'Army, Allah, America, Atom': Asim Munir's 4As recipe for Pakistan’s ruin, a challenge for India

Pakistan’s Army has long defined the country’s destiny, operating at the intersection of religion, politics and foreign patronage. Analysts have referred to this triad as three As: Army, Allah and America. From Zia-ul-Haq’s Islamisation of the state to Musharraf’s nuclear brinkmanship, this model has allowed military rulers to dominate Pakistan’s political, social, and strategic landscape with little accountability.

In 2025, however, a new chapter appears to be unfolding under Field Marshal Asim Munir, whose rise signals a dangerous shift: the addition of a fourth A: Atomic Weapons. Unlike his predecessors, Munir has taken the audacious step of publicly rattling Pakistan’s nuclear sabre, issuing threats against India with unprecedented boldness, while simultaneously cultivating close ties with the United States under Donald Trump.

This development is more than posturing. It reflects the ambitions of a military chief consolidating domestic power, intimidating political rivals, and reshaping Pakistan’s strategic doctrine, while ignoring the economic collapse and systemic vulnerabilities that continue to plague the country. For India, Munir’s nuclear theatrics, combined with his American backing, demand urgent attention. The risks are not theoretical: they point to a volatile mix of domestic politics, nuclear brinkmanship, and foreign complicity that could destabilize the region if unchecked.

The concept of the three As was first clearly articulated during General Zia-ul-Haq’s decade-long rule (1977–1988). Zia was the first Pakistani ruler to overtly merge religion with military strategy. His oft-quoted statement, “With the help of the Almighty Allah, the armed forces will do everything we can to insure stability,” laid the foundation for a governance model that merged divine justification with military supremacy.

Zia’s era introduced a new Pakistan: one where the Army became not just the guarantor of security but the ultimate arbiter of political power, religion was weaponised to legitimise authoritarian control, and America’s patronage was sought for strategic and financial support. This approach was reinforced during Pervez Musharraf’s era, where the military again assumed a central role in politics, and Pakistan’s nuclear capabilities were leveraged as both a deterrent and a bargaining chip against India.

Over decades, the three As have become a self-reinforcing cycle: the Army dominates politics and society, religion provides moral and ideological cover for policies, and foreign backing, especially from the United States, guarantees resources, legitimacy, and strategic support.

In 2025, Munir has taken Pakistan into uncharted territory. Already elevated to Field Marshal and adorned with the Hilal-i-Jur’at, Munir is invoking the fourth A: Atomic Weapons -- a step far bolder than previous military leaders. His recent statements during the August 9 Tampa diaspora dinner, including “we are a nuclear nation, if we think we are going down, we’ll take half the world down with us,” signal a level of audacity and public nuclear sabre-rattling that Pakistan has never seen before.

This nuclear rhetoric is not merely symbolic. Unlike Zia or Musharraf, whose nuclear threats were largely veiled or conditional, Munir’s threats are direct, public, and seemingly calibrated to intimidate India while projecting strength to both domestic and international audiences. The brazenness of Munir’s statements suggests he believes he has a green light from the United States, which is increasingly cozying up to him.

Historically, Pakistan’s nuclear doctrine, shaped under Zia and refined under Musharraf, relied heavily on Nuclear Weapons Enabled Terrorism (NWET): using terror proxies to project nuclear deterrence indirectly. The logic was simple: if India retaliated militarily against state-sponsored terrorism, Pakistan could threaten escalation using its nuclear arsenal.

Operation Sindoor in May 2025 shattered that paradigm. India’s precise air strikes on Pakistani terror camps and airbases, including the elimination of 100+ terrorists and neutralisation of Pakistan’s nuclear vectors, exposed the vulnerabilities of Pakistan’s nuclear deterrent. The Mirage III and F-16 aircraft meant to deliver gravity bombs, and the Wanshan Transporter Erector Launchers for missile deployment, were caught off guard by India’s BrahMos missiles. Fighter jets were destroyed, radars incapacitated, and Pakistan’s air defence network temporarily blinded.

For the first time, NWET appeared ineffective as a deterrent. Munir’s public nuclear bluster is therefore a desperate effort to revive NWET and restore Pakistan’s strategic credibility. But unlike previous regimes, Munir’s threats are personalised and performative, aimed at showcasing his control over both nuclear assets and the Pakistani narrative.

Munir’s audacity is not happening in isolation. Him issuing nuclear threats from the American soil and the Trump administration maintaining a conspicuous silence is indicative of the United States endorsing his approach, which has given the Pakistani general both confidence and international legitimacy.

By publicly backing Trump’s Nobel Peace Prize candidacy and offering rights to Pakistan’s rare earths, minerals, and oil, Munir appears to be securing a strategic shield from Washington while consolidating his domestic power.

This cosy relationship emboldens Munir to threaten India without fear of immediate reprisal. The alignment with the US is particularly worrisome because it allows Pakistan’s nuclear chief to weaponise international cover as a tactical advantage, presenting India with a dual challenge: defend against conventional threats while managing a state-sponsored nuclear escalation backed by a global power.

Munir’s nuclear posturing is not just for show abroad; it is a tool for domestic consolidation. Following Operation Sindoor, he elevated himself to Field Marshal -- a move no Pakistani army chief had previously executed. This has allowed Munir to build a cult of personality around himself, reminiscent of Zia’s use of religion to legitimise military dominance.

His rivalry with former Prime Minister Imran Khan underscores this internal dynamic. Khan remains immensely popular domestically and internationally, particularly within the 9-million-strong Pakistani diaspora. By threatening nuclear escalation and positioning himself as the ultimate protector of Pakistan, Munir aims to neutralize Khan’s appeal, ensuring that he remains the unchallenged authority within the Army and the broader polity.

Zia and Musharraf used threats of nuclear weapons as a strategic tool; Munir is using them as a personal brand. Unlike predecessors who relied on ambiguity and indirect threats, Munir openly telegraphs his willingness to leverage nuclear capabilities. Statements like “We are a nuclear nation…we’ll take half the world down with us” signal a radical shift from controlled deterrence to performative brinkmanship.

Indian analysts have already raised concerns. Lt General PR Shankar (retired) notes that Munir’s posturing signals not just NWET revival, but a willingness to escalate nuclear tensions for personal prestige. A nuclear test or crisis could serve dual purposes: intimidating India while boosting Munir’s stature domestically and internationally.

However, Munir’s theatrics cannot obscure Pakistan’s economic collapse. His own comparisons at Tampa, likening Pakistan to a “truck filled with gravel” compared to India’s “shiny Mercedes,” are telling. Inflation, unemployment, fuel shortages, and stagnation continue to plague the nation.

The risk is clear: any nuclear misadventure would trigger global sanctions, freeze aid, and isolate Pakistan economically. Yet, Munir appears willing to gamble, counting on America’s backing and Trump’s personal ambitions to shield him.

General Munir’s nuclear threats mark a serious shift in South Asia’s security landscape. For India, this is a dangerous development that cannot be ignored.

First, there is the risk of Pakistan reviving its old playbook of using terror groups as proxies. With nuclear weapons as a shield, Munir may feel emboldened to sponsor cross-border terrorism, calculating that India’s response will be restrained.

Second, Munir’s open and direct nuclear threats are unusual. Past Pakistani leaders were often more subtle, but his blunt rhetoric increases the chances of miscalculation or escalation.

Third, there is a perception that Munir enjoys quiet support from Washington. If true, this makes India’s position trickier, as the international community may be less willing to act against Pakistan’s provocations.

Finally, Pakistan’s internal chaos adds to the danger. Facing economic collapse and political rivalries, Munir could resort to nuclear brinkmanship to shore up his power at home.

All Pakistani military dictators have sought legacies beyond their tenure. Zia’s Islamisation of the Army, Musharraf’s nuclear brinkmanship, and even Ayub Khan’s modernization drive were framed as historic interventions. Munir, however, operates in an era where nuclear weapons are globally monitored, and missteps could invite catastrophic consequences.

Yet his actions suggest a willingness to risk global opprobrium and regional instability for personal legacy. By raising the nuclear threat publicly, Munir reinforces his image as Pakistan’s ultimate protector while attempting to neutralise domestic challengers like Imran Khan.