Arsonist in Uniform

Asim Munir thrives on nuclear blackmail, jihadist venom and shameless self-glorification while his enablers in Washington look the other way.

Pakistan’s Field Marshal Asim Munir is the rare kind of man who can threaten to burn half the planet alive and still get a standing ovation. In Tampa, Florida, far from the dusty parade grounds of Rawalpindi, Pakistan’s unelected strongman stood in full dress uniform and promised just that, if his country faced defeat in a future war with India, “we’ll take half the world down with us.” This was nuclear blackmail delivered under chandeliers, with wine glasses in hand, from the soil of a nation that calls itself India’s “strategic partner.”

The moment encapsulates the ‘Munir doctrine’ rather well: weaponize apocalyptic threats, dress them in the language of national honour and rely on foreign indulgence to avoid consequences. Ostensibly in town for the retirement of CENTCOM’s commander, Munir chose instead to deliver not just nuclear threats but vows to smash any Indian-built dam on the Indus with “10 missiles.” For dramatic flourish, he likened India to a Mercedes and Pakistan to a dump truck full of gravel: collision would leave the road strewn with wreckage, never mind who “won.”

Days before the April 22 Pahalgam massacre, in which Hindu tourists were gunned down by Pakistan-backed militants, Munir, in an ideological mobilisation for a permanent civilisational war, had urged Pakistanis to inject the venom of the two-nation theory into their children and to keep hatred for Hindus alive.

Munir is dangerous not because he might act irrationally, but because his actions are entirely consistent with the logic of Pakistan’s military state. Nuclear brinkmanship is his currency and jihadist rhetoric is his rallying cry.

His own myth-making is more brazen. After the Sindoor debacle, in which his forces suffered heavy losses, he awarded himself the Hilal-e-Jurat, Pakistan’s second-highest military honour.

Self-glorification is his reward. Munir is not bluffing when he talks about destroying dams or starving millions but reminding the world that Pakistan’s military thrives on the threat of mutually assured destruction, and on the West’s fear of testing whether the threat is real.

And yet, Munir’s recklessness is sustained by a web of enablers. In Donald Trump’s America, he is indulged as a ‘stabilising’ figure. In India, the left-liberal establishment reflexively shields Pakistan (and by extension, Munir) from ideological scrutiny, conveniently preferring to talk about ‘peace’ than confront the jihadist foundation of Pakistan’s state. In the Western media, he is regrettably mentioned in the same breath as Prime Minister Narendra Modi, with one prominent magazine lazily lumping him and the Indian PM in the category of “South Asia’s nuclear strongmen,” as though a three-time elected prime minister and an unelected military dictator of a rogue state are morally interchangeable.

Munir’s career is a study in Pakistan’s militarised pathology. A former chief of military intelligence and the ISI, commissioned into the Baloch Regiment, Munir rose by navigating the murky intrigues of Rawalpindi. His elevation to army chief in November 2022 came at the cost of Imran Khan’s premiership and nearly his life. For Washington, the return of military rule was a relief. Civilian governments in Pakistan tend to be unpredictable while generals can be bought and cajoled.

Nothing makes this clearer than Munir’s private meeting with Donald Trump during his US visit. Trump has embraced Munir, promising “expanded cooperation” and an oil deal.

Munir’s mix of nuclear brinkmanship, Islamist chauvinism and self-worship makes him far more than a regional nuisance. He has proven himself a calculated risk-taker whose threats are not idle; Pakistan’s military has long used calibrated instability to keep Western aid flowing and India off balance. But Munir’s willingness to talk openly about destroying dams, starving millions and taking “half the world” down marks a dangerous escalation from veiled menace to explicit invitation to catastrophe.

The tragedy is that Munir’s recklessness is not punished but actively courted by Trump’s Washington. The US, eyeing Pakistan’s role in the mineral-rich Afghan corridor, and eager to keep a pliant army chief in Rawalpindi, looks the other way. Donald Trump’s tariff tantrums against India only sweetens the bargain, making Munir a convenient lever in a bigger game of trade wars and resource grabs.

Munir in turn understands this ecosystem and exploits it, with every standing ovation abroad reinforcing his legitimacy.

The danger is that by treating Munir as a legitimate partner, Washington is wagering that he will choose restraint. It is a gamble staked on the good faith of an arsonist who knows the blaze is his most potent weapon.