In the hallowed halls of Oxford University, where the echoes of intellectual giants like Newton and Turing still reverberate, Imran Khan, the former prime minister of Pakistan, seeks to add his name to the illustrious roster of chancellors.
Despite the seemingly earnest appearance, it’s hard to ignore that this endeavour unmistakably bears the hallmarks of calculated showmanship and a deftly orchestrated publicity stratagem. After all, Khan is currently more familiar with the confines of a jail cell than venerable academic precincts. This candidacy is less plausible as an attempt to contribute to Oxford’s legacy and more likely an effort to leverage its prestige to stay in the limelight and acquire validation.
Let’s set the stage. Oxford, a university older than most countries, is a place where tradition is so deeply ingrained that even the ghosts are said to wear gowns. The chancellor’s role, while largely ceremonial, is nothing short of a custodianship over these sacred traditions. Past chancellors have been the paragons of intellect, leadership, and, one would hope, legal compliance.
Khan, on the other hand, brings with him not just a degree in Philosophy, Politics, and Economics (PPE) from 1975 but also a colourful portfolio of legal woes, allegations, and an ongoing stint in the slammer for, among other things, corruption.
Oxford is no stranger to contentious debates. After all, this is the institution that educated Boris Johnson, who famously turned the UK’s political landscape into something resembling a Shakespearean farce. But while the UK may have the stomach for political theatre, the same cannot be said for the rather staid Oxford. Therefore, to some, the notion of having Khan as chancellor is as unsettling as hiring Macbeth to administer a sleep clinic. Khan doesn’t just dabble in controversy – he thrives on it. Oxford has avoided entanglements in the daily squabbles of global politics for over 900 years. It is unlikely that this institution would now become a pawn in the games of political figures.
Khan’s supporters might argue that his experience as prime minister makes him uniquely qualified. And yes, running a country is no small feat, even if it does involve the occasional accusation of inciting riots and violence and some strange notions regarding women and modest clothing.
Oxford’s chancellor is a unifying figure – a symbol of the university’s commitment to knowledge, ethical leadership, and, dare we say it, a clean criminal record. Moreover, the chancellorship was not envisaged as a retirement plan for politicians seeking to restore their tarnished images. Khan’s tenure as prime minister was, to put it kindly, a rollercoaster, with more dips than peaks. His administration’s legacy is still hotly debated, and not just in the corridors of Pakistani politics but also in the courts.
Let us also consider the practicalities. A chancellor needs to be available, and while video calls from prison might be an amusing novelty, they hardly convey the gravitas required of the role. Khan’s current living arrangements would make fulfilling the duties of chancellor rather difficult. It’s hard to imagine him presiding over a ceremony when he’s barely allowed to preside over his own legal defence.
The votes this year will be cast online by a ‘convocation’ of Oxford students, staff, and graduates and the stage is set for an election with all the drama of a reality TV show. Proposals that would have allowed the university’s Election Committee to disqualify candidates deemed ‘unsuitable’ were abandoned after being criticized as undemocratic, thereby enabling Khan to step into the race without much hindrance.
However, taking a pragmatic view, this bid for the chancellorship seems less about any realistic chance of election – let’s be honest, the likelihood of Khan being chosen is slim – and more about his penchant for grabbing headlines and creating drama to dominate news cycles. Khan’s political strategy relies on remaining perpetually in the spotlight, feeding into the attention economy that is the lifeblood of modern politics, where controversy is potent currency. This attention-seeking gambit serves as a means for Khan to keep his followers engaged, drumming up support and sympathy while continuing to play the role of the embattled hero.
And here’s where the ingenuity of this ever-recycling ploy truly shines: Even if this quest crashes and burns, the very failure of this quixotic endeavour can be repackaged and spun into a narrative of defiance against shadowy Western elites, determined to keep their ivory towers untainted and willing to stop at nothing to prevent an outsider from infiltrating positions of influence in their sacred institutions. Alternatively, it can also be portrayed as the valiant effort of a man pursuing lofty goals, despite formidable obstacles and no matter how wildly unrealistic. This reinforces the image of a modern-day David, armed with a slingshot and a dream, squaring off against Goliath. Either way, it’s a win-win.
Nevertheless, let’s indulge in a bit of hypothetical whimsy for a moment. Suspend all rationality and imagine that Oxford’s Convocation, where individuals of Pakistani ethnicity or heritage are a small minority, becomes preternaturally captivated by Pakistani politics. Inspired by Khan’s vision of a ‘Naya Oxford,’ they suddenly decide to view the selection process primarily through a national or political lens.
Oxford would then need to ask itself what it stands for. Does political manoeuvring trump moral integrity? The role of chancellor deserves more – a leader who embodies the very best of what Oxford has to offer, not someone using the position as a life raft in the turbulent sea of political adversity.
Oxford has weathered many storms, and with a little wisdom and a lot of tradition, it can certainly avoid this one, keeping the chancellorship free from controversy and scandal. After all, the university has survived for nearly a millennium; it should not be brought low by the aspirations of a single, albeit ambitious, alumnus.
In a poignant twist of fate, this episode serves as a microcosm of Khan’s political odyssey. Despite his earlier successes in cricket and philanthropy, where his leadership and determination brought real results, his foray into politics has been marked by a focus on spectacle rather than substance. A campaigner at heart, Khan excels in grandiloquence and the fanfare of rallies but falters in the arena of performance. Pulled by the gravity of power, he never achieves the escape velocity needed to break free from the persistent maelstrom of campaign dynamics.
His tenure as prime minister followed this familiar leitmotif – a leader who mastered the art of unyielding ambition and grandstanding but never grasped the science of governance and statesmanship. He remained forever unable to shed the mantle of the perpetual contender and to translate his campaigning prowess into sustainable, effective leadership.
And when campaigns fail, as they often do in the unpredictable world of politics, Khan struggles to navigate adversity, resorting to blame-shifting, theatrics, and doubling down on intrigue rather than addressing the root causes of his failures; once again, more adept at creating spectacle than achieving outcomes.
However, the strategy of prioritizing pageantry over performance has its limits. The political spotlight, while drawn to the glitter of showmanship, inexorably reveals the substance – or lack thereof – behind the glitter. Ultimately, the most precious currency of politics is not merely in promises made but in promises kept – a truth that Khan, despite his charisma, has yet to embrace.
The writer is an entrepreneur living in the United States and the United Kingdom. He can be reached at: saraya.yale.edu