Region 
 

Larkana

PPP AT A CROSSROADS

If the centre insists on rolling back the 18th Amendment, the PPP will face a stark choice: Stand firm and risk the kind of punitive response that PTI experienced, or accept a negotiated compromise that preserves some substance of devolution while conceding ground

By Shakeel Ahmed Shah | February 2026


The history of Pakistan has many stories to tell, and few political parties are as deeply woven into that history as the Pakistan Peoples Party (PPP). Emerging as a defining force in the aftermath of 1971, the PPP shaped the country’s political imagination at a time of national rupture and redefinition. Among the many political actors that crowd Pakistan’s contemporary landscape, PPP stands apart as the oldest major party still active with a continuous legacy of struggles, making it not merely a participant in history but one of its principal authors. That long inheritance now places the party under renewed scrutiny, as it confronts pressures that test whether its historic instincts for resistance and accommodation can still guide it through another defining moment.

At the heart of the contest is the 18th Amendment, the constitutional bedrock that transferred a range of powers from the federal centre to the provinces. The party’s leadership has publicly affirmed its resistance to any rollback of that amendment, and this stance has not been lost on the powers that be. The central question is whether the PPP will respond like the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) did in recent years by turning confrontation into an open challenge, or whether it will act differently, using old instincts for deal-making and institutional compromise.

The PPP’s resistance is not merely rhetorical. The party’s narrative is bound up with the idea of provincial autonomy in Sindh. Leaders from Bilawal Bhutto Zardari down have framed the 18th Amendment as irreversible and as a measure that vindicates decades of struggle for decentralization. That rhetoric resonates in Larkana, where the Bhutto legacy is both a political capital and a moral claim. But rhetoric alone will not determine outcomes. The PPP as an organization has a long record of pragmatic bargaining with the state and with other elites. Going back to Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s era, and through the alternating governments of Benazir Bhutto and subsequent leaderships, the PPP learned how to convert symbolic capital into governing arrangements. That habit of negotiating and accommodation remains a part of the party’s DNA.

History offers two kinds of lessons. The first is the cost of open confrontation with state power when civilian leaders choose to contest the state in the streets or by refusing to accept institutional limits. Imran Khan’s movement and the trajectory of PTI stand as a recent example. A strategy that prioritized mass mobilization and direct challenge produced a severe backlash from state institutions. The fallout was swift and costly for PTI leaders and for the party’s organizational capacity. The lesson is blunt. When the confrontation crosses certain red lines, institutions respond not only politically but with coercive tools that reshape political space. For a party that has deep provincial roots but also depends on federal levers, the calculus is complex.


The second lesson is about survival through accommodation. Pakistan’s history is replete with parties that struck bargains with power to survive. The PPP itself has been part of such bargains. Between the 1970s and the present, the party has shifted between principled resistance and pragmatic compromise. This duality explains why the PPP is sometimes perceived as simultaneously defiant and transactional. In moments of intense pressure, the party has tended to opt for institutional channels and back-room negotiations rather than mass confrontation. That instinct may guide the party now. If so, the PPP will try to use legislative tools, negotiation in the national assembly, and alliance-making to blunt any attempt to undercut provincial autonomy. The strategic preference for dealing rather than for public defiance has been a recurring thread in the party’s history.

Yet the present context is not simply a rerun of old patterns. The balance of power between civil institutions and the military has shifted in recent months. Constitutional amendments and political maneuvers at the centre, including controversial changes that observers have described as expanding the reach of certain office holders, create an environment where stakes are higher and outcomes more consequential. If the centre moves aggressively against the 18th Amendment, the PPP will face a stark choice. It can stand firm and risk the kind of punitive response that PTI experienced, or it can accept a negotiated compromise that preserves some substance of devolution while conceding ground. Neither option is cost-free. Resistance risks repression and paralysis. Accommodation risks political erosion and a loss of credibility among the party faithful in Sindh.

Larkana matters in this calculation. The region is the emotional core of PPP’s identity. Any retreat there would be punished by voters who view the party as the guardian of Sindhi interests. Yet the party also has to govern in an institutional system where national-level legislation and fiscal transfers matter. That tension between symbolism and governance is not new, but it has become sharper. If the PPP chooses to escalate, it will need to craft a strategy that mitigates the risk of state reprisal and that builds wider alliances beyond Sindh. If it opts to bargain, it must manage expectations at home and frame any compromise as a tactical victory rather than a surrender. Both strategies require political skill. History shows that parties who misread the balance between mass mobilization and elite negotiation often pay dearly.

Comparisons with PTI should not be used as a simplistic mirror. The PTI’s social base, organizational style, and rhetoric were different. PTI relied on a particular kind of charismatic leadership and a mobilization model that aimed to convert street power into state power. The PPP has a different social contract with its supporters, rooted in rural networks and in a narrative of provincial rights. That does not make it immune to confrontation, but it does mean the costs and benefits of different tactics will play out differently. A PPP strategy that simply replicates PTI methods without accounting for organizational differences would be a mistake.

Ultimately, the question of whether PPP will run the same course as PTI is less about imitation and more about structural incentives. If the centre insists on rolling back the 18th Amendment, the scope for peaceful, constitutional resistance will shrink. If the centre opts for bargaining and legislative adjustments, the PPP will have space to defend core aspects of provincial autonomy. The most likely outcome is neither open war nor capitulation but a messy political dance where both sides probe limits, make small concessions, and avert a full-scale rupture. That outcome would fit the longer arc of Pakistani party politics, where survival is often the product of compromise.

For leaders in PPP and beyond, the stakes are real. The 18th Amendment is not a technical detail. It shapes health, education, and fiscal decisions that affect people’s daily lives. The PPP’s choice will therefore be judged not only in the courts and assemblies but in village meetings and marketplaces. If the party chooses negotiation, it must ensure that the gains of devolution are not eroded incrementally. If it chooses confrontation, it must be prepared to endure the possible reprisals that history warns about. Either path will define the party’s legacy and will shape the contours of Pakistan’s democracy for years to come. The people will watch and wait, but they will remember how the party answered this historical test.

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