Democracy in Gilgit-Baltistan has perfected a singular strategic maneuver: rendering voters passive spectators as their collective mandate is systematically voided. In less sophisticated polities, the electorate clings to the ballot’s sanctity, trusting representatives to uphold the popular will. Gilgit-Baltistan, however, is literate enough to transcend such democratic naivety. Here, elections are performative formalities; the definitive arithmetic is discreetly re-calibrated ex post facto. Only later—away from the public gaze—are elected members properly acquainted with their authentic political identity, with ambitions resolved not on the floor, but in private chambers, invariably over tea, sustained negotiations, and a sufficiently respectable offer.
The recent decision of four independent members-elect from Gilgit-Baltistan to join the Istehkam-e-Pakistan Party (IPP)—the political vanity project of a prominent real estate tycoon and federal minister—should not shock anyone. In fact, rather than clutching our pearls, we ought to applaud this as a stroke of political genius; a masterclass in democratic downsising and a shortcut to legislative power.
Yes, the IPP’s entire slate of 15 candidates suffered a humiliating defeat at the polls. But honestly, why should a party with zero grassroots presence and party structure , bother with such traditional democratic rules like winning elections? Campaigning is exorbitantly expensive, risky and stressful? Why endure the grime of rallies and the anxiety of counting votes when you can just skip the queue?
The far more practical approach is to simply outsource the heavy lifting to the electorate. Let the gullible people of Gilgit-Baltistan trudge to the booths, punch their ballots, and sweat through the democratic process. Then, once the dust settles, the IPP can walk in, and acquire these freshly-minted seats at a bargain-bin price. It’s not a loss; it’s a shrewd acquisition. Why bother building a party from the ground up when you can just flip the properties after the auction is over?
When critics ask how a rejected IPP can hold a sway in the assembly, they clearly miss the genius of our upgraded hybrid democracy. Electoral defeat is no longer a final verdict. It is merely a performative preamble to negotiation.
Independent candidates are the system’s true jewels.
Independent candidates are the system’s true jewels. They are independent before the polls, flexible after them and become instantly visionary, when a ministry is dangled. During the campaign, they belong to the people; once elected victorious, they belong to stability, development and whatever other useful words fit the moment. Why not? In this uncertain world, agility is everything.
We must appreciate their sacrifice. Consider an independent’s candidate’s Herculean grind. He visits villages, mourns at funerals, hugs elders, praises youth, promises roads, exhumes forgotten relatives and preaches his lofty transcendence above party politics. All this for vote. Yet once the results are in, he faces a truly tortuous dilemma: honour the electorate, who gave him only that single mark after all that efforts or pledge to those dangling ministries, contracts and far more tangible returns?
Immature politicians cling to loyalty. The ambitious, the young and the seasoned choose adjustment. And to be fair, adjustment has its own logic. The Pakistani political elite come with money, media, and party machinery, family network, protection, and multiple emergency exits. The local independent arrives with a constituency, a handful of staunch supporters and blind believers and a swelling clan and relatives already toasting his victory and already asking when “our minister” will grace the village. When the powerful offer office, cash, access and a future, why refuse the opportunity? The wider electorate may call it betrayal. The politician calls the “larger interest” of public.
People of Gilgit-Baltistan know this post-election ritual all too well. The electioneering clamor subsides, the slogans are shelved and the “independent” candidate –yesterday an embodiment of principled detachment, today becomes the most courted citizen in the region. Once above the fray of party politics, he is now invited to save democracy, anchor stability and champion development preferably from the front seat of a government vehicle.
Back in the valleys, the voters return home with ink-stained thumbs, their verdict cast. Their chosen representative, however, moves on with options on the table. After all, he too has become a voter now – not for a constituency but for opportunity.
That is why they say democracy is the best revenge.
Antonio Gramsci, had he ventured to Gilgit-Baltistan, would have needed no more than a single rally and two drawing-room meetings to understand the entire arrangement. He famous theory of hegemony captures it precisely: power is most absolute when the ruled begin to perceive domination as mere common sense.
In Gilgit-Baltistan, this common sense has been meticulously cultivated. It whispers: do not ask for too much. Rights are complicated. Autonomy is sensitive. Land is emotional. Constitutional status is delicate. Local government can wait. Easy access to power and patronage, however, is always available — provided the right people occupy the right chairs.
The people, consequently, are tutored to lower their expectations. Instead of rights, they are dispensed favours. Instead of autonomy, they are granted access. Instead of building robust institutions, they are offered compelling personalities. And instead of genuine politics, they are given mediation, a soothing balm that never heals the wound.
IPP fits perfectly into national political art form. The party was launched as a fresh platform after PTI’s rupture with the Establishment and the post-May 9 crisis. Critics called it a shelter for defectors and a vehicle to reorganise electables; IPP supporters called it stability, reform, national interest. In Pakistan, vocabulary is generous. It can turn any defection into vision if the lighting is correct.
also read:
- Ballots Marked, Voices Ignored – The Gilgit-Baltistan Paradox
- Fractures in Gilgit-Baltistan’s social fabric
- Resilient rebuilding for climate-smart mountain communities
- Gilgit-Baltistan drowns in disasters, suffers from state neglect
Now in Gilgit-Baltistan IPP has achieved what mainstream parties dream of: significant presence in the assembly without a single victory at the ballot box. This deserves a study. Why mobilise the masses when you can mobilise the independents?
The nomenclature “Istehkam” means stability. Its arrival has certainly produced stability of perpetual confusion, bargaining, suspicion and public distrust. It has reminded young voters that elections are not necessarily about who wins, but about who becomes useful afterwards.
Of course, IPP did not invent this bazaar. It simply came shopping. The stalls were already open, the goods were familiar: loyalty, ideology, silence, influence, ministries, reserved seats, money and future promises. And who can forget Jahangir Tareen’s famous helicopter service during the formation of the PTI government in Pakistan in 2018? Old skills rarely go unused.
Now, apparently stirred by the pain of Gilgit-Baltistan, Aleem Khan and Jahangir Tareen — real estate and sugar business tycoons respectively– have arrived like concerned saviours just in time for the region’s land, tourism, minerals, forests and hotels to become more interesting. How fortunate for Gilgit-Baltistan that those with a long record of loving power, property and profitable opportunity have suddenly discovered its mountains.
For decades, outside the assembly gate, these questions have lingered unanswered, unresolved: Whose hands truly holds the land, and whose signature barter it away? Who decides the fate of forests, pastures, minerals, and potentials of hydro power– and who pockets the proceeds? Who safeguards communal ownership against the tide of elite capture? And beyond the tokenism gesture of reserved seats, who truly listens to the women?
When glacier lakes outburst, their fragile banks and landslides shear the slops, orchards, houses and crop fields who maps the path to safety? Who dictates the royalties for conquering the peaks, and who reaps the harvest of border trade? Most crucially, for the youth bulge, who offers more than a fleeting foothold, beyond the empty slogans?
The people marked the ballots. Others marked the price. The voters chose independents. The system chose stability.
Now, with IPP’s unexpected arrival through independents, these questions may finally receive the attention they deserve, perhaps from those best placed to recognise value when they see it. They fit neatly into post-election bargaining; much easier with stability and easier, still when stability arrives carrying a briefcase, a development plan and an eye on the map.
For future elections, ballot papers should be more honest. Independent candidates may be offered four boxes:
Independent before election.
Available after election.
Terms negotiable.
Already spoken for.
This would save voters’ time and give democracy the clarity it works so hard to avoid.
For now, G-B has received another lesson in managed representation. The people marked the ballots. Others marked the price. The voters chose independents. The system chose stability. And stability, as usual, chose itself.

Fazal Saadi, hailing from Ishkoman, is a development practitioner and researcher interested in understanding development-induced challenges of poverty and inequality.

The High Asia Herald is a member of High Asia Media Group — a window to High Asia and Central Asia
