The appeal by Balochistan Chief Minister Sarfraz Bugti to the Election Commission of Pakistan, seeking to postpone the local government elections in Quetta, originally scheduled for December 28, throws into stark relief the dangerous drift of our political ethos. CM Bugti cited law-and-order concerns, harsh winter conditions, and migrant-voter absenteeism as reasons for seeking a delay. The commission, however, after earlier rejecting a similar request, appears prepared to proceed, reminding us that the ballots are already printed and 2,710 candidates have submitted nomination papers across 641 wards.
At the same time, in the heart of the country, Jamaat-e-Islami (JI) has launched sharp warnings of nationwide sit-ins beginning December 21 and protests in Punjab, calling the recently enacted Punjab Local Government Act 2025 a “black law” designed to strip citizens of real power. These events should make us pause. Are we witnessing the resurrection of grassroots democracy or its final burial under the weight of political inertia and bureaucratic overreach?
Local governments are not ornamental. They are supposed to be the first port of call for citizens: for proper sanitation, streetlights, garbage collection, water supply, school maintenance, and more.
Every citizen should recognise that gaps at the local level eventually ripple upward, affecting everything from health and education to women’s empowerment, minority inclusion, youth representation. When local councils vanish, or exist only on paper, ordinary people lose their voice. The gap has already lingered for years. Quetta’s previous local bodies elected in 2015 completed their term in January 2019, but real elections have been elusive, delayed by legal disputes and political wrangling. Across provinces, elected governments treat devolution as optional, something that can be easily ignored.
Even if weather is a valid concern, it is perennial. After all, winters in Balochistan come every year. Similarly, security and administrative burdens are the government’s responsibilities. If it lacks capacity for peaceful polls, the problem lies with governance, not the mandate to enable it. By asking for a delay at the eleventh hour, the provincial government risks eroding the public’s faith in democratic processes. If people cannot vote when scheduled, they may begin to believe they will never vote or that their vote doesn’t matter.
The Punjab Local Government Act 2025, hailed by some as reform, has triggered fierce objections. JI accuses it of centralising power, weakening real representation, and handing decision-making to bureaucrats and political elites. By diluting direct electoral representation, the law may hollow out what little grassroots democracy remains.
Pakistan’s democracy has long suffered from a paradox. While we hold elections every few years, the levers of real power remain locked in entrenched elite structures. Local governments, when functional, have been a rare exception, offering entry points for new leadership for women and minorities and for local activism.
Moreover, discarding local governance weakens resilience. In times of crises, local bodies are often the first responders. Their absence freezes response until distant provincial or federal authorities mobilise–often too late. Because in Pakistan, democracy should not be a promise. It should be a right. *