Faith and Fury in Pakistani Populism: Why PTI Isn’t TLP

By Arshad Yousafzai

The assertion that Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) and Tehreek-e-Labbaik Pakistan (TLP) are political equivalents is both analytically flawed and factually misleading. PTI occupies the centre-right of Pakistan’s political spectrum, while TLP represents the far-right extremist fringe. Though both use religious symbolism to mobilise support, their ideological foundations, organisational behaviour, and methods of political engagement differ sharply.

PTI functions as a mainstream populist party that seeks political power through constitutional means and electoral legitimacy. Its narrative of Riyasat-e-Madina, a reference to an idealised Islamic welfare state, serves primarily as a political metaphor to appeal to conservative and religiously inclined voters. While the party’s ideology is often criticised as inconsistent or opportunistic, it operates within Pakistan’s democratic framework. Importantly, PTI has not been institutionally implicated in acts of religious violence, mob lynching, attacks on minorities or worship places, or the issuance of fatwas against opponents.

However, PTI’s political strategy has at times reflected ideological ambiguity. Its past inclination to “mainstream” or negotiate with groups like the Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) was justified by party leaders as a pragmatic effort to avoid confrontation and ensure internal security. Yet such appeasement carries long-term risks: it blurs the moral and constitutional boundary between legitimate political engagement and the normalisation of militant discourse. By engaging with anti-state actors, PTI inadvertently strengthens their political relevance and weakens the state’s monopoly on violence, a paradox where tactical compromise undermines strategic stability.

The party’s internal dynamics also reveal shades of religious conservatism. Figures such as Ali Muhammad Khan have actively opposed reforms to Pakistan’s blasphemy laws and made inflammatory remarks against minority groups, particularly the Ahmadiyya community. These positions echo hardline sentiments, yet they remain isolated ideological elements, not the central operating doctrine of PTI as a political organisation.

In contrast, TLP represents a religio-political movement rooted in Barelvi extremism, built around the defence of blasphemy laws and the veneration of the Prophet Muhammad. Founded by Khadim Hussain Rizvi in 2015, TLP’s political power derives not from legislative participation but from street coercion, organising large-scale sit-ins, paralysing cities, and using the threat of mass violence as leverage against the state. Its protests have resulted in the deaths of police personnel, widespread property destruction, and direct incitement to violence against perceived blasphemers.

Although TLP is a registered political party and secured over two million votes in the 2018 elections, electoral participation does not sanitise its extremist conduct. The government’s temporary proscription of it in 2021, later reversed through negotiation, reflects the state’s chronic struggle to balance law enforcement with appeasement of religious hardliners. TLP’s consistent pattern of militant street agitation and theological absolutism places it outside the parameters of conventional democratic politics.

Claims that Imran Khan’s X account has called for public solidarity with TLP but failed to mobilise a significant response further underscore the divergence in political constituencies. PTI’s voter base, while conservative, remains largely detached from TLP’s brand of violent religious populism. This highlights a crucial distinction: PTI’s mobilisation is political and institutional, while TLP’s is theocratic and coercive.

Equating the two, therefore, conflates populist religiosity with organised extremism. PTI’s political agitation, often involving vandalism or confrontations with law enforcement, stems from power struggles within the democratic system. TLP’s violence, by contrast, is doctrinally driven and seeks to impose religious orthodoxy through fear.

The arguments that TLP’s vote share legitimises its politics must be treated with caution. Electoral success reflects mobilisation capacity, not moral or constitutional validity. If militant groups like the TTP were granted similar latitude to contest elections on a Sharia-enforcement platform, they too might attract significant support.

In other words, we can say that the notion that TLP’s ability to secure three million votes legitimises its methods.  Again, electoral success is a measure of popular support, not moral or constitutional endorsement. To extend this logic, arguing that an extremist group like the TTP, if afforded the same unconditional freedom as TLP to campaign on a hardline Sharia platform, might also gain votes, highlights the inherent fragility of democracy when anti-systemic ideologies are permitted to compete without legal or ideological constraint. The distinction, therefore, is not merely political, but one between state-seeking populism and ideologically-driven vigilantism that seeks to enforce faith via violence

Democracy’s strength lies not in accommodating every ideology, but in preserving the constitutional order against those who seek to dismantle it through faith-based vigilantism.

In sum, PTI is a populist political party with ideological inconsistencies; TLP is an extremist movement that weaponises religion for coercive politics. The former competes within the system, the latter challenges the system’s legitimacy. Any analytical conflation between the two obscures the essential difference between political populism and theocratic militancy, a distinction vital for Pakistan’s democratic and security trajectory.

The author is a joirnalist and covers education related issues across Pakistan. He tweets at @arshadyousafzay and can be reached at arshadkhanyousafzay@gmail.com.