On December 2, 2025, the political heart of Pakistan pulsed with unrest as supporters of the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) party took to the streets of Islamabad, defying a strict government ban on public gatherings to protest the treatment and reported isolation of jailed former Prime Minister Imran Khan. The demonstrations, which spilled over to the gates of Rawalpindi’s Adiala jail—where Khan is being held—have drawn renewed attention to the fraught relationship between Pakistan’s elected leaders and its powerful military establishment, a dynamic that has plagued the country’s politics for decades.
According to Dawn, PTI activists gathered outside the Islamabad High Court, raising slogans for justice and political reform, despite the imposition of Section 144—a law that prohibits gatherings of four or more people. The government, citing intelligence reports of security threats, promised a crackdown. Minister of State for Interior Tallal Chaudhry warned, “Whether they come to the Islamabad High Court or the Adiala jail, action under Section 144 would be carried out without any discrimination,” urging PTI-backed lawmakers to “abide by the law.”
The protest was not simply about political grievances; it was a direct response to growing concerns over Imran Khan’s health and his reported near-total isolation. As Asianet Newsable reported, Khan has allegedly had no contact with anyone for nearly a month, despite a court order guaranteeing weekly visits. Family members and party colleagues claim they have been denied access repeatedly, fueling speculation and public anxiety about the former prime minister’s well-being. Authorities, meanwhile, have denied rumors of his death and insist he is in good health, but the lack of transparency has only deepened suspicion.
Security was visibly ramped up in both Islamabad and Rawalpindi. Checkpoints dotted the routes to Adiala jail, and roads leading to Islamabad’s Red Zone were closed. Police in Rawalpindi said at least 3,000 personnel had been deployed across the city to maintain order. “Section 144 has been imposed across Rawalpindi for three days, which restricts unlawful assembly, rally and protest,” police stated, according to Dawn. The government’s justification for these measures? Chaudhry claimed, “Terrorists look for instances [which they can use] to spread fear and make headlines; be it political gathering, courts or important places or offices.” He also alluded to concerns that terrorist groups might exploit social media and VPNs to organize or conceal their activities.
PTI leaders, however, remained defiant. Asad Qaiser, a prominent party figure, announced plans for lawmakers to gather outside the Islamabad High Court before marching to Adiala jail. “It has been decided to hold protests because IHC has failed to implement its order and the Adiala jail administration is not willing to implement the court orders,” Qaiser said. Barrister Gohar Ali Khan and other party leaders were expected to join the demonstrations. Just last week, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Chief Minister Sohail Afridi staged a sit-in outside Adiala jail after being denied access to Khan for the eighth time.
This episode is far from unique in Pakistan’s turbulent political history. As The Print observed, no Pakistani Prime Minister has ever completed a full term in office—a pattern that has earned the office the reputation of being “one of the riskiest jobs in the world.” Imran Khan’s predecessor, Shahid Khaqan Abbasi, was himself arrested on corruption charges in 2019 during Khan’s own “accountability drive” against opposition figures. Other former prime ministers, including Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, Benazir Bhutto, and Nawaz Sharif, have also been jailed on a range of charges from graft to political murder. The outcomes of these cases have been as varied as they are dramatic, with some leaders executed, others exiled, disqualified, or caught in cycles of release and re-arrest.
What sets the current crisis apart is the intensity of Imran Khan’s isolation and the public’s response to it. The government’s efforts to restrict access to Khan—citing security and legal justifications—have only fueled speculation that something “irreversible” may be happening behind prison walls, as family members have warned. Authorities, for their part, maintain that Khan is in good condition, but the lack of direct communication has left many unconvinced.
The political backdrop to Khan’s incarceration is as complex as it is contentious. His arrest is widely seen as a result of escalating tensions with General Asim Munir, the current army chief. The rivalry has personal and institutional dimensions: Munir was removed from his post as Inter Services Intelligence (ISI) chief in 2019 during Khan’s tenure, and Khan’s later attempts to assert civilian control over the military only deepened the rift. According to The Print, Khan’s populist appeal—particularly among Pashtuns and the urban middle class—challenged the dominance of the Punjabi-led military establishment, a dynamic that has long shaped Pakistan’s power structure.
Some protestors allege that Khan’s current predicament is a manifestation of the military’s “oppression of a Pashtun leader,” highlighting the ethnic and political fault lines that run through the country. The military and bureaucracy have historically been dominated by Punjabis, while Pashtuns, represented symbolically by Khan, have often felt marginalized. The ongoing standoff, then, is not just about one man’s fate but about the broader struggle for civilian supremacy and ethnic inclusion in Pakistan’s political life.
Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif, for his part, has taken pains to maintain good relations with the military, a stance seen by many as pragmatic but also indicative of the constraints on civilian authority. The government’s insistence on enforcing Section 144, its warnings of terrorist threats, and its repeated assurances about Khan’s health all reflect the delicate balance it must strike between maintaining order and addressing public demands for transparency and justice.
Meanwhile, the legal and political drama continues to unfold. The question of whether Imran Khan might be moved to a new facility in Islamabad remains open, with Minister Chaudhry noting that the jail is nearing completion but staff training is still required. There are also hints that visas for Khan’s sons could be issued soon, provided all necessary documents are submitted.
As Pakistan grapples with these challenges, the fate of Imran Khan has become a lightning rod for broader debates about democracy, civil-military relations, and the rule of law. The streets of Islamabad and Rawalpindi may be quieted by security measures for now, but the underlying tensions—political, ethnic, and institutional—remain as volatile as ever. How this standoff resolves could set the tone for Pakistan’s political future in ways that extend far beyond the walls of Adiala jail.