From General to Field Marshal – A Fall Upwards
In an announcement that has stunned even the most imaginative observers of South Asian geopolitics, General Asim Munir has been promoted to Field Marshal — a rank that in most professional armies is reserved for legendary wartime commanders, national saviors, or at the very least, men who have not presided over humiliating debacles. But this is Pakistan, the land where logic surrenders to uniformed arrogance, and merit bows before medals awarded for internal intrigue rather than battlefield victories.
Yes, General Munir — pardon us, Field Marshal Munir — has been knighted by Rawalpindi’s invisible crown, not for defeating India, not for restoring dignity to a flailing republic, not for brilliant military campaigns, but seemingly for perfecting the art of survival in the snake pit that is Pakistan's Army High Command.
One might assume that promotions to such mythical ranks follow staggering achievements. In Munir’s case, the timing couldn’t be more ironic. As India’s Operation Sindoor sent precision strikes into the heart of Pakistan’s so-called “strategic depth,” decimating terrorist enclaves and embarrassing its military establishment, the only counterattack Munir could mount was on the constitution — ensuring that his uniform, and not any civilian’s suit, remains the final word in Pakistan.
A Field Marshal with No Fields and No Marshals
To grasp the full absurdity of this promotion, one must appreciate the credentials of the new Field Marshal. Unlike Field Marshal Ayub Khan — the only other Pakistani to have held the rank — who at least had the decency to lose a war against India after declaring one, Munir's list of accomplishments reads more like a dystopian résumé.
Here’s what seems to have clinched the promotion:
Presiding Over National Decline: Under Munir’s stewardship, Pakistan’s economy has danced precariously on the cliff of default. Foreign reserves have been drained faster than his patience with dissenting journalists.
Strategic Depth in Failure: Despite publicly denying involvement in terrorism, under Munir’s watch, safe havens for jihadis were exposed and annihilated by India’s coldly executed Operation Sindoor, shattering the myth of Pakistan’s invulnerability.
Detaining Democracy: Munir’s finest battlefield has been the political arena. Whether it's engineering the ousting of Imran Khan or turning Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif into a constitutional hologram, Munir has successfully routed civilian supremacy.
And now, Pakistan awards him with Field Marshal stripes — not for winning a war, but for mastering the ancient art of national misdirection.
PM Shehbaz Sharif: A Prime Minister in Parentheses
One might be tempted to ask: where was Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif during all this?
Answer: Exactly where he was meant to be — sipping protocol tea, performing ribbon-cutting ceremonies, and reading aloud press statements drafted by GHQ.
Shehbaz’s role in Munir’s promotion is not unlike the role of a wax figure at Madame Tussauds. He looks the part, stands in the right place, but his opinions are strictly ornamental. The Prime Minister's Office may still exist on paper, but its power has long been outsourced to Rawalpindi’s military corridors, where generals speak softly but carry very large boots.
The "democratic" government in Islamabad exists today not as a center of governance but as a ceremonial troupe, allowed to function so long as it doesn’t forget who signs the real orders. Every significant decision — from foreign policy to internal security to IMF negotiations — has the fingerprints of the military. The civilian administration, meanwhile, is permitted to manage potholes and issue passports (unless the applicant is a political dissenter).
In such a system, Munir isn’t an anomaly. He’s the inevitable product of a political machine so thoroughly militarized, even the fig leaf of civilian supremacy has become redundant.
Operation Sindoor: The Ghost at the Parade
No satire would be complete without addressing the giant saffron elephant in the room — Operation Sindoor.
India’s audacious strikes deep within Pakistani territory have left Islamabad red-faced and stammering. Targets weren’t just symbolic — they were real, strategic, and ruthlessly efficient. Terrorist infrastructure, long denied and camouflaged under "Non-State Actor" narratives, was hit with clinical precision.
And what was Field Marshal Munir’s response?
Desperation followed by Failure: India's precision strikes on the intervening night of 6 May caused immense desperation in Pakistan which was already in the state of 'highest alert' anticipating India's response to terrorist attack at Pahalgam. Pakistan did try to respond by launching drone and missile attacks but India's strong air defence system foiled all attempts.
Strategic Denial: Claiming nothing happened, then quietly mobilizing emergency medical facilities for the slain and injured terrorists.
National Gaslighting: Launching a parade of patriotic programming on PTV, complete with songs about the “invincible” Pakistani military, even as satellite images of obliterated camps went viral.
Become a uniformed clown entertaining the world: Despite the loss of strategic deterrence which Pakistan had long preserved against India and destruction of vital military assets including 11 air bases, Shahbaz Sharif (the puppet) danced on the victory tunes played by Munir. Munir is now seen as a uniformed clown playing a military band.
One might expect a military commander to resign in the face of such humiliation. Instead, Munir was gifted a baton and a ceremonial uniform upgrade. The irony is as blinding as the supersonic missiles that shredded his credibility.
Decorated for Disaster: The Field Marshal Who Never Marched
What does a Field Marshal do in Pakistan?
Apparently, the same thing any general does — except now with more medals, longer titles, and additional layers of delusion. Munir’s promotion is less a military honor and more a feudal coronation. It’s a reward not for valor, but for absolute loyalty to the system that sustains Pakistan’s military-industrial-political complex.
He is not a man elevated for commanding men in battle. He is a man celebrated for commanding narratives in newsrooms, coercing politicians, and arresting judges with veiled threats. The only fields this Field Marshal has ever conquered are those of public discourse and civilian willpower.
If Pakistan had a functioning democracy, this appointment would be scandalous. In Pakistan’s military State, it’s just Tuesday.
The Marshal of Mayhem
The elevation of Asim Munir to Field Marshal is a tragicomic reflection of Pakistan’s perpetual identity crisis — a State born in trauma, fed on paranoia, and governed by generals with Napoleonic dreams and disastrous track records.
While India speaks in the language of supersonic strikes and geopolitical strategy, Pakistan replies with choreographed chest-thumping and theatrical medals. Field Marshal Munir’s promotion may soothe the egos in GHQ for a moment, but it cannot mask the rot eating away at Pakistan’s national fabric — a rot overseen, enforced, and perpetuated by the very men in uniform who now promote each other like medieval barons exchanging titles.
As the country spirals deeper into political chaos, economic ruin, and international irrelevance, one thing is clear: the uniform may have changed, but the script remains the same — a farce in fatigues, with a Field Marshal at the helm of a sinking ship.
Afterword: A Uniform Too Big to Fill
In literature, Field Marshals are statesmen of stature, warriors of grit. In Pakistan, they are mythmakers. And Munir’s myth has now been institutionalized — not in history books, but in the tragic comedy that is Pakistani politics. Long may he reign, for as long as the farce endures.
Because in Pakistan, the pen may be mightier than the sword — but only until the sword decides to arrest the pen.