It didn’t happen all at once.
No single coup, no sudden fatwa, no marching of mullahs into parliament. The hijacking of Jinnah’s Pakistan was a slow bleed—of vision, of will, of truth.
But yes—the Army was involved. Deeply. Systemically. And cynically.
A Nation Born in Secularism—Then Smothered in Strategy
Jinnah was clear. In his August 11, 1947 speech, he told the Constituent Assembly:
"Religion is not the business of the state."
Yet within a few years of his death, the Pakistani establishment—especially the Army—saw things differently.
Why? Because religion made a great weapon.
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It was useful for consolidating identity: A Bengali, Baloch, Sindhi, or Pashtun could all be rallied under one green banner—“We are all Muslims”.
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It was strategically vital for Kashmir: The jihad narrative helped manufacture cross-border fighters and justify Pakistan’s claim to the Muslim-majority territory.
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It was perfect for Cold War alliances: In the 1980s, General Zia-ul-Haq’s regime embraced Islamic ideology not just out of belief—but because it unlocked billions in U.S. and Saudi funding to fight the Soviets in Afghanistan.
Here’s What I Noticed...
The Army didn’t start as religious zealots. But they found religion to be too useful to ignore.
So they outsourced ideology to clerics, funded madrassas, and quietly shaped textbooks through military-dominated education boards.
They crafted a narrative:
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Pakistan was born as an Islamic state (false—Jinnah explicitly denied this).
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India was not just a rival, but a Hindu threat.
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Minorities were tolerated only if they were silent and grateful.
By the 2000s, this manufactured religiosity had backfired—suicide bombings, sectarian killings, TTP insurgency. The Army, now caught in its own web, began fighting some of the very militants it once nurtured.
But the damage was done.
You can dismantle a terror cell.
It’s harder to dismantle a poisoned curriculum, a warped national memory, a generation raised to conflate faith with nationalism.
Who Really Hijacked It?
Yes, the Army.
Yes, cynical politicians like Bhutto (who declared Ahmadis non-Muslim in 1974) and Zia (who enforced Hudood laws and Islamic punishments).
But also—we did.
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We stayed silent when neighbors were targeted.
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We cheered when blasphemy laws were tightened.
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We nodded along when Friday sermons called others kafir.
This wasn’t just a hijacking. It was a willing surrender.
Why Do So Few Want It Back?
Because secularism now sounds like treason.
Because even liberal elites whisper Jinnah’s August 11 speech like it’s taboo.
Because reclaiming his dream would require courage—and we’ve outsourced that too.
But every now and then, a teacher smuggles truth into a classroom. A student asks, “What if we were wrong?”
And that, perhaps, is where Jinnah’s Pakistan still breathes—in quiet resistance.
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