The British philosopher and political theorist Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679) never used the word 'ideology,' which only entered the political lexicon in the 18th century. However, through Hobbesian political theory, one can deduce how he would have treated it. Hobbes would have perceived ideology through a strict realist framework, as a collective belief system that claims to seek noble truths but operates as a mercurial, manufactured engine of social division, posing an existential threat to peace.
Hobbes identified human nature as a restless desire for power, security, and recognition. He posited that mankind inevitably descends into chaos if not properly governed, a state he called the 'state of nature.' When rigid ideological doctrines are activated within this state, they become sustainers and accelerators of chaos, even though ideologies are meant to tame it. Adherence to an ideological dogma convinces followers that they possess an absolute monopoly on justice or divine truth, making compromise impossible. Political disagreements become cosmic battles between good and evil, transforming ordinary self-interest into fanatical warfare.
The internet represents a contemporary manifestation of this unregulated competition, functioning as the digital world's 'state of nature.' Social media platforms exploit our restless desire for recognition, quantified via likes, shares, and clout, and our need for psychological security. Outrage drives engagement, so algorithms act as digital accelerators for ideological conflict, curating echo chambers that reinforce pre-existing beliefs. When a nuanced policy debate enters this digital public square, it instantly morphs into a battle between the morally pure 'us' and the fundamentally evil 'them.' Compromise feels like a betrayal of 'truth.' This dynamic reflects the Hobbesian 'state of nature,' where unregulated self-interest produces competitive virtue-signalling, rhetorical arrogance, and muscle-flexing.
Pakistan's Pragmatic Mediation: Filling the Vacuum
In the Middle East's latest unnecessary crisis, Pakistan's pragmatic mediation has emerged as a key force. When political disagreements are stripped of nuance and reframed as existential conflicts, the cost of compromise becomes prohibitively high. Pride transforms practical disagreements into zero-sum moral battles, paralysing rational deliberation. Within this modern 'state of nature,' the fusion of political identity with rigid doctrines serves as a massive accelerator for violence. Whether observing white Christian nationalism in the West, Hindu and Islamic nationalism in South Asia, or theocratic setups in Iran and Israel, the template remains identical. When national belonging is tied to a specific dogma, ordinary disputes over land or resources are sanctified. Political actors convince followers they are executing a sacred mandate, and one cannot negotiate on a sacred mandate without committing a 'sin.'
Modern-day populism is rarely a struggle for resources by the poor; instead, it functions as a clash between rival elites, turning populist political parties into virtual fan clubs. To maintain a stable, peaceful society, a political order must treat competing doctrines with extreme suspicion. Ideologies and religious beliefs cannot be left to flourish unregulated in the public square, because words and ideas quickly weaponise them into civil strife. In Pakistan, a sovereign group of experienced pragmatists must exercise overwhelming control over public speech, doctrine, and education. The primary function of governing power is not to ensure that beliefs are philosophically true, but that they are orderly and aligned with the pragmatic interests of the state. Any dogma that challenges the authority of a pragmatically unified ruling group is a recipe for political ruin.
The Third Elite Posit
In the last two decades, challenges to state sovereignty have largely emerged from alternative elites. This phenomenon has been pronounced in Pakistan because, until the state's recent shift toward a post-ideological stage, the state apparatus itself was actively producing alternative elites and pitching them against traditional elites. Locked in an existential battle for power, a third set of elites has emerged, shaped by a mutating global order. This tier, comprising realist military and civilian actors, is likely to author what I call the 'Hobbesian Correction.' It is a bid to rescue the state from anarchic paralysis by enforcing institutional discipline and constitutional insulation against renegade forces, including militant Islamists, Baloch separatists, populists, and the recently proscribed AJK street militancy.
Modern-day populism is rarely a struggle for resources by the poor; instead, it functions as a clash between rival elites, turning populist political parties into virtual fan clubs. Most modern uprisings represent a 'revolt of the elites.' Whereas the 20th century was defined by the revolt of the masses through labour unions and peasant movements, the 21st century is characterised by a tussle between the mainstream establishment and an alternative elite. In the Global South, this alternative elite comprises urban middle-class professionals and entrepreneurs who have gained economic clout but find the path to traditional institutional power blocked. Rather than dismantling the system, these 'blocked elites' aim to force a readjustment to enter corridors of power. They cloak their activism in the moralising language of a 'people's struggle,' translating class-specific desires into a universal mission.
A Third Elite Steps In
A new kind of force is emerging to look for ways out of the impasse created by old elites and challengers. This third elite posits the following: breaking the inter-elite deadlock by rescuing the state from anarchic paralysis; catalysing the 'Hobbesian Correction' by enforcing institutional discipline through constitutional amendments to protect state sovereignty from populist disruptions; responding to a mutating global order with a realist perspective; de-escalating the 'revolt of the elites' by countering the phenomenon where rival factions turn political parties into hyper-emotionalised fan clubs; and steering the shift to post-ideology by prioritising structural survival, order, and stability over manufactured populist narratives.
The Post-Ideological Turn
The concept of 'post-ideology' often causes unease, as it suggests that sweeping political narratives are giving way to a pragmatic, technocratic approach. Critics argue that systems cannot function without a moral compass, noting that humans possess an innate desire for thymos, or recognition of dignity, tied to grand ideological visions. While realism and pragmatism are themselves forms of ideological thought, they differ fundamentally from 'hard' ideologies like socialism, fascism, liberalism, or nationalism. Realism offers a fluid, outcome-oriented approach that prioritises societal survival and prosperity over abstract theory. A Hobbesian democracy leaves no room for hyper-emotionalised, expressive populism that relies on mobilising digital mobs or cultivating political cults.
Critics lament that post-ideology treats every societal challenge as a technical issue, stripping the public of democratic agency. But in a globalised economy, the 'will of the people' cannot override the laws of mathematics and technical competence. Since the average citizen frequently lacks specialised knowledge to navigate complex macroeconomic policy, direct democracy is often ill-equipped to handle 21st-century complexities. A data-driven approach is more responsive to real needs because it focuses on measurable outcomes rather than shallow slogans. The transition towards a post-ideology world is illustrated by diverse global models: China offers a 'political meritocracy' where leaders are elevated through a rigorous administrative pipeline; Singapore replaced ideological dogma with pragmatic focus; Saudi Arabia has called for an end to the destructive 'era of ideology' in the Arab world, moving toward national economic transformation.
In Pakistan, this pragmatic shift became evident under the current hybrid regime from 2022 onwards. The post-ideology age represents a period of political maturation, acknowledging that while grand ideologies are emotionally satisfying, the survival of a modern society depends on fluid, outcome-oriented realism. Post-ideology states are actively shedding the dead weight of dogma to strengthen themselves, prioritising core national interests, economic pragmatism, and internal stability over destructive political cults and abstract doctrines.
But What About Democracy?
There will be those who find the Hobbesian Correction or the Third Posit authoritarian or anti-democratic. However, the foundational duty of any political order is to preserve internal peace and prevent a catastrophic slide into the 'state of nature.' In a world troubled by volatile ideological dogmas, algorithmic tribalism, and inter-elite warfare, the enduring realism of Thomas Hobbes remains an urgent blueprint for survival. Public stability is not an organic default but an artificial, hard-won construct requiring unyielding institutional insulation and structural strength. A central pillar of Hobbes' theory is deep skepticism toward collective belief systems. While rigid ideologies masquerade as noble searches for justice, they act as engines of social division, elevating ordinary disagreements into zero-sum battles between good and evil.
There is now a clear desire in the post-2022 Pakistani state to transition away from highly emotionalised expressive politics and anchor governance in functional politics defined by measurable delivery, data-driven competence, and macroeconomic realism. The transition toward a post-ideological turn is a sign of maturation, where legitimacy is derived from administrative efficiency rather than manufactured ideological purity. The modern sovereign, in Pakistan's context a group of civilian and military pragmatists, knows that the 'will of the people' cannot override the laws of mathematics or competence. While grand ideologies are emotionally satisfying, the survival of a modern society depends on outcome-oriented realism. By shedding the dead weight of isolationist dogmas, the sovereign group must secure the ultimate national interest, treating competing factions with rational suspicion to protect civil peace from destructive impulses.
For Hobbes, the primary objective of the state was the absolute preservation of order and prevention of anarchy. His theory allows for sovereign power to be vested in a single ruler or a democratic assembly. Therefore, a highly disciplined model of democracy can exist within a Hobbesian architecture, provided it operates under strict institutional constraints. Within a Hobbesian democratic framework, permanent institutions must remain supreme. Electoral processes and public participation should be mechanisms for political rotation and feedback, but never allowed to override macroeconomic realities, structural stability, or security hardware. Democracy can function as a channel for structured governance rather than a licence for institutional subversion. A Hobbesian democracy leaves no room for hyper-emotionalised populism that mobilises digital mobs or cultivates political cults. When democratic engagement threatens public order or bypasses constitutional frameworks, the state retains the right to enforce a swift correction. The democratic mandate should not grant an elected government the right to violate logic, data, and operational efficiency. Instead, administration should be judged by its functional ability to deliver economic stability and internal security.
There is enough room for democracy in a Hobbesian state, but it must be a strictly bounded, managed democracy that functions not as a chaotic arena for zero-sum ideological warfare, but as an orderly mechanism of governance subordinate to the overarching imperative of public peace and structural survival. However, in the last decade, democracy across the globe has come under serious scrutiny for producing results that threaten state stability. The global tide of democratic backsliding is forcing scholars and citizens to confront uncomfortable truths about a system once hailed as universally superior. As political scholar Joel Day observed, voters sense a deep need for systemic change but remain uncertain about what that change should look like. This skepticism is fuelling dissatisfaction with democratic outcomes and casting doubt on proposals to stall democracy's decline. The core issue lies in a disconnect between the idealised, textbook version of democracy and its lived reality.
For decades after World War II, the West romanticised democracy as a flawless ideology, especially during the Cold War when it was deified as the champion against Soviet communism. This sacralisation meant that established Western democracies rarely tolerated serious internal critiques. The fall of the Soviet Union in 1991 was celebrated as democracy's final victory. However, disastrous outcomes in former dictatorships that quickly adopted democracy forced a major reassessment. Initially attributed to residues of past authoritarian rule, these systemic issues did not disappear. Instead, democracy collided violently with deep-seated political, economic, and social monoliths, leading to the creation of 'hybrid regimes.' Countries such as Turkey, Russia, Colombia, Egypt, Indonesia, and Mexico developed hybrid forms that sometimes produced better economic growth and political results than idealised democracy. Across the world, romanticised expectations of democracy have collided with harsh realities, resulting in a pragmatic turn where stability outranks democratic ideals.
A convenient way to bemoan the stifling of democracy in hybrid systems is to blame an omnipresent 'establishment' or shadowy cabal of ruling elites. While these factors play a role, this explanation falls short when considering the paradox of strong public support for 'illiberal' forces. Why are more people, even in established Western democracies, content with happenings that terrify true democrats? Consider the American context: a poll by Change Research found that 42 per cent of Americans supported an unconstitutional third term for Donald Trump. This reveals a fundamental failure of classical democracy to come to terms with a rapidly mutating global political, geopolitical, and economic terrain.
Dutch political scientist Cas Mudde wrote about this paradox, highlighting the tension between popular sovereignty and the liberal principle of protecting individual rights. This raises questions about whether illiberal forces that come to power through legitimate means should be tolerated, and whether constitutional checks must exist to limit their rise. It raises the dilemma of what happens when a majority of voters blocks structural reforms necessary for a country's basic economic health. The response lies not in policy design alone, but in psychology. As American political scientists Larry M. Bartels and Christopher H. Achen argue, most voters feel far more than they think. If political decisions are based on raw emotions and cultural dispositions rather than logical institutional propositions, then citizen discontent will not automatically translate into acceptance of proposed procedural fixes. Social conditions, not just institutional design, block reform.
In Pakistan, social media and newspapers are replete with outcries against the hybrid government in power since early 2022 and the military establishment for stifling democracy through contentious constitutional amendments. Yet, alternatives suggested by critics remain largely rhetorical and detached from reality. The critical question for champions of democracy resisting these reforms is whether the institutions these amendments attempt to reshape were previously successful in evolving an orderly, stable democracy. The answer is no. The post-2022 state institutions, especially the armed forces, and established political parties are proceeding with these amendments in the belief that they will provide political and economic stability by checking factors seen as sources of constant institutional tensions and chaos. Unlike past governance experiments in Pakistan, this constitutional push is not founded on a grand ideology. If it has one guiding principle, that principle is pragmatism. Pragmatism is not an ideology; it is a method, a rational way of thinking unburdened by ideological considerations.
Globally, the contemporary crisis in democracy is fundamentally a crisis of faith in its procedural fixes. When institutions fail to deliver tangible economic and political results for the majority, the stage is set for a pragmatic turn and a collective willingness to accept outcomes that prioritise structural stability and efficacy over strict adherence to an idealised, yet increasingly ineffective, democratic procedure.
