If the purpose of politics is not public service, solving people’s problems, or improving the state system, but has been reduced merely to blame-shifting, personal feuds, struggles for power, and perpetual confrontation, then a question naturally arises: what is the benefit of continuing such politics? Perhaps it would be better to close this chapter altogether, because politics that is not for the people becomes nothing more than a burden-both on the state and on the nation.
In any religion or society, politics is considered a serious responsibility: a legitimate means through which people convey their problems to the halls of power, and elected representatives transform those problems into policy, law, and action. But in Pakistan, politics has gradually drifted away from this fundamental purpose and turned into an arena where words are weapons, accusations are strategies, and spectacle itself has become the measure of success. Here, debate is not about issues but about individuals; questions are not about the people but about power.
The most prominent feature of contemporary Pakistani politics is the politics of blame. Every failure is someone else’s fault. If inflation rises, the previous government is blamed; if electricity becomes expensive, the past is held responsible. No one is ready to accept that after coming into power, decision-making, reform, and implementation are also their responsibility. Instead of offering solutions, politicians appear to be constantly complaining, as if governance itself is not their role and perpetual protest is the real politics.
Another major reason for this situation is the culture of political brawls. Parliament, once regarded as a sacred institution for legislation, has become a place where, instead of serious debate on education, water, health, and employment, efforts are made to humiliate one another. As a result, legislation stalls, reforms remain incomplete, and public problems stay exactly where they were. Political intolerance has further deepened this crisis. Differences of opinion are seen as treason; whoever raises a question is labeled an enemy, and whoever criticizes is called an agent. This attitude has shut the doors of dialogue, even though democracy cannot survive without disagreement. When tolerance disappears from politics, policies are not formed-only battlefronts are.
There is also a lack of democracy within political parties themselves. Most parties in Pakistan are under family or individual control. Decisions are made by a few people; consultation exists only in name, and workers are limited to chanting slogans. When there is no merit, transparency, or space for questioning within a party, what can that party offer the public after coming into power? This is why the same faces, the same narratives, and the same failed policies are repeated again and again.
The role of the media also leans more toward sharp, bitter statements than serious analysis in the race for ratings. Politics is portrayed as a constant fight, where victory is decided not by logic but by the loudness of voices. In such an environment, politicians know that to stay in the news, they must create noise rather than do real work. As a result, issues move into the background instead of being resolved.
The greatest damage caused by this chaos is to public trust. People are becoming disillusioned with politics; young people increasingly see it as abuse, deception, and something pointless. Politics that cannot give people hope ultimately leads to detachment from the system-voter apathy, lack of trust, and collective despair are the outcomes of this behavior. When politics fails to improve people’s lives, state systems weaken. Inflation becomes permanent, education declines, healthcare turns into a business rather than a service, and justice becomes another name for delay. This is not because resources do not exist, but because priorities are wrong. When politics remains busy pulling others down, public welfare is naturally neglected.
In such circumstances, a bitter but necessary question emerges: if politics is not meant to solve people’s problems, then what is the benefit of teaching or sustaining it? This does not mean ending democracy; rather, it means ending outdated, noisy, and blame-based politics. What is needed is a politics that takes pride in service, treats evidence as strength, and considers public interest as the true essence of politics.
The solution is still possible, but it requires a change in both intention and direction. Politicians must abandon the politics of accusation and adopt the politics of performance. Parliament must be taken out of chaos and turned into a center of serious work. The media must focus on issues rather than spectacle. And above all, the public must decide that they will judge on performance, not on hatred.
If this does not happen, politics will remain a burden-a burden that will hollow out the state and exhaust the nation. In that case, the closure of such politics would indeed be better, because in the life of nations, the purpose of politics is not noise but guidance. And politics that cannot show a path is remembered in history as nothing more than a failed chapter.
