The question “Is Imran Khan dead or alive?” has rippled across social media over the past week, fuelled largely by unverifiable posts emerging from Afghanistan and the unusually long silence surrounding the former Pakistani Prime Minister’s condition. In a political climate already shaped by mistrust, censorship, and deep institutional conflict, the rumour took on a life of its own. Yet, according to Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) Senator Khurram Zeeshan, the speculation is baseless. Speaking from Pakistan, he insisted that Imran Khan is alive and currently held inside Rawalpindi’s Adiala jail.
Zeeshan’s clarification did more than refute viral speculation. It shed light on the opacity surrounding Khan’s detention—an opacity that has become fertile ground for misinformation. According to him, Khan has been held in strict isolation for nearly a month, with no access granted even to his sisters, despite explicit court orders. The absence of photographs, videos, or verified statements from Khan has only intensified the sense of unease. In Pakistan’s tense political atmosphere, silence is rarely neutral; it can appear strategic, coercive, or deliberately engineered.
From Zeeshan’s perspective, Khan’s isolation is not merely a security measure but a political tool. He argues that the government feels threatened by Khan’s enduring popularity, a sentiment that has deepened since his removal from power. In his telling, even a single photograph could reignite public support, perhaps even mobilise crowds, which the current leadership is keen to avoid. His remarks underline a recurring theme in Pakistani politics: the fear of mass mobilisation and the potential eruption of street power when charismatic figures become symbols of resistance.
The rumours of Khan’s death surfaced amid this environment of restricted information. Afghan social media accounts claimed that the former prime minister had been murdered inside jail, a sensational allegation that spread quickly in the absence of counter-evidence. Such rumours tend to flourish when political figures are cut off from public view, especially in countries where narratives are often shaped by power struggles rather than transparent communication. The state’s refusal to release images or allow scheduled visits inadvertently allowed speculation to overshadow facts.
Zeeshan’s comments, however, were unequivocal. He stated that PTI had received assurances in recent days confirming Khan’s wellbeing. According to him, Khan is alive, physically fine, and still being held in Adiala. But he also stressed that the conditions of his confinement raise important questions about due process and the rights of political detainees. Keeping a former head of government in prolonged isolation, without access to family or legal representation, is the kind of practice that naturally invites suspicion, even if it does not justify the more extreme rumours circulating online.
Beyond the immediate question of Khan’s safety, Zeeshan addressed the broader political dynamic shaping the situation. He claimed that authorities were attempting to coerce Khan into accepting a deal that involves leaving Pakistan and remaining silent abroad. Such arrangements have appeared in Pakistan’s political history before, usually framed as “exile for stability,” but Zeeshan insisted that Khan would reject any such proposal. He described Imran Khan as a leader unwilling to abandon his political vision or remove himself from the national conversation, even under intense pressure.
Interestingly, despite imprisonment and isolation, Khan’s influence has not diminished. In fact, Zeeshan argued that his continued popularity among Pakistan’s youth may be growing. PTI’s younger supporters—who have known political life largely through digital activism—continue to identify with Khan’s anti-establishment message. His absence from the public sphere has become, paradoxically, a symbol of moral steadfastness for many of his followers. When political leaders are silenced, their mythology often grows stronger, and PTI appears to be leaning into that dynamic.
At the same time, the rumours surrounding Khan’s fate point to deeper fractures within Pakistan’s political and institutional landscape. They reflect a country where trust in official statements is fragile, where state restrictions on information often backfire, and where political conflict increasingly plays out through social media campaigns, leaks, and counter-leaks. Even when rumours are false, they reveal the anxieties shaping public consciousness. In this case, the fear that a political figure could disappear behind prison walls without accountability speaks to broader worries about power, transparency, and the rule of law.
The attempt to control the narrative around Khan’s imprisonment has therefore become a double-edged sword. While the government may believe that silence keeps the situation contained, secrecy has instead created a vacuum filled by conspiracy theories and transnational commentary. The fact that Afghan-based accounts were able to inject such a rumour into Pakistan’s political bloodstream demonstrates how vulnerable information ecosystems have become in the digital age.
For now, Zeeshan’s statement is the clearest account available: Imran Khan is alive, held in isolation, and resisting efforts to remove him from Pakistan’s political landscape. But the environment that allowed the rumour to flourish will linger. Unless authorities embrace greater transparency around Khan’s detention, new waves of speculation are inevitable. In Pakistan’s charged political terrain, controlling the message is often impossible, and silence can speak louder than any official report.
