Pakistan’s protracted struggle with democratic governance resembles less a narrative of political maturation and more a cautionary example of institutional domination.
Though envisioned as a republican state by its founding leadership in 1947, Pakistan has consistently fallen short in establishing a truly democratic system. The primary actor behind this failure is widely recognised but seldom challenged: the Pakistan military. Over successive decades, it has embedded itself within the core of political authority, persistently undermining civilian leadership and weakening democratic institutions from within.
At present, Pakistan functions, at most, as a hybrid regime—a superficial civilian administration concealing a deeply embedded military establishment. Whenever public dissatisfaction with this setup intensifies, the military has repeatedly demonstrated its capacity to rebrand itself as the essential guardian of national security. It habitually relies on familiar narratives—Indian hostility, internal subversion, or foreign plots—frequently amplified through compliant media and affiliated non-state actors, to legitimise its dominant position. This dynamic was evident when Army Chief General Asim Munir began employing political dog-whistles ahead of the April 22 Pahalgam attack targeting tourists in Jammu and Kashmir, anticipating a forceful Indian reaction that the military elite could exploit to consolidate public support.
This militarised approach to governance stands in stark contrast to the political ideals of Muhammad Ali Jinnah, Pakistan’s founding father, who envisaged an Islamic republic grounded in democratic principles, institutional probity, and socio-political equality. Significantly, in his address to the 5th and 6th Ack Ack Regiments of the Pakistan Army—formations previously part of the British Indian Army—on 21st February 1948, Jinnah urged the military to uphold the values of “Islamic democracy, Islamic social justice, and the equality of manhood” within the geographical bounds of the newly established state.
However, the very institution Jinnah aimed to redirect soon deviated from its intended path. While his landmark address to the Constituent Assembly remains celebrated as a clear expression of his ideological vision for Pakistan, it was largely disregarded by the Pakistan Army, whose gradual incursions into the political sphere steadily undermined the constitutional values championed by Jinnah. This drift towards militarised governance began alarmingly within Pakistan’s first decade, thereby derailing the democratic ambitions that had initially driven the post-colonial nation-building endeavour.
It was this gradual consolidation of praetorian tendencies—evident in the steady erosion of constitutionalism and civilian authority—that ultimately led to the full-scale military coup of 1958. In this initial constitutional breakdown, President Iskandar Mirza conspired with General Ayub Khan to annul the 1956 Constitution, thereby dismantling the fledgling democratic framework. Ironically, Mirza was soon deposed by the very military machinery he had empowered, ushering in a prolonged period of authoritarian military rule. This foundational rupture not only entrenched the military’s hegemonic role within Pakistan’s political system but also triggered a pattern of systemic instability that eventually led to the state's fragmentation with the secession of East Pakistan and the creation of Bangladesh in 1971.
Since that time, the military’s hold has only strengthened. Over the years, it has progressively extended its influence—not only within the political realm but also deep into the country’s economic structures. The regime of General Zia-ul-Haq during the 1980s serves as a defining example. His tenure was characterised not only by the consolidation of military authority but also by a forceful Islamisation drive that reconfigured Pakistan’s societal landscape and further solidified the military’s role as an ideological arbiter.
By 2020, the Pakistan military’s economic empire had evolved into a vast, multi-sector corporate entity, with an estimated value exceeding $20 billion. Widely recognised for its pervasive presence across the economic landscape, the military’s commercial and industrial reach spans the manufacture of basic goods—ranging from sewing needles to bottled water—as well as major infrastructural projects, including roadworks and property development. A 2016 submission to the Pakistani Senate revealed that the armed forces oversee more than 50 business enterprises, encompassing ventures such as Askari Cement, Askari Bank, Fauji Meat, Askari Sugar Mills, shopping centres, and residential housing schemes. These operations are chiefly managed through four institutional bodies: the Fauji Foundation, Bahria Foundation, Shaheen Foundation, and the Army Welfare Trust (AWT).
The consolidation and maintenance of this extensive politico-economic apparatus has emerged as a core institutional priority for the military establishment. As a result, the continuation of its hegemonic control over civilian governance is no longer justified merely through conventional security arguments, but is now intrinsically linked to the protection of its substantial material interests and ideological influence—often to the detriment of democratic consolidation and civilian ascendancy.
The cumulative impact of this militarised political structure has been the consistent undermining of civilian authority, which has persistently struggled to attain independent legitimacy or institutional continuity within Pakistan’s governance system. As a result, any civilian political figure whose rise threatens the entrenched dominance of the military establishment has routinely been sidelined through coercive or extrajudicial measures. A notable example of this pattern was the judicial execution of Prime Minister Zulfikar Ali Bhutto in 1979—a politically motivated act following his removal in the 1977 military coup—triggered by his escalating popular support and increasing resistance to military oversight.
This historical precedent echoes in the state’s ongoing punitive campaign against former Prime Minister Imran Khan, whose present imprisonment is broadly viewed as retaliation for his overt challenge to the military’s entrenched influence within the political domain. These recurrent patterns of suppression underscore the military’s persistent aversion to political independence and its structural compulsion to preserve hegemonic supremacy over democratic institutions.
These structural imperatives collectively sustain the Pakistan Army’s ongoing opposition to any meaningful process of democratic consolidation, thereby solidifying its authoritarian control over the state machinery. As a result, the system is designed not for democracy but for containment. The continuation of this civil-military imbalance is not incidental; rather, it is systematically upheld through a complex interplay of institutional self-preservation, economic interests, and ideological dominance. Civilian institutions are permitted to operate only insofar as they do not challenge the primacy of the military. This is not governance; it is institutionalised authoritarianism cloaked in a democratic guise. from this cycle demands more than temporary outrage or symbolic acts of opposition. Removing the military from the political sphere requires a far more ambitious approach: a sustained, organised, and credible political movement—one capable of confronting both the ideological and material underpinnings of military rule. Until such a movement emerges, Pakistan will remain ensnared in a state of managed democracy, with its citizens relegated to a system that neither represents nor empowers them.