Pakistan today stands on the brink of a profound existential crisis. Conceived a century ago as a homeland for the Muslims of the Indian subcontinent—an idea quietly encouraged by British colonial strategists pursuing their own geopolitical interests—it emerged in 1947 amid trauma, haste and unresolved contradictions. Over the decades since, the Pakistani state has steadily hollowed itself out. It is now politically fractured, economically near-bankrupt, socially polarised, and strategically isolated.
The country’s prime minister recently admitted, with unusual candour, that he and the Army Chief must “go around the world with a begging bowl” to keep the state afloat. That remark captured an uncomfortable truth: Pakistan’s instability is no longer episodic or cyclical. It is structural. Understanding why Pakistan is in such a mess requires an unsparing examination of its origins, its institutions, and above all, a military establishment that has consistently prioritised corporate power and ideological obsession over national well-being.
A state born with structural fault lines
The seeds of Pakistan’s crisis were sown at birth. Historians have long argued that British support for the idea of Pakistan was influenced as much by imperial strategic calculations—particularly concerns over future Russian access to “warm waters”—as by any principled commitment to Muslim self-determination. Religion became the organising principle of the new state, crowding out the slower, harder task of building an inclusive civic nationalism.
Geography compounded the problem. Pakistan was created with two wings, East and West, separated by over a thousand miles of Indian territory and united by little beyond religion. Linguistic, cultural and economic differences were ignored. The trauma of Partition and mass violence entrenched a siege mentality in which national security eclipsed institution-building.
Early political decapitation proved fatal. Muhammad Ali Jinnah died within a year of independence; Prime Minister Liaquat Ali Khan was assassinated in 1951. A vacuum followed, swiftly filled by the civil bureaucracy and the military. From that point on, democracy remained stunted, while unelected institutions learned to rule in the name of “stability.” Pakistan began its long oscillation between weak civilian governments and overt or covert military control.
The military as the dominant political actor
No institution has shaped Pakistan’s destiny more decisively—or more destructively—than its army. Styling itself as the sole guardian of the state’s ideology and territorial integrity, the military entrenched itself across politics, governance and national identity. Coups in 1958, 1977 and 1999 were not aberrations; they were the logical outcomes of a system where the gun routinely overruled the ballot.
The so-called “constitutional coup” of 2025 marked a further evolution of military dominance. Following a terror provocation against India and a strong Indian military response, the Army Chief coerced political authorities into elevating him to the rank of Field Marshal while pushing through constitutional changes that entrenched extraordinary powers and lifelong immunity. The episode exposed the extent to which the state now exists to serve the military, not the other way around.
Hostility towards India has become the organising principle of Pakistani nationalism. It justifies bloated defence budgets, silences dissent, and delegitimises civilian authority. Every political leader who challenged military prerogatives—from Zulfikar Ali Bhutto to Nawaz Sharif to Imran Khan—was eventually neutralised. Pakistan’s democracy survives largely as theatre.
The military’s economic empire: “Milbus”
Military dominance in Pakistan is not merely political; it is deeply economic. Through a sprawling web of enterprises commonly referred to as “Milbus” (military business), the armed forces control vast segments of the economy. Organisations such as the Fauji Foundation and Shaheen Foundation operate cement plants, fertiliser units, banks, real estate empires, transport companies and private security firms.
This commercial empire distorts markets and crowds out genuine private enterprise. It also creates a structural conflict of interest: defence allocations are effectively subsidies for military-run businesses. While ordinary people struggle with inflation and unemployment, military officers enjoy privileged lifestyles, land allotments and lucrative roles in military businesses. The result is elite enrichment amid national impoverishment.
The state’s fiscal crisis is inseparable from this predation. Pakistan’s chronic dependence on foreign bailouts is not an accident of fate; it is the consequence of an economy designed to protect elites while extracting rents from the rest of society.
The pursuit of a “Muslim Security Bloc”
Pakistan has long sought relevance by projecting itself as a leader of the Islamic world, leveraging its nuclear weapons and military expertise as tools of influence. The idea of an “Islamic bomb” allowed Islamabad to cloak its nuclear arsenal in religious symbolism, even as it unsettled global non-proliferation regimes.
This ambition has recently resurfaced in proposals for an “Islamic NATO”-style security framework, anchored in a 2025 strategic pact with Saudi Arabia, with Turkey reportedly in discussions. The concept seeks to combine Saudi financial muscle, Pakistani nuclear and missile capabilities, and Turkish conventional military technology.
The risks are obvious. Such alignments threaten to entangle Pakistan in Middle Eastern rivalries it cannot afford, from Yemen to Libya to potential confrontation with Israel. Arms transfers and proxy involvements risk further destabilising already volatile regions. For a country struggling to feed its population, these grandiose visions reflect strategic delusion rather than strength.
Terror as state policy and the “Strategic Depth” doctrine
The most damaging expression of Pakistan’s military doctrine has been its systematic use of terrorism as an instrument of state policy. Terror groups such as Lashkar-e-Taiba and Jaish-e-Mohammed were nurtured to “bleed India” in Jammu and Kashmir while maintaining plausible deniability. The 2025 Pahalgam massacre was merely the latest link in a chain that includes the 2001 Parliament attack, the 2008 Mumbai carnage, and a number of strikes on Indian military installations.
This strategy has failed catastrophically. Pakistan has neither secured Kashmir nor enhanced its security. Instead, it has earned global isolation, sanctions, and reputational damage. More corrosively, it has radicalised generations of its own youth. An education ecosystem skewed towards extremist madrasas has funnelled young men into militancy rather than productive employment.
What should have been a demographic dividend has become a social time bomb.
Economic collapse and the CPEC debt trap
Pakistan’s economy today shows all the signs of systemic collapse: recurring balance-of-payments crises, runaway inflation, collapsing currency value, and serial IMF bailouts. These are the cumulative effects of elite capture, poor governance, and a refusal to broaden the tax base—particularly among the landed aristocracy and military enterprises.
The China–Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC), once hailed as transformational, has deepened vulnerabilities. Opaque loans and non-transparent contracts have saddled Pakistan with debt without delivering promised industrialisation. For Beijing, Pakistan functions primarily as a strategic proxy against India and a corridor for Chinese energy security. For Islamabad, CPEC has become another lever of dependence.
Internal fragility: The ghost of 1971
Pakistan has never resolved the tension between its centralised state and its diverse society. Ethnic identities—Punjabi, Pashtun, Sindhi, Baloch—often outweigh national affiliation. The secession of East Pakistan in 1971 should have been a cautionary tale. Instead, it was treated as an aberration.
Today, Balochistan remains a festering wound. Rich in resources yet politically marginalised, it has been governed through coercion rather than consent. Enforced disappearances and heavy-handed military operations against the Balochistan Liberation Army have deepened alienation. Thousands are being killed on both sides. In the northwest, the Pashtun Tahafuz Movement reflects similar grievances against military excesses. Pakistan increasingly resembles a state ruling its own peripheries as an occupying power.
Lessons for India and the path forward
Pakistan’s decline offers India a catalogue of lessons in what not to do. Military “quick fixes” cannot substitute for governance. Geostrategic freelancing driven by insecurity breeds dependency. Instrumentalising religion corrodes social cohesion and international credibility. India’s contrasting commitment to pluralism, civilian supremacy and economic development has yielded tangible dividends.
Three lessons stand out. First, civilian supremacy is non-negotiable in a functioning democracy. Second, religion as political ideology weakens, rather than strengthens, the state. Third, economic strength and human development—not permanent mobilisation against an enemy—are the true foundations of national security.
India must also recognise that a failing Pakistan is not a safer Pakistan. Instability increases the risks of miscalculation and extremist spillover.
Accordingly, India’s policy must remain firm and unsentimental: maintain credible military deterrence; respond proportionately to terror provocations; mobilise international pressure against Pakistan’s terror infrastructure; deepen regional partnerships; avoid rhetorical triumphalism; and keep diplomatic channels open—conditional on demonstrable action against terrorism.
Conclusion
Pakistan’s existential crisis is largely self-inflicted. Decades of military dominance, ideological rigidity, economic mismanagement and the cynical use of terror have hollowed out the state. Today, the greatest threat to the Pakistani people is not external—it is their own governing structure.
Whether Pakistan can reform itself remains uncertain. For India, the task is not to fix Pakistan, but to absorb the lessons of its decline and manage its consequences with clarity, restraint and strategic resolve.
The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not purport to reflect the opinions or views of THE WEEK.
