Pakistan’s most powerful military leader in decades, Field Marshal Asim Munir, stands at the center of a diplomatic storm as the United States presses Islamabad to contribute troops to a proposed Gaza stabilization force—a move that could reshape both Pakistan’s foreign policy and its volatile domestic politics.
The request, coming directly from U.S. President Donald Trump as part of his sweeping 20-point Gaza plan, has placed Munir in a uniquely precarious position. The plan, as reported by Reuters and cited by multiple international outlets, envisions a multinational force—drawn largely from Muslim-majority countries—to oversee Gaza’s reconstruction and economic recovery after more than two years of relentless Israeli bombardment. The mission, however, is not just about rebuilding. It implicitly involves efforts to demilitarize Hamas, raising the specter of foreign troops being drawn into active conflict, something that has made many potential contributors deeply wary.
Munir, who was recently elevated to chief of the defense forces—granting him sweeping authority over Pakistan’s army, navy, and air force until 2030—has been invited to Washington for what will be his third meeting with Trump in just six months. This rare frequency of engagement underscores the weight Washington places on Munir’s role. In June, Trump hosted Munir alone for a White House lunch, a first for any Pakistani military leader, signaling a shift in how the U.S. views its relationship with Islamabad. According to Michael Kugelman, Senior Fellow for South Asia at the Atlantic Council, "Not contributing (to the Gaza stabilization force) could annoy Trump, which is no small matter for a Pakistani state that appears quite keen to remain in his good graces, in great part to secure US investment and security aid."
Pakistan’s military is no stranger to high-stakes deployments. As the world’s only Muslim-majority nuclear power, its armed forces have been shaped by wars with India, counterinsurgency campaigns, and ongoing battles with Islamist militants. This reputation for discipline and resilience makes Pakistan an attractive candidate for Washington’s plan, but also increases the pressure on Munir to deliver. As defense analyst Ayesha Siddiqa put it, "there is a greater pressure on Munir to deliver his capacity."
Yet, the risks at home are formidable. Islamist parties in Pakistan, fiercely opposed to both the U.S. and Israel, retain the ability to mobilize mass protests. Even after a violent anti-Israel group was banned in October and its leaders jailed, the underlying ideology remains potent. The prospect of Pakistani troops participating in a U.S.-backed mission in Gaza could reignite street agitation, with the potential for unrest to spiral quickly. Abdul Basit of Singapore’s S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies warned, "If things escalate once the Gaza force is on the ground, it would cause problems quickly. People will say ‘Asim Munir is doing Israel’s bidding’—it will be foolhardy of anyone not to see it coming."
The political calculus is further complicated by the enduring popularity of jailed former Prime Minister Imran Khan. Khan’s supporters, who won the most seats in the 2024 elections, remain openly hostile to Munir and could seize on any Gaza deployment to accuse the military chief of acting at Washington’s behest. Such a narrative, analysts warn, would resonate across Pakistan’s political spectrum, potentially undermining Munir’s legitimacy even as his formal powers have never been greater.
And Munir’s powers are indeed unprecedented. Earlier this month, constitutional amendments passed by parliament not only extended his term but also granted him lifetime immunity from criminal prosecution and the permanent title of field marshal. As Kugelman observed, "Few people in Pakistan enjoy the luxury of being able to take risks more than Munir. He has unbridled power, now constitutionally protected. Ultimately, it will be Munir’s rules, and his rules only."
Despite these domestic dangers, Munir has not acted in isolation on the Gaza question. Over the past several weeks, he has held consultations with leaders from Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Egypt, Qatar, Indonesia, Malaysia, and Jordan. Analysts interpret these meetings as efforts to distribute political responsibility among Muslim states and to gauge the appetite for a joint approach to Gaza—one that might share both the risks and the diplomatic rewards.
Pakistan’s official stance remains cautious. Foreign Minister Ishaq Dar stated last month that while Islamabad could consider contributing troops for peacekeeping, "disarming Hamas is not our job." This carefully worded position signals an attempt to define clear limits on any Pakistani involvement, reflecting both the sensitivity of the mission and the depth of domestic opposition to any role that could be seen as siding with Israel or the U.S. against Palestinian interests.
For Trump, the push to involve Pakistan and other Muslim-majority nations in Gaza’s stabilization is part of a broader strategy to increase U.S. leverage in the region and to share the burdens of post-conflict reconstruction. But for Munir, the stakes are even higher. The decision he faces is not just about foreign policy or military strategy—it is a defining test of his rule, one that could determine the trajectory of Pakistan’s relationship with the U.S. for years to come, as well as his own standing at home.
Ultimately, analysts agree that the core risk lies not in the initial decision to contribute troops, but in what follows. Should the situation in Gaza deteriorate or the mission expand beyond its original mandate, Pakistan could find itself entangled in a conflict with unpredictable consequences. For Munir, whose power is unmatched but whose legitimacy still depends on public acquiescence, the Gaza dilemma may be the most consequential challenge of his career.
As the world watches, the choices made in the coming weeks will reverberate far beyond Islamabad and Gaza, shaping alliances, stirring passions, and testing the limits of power—both in the corridors of Washington and on the streets of Pakistan.
