Under Army Chief Asim Munir, Pakistan’s military is undergoing a profound ideological and structural shift that analysts describe as both a “silent coup” and a religious transformation. Once viewed as a professional fighting force, Pakistan’s army is now being reshaped into what Munir portrays as a defender of Islam. This change comes as the army chief consolidates near-absolute power through a constitutional amendment that alters the balance between the military, civilian government, and judiciary.
The Pakistani defence establishment has increasingly begun using early Islamic terms such as Fitna al-Khawarij and Fitna al-Hindustan to describe its enemies. These Arabic words — drawn from the 7th-century civil wars that divided the early Muslim community — are now being applied to insurgents in Balochistan and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, who are labelled as “Indian-backed heretics.” This rhetorical shift serves to portray Pakistan’s internal conflicts not as political or ethnic disputes, but as religious wars to protect Islam itself.
Munir’s strategy blends religious symbolism with military control. The Pakistani Senate and National Assembly this week passed the 27th Constitutional Amendment, creating a Chief of Defence Forces (CDF) post that gives Munir sweeping authority over all branches of the armed forces. The amendment removes oversight by the President and federal cabinet, effectively placing all military command in Munir’s hands. The new post carries the lifetime title of Field Marshal, granting him permanent immunity from prosecution and codifying military supremacy over Pakistan’s democratic institutions.
Munir’s rise marks a break from earlier army chiefs known for their Western training and comparatively secular outlook. A Hafiz-e-Quran who openly invokes religion in his speeches, Munir has recast Pakistan’s army as the guardian of Islam against “heretical” threats. His public addresses are laced with theological language — blaming India’s “Hindutva ideology” for global anti-Muslim sentiment and framing Pakistan’s battles as moral struggles between faith and unbelief. Analysts see this as an attempt to rally public unity behind the army by cloaking military actions in religious legitimacy.
The roots of Munir’s project reach back to General Zia-ul-Haq’s Islamisation drive of the late 1970s, which sought to align Pakistan’s institutions with conservative religious values. Where Zia introduced Islamic law and rhetoric into governance, Munir is embedding it directly into the command culture of the armed forces. His version of Islamisation uses theological language to justify military campaigns against domestic dissenters, echoing the Khawarij narrative from early Islamic history — a sect that rebelled against Caliph Ali and was branded as betrayers of the faith.
The implications of this transformation are severe. By giving counterinsurgency operations a religious character, Munir has blurred the line between state and jihad. Pakistan’s conflicts with Baloch nationalists and Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) are now being reframed as holy wars against apostates, not political rebellions. This ideological shift, combined with Munir’s new constitutional authority, effectively fuses military power, religion, and governance into a single structure dominated by the army.
For India and the wider world, Munir’s consolidation of power poses a new kind of threat. Pakistan’s nuclear-armed military is now led by a deeply religious general who views geopolitics through a doctrinal lens. Western governments have long feared the Islamisation of Pakistan’s nuclear command, a concern now heightened by Munir’s rhetoric and his legal control over the National Strategic Command, which oversees the country’s nuclear arsenal.
Regionally, the move is already destabilising. Afghanistan’s Taliban-led government has accused Pakistan of escalating tensions after a series of cross-border strikes. The ideological militarisation of Pakistan’s army also undermines civilian democracy, as Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif’s government appears subservient to Munir’s authority. Meanwhile, the judiciary is being sidelined through the creation of a Federal Constitutional Court, which will limit the Supreme Court’s power.
What makes Munir’s rule unprecedented is the combination of theological justification and constitutional legality. Through both ideology and law, Pakistan’s military has achieved what Zia and Pervez Musharraf could not — total, permanent dominance over the state. The result is a Pakistan where the army’s mission is no longer national defence, but the defence of faith itself.
As Pakistan’s institutions succumb to Munir’s vision, the country risks regressing to a 7th-century-style religious polity, with its army as the self-declared protector of Islam. This radical Islamisation of a nuclear-armed military represents not only the death of Pakistan’s democracy, but also a growing danger to South Asia and global security.
