Pakistan’s Phantom Cavalry: Riding Out a Revolution That Never Came

The man most desperate to see the Two-Nation theory succeed was none other than Pakistan’s first Governor-General, Mohammad Ali Jinnah. As described in a very famous book, Freedom at Midnight by the noted Western author Dominique Lapierre, Jinnah’s drive to carve out a new state from India was pursued with an urgency that ignored even his failing health.

Lapierre recounts an interview with Lord Louis Mountbatten, the last Viceroy of British India, in which Mountbatten was shown a 1947 report from Jinnah’s doctor. It included a chest X-ray confirming that Jinnah was in the advanced stages of tuberculosis. On reading the report, Mountbatten reportedly turned pale and remarked: “If I had known this at the time, I would have delayed independence by a few months. There would have been no partition. Pakistan would not have existed. India would have remained united, and these deadly wars might have been avoided.”

Despite knowing he was on borrowed time, Jinnah raced against the clock to carve out a separate homeland. This episode offers a striking counterpoint to the narrative that Pakistan was purely a British creation; rather, it was aggressively pursued by Jinnah and the Muslim League.

For those who may question the credibility of a Western author’s version of history, there’s also a telling account from Maulana Abul Kalam Azad—the 42nd President of the Indian National Congress and India’s first Education Minister. In his memoir India Wins Freedom, Maulana Azad writes about Liaquat Ali Khan, Jinnah’s close associate and Pakistan’s first Prime Minister.

During the interim government of 1946–47, Liaquat—then India’s Finance Minister—purposely created hurdles in the smooth functioning of the Indian government and deliberately obstructed the release of funds for key government functions, frustrating Home Minister Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel. Azad claims that this non-cooperation was a calculated move, executed with Jinnah’s full backing, to convince Congress leaders that coexistence with the Muslim League was impossible. It was, in short, political sabotage by Jinnah and team, aimed at justifying the demand for a separate nation.

Ironically, Jinnah—personally secular and largely a non-believer—founded a state under the banner of Islam: the Islamic Republic of Pakistan. His motive, as argued by his critics, was less about religion and more about ambition—the desire to be remembered as Quaid-e-Azam, the Great Leader of Pakistan.

If Jinnah’s intentions were truly to build an Islamic welfare state based on Islam and the Qur’an, Pakistan might have become a beacon of prosperity and the world would have followed them. Instead, his actions have left many feeling that he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Over time, many Islamic nations—initially sympathetic to Pakistan—began distancing themselves. Countries like Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Qatar, and Iran gradually recognised that Pakistan’s Islamic rhetoric was often at odds with its actions. The country, it seemed, had started playing a dangerous double game—one that tarnished its credibility in the Muslim world.

Pakistan’s democratic credentials, too, have been fragile at best. Since independence, it has seen a disturbing pattern of political assassinations and military interventions. The country’s first Prime Minister, Liaquat Ali Khan, was gunned down by a Pashtun tribesman from Afghanistan in 1951. The murder remains unsolved, but conspiracy theories persist, some even pointing fingers at the United States for Liaquat Ali Khan’s killing.

The Bhutto family, among Pakistan’s most influential political dynasties, faced a similar tragic fate. Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, Pakistan’s 9th Prime Minister, was hanged in 1979 following a controversial trial orchestrated by then-military ruler General Zia-ul-Haq. His daughter, Benazir Bhutto—twice elected Prime Minister—was assassinated in 2007 after a political rally in Rawalpindi. Both Bhuttos were Oxford-educated and seen as champions of modern, democratic ideals. Unfortunately, they were brought down by forces within their own country.

Ironically, both Liaquat Ali Khan and Benazir Bhutto were assassinated in the same location—Rawalpindi’s Company Bagh. And now, in a more recent chapter of political turmoil, the 19th Prime Minister finds himself imprisoned by the political machinery led by Nawaz Sharif and company. With a history of coups, conspiracies, and crackdowns, Pakistan’s democracy often seems like nothing more than a show—an empty system held up by military elites hiding behind a veil of counterterrorism rhetoric.

Neighbouring India has borne the brunt of Pakistan’s erratic diplomacy. For decades, Pakistan has fueled cross-border terrorism, making peace a distant dream. Whenever India has raised the issue on global platforms, Pakistan has dismissed the allegations as baseless. But the facts speak for themselves.

Osama bin Laden, the world’s most wanted terrorist, was killed by U.S. forces in 2011 during “Operation Neptune Spear”—not in some lawless mountain region, but in Abbottabad, a well-guarded Pakistani garrison town. Other extremists, such as Maulana Masood Azhar of Jaish-e-Mohammed and Hafiz Saeed of Lashkar-e-Taiba, continue to find safe havens in Pakistan. Dawood Ibrahim, the mastermind behind the 1993 Bombay blasts, is also believed to be hiding in Pakistan. Despite clear international intelligence, the world remains largely silent.

These actions have not only destabilised South Asia but also harmed Pakistan itself. Many young Pakistanis have fallen prey to radicalisation, their lives sacrificed at the altar of an ideology that has been twisted for political gain. Pakistan has become a blot on the Islamic world—a country that exploits religion while defying the ethical and moral standards it claims to uphold.

The nation that was supposed to be a model of Islamic justice and equality now finds itself in the grip of autocrats, puppets, and warlords. Its founding ideals have withered, its constitution ignored, and its people disillusioned. A country that cannot honour its own promises cannot possibly uplift its citizens.

Interestingly, Pakistan’s executive powers are shielded by its Army, while the armed forces themselves hide behind the bush of extremist groups. This makes it evident that Pakistan’s policies are heavily influenced by these terror outfits. It is an absolute disgrace that a country whose future is shaped by terrorist groups finally ends up facing tanks and drones as a consequence.

Until Pakistan tames its phantom cavalry—made up of power-hungry generals, opportunist politicians, and shadowy terror alliances—the ride for its citizens will forever remain turbulent, and the revolution that was promised will perpetually remain out of reach.