A Comedic Tragedy of Errors: Democracy's Dance in Pakistan

In a land where political drama rivals Shakespearean theater, Pakistan finds itself once again entangled in a web of legal misadventures and political machinations. Chief Justice of Pakistan (CJP) Qazi Faez Isa is the protagonist of our current saga, steadfastly defending his January 13 ruling that deemed Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf's (PTI) intra-party elections unlawful. The result? PTI, a party often likened to a cricket team that forgot its own batting order, lost its election symbol in the recent general elections.

In a move straight out of a courtroom drama, the Supreme Court Registrar, responding to CJP Isa’s directives, sent a letter on May 3 to British High Commissioner Jane Marriott. Marriott, at the Asma Jahangir Conference, had extolled the virtues of democracy, elections, and open societies. The Supreme Court’s letter, laden with a mix of legal jargon and pointed reminders, emphasized that if a political party skips its mandated intra-party elections, it forfeits its right to an election symbol. It’s like a cricket team trying to play without a proper kit – not exactly the most inspiring spectacle.

However, the story doesn't end there. Despite the SC's clear stance, several legal experts have criticized the letter, pointing out the pesky detail of a pending review petition against the January 13 order. It's as if the plot thickens, with characters maneuvering through a maze of legalese and political intrigue.

CJP Isa finds himself in the thick of things, grappling with the case of the reserved seat. He must now explain the apparent misinterpretation of his January 13 order. During a hearing on a rather dramatic Tuesday, CJP Isa questioned why PTI candidates hadn’t requested the Election Commission of Pakistan (ECP) for their beloved bat symbol. Faisal Siddiqi, counsel for the Sunni Ittehad Council (SIC), hinted that this could be seen as contempt of court. CJP Isa, however, disagreed, asserting that the real issue was PTI's failure to hold intra-party elections. Justice Munib Akhtar's mention of ECP's rubber-stamp errors did little to sway the Chief Justice, who reiterated PTI's dodging of intra-party elections even when their leader was the Prime Minister. It’s like blaming the umpire for a no-ball when you haven’t even shown up to bowl.

Justice Muhammad Ali Mazhar, co-signatory of the January 13 order, reminded everyone that the law was clear: PTI could come knocking on the court’s door again if they had any grievances about the non-allocation of reserved seats. He suggested that the review petition should be heard along with the current case, but for now, it seems the plot will drag on.

In the world of Pakistani politics, a single judgment can indeed define a judge’s career. Former CJP Munir, for instance, defended his controversial decision to dissolve the first Sindh Assembly in a book – a move that still sparks debate. Justice Ejaz Afzal Khan, on the other hand, left a legacy of integrity, having penned the judgment that disqualified former PM Nawaz Sharif in the infamous Panama case.

Yet, amid all this legal wrangling, one can’t help but wonder why the PTI, still a registered party, hadn’t pursued the allocation of reserved seats through the ECP post-elections. It’s almost as if their legal team is dragging their feet, devising a post-election strategy as coherent as a Shakespearean jester’s ramblings. Some lawyers urged PTI to approach the ECP, but the party remained hesitant, like Hamlet contemplating the meaning of life. If the ECP had rejected their request, they could have taken the matter to the Supreme Court, but alas, such decisive action seems foreign in this tragicomedy.