By Qamar Bashir
In a recent public statement, Pakistan’s Chief of Army Staff vowed to turn the country
into a “hard state.” While this declaration may resonate with the desire for national
strength and order, it reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of what the term truly
means in a political context. Turning Pakistan into a hard state requires far more than
military power or suppression; it demands strong, independent institutions, a rule-based
system, and unwavering adherence to democratic norms. Ironically, the steps taken by the
establishment, particularly after the February 2024 elections, have pushed Pakistan
further into the category of a soft state—fragile, inconsistent, and vulnerable to internal
and external pressures.
A hard state is defined not by the might of its army or the fear it can instill but by the
integrity and functionality of its institutions. It enforces the law consistently and fairly,
possesses a judiciary that functions independently, and maintains internal security
without undermining civil liberties. In such a state, the bureaucracy works efficiently,
policies are enforced without political compromise, and national sovereignty is upheld
with dignity. Countries often cited as hard states, such as China and Israel, have built
systems of governance that, while autocratic or semi-democratic, still ensure institutional
resilience and policy continuity. They are capable of making and implementing difficult
decisions without succumbing to domestic chaos or foreign influence.
In stark contrast, soft states suffer from policy U-turns, weak law enforcement,
politicized institutions, and frequent subservience to foreign interests. Laws are
selectively applied, corruption is widespread, and national direction is unclear.
Unfortunately, this description fits today’s Pakistan far more accurately than the
aspirational “hard state” image being promoted by the military leadership. The events
following the February 2024 elections have laid bare the extent of institutional decay and
political manipulation in the country.
The manipulation began with the democratic process itself. The party that received the
popular mandate, commanding a clear majority, was sidelined. Instead, a party that won
only eighteen seats was elevated to form the government, while leaders of the majority
party were jailed, silenced, or excluded from the political process. Parliament was
reduced to a rubber stamp, mechanically passing pre-drafted legislation provided by
military-backed forces. No real debate, no democratic process, and no respect for public
opinion—all hallmarks of a system that has drifted far from democratic norms. In such a
scenario, the very foundation of a hard state—public legitimacy—was shattered.
Next came the judiciary, another pillar of state strength that was swiftly undermined.
Constitutional amendments passed in the wake of the election stripped the Supreme Court
of its inherent powers, effectively making it subservient to the executive. The procedures
for the appointment, promotion, and transfer of judges were modified, placing the
judiciary under the influence of the legislature and the bureaucracy—both now acting
under the military’s shadow. This erosion of judicial independence has rendered the legal
system toothless, unable to check the excesses of power or safeguard the rights of
citizens. In a true hard state, the judiciary serves as the guardian of justice; in Pakistan, it
has been forced into submission.
Civilian governance, too, has been hollowed out. All major decisions—political,
economic, and administrative—are now taken by the military or its proxies. Elected
representatives are either bypassed or given ceremonial roles, while real power is
exercised behind closed doors. Ministries have been reduced to implementing orders
rather than crafting policies. This imbalance not only breeds inefficiency but also
eliminates accountability, making it impossible for the government to respond to the
public’s needs or correct its own course. A hard state, by contrast, requires effective
civilian governance supported—not supplanted—by the military.
Perhaps the most chilling consequence of this shift has been the crackdown on media and
freedom of speech. Independent journalism has been silenced through censorship,
harassment, and exile. Journalists are persecuted, news channels are gagged, and many
outspoken voices have been forced to flee and continue their work from abroad. Even
social media, the last refuge for open discourse, has been increasingly restricted. A state
that fears open dialogue is not strong—it is insecure. A hard state allows criticism
because it believes in its own legitimacy. Pakistan’s current trajectory suggests a state
trying to mask its weaknesses through control and coercion.
These internal failures are compounded by growing unrest in various regions of the
country. Instead of addressing the root causes of discontent—poverty, political
marginalization, lack of infrastructure—the state has responded with overwhelming
force. This has only deepened alienation, fueling separatist sentiments and insurgencies.
Borders have become more perforated, and citizens increasingly feel like strangers in
their own land. When force is used to fix problems caused by force in the first place, the
cycle of instability only deepens. This is not the path to a hard state but a descent into
chaos under the illusion of control.
The military’s assertion that it will transform Pakistan into a hard state rings hollow
against this backdrop. What it has actually built is a weak and soft state, deprived of
democratic legitimacy, judicial independence, and civil freedoms. Without the very
institutions that define a hard state, the promise to create one becomes either a façade or a
warning of further repression.
Even if we were to take inspiration from hard states like China or Israel, we must
recognize that their models are rooted in unique political ideologies and historical
conditions. China’s success is tied to its centralized, one-party system and decades of
economic reforms. Israel’s strength stems from its national security doctrine and
compulsory civic participation. Pakistan, by contrast, is a democracy—flawed, yet still
defined by its Constitution and public mandate. Attempting to replicate authoritarian
models without replicating the structural foundations that support them is not only
unrealistic but also dangerous.
What Pakistan truly needs is a return to democratic norms. The most successful models in
South Asia and beyond—India, the United States, and European countries—demonstrate
that long-term stability and prosperity come through democratic resilience, not
authoritarian shortcuts. India, despite its flaws, has maintained democratic continuity for
decades and is now among the world’s fastest-growing economies. Its 7% annual growth
over the past two decades and emergence as a potential global economic power is a
testament to the strength of democratic systems supported by independent institutions.
Pakistan, on the other hand, has experimented with martial law and military-led
governance multiple times in its history, and each time, it has emerged weaker.
Institutions were eroded, democratic norms were bypassed, and the country was left
grappling with deeper economic and political crises. The current approach is no different.
If anything, it is a repetition of a failed script—one that never produced a hard state, only
harder times for the people.
Before invoking the language of strength, the military and political elite must first
understand its true essence. A hard state is not built by force—it is built by trust. Trust in
democratic processes, in judicial independence, in freedom of expression, and in the will
of the people. Without these elements, any promise of national strength is merely
rhetorical. If Pakistan is to emerge as a strong and respected nation, it must restore its
institutions, respect its democratic values, and empower its people—not suppress them.
