Pakistan, often keen to remind the world of its two defining identities—being the only Muslim nuclear power and its deep Islamic character—has once again turned to this dual narrative in order to project influence. With its economy on the brink of collapse and little tangible progress to showcase domestically, Pakistan’s de facto ruler, Field Marshal Asim Munir, has positioned himself as a champion of Islamic causes. His latest push has been the dramatic idea of creating an “Islamic NATO,” an alliance where Islamabad sees itself as the natural leader of the Ummah, or the global Muslim community.
By putting forward this vision, Islamabad aims to achieve two interconnected goals: to present itself as a leader of Muslim nations by virtue of its nuclear capability, and to cultivate financial and political support from Gulf states. Pakistan has already signed a defence pact with Saudi Arabia, effectively legitimising its nuclear arsenal for Riyadh’s defence in case of an attack. Reports indicate the pact mirrors NATO’s principle of collective defence, where an attack on one is treated as an attack on both. This, in theory, extends Pakistan’s nuclear deterrence to Saudi Arabia, amplifying Islamabad’s role within the Islamic bloc.
Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif echoed this rhetoric during the Doha Summit, calling for an “Islamic NATO” and condemning attacks on Islamic countries. Defence Minister Khawaja Asif reinforced the message soon after, framing the proposal as a response not just to Israel but implicitly to India, which Pakistan continues to perceive as its primary threat. If such a grouping were ever realised, Pakistan could use it as yet another platform for anti-India activities while projecting itself as indispensable to the Islamic world.
Yet beneath these grand proclamations lies a harsher reality. Pakistan is economically bankrupt, dependent on loans from the IMF, China, Saudi Arabia, and the UAE just to stay afloat. Inflation continues to devastate its middle class, and industrial growth is nearly non-existent except for projects funded by China. In this context, Islamabad’s push for an “Islamic NATO” is less about genuine leadership and more about survival—using its nuclear status and Islamic credentials to secure desperately needed financial aid from the Gulf.
The key figure driving this narrative is Field Marshal Asim Munir. With a tone reminiscent of General Zia-ul-Haq’s era of Islamisation, Munir has taken charge of positioning Pakistan as the defender of Muslim causes. His manoeuvring behind the scenes, coupled with Prime Minister Sharif’s obedient amplification of this rhetoric, reveals a carefully crafted strategy aimed at elevating Munir’s stature both domestically and abroad. By championing Islamic solidarity, Munir strengthens his legitimacy and projects Pakistan as more than just a struggling state—it becomes, at least rhetorically, a bulwark for the Ummah.
However, Pakistan’s ambitions run into the reality of a deeply divided Islamic world. The Muslim community is fractured by rival power centres, from Saudi Arabia and Iran’s ongoing rivalry to Turkey’s uneasy ties with Gulf monarchies. Bilateral disputes, competing alignments with global powers, and regional conflicts make the formation of a unified Islamic military bloc nearly impossible. For Pakistan to imagine itself as the unifier of the Ummah overlooks these entrenched geopolitical realities.
Moreover, Pakistan’s own instability undercuts its claims. While it does possess nuclear weapons, there remains a global fear that these arms could one day fall into the hands of extremists, given the country’s history of fostering militant networks. Add to this its economic fragility and domestic challenges, and Islamabad appears ill-suited to anchor an “Islamic NATO.” Nuclear power alone cannot compensate for political weakness, financial insolvency, and internal strife.
In essence, Pakistan’s calls for an “Islamic NATO” are more transactional than visionary. Its nuclear arsenal and Islamic identity are being leveraged as bargaining chips to secure aid, legitimacy, and influence. But illusions have limits. For all of Munir’s grandstanding and Sharif’s rhetoric, Pakistan lacks the capacity to command the loyalty of Muslim nations or to bind them into a cohesive alliance. At best, it can use its nuclear and religious credentials to extract short-term gains. At worst, it risks exposing just how hollow its claims to leadership of the Ummah truly are.
