IN times long past, kings and powerful men used messengers to communicate. Those of us brought up on Dastaan-i-Ameer Hamza and Tilism-i-Hoshruba imagined lone men on horseback rushing between cities and fiefdoms, carrying letters or messages to and fro. They were known as ailchis.
In this age of modern communications, when we can even chat the Jetsons way with a video call, one would have assumed we no longer need ailchis. But we still do. They are no longer needed for the mighty and powerful to communicate with each other as such — though the ‘stories’ about the various London plans suggest otherwise — but they are still used, town-crier style, to talk to the awaam, or masses, as we like to call them in English-language newspapers.
The more politically correct term would be ‘citizens’, but why bother to be PC when the awaam in Pakistan barely have any rights, which is perhaps what defines a citizen?
To return to the point, the powerful still need to pass on messages to those who are mere mortals. It can be a warning, a threat, a message or even a bid to test the waters. And this can be done via anonymous accounts on social media or through individuals known to enjoy the confidence of the powerful. In recent days, a few such well-connected people have been informing their listeners that those who have their ears are considering changing the voting age from 18 to 25. The reason being given is that if one can’t be elected to parliament before the age of 25, then those who make this election possible should also be of that age.
It was also pointed out, with considerable pain, that this was simply a proposal under consideration and no final decision had been taken. And this, in our hack world, ladies and gentlemen, is called a feeler — to use a news story to gauge the reaction. Test the waters, so to speak.
What if after yet another amendment, it turns out it wasn’t enough to increase the age to 25?
Why in the world, in the middle of crises such as convincing the IMF to ease fiscal restrictions, decisions about Gaza, a security crisis, and even rolling back the NFC, would the government take on another constitutional amendment? Especially if they still have not been able to create a consensus on the NFC and the provinces-versus-local-government debate? But then, these are useless questions — for who knows how the minds of the powerful work?
But it is an idea being taken seriously on talk shows. Analysts have discussed it and politicians have been asked about it. And a senior politico, when asked about it, did point out that Gen Z doesn’t even read manifestos before voting. Valid argument, because every 30- and 50-year-old is making voting decisions after a detailed comparison of the manifestos.
Dare one say, though, that the argument about manifestos or the uniformity between voting and eligibility age is all just red herrings? Justifications conjured up post-decision making are akin to being told that the 26th Amendment had to be brought in to ensure judges could be recruited from a wider cross-section of society than just a law firm or two in Lahore. Because two dynastic families prioritise fresh blood — even if it is only in the judiciary.
What might just remain unsaid — like other issues such as trees or conflicts to the west — is that the increase in the voting age will be aimed at the PTI’s support base. This stubborn Gen Z, which the state now associates with the party, has to be kept from voting for its preferred party, hopefully reducing the PTI’s chances.
But why would the powerful do this? For it would be yet another admission of failure. Why admit that the trips to universities and colleges, which began all the way back with the caretaker prime minister, all the laptop schemes and the grand events where students weep and credit the government for their success, have not worked? All those talk shows with students and the discussion about Bilawal Bhutto-Zardari and Maryam Nawaz being an inspiration for young people — will these conversations be discarded?
And will we be denied further conjecture on what happened when officials who can’t be named go to a university or college to ‘talk’ to future generations? And it might just mean that new, young leaders such as a television anchor and a former musician would give up their efforts to carve out a political career. Surely, this would be most unfair. This would deny far too much enjoyment to us mortals.
And what if after yet another amendment, it turns out it wasn’t enough to increase the age to 25? The 25-to-35 age group also outnumbers the 50-year-old group and is impervious to the old-world charms of the 1990s leadership. Will there be another amendment? It might just prove exhausting for the 70-year-old parliamentarians who will have to vote again.
Surely, it would be easier to simply hone the election management technique introduced before, during and after the 2024 elections. It has proved rather successful so far, and the judiciary, which tried to tinker with the results, has also been brought to heel. Why try and fix what is already working?
In fact, it is also important to point out that when there is a way to simply discard the votes of younger people, why bother disenfranchising them altogether? The latter might upset them more than they already are. Indeed, it would be better to insist that the current strategy is working and not admit to failure. Stick to the visits and the engagements, grooming new political leaders. Continue to win over the young, one weeping student at a time. And even if it doesn’t, the Election Commission is always there.
The writer is a journalist.
Published in Dawn, January 20th, 2026
