In modern history, few political trajectories have paralleled each other so strikingly across time and geography as those of the Nazi Party in Germany and what many now call the “Niazi Party” in Pakistan, Imran Khan’s Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf. Though the scales of violence and ideological content differ, the methods of power acquisition, propaganda, institutional complicity, and eventual national damage carry eerie similarities. This is not a casual comparison. It is a lesson in how populist movements, clothed in nationalism and backed by powerful establishments, can drive nations toward ruin.
Both parties rose on waves of prolonged, calculated propaganda, portraying themselves as saviours offering a new beginning. Hitler promised a thousand-year Reich. Khan sold the fantasy of a “Naya Pakistan.” In both cases, the mass media were weaponised.
The Nazi regime, under Goebbels, ran an orchestrated campaign of hyper-nationalism, enemy scapegoating, and the glorification of Hitler as Germany’s only hope. PTI, decades later, built its base not through violent paramilitaries but through a digital ecosystem, one that drowned out dissent, framed opponents as traitors, and deified Khan as incorruptible. Their narratives thrived on repetition, emotion, and manufactured grievance. In both instances, nationalism was not a value; it was a product.
But the propaganda alone would not have worked.
Both parties were lifted into power through institutional patronage. The German conservative elite believed they could control Hitler by using him to contain the political left. In doing so, they handed him the keys to the Reich. PTI’s rise was similarly facilitated. Key segments of Pakistan’s military and judiciary cleared the path to Khan’s 2018 victory, using legal disqualifications, pre-poll engineering, and posturing as an “umpire” for “free and fair elections.” They thought he would be a manageable civilian face to protect military primacy.
The establishment that once smiled upon him found itself caught between a cult leader and a collapsing governance structure
What resulted, instead, was institutional capture.
Khan’s populist defiance soon turned on his benefactors. The establishment that once smiled upon him found itself caught between a cult leader and a collapsing governance structure. His “hybrid regime” ended as a warning: institutions that raise populists to crush democracy eventually become their victims.
The cost of this experiment? Nothing less than economic disaster.
In 2017, the Pakistan Stock Exchange’s market capitalisation stood at $100 billion. By 2025, it hovered around $50 billion, a staggering 50% loss in dollar value (State Bank of Pakistan; PSX data). Similarly, Pakistan’s GDP shrank from $356 billion in 2018 to $300 billion by 2020, even before COVID-19’s impact (IMF; World Bank). During PTI’s tenure, the rupee collapsed, inflation surged, investor confidence vanished, and fiscal chaos deepened. Every key indicator—employment, investment, reserves—deteriorated under Khan’s watch.
This collapse was not accidental. It was the product of erratic policies, U-turns on IMF deals, and a near-despotic refusal to accept professional advice. Like the Nazi regime’s economy, built on spectacle and lies, PTI’s governance projected slogans while corroding the fundamentals. Remember the slogans of fixing everything within 90 days? Team of 200 highly competent persons?
And when the state failed, as always, PTI returned to what it knows best: protest.
From the 2014 dharna that attempted to storm parliament and PTV, to the 2022 long march and the infamous 9 May 2023 riots that targeted military installations, every major protest led by PTI has ended in violence. The party’s relationship with the street has always depended on one thing: establishment tolerance. The 2014 protest was given space. The 2022 attempt had silent judicial blessings. Remember Bandial’s “Good to see you?”
But 9 May 2023 shattered that. Without state support, the cult’s fury turned inwards, vandalising the very symbols that once sustained it.
Now, the Niazi Party calls for yet another protest, this time on 5 August. But there will be no invisible hand to back it. The judiciary has distanced itself. The military has had enough of the “revolution” that it once engineered. Most of PTI’s leadership is either jailed, hiding, or defected. If history is any guide, this protest will also likely fail, as it lacks support and protection from the establishment. When Khan’s protests were successful, they had silent facilitators. Without them, they become what they always were: noise.
That this entire saga began with establishment figures attempting to manufacture a leader out of a below-average orator is Pakistan’s true tragedy. Their belief that Imran Khan could be a patriotic face for controlled democracy speaks less about Khan and more about the mental calibre of those who imposed him on the country. In doing so, they damaged not just the economy but the credibility of every civilian institution that bent to accommodate him.
Unlike post-war Germany, Pakistan does not need a formal de-Nazification programme. It only needs to treat PTI under the law. That is how “de-Niazification” will occur: not through vendetta, but through constitutional clarity. Deal with the cult legally. Prosecute its crimes. And re-establish the line between politics and sedition.
And while the nation is at it, one might suggest the “de-Labbaikification” of the religious politics as well, ending the state’s repeated flirtation with religious extremism. Pakistan’s future does not need messiahs in civilian clothes or turbans. It needs stable institutions, sober leadership, and an end to the experiments that have cost this country its direction.