The Sons of Aleema Khan and the Face of Elite Capture

For more than two years, thousands of ordinary members of the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) have remained behind bars. Many of them were small-town activists, young students, or loyal party workers who genuinely believed in PTI’s promises of political change and willingly bore the full weight of state crackdowns after May 9 and other turbulent events. Yet during this entire period, the party’s so-called elite leadership showed little concern for the suffering of these ordinary supporters. Their silence was telling, and it revealed where their priorities truly lay.

However, the moment the arm of accountability stretched towards the sons of Aleema Khan, the influential sister of PTI founder Imran Khan, everything suddenly changed. Almost overnight, a loud campaign began presenting them as victims of political revenge, accusing the state of overreach and injustice. The irony was glaring: when thousands of low-income PTI workers were arrested, the party’s elite barely whispered a word; when the privileged were questioned, the narrative instantly shifted into a battle for justice and rights.

This reaction exposes a fundamental problem within PTI’s political culture, its entanglement with elite capture. This system allows political power, economic opportunities, and social influence to remain concentrated in the hands of a few wealthy families while the majority of Pakistanis are left struggling on the margins. These elites thrive on the benefits of the system when it favors them but cry foul the moment accountability dares to touch their own circles.

Consider the case of Shahraiz, one of Aleema Khan’s sons. Reports suggest he served on the Board of Directors of Shaukat Khanum Hospital, an institution built on the donations of ordinary Pakistanis and promoted as a symbol of transparency and public trust. Yet Shahraiz’s professional qualifications for such a role remain unclear to this day. Critics argue that this is not about personal attacks but about a basic principle: why should a position demanding expertise in healthcare governance or financial oversight be handed to someone whose credentials in either field are invisible?

This is where the charge of elite privilege becomes undeniable. Ordinary Pakistanis work for decades to gain professional recognition, but political families hand out prestigious roles to their own relatives as casually as distributing wedding invitations. Meanwhile, for more than two years, PTI’s rank-and-file members languished in jails across the country. Many lost jobs; others saw their small businesses collapse under financial strain. Families had to borrow money just to pay for lawyers or to travel long distances to visit imprisoned loved ones.

During this time, the party’s social and political elite remained indifferent. They held no fiery press conferences for the jailed workers, launched no nationwide campaigns for justice, and showed no outrage on social media comparable to what we now witness for Aleema Khan’s family. This stark contrast reveals an uncomfortable truth: the lives of ordinary PTI workers rarely matter as much as the discomfort of the party’s elite. The moment an influential family faces accountability, the entire party machinery suddenly discovers its voice.

Public criticism has also focused on the lifestyle of Aleema Khan’s family. Reports about family trips to Europe for a single marathon have reinforced the perception of a privileged class far removed from the economic hardships faced by ordinary Pakistanis. At a time when citizens battle record inflation and unemployment, such displays of wealth only deepen the sense of disconnect between the ruling elite and the people they claim to represent.

This criticism is not about condemning personal wealth itself. It is about the political morality of a movement that rose to power promising “Naya Pakistan,” a new and just Pakistan, yet ended up protecting the same old habits of nepotism, privilege, and family loyalty.

The controversy surrounding Aleema Khan’s sons cannot be dismissed as an isolated incident. It reflects the broader reality of how power has operated in Pakistan for decades. A small group of families, whether political, business, or bureaucratic, has repeatedly dominated decision-making, resources, and institutions. From awarding contracts to appointing officials to distributing party tickets, the underlying rule seems unchanged: personal connections outweigh merit and competence.

This system of elite capture leaves ordinary citizens feeling excluded and betrayed. They watch the same names and faces enjoying power across generations while justice, accountability, and equal opportunity remain empty promises. If PTI genuinely wishes to represent real change, it must break this pattern. That requires defending the ordinary worker before defending the privileged, appointing people on merit rather than bloodline, and demanding justice for everyone, not selectively for the powerful.

The case of Aleema Khan’s sons has become a symbol of PTI’s own failure to rise above the politics of privilege it once claimed to fight against. The party’s credibility now depends on whether it can hold its own elite accountable with the same passion it demands for others.

This controversy is not driven by personal grudges. It is about the principle of equality before the law. Pakistan cannot afford a system where the suffering of the poor goes unnoticed while the discomfort of the elite shakes the entire political order. Unless political parties confront this hypocrisy within their own ranks, the promise of real change will remain hollow, and the dream of a fairer Pakistan will remain out of reach.