In the absurd theatre of Pakistan’s military establishment, self-delusion now comes with an extra star. General Asim Munir, Pakistan’s Chief of Army Staff, is reportedly projecting himself as a de facto Field Marshal—a title historically earned through decisive battlefield victories. What exactly is Munir being celebrated for? For standing by helplessly while India’s “Operation Sindoor” surgically dismantled Pakistan’s terror infrastructure?
Operation Sindoor wasn’t just a symbolic strike—it was a clinical, precise demonstration of Indian military dominance. Over nine terror bases and Pakistani military installations supporting jihadist groups in Pakistan-occupied Kashmir were destroyed. Not a single Indian soldier crossed the border. Cruise missiles and drones executed the operation remotely, undetected, unchallenged, and unavenged. Pakistan’s Chinese-supplied radar systems failed spectacularly. Its air defence, long paraded as robust, stood exposed as a hollow façade.
So what has Munir earned his fifth star for? Incompetence? Inaction? Or perhaps for letting Indian forces re-draw the rules of engagement while the world watched in silence and Islamabad whimpered behind closed doors?
Munir’s tenure has been defined by more than just military embarrassment. Domestically, he’s presided over an imploding state. The Baloch insurgency has grown bolder, the Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) has re-emerged, and civil unrest simmers across provinces. Political opponents are jailed, dissent crushed, and the economy teeters on the brink—all under the benevolent gaze of the man now masquerading as a Field Marshal.
Let’s not forget, the only other man in Pakistan’s history to crown himself with that title was Ayub Khan, architect of military coups and the 1965 debacle against India. In true Ayub fashion, Munir’s “promotion” appears to be less about merit and more about myth-making.
It’s not just internal theatrics. This self-styled upgrade is aimed at external audiences—China, the Gulf monarchies, and whoever else might be naïve enough to believe the Pakistan Army still represents regional stability. Projecting Munir as a five-star general is about salvaging diplomatic relevance, not showcasing battlefield brilliance.
This delusion is not harmless. It reinforces the military’s dangerous pattern of prioritizing optics over outcomes. Pakistan’s generals have long operated above accountability, cloaking every failure in patriotism. Now, they’re decorating defeat.
Operation Sindoor was a turning point. It exposed the vulnerability of Pakistan’s terror machinery and the ineffectiveness of its military leadership. Instead of reflection, we get a farcical coronation.
Munir may polish his medals and bask in unearned glory, but history will record this for what it is: the elevation of failure to high office. A fifth star can’t hide a shattered radar screen, flattened terror camps, or a country adrift under military misrule.
