6 min readAug 5, 2026 10:42 PM IST
First published on: Aug 4, 2026 at 03:13 PM IST
Across South Asia, Generation Z has emerged as an unexpected force in politics. Over the last few years, students and youth in Bangladesh, Nepal and Sri Lanka have driven unprecedented political change. In India too, the political consequences of an increasingly assertive Gen Z could be profound over the longer term. What about Pakistan? Will it forever remain the Subcontinent’s exception?
Pakistan has the same youthful demographics as the rest of the region, and even deeper economic anxieties. Yet its youth has struggled to shape the country’s political trajectory. The army’s pervasive dominance and extensive control have made popular mobilisation exceptionally difficult. In Pakistan, change still appears to come from the top; the army remains the principal source of political change. While the rest of South Asia debates how young citizens are reshaping politics, Pakistan is once again discussing Rawalpindi’s power grab dressed up as reform.
The latest debate was triggered by Interior Minister Mohsin Naqvi’s declaration that Pakistan’s system of governance had effectively collapsed and required a sweeping overhaul. If he were an ordinary political figure, Naqvi’s call for radical reform would have been dismissed as loose talk. Coming from Rawalpindi’s current civilian subordinate, however, Naqvi’s remarks deserve close attention.
It is evident that Pakistan’s military establishment is contemplating not merely another intervention in politics but a redesign of the state. No authoritative draft of a revised political structure is in the public domain. Yet the direction is unmistakable. The discussion reportedly ranges from breaking up the existing provinces into smaller units and revising fiscal federalism in favour of the Centre to vesting greater authority in the army leadership and its preferred technocrats.
This represents an important evolution in Pakistan’s political history. Ayub Khan, Yahya Khan, Ziaul Haq and Pervez Musharraf all interrupted constitutional politics through military coups. General Asim Munir is pursuing something more ambitious: Institutionalising military predominance within the constitutional framework itself.
The confidence behind this project has been reinforced by the new White House warmth towards Asim Munir. The Anglo-American media that only a short while ago was pleading the case for the release of Imran Khan, jailed by Munir, is now celebrating the self-promoted field marshal as a strategic genius. Anglo-American support has always emboldened Rawalpindi to tighten its grip over Pakistan’s polity and society.
The more interesting question, however, is not what Munir wants or what the Anglo-Americans like. It is whether Pakistan’s civilian politicians are once again preparing to help the generals consolidate power and write their own political death warrant. In their endless internecine struggles, Pakistan’s civilian parties have repeatedly turned to the army to gain advantage over one another. That allowed Rawalpindi to install and uninstall civilian governments at will. Had the civilian parties chosen collective action over short-term partisan gain, they could have pushed the army back into the barracks long ago.
There was one brief moment of hope. In 2006, Benazir Bhutto and Nawaz Sharif signed the Charter of Democracy. Having both experienced repeated military interventions, they recognised that democracy could survive only if civilian parties stopped inviting the army into their partisan battles.
The moment did not last. Both the Pakistan People’s Party and the Pakistan Muslim League soon reverted to the familiar temptation of seeking tactical advantage over each other. Later, Imran Khan’s Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf repeated the same mistake, initially benefiting from military patronage before becoming its victim.
That pattern is now set to repeat itself as the army shows the door to the current civilian government. The generals may design the blueprint, but they still need the civilian parliament to approve it. But the prospects of a united opposition to the Army’s project appear bleak. Pakistan’s missing Gen Z movement reinforces this imbalance. The country has no shortage of youthful anger. But the Army’s instrumentalisation of religious nationalism and the ever-expanding state control over society have prevented that frustration from coalescing into a nationwide democratic movement comparable to those witnessed elsewhere in South Asia.
The Pakistan army is well placed to get what it wants. Yet Rawalpindi’s ability to deliver positive change is limited. The reforms pushed by the army over the decades have been less about strengthening institutions than about concentrating greater authority in its own hands. The justification remains the same — that civilian politicians are corrupt and incompetent.
While the army’s political power has steadily expanded, its capacity to generate broader social and economic gains has always fallen short. History offers many examples of authoritarian regimes that have delivered sustained economic growth. Pakistan is not one of them. Despite privileged ties with the world’s leading economic powers, the US and now China, and close association with the oil-rich Gulf states, Pakistan has been on the path of economic decline over the last three decades.
There is little evidence to suggest that giving still greater authority to the field marshal will produce dramatically different outcomes. Pakistan’s civilian leaders surely know this, but can they summon the will for collective action? While there is a murmur of dissent against Munir’s plans, few would bet on Pakistan’s political parties to prevail.
Pakistan’s predicament offers a wider lesson. If there is no meaningful resistance to the dominant political force and its regressive ideology, societies have to endure prolonged stagnation and repeated humiliation. Resistance certainly imposes immediate costs. Yet it is also the mechanism through which institutions recover their balance and political systems renew themselves.
The writer is a contributing editor on international affairs for The Indian Express. He is also the distinguished professor at the Motwani Jadeja Institute of American Studies, Jindal Global University, and the Korean Foundation Chair on Asian geopolitics at the Council on Strategic and Defense Research, Delhi
Pakistan’s predicament offers a wider lesson. If there is no meaningful resistance to the dominant political force and its regressive ideology, societies have to endure prolonged stagnation and repeated humiliation. 
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