Pakistan is 78 years old. At this age, most countries have at least started moving towards prosperity. But Pakistan? Still wobbling like a toddler who refuses to let go of the stroller. Why? Because our very own guardians—the military—decided that babysitting democracy was more fun than defending borders.
When the Referee Became the Player
For most of Pakistan’s life (read: all of it), the army has been running the show—sometimes in uniform, sometimes through their favorite politicians. And why are they always corrupt? Because corruption comes with a built-in leash. It keeps the puppets obedient and easily blackmailed. Honest governance was never the goal; loyalty was. Who cares if the economy is looted, as long as the power stays in the right hands? Who cares if millions sink deeper into poverty, as long as the generals and their cronies keep amassing wealth? That, sadly, is what passes for “democracy” in Pakistan.
Oaths Are for Ceremonies, Not Practice
Every soldier swears an oath: defend the constitution, stay out of politics, serve the nation. Sounds noble, doesn’t it? But in Pakistan, oaths are treated like wedding vows at a feudal lord’s third marriage—uttered with grandeur, forgotten by dinner. These men are trained to fight wars, not run countries. Yet somewhere along the way, they decided that governing a country of 240 million people was just an extended military exercise. Governance became another “operation,” complete with “targets,” “strategies,” and “collateral damage”. Spoiler: running a country isn’t the same as running a war operation.
Elite Capture: The Rich Got Richer, the Poor Got… Nothing
Here’s a joke: Pakistan was built on the two-nation theory. Now I understand what those two nations are: It’s one nation for the top less than 5% (the elite), owning more that 95% of the resourccs, and another for the bottom 95% (the rest of us) living in poverty. The army could’ve used its influence to fix this imbalance, but instead, they became shareholders in the status quo. Land, plots, businesses, industries—who needs democracy when you own the country? Remember! Countries have armies, but Pakistani Army has a country.
Intelligence, but Only for the Wrong Reasons
The ISI is one of the most formidable intelligence agencies in the world, or so they claim. They can track terrorists in the mountains and politicians in their drawing rooms. They know who’s laundering money, who’s corrupt, and who’s up to no good. Yet, somehow, these superpowers are mostly deployed to keep inconvenient politicians in check, install their judges, silence journalists, and ensure “approved” narratives dominate TV screens. National security? Sure, but only after securing prime real estate first.
Terrorism, Corruption, and the Selective Blind Spot
Let’s be clear: the army can eradicate terrorism and bring corrupt elites to justice. They have the organization, the resources, and the manpower. But doing so would mean cutting off the very hands of the stooges who work for them. So instead, Pakistanis are served endless counter-terrorism operations and anti-corruption drives—except the usual suspects always walk free. Rinse, repeat, and call it patriotism.
Why Keep the Country Weak?
It’s almost poetic. A weak economy keeps people dependent. Poor education ensures they don’t ask too many questions. Divided society prevents unity against the real culprits. If Pakistanis actually prospered, they might start demanding real democracy, accountability, and less military meddling. And we can’t have that, can we?
Closing Note
The Pakistani military had every chance—and all the power—to steer the country toward prosperity. Instead, they chose control over progress. They may claim to defend Pakistan from enemies abroad, but the biggest blow to prosperity came from within.
And let it be clear: all this criticism isn’t an attack—it’s a humble attempt to make things better. The intention is not to insult but to awaken. Those at the helm of power must realize that the status quo is not a strategy; it’s a slow-motion collapse. If the military truly wants Pakistan to move forward, it must change course, confront hard truths, and embrace reform. Otherwise, the country has no future—and neither does the institution that claims to protect it.
Stay tuned for the next blog, where I’ll try to give them free advice not only on how to fix the mess they created, but also on how they might just save their own souls in the process.




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