Pakistan’s Generals and the empire of radical wealth!

Raju Korti
The most thriving and secure profession in Pakistan isn’t medicine, law, or even politics – it is being a military officer. More specifically, being the Chief of Army Staff. It is the only role in the country that almost guarantees immense wealth, complete impunity, and a gilded lifestyle beyond the dreams of ordinary citizens. There’s a certain Arabian Nights-like quality to the stories surrounding Pakistani generals -- men whose monthly salaries are dwarfed by their weekly “pocket money,” whose families become billionaires in a matter of years, and whose post-retirement lives are often more lavish than their years in uniform.

To make sense of this military-political-financial triad, one must first understand the power algorithm of Pakistan. In a country plagued by political instability and democratic fragility, the army has been the only constant. Political parties exist, contest elections, form governments -- but all under the shadow of the military, which remains the permanent establishment. As the saying goes, while most nations have an army, Pakistan’s army has a nation.

Since independence in 1947, Pakistan’s generals have ruled directly for over 40 years and indirectly for the rest. Starting with General Ayub Khan, who became president after staging Pakistan’s first military coup in 1958, a pattern was set. Ayub handed over power to General Yahya Khan, who presided over the dismemberment of Pakistan in 1971. Then came General Zia-ul-Haq, who ruled with an iron hand, used religion as a political tool, and left behind a legacy of jihadism, drugs, and sectarian violence. General Pervez Musharraf followed, seizing power in 1999 and ruling through a hybrid regime while amassing a fortune reportedly worth billion.

Each general, with minor variations, repeated the same script: ascend to power (usually via a coup or political manipulation), consolidate rule by invoking nationalism or Islam, strike deals with Western powers (especially the United States), make a fortune, and exit either in disgrace or exile -- but always with full military honours.

The economic model of Pakistan’s military elite can be summed up in two words: unaccountable capitalism. For instance, General Qamar Javed Bajwa, who retired in 2022, saw his family’s declared wealth balloon to over Rs 12.7 billion (approx. USD 45 million) during his six-year tenure. This figure does not include undeclared assets or those held under benami names. The public anger over these revelations was not directed at Bajwa, but rather at the journalist who exposed them -- a telling insight into the conditioning of the Pakistani populace.

General Asim Saleem Bajwa, former army spokesperson and CPEC Authority chief, created a business empire while in service. His family owned 133 Papa John’s outlets across four countries -- ironic for a military that routinely burns American flags at protests. Then there’s General Ashfaq Parvez Kayani, under whose watch corruption in defence land deals reached brazen heights, involving his own brothers.

According to the latest estimates, the Pakistan military’s commercial empire, operated under entities like the Fauji Foundation and Army Welfare Trust, is worth over USD 39.8 billion. This includes everything from cement and cereals to banking, insurance, and sprawling real estate empires -- many on illegally acquired or underpriced land.

Gen Asim Munir (Wikipedia grab)

The current Chief of Army Staff, General Asim Munir, is no exception. Though the full extent of his assets remains shrouded in mystery -- as is typical with Pakistan’s military elite -- credible intelligence sources and investigative whispers estimate that Munir’s net family wealth already exceeds USD 25 million, with significant stakes in real estate and overseas holdings. Unlike his predecessor, Munir prefers ideological signalling -- promoting the “two-nation theory,” invoking “civilizational war” rhetoric, and presenting himself as a moralist saviour. But beneath this veneer lies a pattern that’s all too familiar.

Munir has already been accused by intelligence experts like Michael Rubin of the Pentagon of being the mastermind behind terror-linked narratives such as the Pahalgam attack in Kashmir, allegedly to provoke regional instability for political leverage. His speeches to the Pakistani diaspora are strategically calibrated to attract remittances and investments, cleverly marketed as patriotism.

What makes Pakistan’s generals virtually untouchable is their deification. Unlike their Indian counterparts, who remain firmly under civilian command, Pakistani generals are often seen as “mujahids” or “Ghazis” -- divine warriors, above reproach. Even today, many generals do not possess a National Tax Number (NTN), akin to India’s PAN, and those who do rarely declare actual income. “Sadiq” (truthful) and “Ameen” (honest) are words constitutionally reserved for politicians but ironically seldom applied to military men in the public discourse.

And when these generals retire, they don’t fade away. They become heads of institutions, CEOs of state-linked companies, members of think tanks, or advisers on CPEC projects -- each role offering new opportunities for patronage, kickbacks, and offshore windfalls.

Despite their riches, most Pakistani generals exit with ignominy, often as architects of national crises. Ayub Khan left amid protests and a lost war. Yahya Khan died a recluse after presiding over the greatest military surrender since World War II. Zia-ul-Haq perished in a suspicious air crash after sowing the seeds of jihadist radicalism. Musharraf died in exile, having been convicted of treason and indicted for Benazir Bhutto’s murder.

Will Asim Munir break this loop? Unlikely. His conservative doctrine, media clampdowns, and militarisation of politics already hint at an authoritarian script in progress. But like those before him, he too may find that empires built on borrowed legitimacy and bloated egos seldom last.

Pakistan’s tragedy isn’t just the greed of its generals – it is the nation’s willingness to forgive it. A large section of its population believes that military men are above corruption, ordained by God to protect the “Land of the Pure.” But as the country teeters on the edge of economic collapse, dependent on international bailouts and remittances, the army's insatiable appetite for wealth remains unchecked.

Pakistan’s generals have not only ruled the country -- they’ve commodified its soul. And history, as we’ve seen time and again, remembers them not for their medals or speeches -- but for the disgrace that eventually catches up with them.