Pakistan has now formally chosen centralization over federalism. With the passage of the 27th Amendment, pushed through by a two-thirds parliamentary majority and signed with unusual speed by the president, the state has structurally shrunk provincial autonomy and strengthened military authority over key national domains. For a country built on extraordinary linguistic, ethnic, and regional diversity, this is not routine constitutional maintenance; it is a fundamental rewiring of the republic.

Supporters insist the amendment is a necessary corrective to Pakistan’s chronic instability. Their argument, whispered in drawing rooms and repeated in power circles, is familiar: undiluted democracy does not work in Islamic societies, controlled democracy ensures order. Elections may continue, but the levers of power must remain supervised, this time under explicit constitutional cover.

Yet that claim collapses under even modest scrutiny. Muslim-majority democracies from Indonesia to Senegal, and Tunisia in its pre-coup decade, demonstrate that pluralism and Islam are not only compatible but often mutually reinforcing. Pakistan’s problem has never been some cultural incompatibility with democracy. The real obstacle is institutional insecurity: a deep suspicion of provincial autonomy, a reflex to manage diversity through command-and-control governance, and a persistent belief among elites that popular decision-making is simply too dangerous to trust.

The 27th Amendment revives these old instincts. It recentralizes financial and policymaking authority, tightens judicial oversight mechanisms, and embeds the military’s supervisory role more deeply within the constitutional order. Provincial governments, already constrained, now find themselves formally subordinated.

Layered onto this structural shift is what many now call the “Asim Munir model,” not a coup in the old sense but a subtler arrangement: military rule tucked inside a democratic shell. The optics remain civilian, but the strategic decisions do not. Policy is drafted at GHQ, economic diplomacy is steered by the security establishment, and investment priorities are shaped under military oversight. Elected politicians perform the rituals of governance—parliamentary sessions, press briefings, handshakes with diplomats—while the real direction comes from elsewhere.

For some, this feels efficient, even reassuring: finally, someone is taking charge. But efficiency comes with a trade-off. The buffer that once existed between military power and public accountability is gone. If this truly is the new model, then the outcomes—jobs, inflation, growth, and the daily anxieties of ordinary families—belong to the generals as well. They cannot retreat into the shadows if things go wrong. In this version of Pakistani politics, the military does not simply call the shots; it owns them.

History offers little comfort to those betting on centralization as a path to stability. Pakistan’s centralizing impulses have repeatedly produced fragmentation rather than unity. The attempt to impose Urdu on East Pakistan fueled Bengali nationalism and helped precipitate the 1971 breakup. Heavy-handed interventions in Balochistan have sparked recurring insurgencies that still simmer today. Militarized rule in ex-FATA delivered tactical control but left behind deep resentment, weak governance, and a vacuum easily exploited by militants. And decades of hybrid rule—civilian governments operating under military vetoes—have hollowed out democratic legitimacy to the point where elections resemble auditions rather than mandates.

The risks of repeating these patterns are stark.

First, provincial alienation will deepen. Sindh, Balochistan, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, and the Seraiki-speaking belt already experience the federation as dominated by Punjabi and military interests. The 27th Amendment will be read not as reform but as confirmation that Islamabad does not trust its provinces.

Second, democracy will become more symbolic. Provincial assemblies may continue to legislate, but the space in which they can act shrinks significantly. Accountability weakens when decision-making is insulated from local constituencies and diffused within federal and military hierarchies.

Third, the federation itself grows more fragile. Pakistan’s unity rests on the promise, enshrined in the 18th Amendment, that diversity is protected through shared authority. Undoing that promise risks eroding the political glue that holds multiethnic federations together.

Defenders of centralization argue that a divided society requires firm authority. But Pakistan’s own history contradicts this. Instability grows when local actors feel excluded, ignored, or humiliated. Legitimacy cannot be manufactured by constitutional fiat. It emerges from participation, trust, and negotiated power-sharing—precisely the ingredients intentionally weakened by the amendment.

The broader ideological shift is unmistakable. Pakistan is moving toward a formally codified variant of controlled democracy, an electoral system in which outcomes are shaped less by public preference than by structural imbalances embedded in law. Such systems may deliver short-term order, but they carry long-term risks: political alienation, radicalization, and eventual fragmentation.

Multiethnic federations around the world offer cautionary tales. Nigeria’s relentless centralization helped fuel secessionist pressures in the southeast. Ethiopia’s oscillation between decentralization and command rule triggered civil conflict. Sri Lanka’s centralizing policies alienated Tamil communities and produced decades of war. Iraq’s forced cohesion under authoritarian rule fractured along sectarian lines once the center weakened. The pattern is clear: when diverse states suppress provincial autonomy, they rarely achieve stability; they typically accelerate disintegration. Pakistan knows this lesson intimately; it lived it in 1971.

The 27th Amendment marks a historic turning point. By choosing coercive cohesion over negotiated federalism, Pakistan has opted for short-term control at the expense of long-term stability. The center may have secured constitutional supremacy, but it has simultaneously endangered the political cohesion on which the country’s future depends.

Real stability lies elsewhere: empowering provinces, strengthening civilian institutions, curbing military overreach, and trusting citizens to govern themselves. Anything less places Pakistan on a trajectory toward deeper polarization—and this time, the instability is constitutionally enshrined.