Epstein and the men who could not be managed –Finkelstein and Imran

The Epstein files are not just about elite depravity, but about power and punishment. This analysis explains why Imran Khan and Norman Finkelstein became ‘unmanageable’ figures.

By JUNAID S. AHMAD

Former Prime Minister of Pakistan, Imran Khan (left), overthrown in a US-engineered coup, and anti-Zionist academic and activist, Professor Norman Finkelstein (right). The writer points out that these ‘two names emerge [from the Epstein files] clarified rather than contaminated’. (Image: AI-generated)

The Epstein saga is sold as a morality play about elite decadence: jets, islands, sermons delivered by men who treat the planet as a members-only lounge. That framing is comforting — and wrong. The most revealing feature of the archive is not what it shows, but where absorption fails: the moments when reputation laundering breaks down, when access stops being etiquette and reveals itself as what it always was — a leash.

In an economy where invitations are currency and virtue is a branding exercise, the rarest credential is not prestige. It is refusal.

A system capable of metabolising child predation learns to fear only one thing: not evil, but disobedience.

Begin with the baseline obscenity, because anything less is theatre. The record does not merely suggest depravity; it documents a system in which the sexual exploitation of children functioned as a logistics problem — scheduled, outsourced, socially insulated. This was not scandal as exception but scandal as infrastructure. The predators were not aberrations; they were networked assets — protected, recycled through prestige, rendered background noise by usefulness. The system did not malfunction. It performed.

That is the point. A system capable of metabolising child predation learns to fear only one thing: not evil, but disobedience.

Which is why reputational ‘enhancement’ attaches not to virtue, but to refusal. Norman Finkelstein matters here not because he is abrasive — elite institutions have indulged far worse — but because he commits the cardinal sin of moral literalism. He insists that Palestinian life is not metaphor, not seminar fodder, not a tragic prop to be ‘balanced’ into paralysis. For that offence, the punishment was not prison but procedural annihilation: tenure files weaponised, committees sanctimonious, ethics invoked to enforce careerism. Liberal pluralism proves elastic until it meets Israel; then it hardens into a narrow corridor of consequences. No dungeons are required when footnotes suffice.

Finkelstein, however, is the preface. The main text is Imran Khan.

Khan was initially legible to power. Cosmopolitan, Oxford-educated, fluent in elite dialects — perfectly cast for the empire’s favourite postcolonial role: the native intermediary who translates popular demands into language that does not alarm donors. Presentable. Panel-ready. Safe.

His error was not radicalism. It was sovereignty.

He stopped auditioning. He began to behave like a leader answerable to a public rather than to embassies, markets, and security managers. He declined to treat Pakistan as a rentable asset, a geopolitical convenience store open to Western liquidity. He refused to demote Palestine to an awkward diplomatic footnote. He spoke plainly, to ordinary people, without clearing his sentences through editorial boards or ‘responsible stakeholder’ salons. That tone — normal moral speech addressed downward rather than upward — is what terrifies power. Not because it is violent, but because it is contagious.

Hence the significance of Epstein’s reported assessment of Khan as a ‘threat’ — more dangerous than any number of officially designated villains. Read carefully. In elite dialect, ‘threat’ does not mean threat to life. It means threat to control. Threat to the management of populations. Threat to the assumption that mass politics can be neutralised, domesticated, or indefinitely postponed.

A leader who cannot be induced — by access, flattery, money, blackmail, or fear — to reorder his country around Western strategic appetites and Israel’s impunity regime is intolerable. In that lexicon, the unforgivable sin is not bloodshed. It is disobedience.

What followed obeyed the textbook. Khan’s removal in April 2022 was executed through a Washington-approved regime-change choreography, implemented by obedient generals performing their client duties. The aftermath was not chaos but pedagogy: proliferating cases, illegal detentions, torture, disappearances, assassinations, massacres, and the systematic disabling of a mass political movement. By 2023, incarceration became the instrument of choice; by 2024, the public was offered the regime’s favourite counterfeit — managed elections designed to manufacture ‘stability’, that cherished euphemism for a population that does not interfere.

This was not merely defeat. It was deterrence.

The message — to Pakistanis and to the wider Muslim world — was explicit: popularity offers no immunity if alignment falters; charisma becomes criminal when it cannot be leased; sovereignty is permitted only as ornament. The cruelty was not incidental. It was the advertisement. Overkill is how insecure power announces seriousness. Systems confident in consent do not require maximal punishment; they reserve it for phenomena they cannot metabolise.

Here the Zionist policy ecosystem deserves scrutiny without mysticism. The same culture that devours Epstein trivia with forensic relish develops sudden narcolepsy when the story implicates the disciplining of a major Muslim leader whose offence was refusing to subordinate Palestinian life to geopolitical convenience. This is not oversight. It is governance. Some villains are safe to condemn because condemnation changes nothing. Other truths remain submerged because surfacing them would expose the enforcement mechanism: reputational assassination for critics, lawfare as ritual, and — when necessary — the physical neutralisation of leaders whose legitimacy is generated horizontally rather than granted vertically.

The most damning fact is not that predators survived. It is that predation is survivable, while principle — especially principle on Palestine — is treated as the one unforgivable offence.

So yes, two names emerge clarified rather than contaminated. Not because Epstein anointed them — he possessed no moral authority to anoint a paper cup — but because the archive’s negative space sharpens the outline of integrity. Finkelstein reveals how speech is disciplined: politely, procedurally, with immaculate paperwork. Khan reveals how nations are disciplined: brutally, publicly, as spectacle.

The most damning fact is not that predators survived. It is that predation is survivable, while principle — especially principle on Palestine — is treated as the one unforgivable offence.

Prof. Junaid S. Ahmad teaches Law, Religion, and Global Politics and is the Director of the Center for the Study of Islam and Decolonization (CSID), Islamabad, Pakistan. He is a member of the International Movement for a Just World (JUST), Movement for Liberation from Nakba (MLN), and Saving Humanity and Planet Earth (SHAPE .