New Delhi– Pakistan’s political future is increasingly being dictated not by its elected representatives, but by its powerful military establishment—an institution that has steadily transformed itself from behind-the-scenes influencer to the de facto ruler of the state. The recent solo diplomatic visit of Army Chief General Asim Munir to the United States, without the accompaniment of Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif or any civilian leadership, underscores the extent to which the military now dominates Pakistan’s foreign policy and governance.
Even more bewildering was Pakistan’s nomination of U.S. President Donald Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize—a move that, while bizarre on the surface, reflects a deeper reality: the military’s preference for strongman diplomacy over institutional, democratic process. This episode illustrates the surreal dynamic of Pakistan’s “hybrid regime,” one in which the balance of power has tilted so heavily toward the military that the civilian government now operates as a mere facade.
The growing irrelevance of Pakistan’s civilian leadership was starkly highlighted by General Munir’s Washington trip. In any functioning democracy, international diplomacy is the purview of the elected head of government. Munir’s solo appearance on the global stage delivered an unambiguous message: the Pakistan Army, not the Parliament, speaks for the country.
The Trump nomination adds a bizarre, yet revealing layer to this narrative. Trump, whose presidency was defined by authoritarian posturing and a disdain for institutional checks, represents the kind of leader Pakistan’s military elites appear to favor—transactional, authoritarian, and dismissive of civilian oversight. In nominating Trump, Rawalpindi was not seeking global peace—it was extending a political handshake across continents, from the GHQ to Mar-a-Lago.
Pakistan’s military has long shaped its internal and foreign policy by capitalizing on the country’s strategic geography. Since the Cold War, generals in Islamabad have leveraged Pakistan’s “frontline state” status to secure Western aid, often at the expense of democratic development and public welfare. Roads crumbled, hospitals withered, and schools faltered—but military housing colonies flourished, and business empires expanded.
Defence Minister Khawaja Asif’s recent endorsement of Pakistan’s “hybrid system” lays bare a painful truth: not only has civilian authority been undermined, but it has also been willingly surrendered. Politicians from all major parties—PML-N, PPP, and even the once-defiant PTI—have repeatedly sought short-term gains by aligning with the military, even if it meant forsaking long-term democratic integrity.
As one observer aptly noted, “It’s not that the civilians have ceded space… it’s that they have cheered on their own marginalisation.” This culture of complicity has rendered military dominance not just a norm, but a feature of Pakistan’s political DNA.
Even more troubling is the absence of public outrage. After decades of coups, manipulated elections, and political engineering, many Pakistanis now view military rule with resigned acceptance. What should trigger alarm—a Defence Minister celebrating subservience, an Army Chief acting as foreign minister—barely registers anymore. The boundary between democratic procedure and military dominance has eroded to the point of invisibility.
This unchecked militarization of the state is not just a political crisis—it is a strategic liability. No country can achieve sustainable governance, economic stability, or international credibility when civilian institutions are weakened and the military wields unchecked power. Pakistan’s gravest threat is not external; it is domestic: a deeply entrenched military elite and a political class too timid—or too self-interested—to push back.
The Trump-Munir episode may, in time, be viewed as a defining moment—not because it changed anything, but because it revealed everything. It laid bare a military so emboldened that it no longer bothers with the pretense of civilian oversight, a civilian government so enfeebled that it accepts its own redundancy, and a citizenry so disillusioned that silence has replaced protest.
If there is to be a turning point, it must begin with Pakistan’s elected leaders rediscovering the courage to govern. They must reject the illusion that the Army and the people are synonymous—they are not. The Army is meant to serve the people, not rule them. Reclaiming that basic principle is the only path forward.
Until then, Pakistan’s hybrid regime is not a compromise—it is a hostage crisis. And time to mount a rescue is running out. (Source: IANS)
