By Aijaz Chaudhary
In a nation that upholds its democratic values, the ordeal of Aijaz Chaudhary, a former Member of the National Assembly (MNA), reveals the dark side of political power and the weaponization of state resources to silence opposition voices. For two decades, Chaudhary has faced a relentless campaign of harassment, destruction, and violence—a chilling reminder of how political persecution unfolds in Pakistan’s power corridors. This story is set not in a remote, unmonitored area but in Islamabad’s high-security Red Zone, where one would expect the law to protect, not punish. Instead, Chaudhary’s family and community have borne the brunt of targeted intimidation tactics by the PML(N) government, which has repeatedly turned state resources against him.
Chaudhary’s troubles began after the 2013 elections when he initially joined PML(N). But his decision to join PTI the following year, after a public announcement at his home in Sector F-7, Islamabad, put him directly in the crosshairs of political retaliation. Within days, the Capital Development Authority (CDA), allegedly acting on orders from then-Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif, launched an aggressive operation to demolish a public park beautified space for community that Chaudhary had spent years and resources creating next to his home. This area, a gem cherished by the local community, was initially a vacant, neglected piece of land Chaudhary had beautified with his own funds in 2004, backed by written permission from CDA itself. Yet, with a shift in his political stance, the park suddenly became a target, with officials arriving unannounced to destroy the greenery—a blatant act of political retribution, signaling a grim start to Chaudhary’s prolonged ordeal.
As years passed, this cycle of harassment only intensified. In 2022, with PML(N) once again in power, the pressure on Chaudhary escalated. Officials sought not only to pressure Chaudhary but also his brother, Haji Imtyaz Chaudhary, an MNA with PTI, to switch political allegiances. When they resisted, the retaliation was swift: on September 29, 2022, CDA officials conducted yet another abrupt demolition, tearing down the structures Chaudhary had established within the public park beautified space for the community. The message was unmistakable—those who defied the ruling party would be publicly punished.
But the harassment soon escalated into sheer terror. On the night of October 11, 2024, around 30 masked men stormed Chaudhary’s residence in a scene of unimaginable violence. These men kidnapped Chaudhary’s 11-month-old son and 9-year-old daughter, terrorizing the household. With guns drawn, they directly threatened Chaudhary’s wife, pointing weapons at her while demanding to know his whereabouts. The psychological torment and sheer brutality of the incident shocked not only the family but the nation, as news of this raid spread rapidly through media channels, even reaching international outlets. The operation was a deliberate show of force, calculated to inflict maximum fear.
The implications of this assault went beyond personal vendetta. As the government struggled to secure votes for the controversial 26th constitutional amendment, authorities repeatedly pressured Chaudhary’s family to fall in line. Haji Imtyaz Chaudhary had recently been abducted and tortured by intelligence agencies in a separate incident, subjected to conditions that left lasting trauma—an experience that in itself would merit an entire book or a film to fully capture. The state’s aim was clear: intimidate Aijaz Chaudhary’s family and force their political compliance at any cost.
To make matters worse, the community that cherished the public park beautified space for community Chaudhary had cultivated also became collateral damage. This park was more than Chaudhary’s personal project; it was a communal space enjoyed by residents, children, and families in the F-7 sector, an area that had for decades benefitted from a local mohallah committee working to maintain communal welfare. In destroying this space, the CDA demonstrated a disregard not only for Chaudhary’s rights but for those of an entire neighborhood.
Despite Islamabad’s status as the heart of Pakistan’s governance and security, these orchestrated attacks on Chaudhary’s family and community have exposed a startling truth: even in the capital’s most secure zones, those who challenge the political establishment are vulnerable to severe consequences. The disregard for law and democratic principles in these attacks paints a troubling picture of how far authorities are willing to go to control and intimidate opposition figures.
Chaudhary’s story is more than an account of political harassment; it is a profound indictment of a system that not only condones but facilitates the persecution of individuals for their political beliefs. His experience calls into question the fundamental freedoms of Pakistani citizens—the right to speak, to assemble, and to live without fear of reprisal for one’s political choices.
The international community and human rights advocates worldwide should view Chaudhary’s experience as a disturbing illustration of how political victimization operates in Pakistan’s power structure. His story is an urgent reminder that the true test of democracy lies not in words but in the respect for human rights, even amid political conflict.
In Chaudhary’s own words, “This isn’t just about my family. It’s about a nation that deserves better—about Pakistan’s right to uphold its values and its dignity, free from intimidation.”-In this article, the writer has expressed his opinion, it is not part of the policy of the World Tribune, nor does it have to be agreed by the institution.
