The limits of the hard state are being tested— exposed not just by insurgencies and terror threats, but by the state’s own inability to rise above a rigid, one-dimensional response to complex, deeply rooted national crises. One cannot ignore the daily discourse surrounding law and order, particularly the escalating insurgencies in Balochistan and the unbridled militancy in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa since the return to power of the Afghan Taliban in 2021.
These are not isolated disturbances; they are loud echoes of past policy blunders. Yet, amidst all the clamour, we continue to circle around the same outdated prescriptions: more force, tighter controls, enhanced surveillance— reflexes of a hard state machinery. And still, unrest festers, the public’s trust erodes, and the threats metastasize. What is missing is not the will to exert control, but the wisdom to govern competently.
In the end, Pakistan must evolve. It cannot continue to navigate the 21st century with a Cold War-era toolkit. A modern state must be more than hard— it must be agile, credible, and competent. It must learn not only to defend its people, but to develop them. Not just to control territory, but to cultivate trust. That is the true test of sovereignty. That is the Pakistan we must imagine and work for— not tomorrow, but today
The term “hard state” is often romanticized in policy discussions, projected as a powerful antidote to anarchy and external aggression. It suggests an image of a state that does not tolerate dissent, that uses all its might to secure its borders and stamp out threats. But when a state only flexes its muscles without simultaneously using its brain, it begins to resemble a bodybuilder with a broken compass— strong, but lost.
Pakistan is not lacking in security apparatus. Our forces are valiant, our intelligence capacity is formidable, and our history is replete with sacrifices made in the name of sovereignty. Yet, we continue to fight the same battles internally. Why? Because the hard-state approach has ignored the structural fault lines that keep reopening— disenfranchisement, economic inequality, weak institutions, and policy paralysis.
This is where the idea of a competent state becomes not just a theoretical proposition, but an urgent necessity. A competent state does not rule by fear or merely react to crises— it prevents them through foresight, institutional strength, and inclusive governance. One former diplomat rightly pointed out that real strength lies not in the volume of force a state can exert but in its capacity to serve, deliver, and inspire. When the writ of the state is associated not with intimidation but with justice and service delivery, legitimacy deepens. Legitimacy, after all, is the foundation upon which lasting peace and stability are built.
There are countless examples across the world where nations transitioned from being hard states to competent ones, reaping enormous dividends. Consider post-apartheid South Africa. It emerged from decades of authoritarian suppression, yet the real success was not just the dismantling of apartheid, but the transition into a constitutional democracy that focused on healing, reconciliation, and institution-building. The security challenges did not vanish overnight, but the government prioritized social programmes, truth commissions, and inclusion as tools of governance, not just guns and police. Likewise,
Indonesia— once marred by autocracy and military repression— embraced reforms after Suharto’s fall in 1998. It strengthened local governments, built electoral transparency, and reformed the judiciary, making it one of Southeast Asia’s most promising democracies today.
Even closer to home, Bangladesh offers an instructive contrast. While it too has wrestled with political turbulence and authoritarian episodes, its consistent investment in human development— particularly in health, women’s empowerment, and education— has earned it a path toward competent governance, outpacing Pakistan on many socio-economic indicators. The takeaway is simple but profound: stability doesn’t come from cracking down harder; it comes from building smarter.
To believe in a competent state is not to abandon security— it is to elevate it. Competence demands that our institutions are not just instruments of control but engines of progress. It is to ensure that the police is not merely feared, but respected; that bureaucracies are not lethargic dens of corruption, but responsive arms of service; that leadership is not theatrical but strategic. It also requires courage— not the courage to suppress, but to reform. Reforming judicial delays, depoliticizing civil services, investing in data-driven policymaking, and reviving local governments are not luxuries; they are prerequisites to a stable and self-reliant Pakistan.
A competent state also understands that narratives matter. For too long, our national story has been written in the language of confrontation and survival. We need to rewrite it in the grammar of progress, dignity, and opportunity. This means not treating dissent as rebellion, not branding political grievances as security threats, and not creating enemies out of disillusioned citizens. The real enemies are poverty, illiteracy, extremism, and corruption— threats that no amount of militarization alone can erase.
Moreover, adopting competence over coercion does not mean becoming soft. It means becoming wise. It means engaging with marginalized communities not with bullets, but with development plans. It means addressing insurgencies not just with counterterror operations, but with platforms for dialogue and constitutional justice. Had we adopted such dual-track strategies from the beginning—one that combined resolute defense with intelligent governance—we might not have sowed the seeds of the threats now plaguing our north-western borders, once romanticized as strategic allies but now turned into infestations of hostility.
As of now, we are paying the price of those strategic miscalculations. The Frankenstein’s monsters created under the illusion of tactical depth are gnawing at our own fabric. And still, many in our policy circles insist on reviving the hard state doctrine as the only salvation. It is time to recognize that we need a recalibrated doctrine— one that places competence, not coercion, at its core. A doctrine where sovereignty is not defended merely through firepower but also through inclusive policies, equitable resource distribution, and civic empowerment.
Pakistan must evolve. It cannot continue to navigate the 21st century with a Cold War-era toolkit. A modern state must be more than hard— it must be agile, credible, and competent. It must learn not only to defend its people, but to develop them. Not just to control territory, but to cultivate trust. That is the true test of sovereignty. That is the Pakistan we must imagine and work for— not tomorrow, but today.
