PAK ARMY: HUMOUR IN UNIFORM

How a once-feared force became a parody of itself — fractured by politics, driven by privilege, and afraid of the very wars it was meant to fight.

The Pakistani Army, once a titan, now a hollow shell. Generals trade uniforms for political puppetry while soldiers decay in purpose. Their feared might crumbles under corruption's weight. They cultivate enemies within while fleeing battles beyond—a pampered aristocracy masquerading as warriors, defending nothing but their bank accounts and privilege.

The self-proclaimed guardians of Pakistan's ideology, the top brass of the Pakistan Army now resemble less of a fighting force and more of a feudal brotherhood in fatigues. Its legacy of coups, its grip on business empires, and its meddling in politics have long been known. But today, a new layer has emerged—one of absurdity, excess, and moral decay.

FRACTURED RANKS, DIVIDED LOYALTIES

The army is no longer united by doctrine or duty. It is divided by politics. With former Prime Minister Imran Khan's popularity still pulsing through the ranks, especially among junior officers, there exists a quiet insubordination against the current Army Chief, General Asim Munir. What was once a chain of command now operating like a tug-of-war.

Munir, struggling to assert authority, faces resistance not from across the border, but from within his own force. Promotions, postings, and assignments are being influenced more by political alignment than merit. The result? A top-heavy command reluctant to lead and a restless base unwilling to follow.

RELUCTANCE AT THE FRONT

Amid recent border tensions and rising anti-India rhetoric, one would expect the army to rally. Instead, reports suggest hesitation at the highest levels. Generals who often thunder about "sacrifices" are nowhere near the frontlines. Strategic restraint is the official line. But behind closed doors, it's more like self-preservation.

The men in uniform seem more prepared for television studios than trenches. War-gaming has been replaced by image management. The famed Pakistani martial spirit is now a Twitter thread.

A CULTURE OF INDULGENCE

Extramarital affairs, secret families, and lavish lifestyles have become common currency in the upper echelons of the military. It is not an exception; it is the norm. While the institution parades religious slogans and moral posturing, its top officers enjoy privileges that would make elected politicians blush.

One persistent rumour circulating among Islamabad's elite suggests a discreet relationship between General Asim Munir and the daughter of a former Prime Minister. Though unconfirmed, the speculation has found its way from drawing rooms to defence circles—yet another example of how personal relationships often intersect with political decisions in Rawalpindi.

THE BUSINESS OF NATIONAL SECURITY

From managing real estate conglomerates like the Fauji Foundation to controlling media outlets and fertilizer companies, the Pakistan Army has blurred the lines between national service and corporate greed. With billions in untaxed assets and exclusive housing schemes, its generals behave more like CEOs of a monopoly than protectors of national sovereignty.

CAN THIS ARMY DEFEND PAKISTAN?

When officers hesitate to fight, generals indulge in excess, and command is fractured by factionalism, what remains of professionalism?

An army that trades discipline for decadence, loyalty for lobbying, and courage for convenience cannot defend a nation.

Pakistan's greatest threat may not come from across the border. It may already be seated in Rawalpindi.

The Final Irony: And so we ask, not with fear but with satire:

Can a military that fears accountability more than war really be called an army?

Or is it just Humour in Uniform?