Why Doesn’t the Pakistani Army Fight for Gaza?

Melbourne, 16 July— They walk with medals pinned to their chests and the shadow of missiles trailing behind them—presenting themselves as guardians of the Muslim world, protectors of the faith, and custodians of the nation. They command one of the world’s largest armies, hold nuclear weapons, and govern a state that claims to have been founded as a haven for the oppressed.

But when Gaza turns into a vast graveyard—when Palestinian mothers clutch the blood-soaked shrouds of their children and weep—the Pakistani army does nothing. It doesn’t even speak beyond its usual, hollow expressions of “deep concern.”

Why?

The answer isn’t complex—it’s rotten. Why does the sixth-largest military in the world, armed with nuclear weapons and ruling over more than 240 million people, not raise even a symbolic hand in support of the Palestinians?

One word: Zionism.

Not the people’s Zionism, but a corrupt, foreign-aligned, spineless Zionism that has infected Pakistan’s military and political elite.

They are not the guardians of the Ummah; they are watchmen for American interests, obedient managers of empire, draped in the ornaments of hypocrisy.

Behind lofty slogans like “strategic restraint” and “regional stability” lies a silent complicity. The Pakistani military elite—especially its senior officers—have long been entangled in the machinery of American imperialism. For decades, Pakistani officers have been sent to U.S. military academies, not merely to learn strategy, but to be indoctrinated into imperial values: loyalty to Washington, deference to Tel Aviv, and contempt for any real resistance to Western hegemony.

They return home armed with shiny degrees, inflated egos, and a brutal blindness to the cries rising from Gaza.

And the Pakistani people—possessors of infinite patience—are told this is all an “internal matter.” They’re made to believe that appointments like Army Chief are matters of seniority, domestic politics, or divine will.

But the reality is colonial: the Army Chief is chosen not in Islamabad, but in Washington. Those Pakistani generals who promote themselves as guardians of sovereignty are in fact little more than branch managers of empire. Their real bosses speak English with foreign accents—and see Palestine as a mere nuisance.

Take the current Chief of Army Staff and so-called “Field Marshal” Asim Munir. Thanks to sycophantic media, he has been elevated to near-prophetic status—presented as both a devout man who memorized the Qur’an and the moral compass of the armed forces. Surely it is not unreasonable to expect such a man to utter even a single word about the Zionist genocide in Gaza?

But no. Munir’s most recent foreign policy gesture was nominating Donald Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize.

Yes, that Trump—the one who gleefully recognized Jerusalem as Israel’s capital, normalized apartheid in the name of “peace,” and handed over the Golan Heights to Netanyahu like a poker chip. That is the man Pakistan’s Qur’an-memorizing general chose to honor. Trump proudly accepted the praise. It was a grotesque scene of mutual back-patting between two leaders whose definition of morality includes ignoring genocide.

But Asim Munir is merely a symptom—the disease runs deeper. Pakistani generals do not practice Zionism in the Israeli mold—it is more subtle, more cowardly, and far more obsessed with profit. It is the Zionism of silence, of slow recognition—where the lives of Muslims and the oppressed are secondary to IMF loans and Pentagon praise. When Palestinians are killed with American weapons, Pakistani generals do not flinch—instead, they carefully construct statements to maintain “diplomatic balance.”

And when they do speak about Gaza, their words are drowned in bureaucratic dullness. There is no fire, no urgency, no trace of pain—just the same old chorus: “Pakistan condemns…”—followed by another plea for Western financial aid.

For an army that prides itself on valor, this silence conceals a terrifying cowardice—a quiet allegiance to genocide.

The contrast is grotesque. When India so much as nudges the border, Pakistani generals puff out their chests—within 48 hours, the whole nation is transformed into an operatic battlefield: jets fly overhead, ministers wave flags, and ISPR releases patriotic anthems. We are told these men are the pride of the nation, forever ready to defend Muslim honor.

But when Israeli tanks roll into Gaza, when hospitals are razed, when refugee camps are set ablaze—what then? Not a single effective word. Not a flicker of resistance. Only a horrifying, shameful silence.

This hypocrisy is grotesque. While children die under the rubble in Gaza, the so-called defenders of the Muslim world polish their medals—and send letters congratulating Trump.

The Pakistani public, by contrast, is not silent. They march in the streets, wave Palestinian flags, and donate what little they can. But their rulers—the military elite—remain lost in their imperial stupor.

Pakistan suffers no shortage of slogans. “Kashmir will become Pakistan,” they shout. “Labbaik Ya Aqsa,” their banners declare. But these grand positions collapse under the weight of their duplicity. The Palestinian cause reveals the cracks in the myth of the Pakistani military—it exposes a carefully constructed legend for what it is: a fable. It unmasks a ruling class that is deeply embedded in systems of repression—so long as those systems are Western-approved and Zionist-aligned.

One must ask: what would it have cost Pakistan to do something symbolic at the Gaza border? A military medical unit? A diplomatic convoy delivering aid via Egypt? A unilateral boycott of companies funding Israeli arms manufacturers? These actions would cost almost nothing. Yet nothing is done. Why?

Because the goal is not to confront oppression—the goal is to maintain the status quo. The generals know that standing with Gaza means standing against America. And for them, that is unthinkable. Safer to tweet a verse from the Qur’an, deliver a Friday sermon, and then get back to acquiring the next plot in Bahria Town.

More disturbing still is the possibility that Pakistan’s elite see their own reflection in Israel. A militarized regime that suppresses dissent, manipulates elections, and disappears journalists—perhaps they admire Israel’s “efficiency.” Perhaps that’s why they send officers to Israel-aligned military academies—not to learn resistance to injustice, but how to administer it more effectively.

And so the farce continues. Gaza burns. Pakistani generals pose for selfies with Western diplomats. A hafiz of the Qur’an nominates a war criminal for the Peace Prize. The military budget swells, while moral courage evaporates. The system works—but only for them.

The Pakistani people deserve better. They are not cowards, not traitors. From Karachi to Khyber, ordinary citizens stand with Palestine—not as a slogan, but with deep human empathy. They see the bombs. They cry with the dead. They know that silence is complicity. But they are ruled by a class that sees Palestine as a PR problem, and the Pentagon as a patron.

This moral incoherence is unbearable.

Pakistan does not need more parades. Nor do we need flashy aircraft displays on television. What we need now is moral clarity. We need leadership that can distinguish between genocide and “geopolitical strategy.” We need generals who not only quote verses from the Qur’an but live by them—not selectively, not performatively—but in pursuit of justice, armed with courage.

Let’s speak plainly: a nation whose military fears Washington more than it loves Gaza has not yet achieved sovereignty. It has rented out its soul.

Let the medals gather dust. Let the sermons go silent. Let the generals and their cronies feast with diplomats. History will not remember them kindly. When Gaza’s children are buried in mass graves, Pakistan’s Field Marshal will be remembered as the man who nominated a genocidal leader for the Peace Prize.

Until Pakistan’s military elite shed their colonial loyalties and stand with the oppressed instead of the oppressor, no title—Chief of Army Staff, Field Marshal, Strategic Commander—will be anything more than a coward’s ornament.

And the people? They’ve stopped—thankfully—clapping. They no longer worship the generals who kneel before genocide. They no longer see uniforms as symbols of honor.

Because the next time another Gaza burns—and it will—it will be the silence from Pakistan’s barracks that echoes louder than any bomb.

And that silence will be their legacy.