Turning A Jirga Into A Stage – OpEd
The jirga in Bannu was supposed to be about peace, security, and community. It brought together tribal elders, local leaders, and ordinary people to talk things through in the traditional Pashtun way.
Jirgas have always been about collective wisdom and dialogue. They’re a symbol of unity and respect, where decisions are made through consensus, not confrontation. That’s why what happened recently felt disappointing to many people. Instead of a genuine discussion about local issues, the event got hijacked by PTM activists who used it to push an anti-state narrative. It was less about community and more about politics.
If you’ve been following what’s been going on in that region, you know people in Bannu and the surrounding tribal districts have lived through years of conflict. They’ve seen attacks, displacement, and the kind of fear that leaves long scars. It took years of joint effort, locals, security forces, tribal elders, to bring back some level of normalcy. So, when a traditional jirga gets turned into a political show, it hits a nerve. People who’ve suffered the most are once again caught in someone else’s narrative.
PTM, to be fair, didn’t come out of nowhere. They built their movement by highlighting the hardships Pashtuns have faced, missing persons, heavy-handed operations, a lack of development. Some of those points are valid. But what’s troubling is how they often present things in a way that makes the state seem like the only enemy while almost ignoring the role of TTP terrorists who destroyed entire towns and schools. At the Bannu jirga, instead of focusing on rebuilding or how to protect communities from another wave of violence, PTM representatives leaned into the same rhetoric that blames everything on the establishment.
That kind of messaging might sound bold, but it’s deeply unfair to those who’ve actually fought for peace. Thousands of soldiers and civilians lost their lives to push militants out of that region. Villagers opened their homes to displaced families and risked retaliation by standing up to extremists. To then hear people suggest that all of it was pointless or part of some grand oppression narrative feels like a slap in the face. It doesn’t mean the state is perfect or above criticism, but painting it as the villain in every story just distorts the reality that terrorism, not governance, is what destroyed the peace in these areas.
There’s also a cultural aspect to this that shouldn’t be ignored. In Pashtun society, jirgas aren’t political rallies. They’re sacred spaces built on respect. Elders lead the discussion, and everyone listens. You might disagree, but you do it with dignity. When PTM activists show up and turn it into a protest platform, it undermines that tradition. It shifts the focus from collective wisdom to political drama. That doesn’t just weaken the institution; it creates friction between generations, between those who value traditional leadership and those chasing social media clout.
To be clear, people have the right to voice their frustrations. No one’s denying that. But there’s a time and a place for it. A jirga is supposed to be about finding solutions, not assigning blame. When PTM turns these spaces into megaphones for anger, they end up alienating the same communities they claim to represent. Instead of bringing people together, they divide them, villagers start taking sides, trust erodes, and the real issues get lost in the noise.
It’s also worth remembering that TTP hasn’t disappeared. They’re still active, still looking for ways to regroup. When political groups start questioning every security measure and turning people against the forces that are keeping extremists in check, it unintentionally gives space to those same militants. PTM might not mean to help them, but when you weaken public trust in the institutions fighting terrorism, that’s exactly what happens.
There’s another side to this too. Some of PTM’s concerns, especially about civilian losses, rehabilitation, and accountability, are things that deserve honest attention. People in these areas need justice and development, not just lectures about patriotism. But that kind of progress requires partnership, not confrontation. PTM could have used the Bannu jirga to open dialogue with the elders and find a middle ground. Instead, they tried to dominate it, which just pushed everyone further apart.
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