Pakistan’s 27th Amendment: A Betrayal of Democracy by Its Own Leaders

 In November 2025, Pakistan’s parliament rushed through the 27th Constitutional Amendment – a move critics described as a “funeral for democracy”theguardian.com. This sweeping amendment grants lifetime immunity from prosecution to the President and newly created five-star military chiefs, while also curtailing the powers of the Supreme Court. The haste and secrecy with which it was passed, and the impunity it bestows on the country’s most powerful figures, have raised urgent questions about the character and motivations of Pakistan’s civilian political leadership. Why would elected leaders voluntarily undermine democratic values, the rule of law, and their own institutional integrity? What does this reveal about their commitment to democracy, and have they effectively become complicit in an authoritarian project? Below, we analyze these questions and discuss how Pakistan’s democratic culture and public trust have been shaken – and what can be done to restore real democracy and accountability.

A Clause of Impunity – What It Reveals About Civilian Leadership

The 27th Amendment’s most startling feature is a clause granting absolute, lifelong legal immunity to the President and top military officers elevated to five-star rankconstitutionnet.orgjurist.org. By revising Article 248 of the Constitution, the amendment ensures that “the President [cannot be] arrested [or prosecuted]… in any court” even after leaving officeconstitutionnet.org, and extends similar life-long protection to a five-star Army Chief (now titled Field Marshal or Chief of Defence Forces)constitutionnet.orgjurist.org. Such broad immunity was previously unthinkable in Pakistan’s legal framework – presidential immunity was limited to the term in office, and no military official ever enjoyed blanket protection under the lawaljazeera.comaljazeera.com.

That Pakistan’s **civilian leaders not only accepted but championed this clause speaks volumes about their motivations. Far from defending the principle that no one is above the law, the ruling coalition chose to put certain individuals permanently beyond the reach of accountability. Their support for lifetime immunity betrays a willingness to sacrifice the rule of law for political expediency. According to observers, the clause was inserted at the insistence of the Pakistan People’s Party (PPP) – the party of President Asif Ali Zardari – so that Zardari could pre-empt any corruption charges after his term ends in 2029chathamhouse.org. (Zardari had faced corruption allegations in the past, though never convictedchathamhouse.org.) Meanwhile, the Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz (PML-N) reportedly backed the amendment only after securing guarantees from the military that the current government would be allowed to complete its tenurechathamhouse.org. In other words, Pakistan’s major civilian parties struck a Faustian bargain: the PPP obtained legal safety for its president; the PML-N got assurance of survival in office; and in exchange, they handed the military brass unprecedented constitutional powers and impunity.

Such behavior reflects a troubling lack of principled leadership. By rushing to shield themselves and the generals from future prosecution, civilian politicians revealed that personal and political security trump democratic values in their calculus. The amendment was pushed through with “extraordinary haste and little public discussion”chathamhouse.org – introduced in the Senate on November 10, passed by both houses by November 12, and signed into law by President Zardari on November 13constitutionnet.orgconstitutionnet.org. Many lawmakers hadn’t even seen the full draft beforehandconstitutionnet.org. This stealthy, closed-door approach underscores the leadership’s disregard for transparency and debate, hallmarks of democratic lawmaking. Instead of consulting opposition, engaging civil society, or upholding due process, the ruling coalition “sailed [the amendment] through… in a few hours, with only four lawmakers voting against”theguardian.com. By any measure, this was a deliberate circumvention of democratic norms – a sign that Pakistan’s elected leaders, when faced with a choice between power-sharing with the military or upholding institutional checks, opted for the former.

Undermining Democratic Institutions and Values

Beyond the immediate power play, the 27th Amendment inflicts profound damage on Pakistan’s democratic institutions and values. At its core, democracy rests on accountability, rule of law, and separation of powers. This amendment bulldozes each of those principles. By granting a permanent shield of immunity to the President, the Army Chief, and other five-star officers, it normalizes impunity as a constitutional right, undermining the very idea that all citizens are equal before the lawjurist.orgaljazeera.com. “Democracy does not survive where impunity is made a constitutional right,” warns one constitutional lawyer, noting that the amendment gives an unelected Army officer **“protections and powers that no democratically elected leader…has.”*aljazeera.com. In effect, Pakistan’s rulers have written into the Constitution an elite class of individuals who can never be legally held accountable, no matter what crimes or abuses they might commit. This is anathema to democratic governance – as one analyst put it, the new immunity “makes a mockery of the principle of civilian supremacy by placing [the Army Chief] above all reproach.”theguardian.com

The institutional ramifications are equally dire. The amendment doesn’t just protect individuals; it re-engineers the state’s power structure to entrench an alliance of the executive and military at the expense of the judiciary and any remaining checks and balances. It creates a new apex military post – the Chief of Defence Forces (CDF) – to be automatically held by the Army Chief, giving him formal supremacy over the navy and air forcechathamhouse.org. The current Army Chief, General (now Field Marshal) Asim Munir, benefitted directly: his tenure was “reset” for a fresh five-year term until 2030 and his role expanded to oversee the entire armed forces and nuclear commandchathamhouse.org. Removing this CDF now requires a two-thirds parliamentary vote, whereas an elected prime minister can be ousted by a simple majoritychathamhouse.org. In essence, an Army Chief has been made harder to remove than a Prime Minister – a stark inversion of democratic hierarchy. Combined with lifetime legal immunity for Munir and future five-star officerschathamhouse.orgtheguardian.com, the military leadership is now constitutionally insulated against accountability or civilian oversight. Critics note that this formalizes what was often true informally – the military’s dominance over constitutional institutions – but by codifying it, the amendment “decisively shifted the dial in favor of authoritarian rule”chathamhouse.org and “formalizes the military’s dominance…a power it has already wielded in practice”constitutionnet.org.

Pakistan’s Supreme Court building in Islamabad. The 27th Amendment would create a new Federal Constitutional Court above the Supreme Court, curtailing the judiciary’s independence and removing a critical check on executive and military power [Anjum Naveed/AP Photo]aljazeera.com.

The judiciary – a cornerstone of any democracy – has been gravely undermined. The amendment establishes a new Federal Constitutional Court (FCC) with powers to override the Supreme Court’s decisionschathamhouse.org. This FCC’s judges will initially be hand-picked by the President (on the Prime Minister’s advice), and subsequently by a reconfigured Judicial Commission where government appointees outnumber judgeschathamhouse.org. The result is a judicial body subservient to the executive, effectively designed to pre-empt any court from striking down the amendment or challenging the government’s actionschathamhouse.orgchathamhouse.org. Indeed, when outraged judges and lawyers tried to file petitions against the 27th Amendment, they were told the new FCC is now the proper forum – a Kafkaesque catch-22, given the FCC’s lack of independenceconstitutionnet.org. Two senior Supreme Court justices resigned in protest, condemning the amendment as “a grave assault on the constitution” that “strikes at the heart of…constitutional democracy”chathamhouse.org. One constitutional expert lamented that the changes “completely destroy any notion of independence in the judiciary” and have “set us on the way to a lifelong dictatorship.”theguardian.com By turning the Supreme Court into a secondary appellate body and placing judicial appointments under political control, the civilian government has deliberately weakened an institution that could challenge its and the military’s excessestheguardian.comchathamhouse.org. This mirrors tactics of authoritarian regimes worldwide: neutralize the courts to remove constraints on power.

Public trust in elected leaders has been severely eroded by these maneuvers. Pakistanis have long struggled to build a democratic culture in the shadow of military coups and strongmen. Yet since 2008, there was at least a pretense that civilian governments led the country, with the military’s influence wielded more behind the scenestheguardian.com. The passage of the 27th Amendment shattered that pretense. It was a naked display of power-sharing between politicians and generals at the direct expense of the public’s voice and constitutional rights. Opposition parties and civil society decried the amendment as enshrining “military rule” and pushing Pakistan “further towards all-out authoritarianism.”theguardian.com Even some within the ruling alliance privately acknowledge the damage; the legal fraternity, human rights groups and independent activists expressed dismay at the ruling parties’ acquiescence to cede civilian controlchathamhouse.org. By effectively joining hands with the establishment to protect themselves, Pakistan’s civilian leaders have betrayed the public mandate. Ordinary citizens see that their supposed representatives not only failed to resist undemocratic dictates, but actively enabled them, undermining the very institutions they were elected to uphold. This breeds cynicism and despair: if both generals and politicians are colluding to secure their own impunity, who is left to champion the people’s interests or the rule of law?

Complicit in Authoritarianism – Abdicating the Democratic Mandate

The events surrounding the 27th Amendment beg the question: have Pakistan’s civilian politicians become complicit in authoritarianism? The evidence suggests that, rather than being helpless victims of military pressure, the current civilian leadership has willingly abdicated its responsibility to safeguard democracy. In pushing through constitutional changes that cement the Army’s dominance and their own immunity, they acted as partners in undermining democracy. This is a dramatic role reversal – historically, military dictators seized power in Pakistan by suspending or abrogating the Constitution, with civilian leaders cast as opponents or exiles. Now we see a “constitutional coup” from within, carried out under the veneer of parliamentary procedure but with a fundamentally undemocratic outcome. As one observer noted, President Zardari’s approval of the amendment is seen as “dismantling the last remnants of civilian rule in Pakistan.”chathamhouse.org

By endorsing these changes, Pakistan’s elected leadership essentially legitimized a hybrid martial law. They have enshrined into the Constitution what previous military regimes did through force – granting top generals unassailable power and protection. This moves Pakistan “one step closer to authoritarian rule”, with even the form of civilian supremacy being erodedchathamhouse.org. The ruling coalition’s justifications for the amendment – claims of “modernising” the command structure or improving efficiencytheguardian.com – ring hollow against the glaring reality that political expediency drove these decisions. In truth, the PML-N and PPP leadership appear to have calculated that aligning with the Army (and crushing their common rival, the PTI opposition) was the surest way to cling to power. Any commitment they had to democratic principles took a backseat. “Their concerns have fueled speculation that the amendment was secured in exchange for personal and political gains,” notes one analysis, pointing to the quid pro quo between the government and the generalschathamhouse.org. This is the very definition of complicity – civilian leaders using their mandate not to check authoritarian tendencies, but to cooperate in institutionalizing them for mutual benefit.

The charge of abdicating responsibility is also well-founded. The primary duty of elected officials in a democracy is to uphold the Constitution and protect citizens’ rights and institutional checks. Instead, Pakistan’s current leadership has abdicated that duty by rewriting the Constitution to serve a power elite. By shielding themselves and the military from accountability, they have left ordinary Pakistanis more vulnerable to abuse of power. They have also potentially tied the hands of future democratic governments – any new administration will find it constitutionally difficult to challenge or remove an entrenched Field Marshal or hold a former President to account. In essence, the ruling parties signed away essential mechanisms that keep governance accountable, all to address their short-term political insecurities. Such abdication recalls historical precedents where legislative bodies handed over extraordinary powers to authoritarian figures – always to the detriment of democracy. Rather than acting as a bulwark against undemocratic forces, Pakistan’s civilian leadership has become an enabler of those forces. This betrayal not only deepens authoritarianism in the country, it also tarnishes the legitimacy of the politicians themselves. They risk confirming the public’s worst suspicions: that Pakistan’s “democrats” are democrats in name only, readily discarding constitutional ideals when their own power is at stake.

Rebuilding Democracy: The Way Forward for Citizens and Institutions

In the wake of this democratic backsliding, what can be done to restore real democracy and accountability in Pakistan? History shows that Pakistan’s people and institutions have resisted authoritarianism before – and they can rise to the challenge again. However, it will require concerted effort on multiple fronts:

  • Citizen Activism and Public Pressure: Ultimately, power in a democracy emanates from the people. Pakistani citizens must use every peaceful avenue to voice their rejection of these anti-democratic maneuvers. Public protests and civic campaigns can send a powerful message, just as the Lawyers’ Movement of 2007 rallied society to restore an independent judiciary under Musharraf’s emergency rule. Already, we see signs of resistance: over 100 lawyers, activists and civil society members signed an open letter calling the amendment a “tampering of the constitution” done with “no meaningful debate or engagement” of stakeholderstheguardian.com. Such broad-based civic alliances – transcending political party lines – will be crucial. Pakistan’s politically aware citizens, especially the youth, media, and professional groups, should continue to organize town halls, social media campaigns, and peaceful demonstrations to pressure the government to reconsider these changes. Public opinion can be a force that even a semi-authoritarian regime finds hard to ignore, particularly if sustained and amplified internationally.

  • Legal Challenges and Judicial Independence: The judiciary, though under assault, remains a key arena for defending democracy. Brave judges and lawyers have already taken a stand; the resignations of Supreme Court justices in protest have drawn attention to the constitutional violationschathamhouse.org. Legal experts are preparing challenges to the 27th Amendment’s validity, arguing that it undermines the “basic structure” of the Constitution – a doctrine that certain fundamental principles (like democratic governance and judicial independence) cannot be abrogated even by parliament. While the newly created Federal Constitutional Court is intended to stymie such challenges, higher courts and bar associations must persist. If necessary, petitioners can invoke the Supreme Court’s original jurisdiction or appeal to the court of public opinion by publicizing their constitutional arguments. The process may be uphill, but it is vital to assert that there are limits to parliamentary power – that a two-thirds majority cannot simply legalize authoritarian rule or exempt the powerful from the law. Even the attempt of judges to file petitions, though initially rebuffedconstitutionnet.org, highlights the issue and could pave the way for future judicial review when the political climate shifts.

  • Political Opposition and Legislative Action: Although the current opposition was largely sidelined (with many opposition leaders jailed or exiled during the amendment’s passagetheguardian.com), opposition parties and dissident lawmakers still have a role to play. They must unite around a pro-democracy platform, setting aside lesser differences to focus on reversing authoritarian measures. This could mean forming broad coalitions (similar to the multi-party alliances of the past that opposed military rulers) that demand the repeal or amendment of the 27th Amendment’s most draconian provisions. If and when a more representative Parliament is in place – for instance, after a future election – those legislators should prioritize restoring constitutional balance: reinstate judicial independence, remove or limit the immunity clause, and reassert civilian oversight over the military. Even in the meantime, opposition voices can use provincial platforms, press conferences, and any seats they hold to keep the issue alive and assure the public that not all politicians condone this betrayal.

  • Civil Society and Media Vigilance: Pakistan’s vibrant civil society – including journalists, human rights organizations, lawyers, and academics – will be pivotal in maintaining pressure for accountability. Independent media (to the extent it can operate) should continue to investigate and report on the impacts of the amendment: for example, if any officials start abusing their new-found immunity or if judicial cases are being transferred to the compliant FCC to bury them. Exposing these stories can fuel public outrage and prevent normalization of the new authoritarian status quo. Civil society groups might also reach out to international democracy forums and legal bodies for support, framing Pakistan’s struggle as part of the broader global fight against democratic erosion. While foreign interference is neither likely nor wholly welcome, international solidarity and attention can add to the moral and diplomatic pressure on Pakistan’s authorities to honor democratic commitments.

  • Building a Pro-Democracy Culture: Lastly, reversing the damage requires a long-term commitment to democratic norms and education. The disillusionment caused by the 27th Amendment must be countered by reasserting why democracy, messy as it is, remains Pakistan’s best hope. This means educating the public – especially young Pakistanis – about the Constitution, citizens’ rights, and the dangers of unchecked power. It also means demanding integrity from leaders. Political parties should be held to the promises they make; for instance, the Charter of Democracy signed by major parties in 2006 now rings hollow, but its spirit can be revived by a new generation of politicians who genuinely pledge not to undermine democratic institutions for expediency. Accountability must start at the ballot box: voters can and should punish parties that subvert democracy by rejecting them in future elections, just as authoritarian collaborators in the past eventually paid a political price. This requires elections themselves to be free and fair – another principle worth rallying for.

In conclusion, Pakistan stands at a perilous crossroads. The passage of the 27th Amendment by its civilian leadership is a stark revelation of compromised values and a grave setback for democratic governance. It has entrenched an alliance of convenience between politicians and the military that places them above the law and beyond public accountability. Yet, Pakistan’s history is also replete with examples of courageous pushback against tyranny – from lawyers, judges, activists, and ordinary citizens. That spirit must not be extinguished. The road to restoring democracy will be difficult, but it is not impossible. As one commentator noted, the coming months and years will be pivotal in determining whether Pakistan’s courts, opposition, and civil society can successfully challenge what many see as a fundamental attack on the nation’s constitutional integrityconstitutionnet.org. The first step is recognizing the problem: the civilian leadership’s complicity in undermining democracy. The next steps involve collective action to reclaim Pakistan’s democratic space – reaffirming that no one, not even a President or Field Marshal, is above the law, and that the true guardians of Pakistan’s future are its informed, active, and united citizens.

Sources:

  • Hannah Ellis-Petersen & Shah Meer Baloch, The Guardian – “Pakistani parliament votes to give army chief new powers and legal immunity”theguardian.comtheguardian.com

  • Farzana Shaikh, Chatham House – “Pakistan’s 27th constitutional amendment moves it one step closer to authoritarian rule”chathamhouse.orgchathamhouse.org

  • Zainab Malik, ConstitutionNet – “How Pakistan’s 27th Amendment Undermines Judicial Independence and Cements Executive Dominance”constitutionnet.orgconstitutionnet.org

  • Ali Khan, Jurist Commentary – “How Pakistan’s 27th Amendment Shields Its Army Chief From Accountability”jurist.orgjurist.org

  • Abid Hussain, Al Jazeera – “How would Pakistan’s 27th Amendment reshape its military and courts?”aljazeera.comaljazeera.com

Disclaimer: This article presents a political and legal analysis of public legislation. It is not intended to defame, incite unrest, or violate any individual’s rights. All opinions expressed are based on publicly available sources and constitutional principles.

سیاست دان ناکام تھے، یا اختیار ہی نہیں تھا؟ — الزام، حقیقت اور پاکستان کا اصل مسئلہ

سیاست دان ناکام تھے، یا اختیار ہی نہیں تھا؟ — الزام، حقیقت اور پاکستان کا اصل مسئلہ

پاکستانی سیاست میں ایک جملہ بہت آسانی سے استعمال ہو جاتا ہے:
“سب کچھ فوج نے خراب کیا۔”

اور اس کے جواب میں فوراً دوسرا جملہ آتا ہے:
“سیاست دان خود کرپٹ اور نااہل تھے، فوج کو الزام دینا بہانہ ہے۔”

دونوں جملے زور سے بولے جاتے ہیں۔ دونوں میں غصہ ہے۔ اور… دونوں آدھے سچ پر کھڑے ہیں۔

یہ بات ماننے میں کوئی عار نہیں کہ پاکستان کے کئی سویلین حکمران کرپٹ تھے، نااہل تھے، اور اقتدار میں آ کر عوامی اصلاحات کے بجائے ذاتی مفادات میں الجھے رہے۔ ٹیکس نظام نہ بدلا، پولیس اصلاحات نہ ہوئیں، مقامی حکومتیں کمزور رہیں، اور ادارے اندر سے کھوکھلے ہوتے چلے گئے۔

جب حکومتیں ختم ہوئیں یا ناکام ہوئیں تو اکثر نے سارا ملبہ فوج پر ڈال دیا۔ عوام کا سوال بجا ہے: جب آپ کے پاس اقتدار تھا تو آپ نے کیا کیا؟

یہ تنقید درست ہے۔ لیکن یہی پوری کہانی نہیں۔

اصل مسئلہ یہاں سے شروع ہوتا ہے: کیا پاکستان میں کبھی کسی سویلین حکومت کو مکمل اختیار حاصل رہا؟

پاکستان کا نظام بظاہر جمہوری ہے، مگر عملی طور پر طاقت کی سرحدیں پہلے سے کھینچی ہوئی ہیں۔ خارجہ پالیسی، سلامتی، علاقائی معاملات، اور بعض اوقات احتساب بھی ان سرحدوں میں شامل ہیں۔

منتخب حکومتیں آتی جاتی رہتی ہیں، مگر ان حدود کو چھیڑنا ہمیشہ خطرے سے خالی نہیں رہا۔ کبھی فائلیں رک جاتی ہیں، کبھی “اشارے” ملتے ہیں، کبھی ماحول اچانک بدل جاتا ہے۔ ٹینک ہمیشہ سڑک پر نہیں آتے، مگر دباؤ محسوس ہوتا ہے۔

یہی وہ مقام ہے جہاں سسٹم خود سیاست دانوں کو بگاڑ دیتا ہے۔ جب مکمل اختیار نہ ہو تو حکمران اصلاحات

جب مظلومیت کام کرنا چھوڑ دے: غزہ کے بعد ایک یہودی احتساب

جب مظلومیت کام کرنا چھوڑ دے: غزہ کے بعد ایک یہودی احتساب


ایک یہودی مصنف اس سوال کا سامنا کرتا ہے کہ جب تاریخی صدمہ جدید طاقت سے ٹکرا جائے تو کیا ہوتا ہے—اور غزہ نے ایک پرانی اخلاقی زبان کو کیوں توڑ دیا۔


جدید یہودی دنیا کے لیے مظلومیت صرف ایک یاد نہیں رہی۔ یہ جبلّت بن چکی ہے، شناخت بن چکی ہے، ایک ایسا اخلاقی ردِعمل جو خودکار ہو گیا ہے۔ یہ وراثت ایمانداری سے حاصل کی گئی تھی—جلاوطنی، پوگرومز، اور ہولوکاسٹ کی صنعتی ہولناکی کے ذریعے۔ مگر غزہ نے ایک ایسی دراڑ پیدا کر دی ہے جسے صرف یادداشت کے ذریعے اب نہیں چھپایا جا سکتا۔ جب ایک ایسی قوم، جو تاریخی بے بسی سے تشکیل پائی ہو، کسی دوسری قوم پر غیر معمولی طاقت استعمال کرے، تو پرانی اخلاقی گرامر جواب دینا چھوڑ دیتی ہے۔ پیٹر بینارٹ اپنی کتاب Being Jewish After the Destruction of Gaza: A Reckoning میں یہ نہیں پوچھتے کہ یہودی تکلیف حقیقی ہے یا نہیں۔ وہ یہ پوچھتے ہیں کہ کیا مقدس سمجھی جانے والی تکلیف، طاقت کے ہمارے نام پر کیے گئے اعمال کو دیکھنے سے بچنے کی ڈھال بن سکتی ہے؟

یہ کتاب باہر والوں کے لیے نہیں، اندر والوں کے لیے ہے

یہ کتاب نہ اسرائیل کے دشمنوں سے مخاطب ہے، نہ کسی جنگی رپورٹ کا مجموعہ۔ بینارٹ اندر کی طرف لکھتے ہیں۔ عبادت گاہوں کے لیے۔ یہودی اسکولوں کے لیے۔ چندہ دینے والوں کے لیے۔ کھانے کی میزوں پر ہونے والی گفتگو کے لیے۔ ان لوگوں کے لیے جنہیں یہ سکھایا گیا—اور درست سکھایا گیا—کہ یہودی تاریخ خطرات سے بھری ہے، اور بقا کے لیے چوکنا رہنا ضروری تھا۔

وہ جس چیز پر سوال اٹھاتے ہیں وہ یہ نہیں کہ چوکنا رہنا غلط ہے۔ بلکہ یہ کہ چوکنا رہنا کب مستقل معصومیت میں بدل جاتا ہے۔

مسئلہ یہ نہیں کہ یہودی اپنی تکلیف یاد رکھتے ہیں۔ مسئلہ یہ ہے کہ صدمہ آہستہ آہستہ عقیدہ بن گیا ہے۔ ہر خطرے، ہر پالیسی، ہر شہری ہلاکت کو ایک ہی فریم میں دیکھنے کا طریقہ: “ہم اب بھی مظلوم ہیں، اس لیے ہمارے تمام اقدامات دفاعی ہیں۔”

یہ فریم کبھی حقیقت کو واضح کرتا تھا۔ بینارٹ کے مطابق، غزہ اسے توڑ دیتا ہے۔

غزہ: ایک اخلاقی امتحان

بینارٹ غزہ کو صرف ایک المیہ نہیں سمجھتے، بلکہ یہودی اخلاقی زبان کے لیے ایک امتحان کے طور پر دیکھتے ہیں۔ سرحدیں بند۔ فضائی حدود کنٹرول میں۔ خوراک، پانی، بجلی محدود۔ اور بمباری ایک ایسی ریاست کی جانب سے جس کے پاس دنیا کی جدید ترین فوجی صلاحیتوں میں سے ایک ہے۔

اس مرحلے پر، ان کے مطابق، مظلومیت رویے کی وضاحت کرنا چھوڑ دیتی ہے اور اسے جواز فراہم کرنا شروع کر دیتی ہے۔

یہ وہ مقام ہے جہاں بہت سے قارئین پیچھے ہٹتے ہیں۔ خوف حقیقی ہے۔ یہود دشمنی بڑھ رہی ہے۔ سات اکتوبر ہوا تھا۔ بینارٹ ان میں سے کسی بات کا انکار نہیں کرتے۔ وہ صرف اس بات پر اصرار کرتے ہیں کہ خوف کو تمام اخلاقی کام کرنے کی اجازت نہیں دی جا سکتی۔

صدمہ یہ سمجھا سکتا ہے کہ کمیونٹیز ایسا کیوں کرتی ہیں۔ لیکن یہ خود بخود انہیں ذمہ داری سے بری نہیں کرتا۔

یہی فرق اس کتاب کی سب سے زیادہ بے چین کرنے والی بات ہے۔

صیہونیت، بغیر نرم فوکس کے

بینارٹ کی تنقید اس لیے وزن رکھتی ہے کہ وہ اندر سے آتی ہے۔ وہ کبھی صیہونیت کے حامی تھے، خاص طور پر اس کے لبرل تصور کے۔ وہ سمجھتے تھے کہ ایک یہودی ریاست، کسی دوسری قوم پر مستقل غلبے کے بغیر بھی قائم رہ سکتی ہے۔

غزہ انہیں ایک زیادہ سخت نتیجے تک لے جاتا ہے۔ ایک ایسا سیاسی نظام جس کے لیے مستقل محاصرہ، بار بار تباہی، اور غیر معینہ عدم مساوات ضروری ہو، یہودی اخلاقی روایت سے بہتر الفاظ یا نرم نیت کے ذریعے ہم آہنگ نہیں کیا جا سکتا۔

ان کی سب سے سخت تنقید کھلے قوم پرستوں کے لیے نہیں، بلکہ شائستہ لبرل ازم کے لیے ہے— وہ انداز جو فلسطینی تکلیف پر افسوس تو کرتا ہے، مگر ان ڈھانچوں کو قبول کرتا ہے جو اسے ختم نہیں ہونے دیتے۔ بینارٹ کے نزدیک، غزہ نے اس رویے کی آخری ساکھ بھی چھین لی ہے۔

مظلومیت کا سوال

کتاب کا سب سے متنازعٰ دعویٰ یہ ہے کہ بہت سے یہودی، خاص طور پر ڈایاسپورا میں، آج بھی خود کو بنیادی طور پر مظلوم سمجھتے ہیں، حتیٰ کہ اس وقت بھی جب وہ فیصلہ کن طاقت رکھتے ہیں۔

ناقدین کہتے ہیں کہ یہ یہود دشمنی اور یہودی عدم تحفظ کو کم تر دکھاتا ہے۔ حامی کہتے ہیں کہ طاقت، چاہے ہمیں پسند ہو یا نہ ہو، اخلاقی ذمہ داریاں بدل دیتی ہے۔

بینارٹ اس کشمکش کے اندر ہی رہتے ہیں۔ وہ اسے صاف طریقے سے حل نہیں کرتے۔ وہ آسان توازن کو رد کرتے ہیں۔

جب یہودی سرحدوں، فضائی حدود اور زندگیوں پر کنٹرول رکھتے ہیں، تو ان کے مطابق، دائمی مظلومیت کی زبان سے چمٹے رہنا حفاظت سے کم اور احتساب سے بچنے کا ذریعہ زیادہ بن جاتا ہے۔

یہی دعویٰ لوگوں کو غصہ دلاتا ہے، کیونکہ اسے بیرونی دشمنی کہہ کر رد نہیں کیا جا سکتا۔ یہ گھر کے اندر بولی جانے والی زبان میں کیا گیا سوال ہے۔

یہ کتاب غداری کیوں محسوس ہوتی ہے—اور کیوں نہیں ہے

کچھ قارئین کے لیے، بینارٹ کے سوالات خطرے کے وقت میں ترکِ وفاداری محسوس ہوتے ہیں۔ دوسروں کے لیے، یہ دیر سے آنے والی ایمانداری ہیں۔

کتاب کو بے چین کرنے والی بات اس کے نتائج نہیں، بلکہ وہ سوال ہے جس پر بہت سی کمیونٹیز خاموش پابندی لگا دیتی ہیں:

“کیا ‘کبھی دوبارہ نہیں’ سب کے لیے ہے، یا صرف ان کے لیے جو ہماری کہانی کا حصہ ہیں؟”

بینارٹ پالیسی کے خاکے پیش نہیں کرتے۔ وہ یہودی اخلاقی شناخت میں ایک دراڑ کو دستاویز کرتے ہیں— ایسی دراڑ جسے غزہ نے پیدا نہیں کیا، مگر جسے نظرانداز کرنا ناممکن بنا دیا۔

یہودیت سے آگے کیوں اہم ہے

یہ صرف یہودی کہانی نہیں ہے۔ ہر وہ کمیونٹی جو تاریخی صدمے سے بنی ہو، آخرکار اسی امتحان سے گزرتی ہے۔

کل کا مظلوم آج کا دربان بن جائے تو کیا ہوتا ہے؟ جب یادداشت، جو کبھی تحفظ تھی، غلبے کا جواز بننے لگے؟

بینارٹ کی کتاب اس لیے گونجتی ہے کہ وہ اس لمحے کو درستگی سے پکڑ لیتی ہے— وہ لمحہ جب موروثی اخلاقی یقین، جیتی جاگتی حقیقت سے میل نہیں کھاتا۔

بے چین کرنے والی۔ ضروری۔ اور ابھی تک حل طلب۔

Can You Divide the City of God?

 People say it so casually now.

“Divide Jerusalem.”

As if they are talking about a municipality. A zoning plan. A map drawn in a conference room far from dust, prayer, blood, memory.

Pause for a second.

Can you imagine Rome being divided? No.

Can you imagine Mecca being divided? No.

Or Medina?

Then why does the world feel so comfortable imagining Jerusalem sliced up like a diplomatic cake?

That question alone tells you something is off.

More Than a Capital, Less Than a Compromise

For Jews, Jerusalem is not just a capital. It never was.

It is memory turned into stone. Prayer turned into geography.

Yerushalayim is called the City of David not as poetry, but as lineage.

The claim that Jerusalem is the eternal capital of the Jewish people is not new, and it is not political spin invented in the 20th century. It is embedded in Jewish scripture, ritual, and historical consciousness going back three millennia.

That does not automatically cancel other attachments. But it does explain why the idea of division feels existential rather than administrative to many Jews.

No foreign power, no international body, no rotating committee of diplomats can dictate where a people believes its spiritual center lies. Capitals can move. Sacred geography does not.

Abraham’s Children, One City

Here is where things get complicated. And uncomfortable.

Abraham had two sons.

Isaac and Ishmael.

Two lineages. Two peoples. One ancestor.

Jews trace themselves to Isaac.

Arabs, including many Palestinians, trace themselves to Ishmael.

That matters. Not as a weapon, but as a reminder.

If both peoples claim Abraham, then both are rooted in the same story. Jerusalem did not emerge out of thin air in 1948. It sits at the intersection of shared ancestry and diverging histories.

This is precisely why some argue Jerusalem must be shared.

And precisely why others say it cannot be divided.

Both claims are drawing from the same well.

Conquest, Memory, and the Long View

History is not kind. It rarely is.

Empires came. Assyrians. Babylonians. Romans. Byzantines. Arab caliphates. Ottomans. British administrators with maps and mandates.

Arab conquerors expanded across the Middle East and North Africa, from Arabia to Tunisia. That too is historical fact.

Yet Jewish attachment to Jerusalem did not vanish in exile. It condensed. Hardened. Survived in liturgy, fasting days, wedding rituals, daily prayers facing the same city.

For nearly two thousand years, Jews did not forget Jerusalem.

They waited for it.

When Jews returned “from the four corners of the world,” as the phrase goes, they did not see themselves as colonizers arriving somewhere new. They saw themselves as returning home after an impossibly long absence.

That perspective does not erase Palestinian suffering.

But it does explain Jewish insistence that this is not a temporary claim.

The City of All Prophets

Jerusalem is sacred to Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. That part is indisputable.

It holds the Temple Mount.

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

Al-Aqsa Mosque.

Few cities on earth carry that weight. Fewer still are expected to function like ordinary real estate.

This is why the phrase “divide Jerusalem” feels absurd to some and essential to others. One side hears erasure. The other hears exclusion.

The city belongs, in religious imagination, not to governments but to God.

And once a place is framed as divine property, compromise becomes theology, not diplomacy.

Can the City of God Be Divided?

That is the real question.

Not whether borders can be drawn. Borders always can be drawn.

But whether meaning can be partitioned without tearing something irreparable.

The prophet Book of Jeremiah speaks of an everlasting love. For believers, that verse is not metaphor. It is covenant.

Others will reject that framing entirely. They will argue that faith cannot dictate statecraft. That history does not grant eternal title deeds. That justice must consider those living now, not only those remembered.

And yet.

Ignoring faith in Jerusalem has never worked.

Neither has enforcing it by force.

One Hard, Unavoidable Truth

All Arabs and Jews trace their roots back to Abraham.

That fact alone should make endless war feel like a tragic family feud that spiraled out of control.

Maybe Jerusalem cannot be divided.

Maybe it also cannot belong exclusively to one people in lived reality, no matter what theology claims.

Dialogue sounds weak in a city soaked in history. Almost naïve.

But without it, every claim becomes total, and total claims leave no room for breath.

Jerusalem will not be solved by slogans.

Not by maps alone.

And certainly not by pretending it is just another capital city.

It is not.

It is the City of God.

And cities like that never submit quietly to human plans.

پی آئی اے کی نجکاری: مبارکباد یا اجتماعی اعترافِ ناکامی؟

 کبھی کبھی ایک جملہ پورا مضمون لکھوا دیتا ہے۔

شاہد آزاد کا سوال بھی ایسا ہی ہے۔

“یہ واقعی بھنگڑے ڈالنے کا موقع ہے؟”

یہ پڑھ کر میں ٹھہر گیا۔

کیونکہ یہ سوال صرف پی آئی اے کا نہیں۔

یہ سوال ہم سب کا ہے۔

آخر ہم خوش کس بات پر ہیں؟

جب مبارکباد خود سوال بن جائے

پی آئی اے کی نجکاری پر مبارکبادیں دی جا رہی ہیں۔

سوشل میڈیا پر، نجی محفلوں میں، حتیٰ کہ سنجیدہ لہجوں میں بھی۔

لیکن بات سیدھی ہے۔

اگر کوئی قومی ادارہ بیچنا پڑ جائے تو یہ فخر نہیں، اعتراف ہوتا ہے۔

اعتراف اس بات کا کہ:

ریاست اسے چلانے میں ناکام رہی

سیاسی مداخلت اصلاحات پر غالب رہی

احتساب کے بجائے خاموشی چنی گئی

اور اب ہم اسی انجام کو کامیابی کہہ رہے ہیں۔

یہ منطق سوال تو اٹھاتی ہے۔

نجکاری کامیابی نہیں، آخری مرحلہ ہوتی ہے

نجکاری کو اکثر اصلاح کہا جاتا ہے۔

حقیقت میں یہ زیادہ تر آخری قدم ہوتی ہے۔

کوئی ریاست شوق سے اپنا قومی ادارہ نہیں بیچتی۔

یہ تب ہوتا ہے جب:

قرض ناقابلِ برداشت ہو جائے

ادارہ سیاسی بھرتیوں سے مفلوج ہو

اور اصلاح کی سکت باقی نہ رہے

Pakistan International Airlines کی نجکاری بھی اسی سلسلے کی کڑی ہے۔

آئینہ صاف ہے، اسی لیے ناگوار لگتا ہے۔

عوام کو فائدہ یا ہمیشہ کا نقصان؟

نجکاری کے حامی ایک دلیل دیتے ہیں۔

اب سروس بہتر ہو جائے گی۔

لیکن تجربہ کچھ اور کہتا ہے۔

ٹکٹ سستے نہیں ہوتے

منافع بخش روٹس بچتے ہیں، باقی ختم

ملازمین عدم تحفظ کا شکار

قومی ذمہ داری کاروباری حساب میں دب جاتی ہے

یہ سب پہلے بھی ہو چکا ہے۔

پھر بھی ہم خود کو تسلی دیتے ہیں۔

شاید اس لیے کہ سچ ماننا مشکل ہوتا ہے۔

آخر میں وہی ضدی سوال

شاہد آزاد کا سوال اپنی جگہ موجود ہے۔

اگر نجکاری کامیابی ہے

تو ناکامی کسے کہتے ہیں؟

اور اگر نقصان عوام نے ہی اٹھانا ہے

تو مبارکباد آخر کس کو دی جا رہی ہے؟

شاید مسئلہ پی آئی اے نہیں۔

شاید مسئلہ یہ ہے کہ ہم زوال کو ترقی کہنے کے عادی ہو چکے ہیں۔

یا شاید…

ہم واقعی بھنگڑے ڈالنے کے موڈ میں ہیں۔

بس موسیقی کچھ زیادہ ہی اداس ہے

When Economies Lose Faith, War Starts to Sound Practical

 

Editor’s Note

This essay grew out of a reader’s comment on my recent Medium piece, The Most Dangerous Word in Deindustrialisation Is ‘Temporary’.” That discussion pushed the question in a darker direction: what happens when economies stop believing in civilian recovery and start imagining conflict as a substitute.


There is a moment in economic decline when people stop talking about recovery and start talking about alternatives.

Not better policy.
Not reform.
Something else.

That moment surfaced quietly in the comments under my recent piece on Germany’s industrial slowdown. One reader wrote, half-seriously, that perhaps shuttered factories would soon be making tanks and bullets, since war with Russia seemed inevitable anyway.

It sounded flippant. It wasn’t.

That line reflects a very old instinct. When civilian industry feels stuck, war begins to look like a reset button.


The Seductive Logic of Militarisation

The logic is simple and dangerously persuasive.

Factories are idle.
Workers are underused.
States need purpose.

So why not rearm?

History is full of moments where this idea gained traction. In the early twentieth century, militarisation was framed as industrial renewal. During the Cold War, defence spending was often justified as an engine of growth. Even today, some policymakers quietly hope that defence procurement can substitute for broader economic weakness.

The problem is that this logic belongs to another era.

Modern economies do not pivot cleanly from civilian production to military output. Arms manufacturing is narrow, specialised, and slow to scale. It absorbs capital far more easily than labour. It creates islands of activity, not ecosystems.

A factory that once supplied automobiles does not become a tank plant by default. The skills, tooling, suppliers, and timelines are different. And even when conversion happens, it does not restore the breadth of industrial capacity that was lost.

Militarisation does not rebuild an economy. It rearranges what remains of it.


Germany Is Not a War Economy Waiting to Happen

Germany’s post-war industrial success was built on civilian abundance. Energy stability. Export markets. Dense supplier networks. Long investment horizons.

None of that maps neatly onto a war footing.

Defence production today is capital-heavy, bureaucratic, and politically constrained. It does not generate the spillovers that once made manufacturing a social anchor. It does not revive small suppliers. It does not recreate the apprenticeship pipelines that sustained industrial regions.

More importantly, it changes the psychology of planning.

When governments start imagining war production as a solution, they stop imagining civilian recovery as possible. Attention shifts from rebuilding competitiveness to managing confrontation. From investment to preparedness. From growth to endurance.

That shift is subtle. But once it happens, it is hard to reverse.


The Psychological Turn Matters More Than the Hardware

What makes the “tanks and bullets” comment revealing is not its realism, but its timing.

It appears when confidence in normal economic repair fades.

In earlier eras, war followed economic despair. Not because war was efficient, but because it offered direction. It replaced uncertainty with purpose. It gave political leaders something concrete to point at when markets no longer cooperated.

That pattern is not destiny. But it is familiar.

When people stop believing that factories will reopen, that prices will stabilise, that demand will return, they start tolerating ideas that once seemed unthinkable. Conflict becomes imaginable not because it is desired, but because alternatives feel exhausted.

This is how militarisation enters the conversation without anyone formally proposing it.


Europe Has Seen This Before

Europe’s history is full of moments when economic stagnation and strategic anxiety fed each other.

What makes the present moment different is that modern industrial decline is quieter. It happens through spreadsheets and procurement decisions, not mass layoffs. The psychological shift lags the physical one.

By the time societies start discussing war economies, much of the civilian capacity they would need for recovery is already gone.

That is why this turn in thinking should worry us more than any single defence budget announcement.

It signals not preparation, but resignation.


The Real Danger Is Not War, But What Comes Before It

War is not inevitable. Militarisation is not unavoidable. But the temptation to see conflict as an economic solution is a warning sign.

It suggests that faith in civilian renewal is weakening.

Germany’s challenge today is not choosing between peace and war. It is choosing between patience and imagination. Between rebuilding the conditions for industry to return, or quietly accepting that it won’t.

Once a society internalises the idea that war production is the only growth left, the argument is already lost.

The machines do not come back.
The skills do not return.
Only the rationale changes.

And by then, even peace feels provisional.

The Forgotten Middlemen: How Elites Broke Palestine Before the Wars Began

 History has a way of flattening people.

Heroes here. Villains there.
Everyone else disappears in the dust.

When we talk about early Arab–Jewish conflict in Ottoman Palestine, the story usually collapses into a binary. Zionists arrived. Palestinians suffered. End of sentence. But there’s a missing layer in that account, one that makes people uncomfortable because it complicates moral clarity.

The peasants didn’t just lose their land.
They were sold out.



The Land Was Sold Far From the Fields

By the late nineteenth century, much of the land in Ottoman Palestine was not owned by the people who worked it. Peasants lived on it, farmed it, buried their dead in it, but the paperwork lived elsewhere. Beirut. Damascus. Istanbul.

When Zionist buyers arrived with European capital, they didn’t knock on peasant doors. They negotiated with absentee landlords who had never bent their backs in those fields. The transactions were legal. Profitable. Clean on paper.

On the ground, they were catastrophic.

Villagers were evicted from land they had cultivated for generations. Not because they had failed. Not because they had rebelled. But because someone else, far away, decided cash mattered more than continuity.

This is the first betrayal that rarely gets named.

Exploitation Isn’t New. Permanence Is.

Here’s where the argument usually fractures.

Some respond by saying: this proves Zionism wasn’t uniquely responsible. Arab elites exploited peasants long before Jewish immigration. True. Exploitation was baked into the Ottoman land system. Class hierarchy wasn’t imported from Europe.

But exploitation and replacement are not the same thing.

What changed was not that peasants lost land. That had happened before. What changed was that they lost any path back into the economy that replaced them.

Zionist institutions, particularly the Jewish National Fund, enforced policies of exclusive Jewish ownership and Hebrew-only labor. This wasn’t incidental. It was ideological. The goal was not coexistence within an existing system, but the construction of a separate one.

A peasant displaced by a local landlord might find work elsewhere. A peasant displaced by a closed national economy finds a wall.

That difference matters.

Nationalism Met Class Betrayal. The Collision Was Inevitable.

Arab elites failed their peasants. That is undeniable.
Zionist settlers pursued a nationalist project that required exclusion. That is also undeniable.

The conflict didn’t erupt because one side was evil and the other innocent. It erupted because elite decisions hardened into irreversible structures.

Arab landlords monetized land without accountability. Zionist institutions transformed ownership into destiny. Between them stood peasants who had no vote, no capital, and no future in either vision.

By the time Arab nationalism awakened fully, the ground had already shifted beneath it. Resistance came late because dispossession came quietly.

That’s not ancient hatred. That’s modern politics doing what it always does best: hurting those with the least leverage.

The Pattern Didn’t End. It Repeated.

This is where history bleeds into the present.

Arab regimes today speak passionately about Palestinian suffering. Yet many deny Palestinians citizenship, limit employment, restrict movement, and treat refugeehood as a permanent identity rather than a crisis to resolve.

The rhetoric is loud.
The integration is minimal.

It’s the same structure wearing new clothes. Vulnerable people turned into symbols. Elites insulated from consequences. Moral language replacing material responsibility.

Pointing this out does not absolve Israel of historical or ongoing injustice. It simply refuses to let Arab leadership off the hook by hiding behind slogans.

Two failures can coexist. In fact, in Palestine, they always have.

History Isn’t a Courtroom

The mistake is treating history like a trial where only one verdict is allowed.

What happened in Ottoman Palestine was not a single crime. It was a chain reaction. Absentee ownership. Nationalist exclusivity. Imperial collapse. Competing futures forced onto the same soil.

The peasants didn’t lose because they picked the wrong side.
They lost because no side was built for them.

Until we’re willing to say that out loud, we’ll keep recycling moral arguments that feel righteous but explain very little.

And maybe that’s the real inheritance of that era.
Not just land lost.
But responsibility endlessly deferred.

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