesday, he was sworn in as a senator.
What transpired in all those situations when the courts requested Dar? We are unsure about the solution.
Pakistan’s legal system has utterly failed to determine if the Sharif household was properly questioned by the NAB or if it was a witch hunt to reduce the family to its size and remind them of where the real power rests.
The Pakistani people, especially those who support Imran Khan and the PTI, were more concerned with returning the funds to the exchequer than they were with locking up the Sharif family. But that was not to be.
Khan’s road map wasn’t the same as the planners’. The goal he had established for himself in the 22 years of his fight as a political reformer was a Pakistan free of corruption, but his path could only lead him to the throne.
In the dilemma of maintaining the one-page connection, Khan began to lose sight of his goal of freeing Pakistan from the mafia. Even though he kept emphasising the benefits of having a strong justice system, he was powerless to stop the wrong from occurring. In the hands of Khan’s unprepared and unskilled crew, his dream to make Pakistan’s police force responsive and deliverable also faded.
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He was so preoccupied with the power battle that he failed to see how quickly the marble that had made him the darling of the change seekers was disappearing. He was pursuing the specters of the people who had bestowed the crown upon him. It seems that they had given it to numerous people before taking it away from them.
Khan misled his supporters. That was the perception his supporters held up until April 10, when the drama that started with the no-confidence vote and ended with the judiciary, the military, and the legislature laying down their swords lest Khan and his party resist, any further than midnight, to leave the ring, finally came to an end. However, neither joy nor sorrow was felt by Khan or his supporters as a result of this ruse. In reality, the PDM’s broth went sour overnight as a result of the chemical reaction of his removal.
Khan has never consented to the Sharif family’s release without charge. His sole major transgression was not prioritising the cases and making them his top focus. One of the many straws that broke the camel’s back was his sin and his performance as prime minister, particularly in Punjab. Reliable sources claim that during IK’s rule, corruption increased significantly, with Punjab leading the way. Balochistan saw unchecked smuggling. Karachi remained an extortion hotspot as a result of the PPP and MQM’s misdeeds.
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At the moment of his removal, Khan’s sole options were his religious beliefs and a pristine record as a financially honest leader. The overnight transformation of thieves, absconders, and money launderers into political leaders and handlers turned the table to Khan’s side and distinguished him as the only saviour to free the country from the corrupt mafias, even though when he was in power, these qualities had become a burden rather than a building block for a new tenure.
The return of Ishaq Dar has further damaged my trust in the country’s justice system as well as the faith of its 220 million citizens.
The lesson of the narrative is that justice, in the eyes of the Sharifs, IshaqDars, and Zardaris, or even the establishment, is defined as that which propels them to power rather than that which exposes criminals and holds them accountable.
According to the story’s lesson, Khan should have been on the side of history rather than in the background.
The moral lesson of the story is that Pakistan’s courts have already lost, and it is only a matter of time before they fall into the abyss of selective justice, intolerance, and unrepentant support for the corrupt elite.
