The Field Marshal’s baton has been dusted off again. Not from the echoes of a great war, not from a hard-earned national victory, but from the quiet corridors of unchecked power where applause comes easy and questions never arrive. The burden of Ayub Khan’s Field Marshal legacy was already heavy. This new elevation adds no glory to history—it merely adds weight to silence.

The Constitution? Torn into a handkerchief, waved when needed and discarded when not. The President, the Supreme Commander in name only, is now a ceremonial silhouette, signing what he’s handed, commanding nothing. The Chairman Joint Chiefs? Invisible. The Air Force, which bore the burden of real skies in real time, watches from the sidelines. There are no medals for those wings, no speeches for that defiance. Instead, a new centre of gravity emerges—not grounded in merit or necessity, but in myth.

This was not a recognition of service. It was a rewriting of symbolism. An attempt not to salute accomplishment, but to immortalize hierarchy.

History, of course, remembers these things.

Read More: Illusions of Grandeur in Pakistan

When rulers gaze into the mirror instead of history’s measure, empires shrink. Caligula appointed his horse as senator—not out of affection for animals, but to mock the very idea of shared governance. Napoleon crowned himself, pushing the Pope aside, because no higher hand could be allowed to touch his head. Reza Shah Pahlavi invented titles like “Arya Mehr,”........

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