SO much has happened, yet so little seems to have changed since the Earth last circled the sun. Where does one begin? The year 2025 was a year of profound structural shifts in Pakistan, characterised by high-stakes political brinkmanship, a radical re-engineering of the judiciary, and a desperate struggle for stabilisation amidst unrelenting economic pressures. If previous years had been defined by the despair they spawned, the year 2025 was when powerful actors decided to enforce the ‘new normal’ through force of law and arms. By the end of it, it was abundantly clear that most of the errant vectors within the structure of the state had been polarised. Yet, the fruits of this monumental realignment of our state have yet to be seen. The outgoing year saw a modest economic recovery, amidst escalating security risks and the suffocation of civil and political liberties. Though macroeconomic indicators showed signs of stabilisation — inflation eased and foreign reserves recovered thanks to debt rollovers, increased remittances and IMF injections — the momentum needed for a meaningful, sustained recovery remained missing, giving the lie to sporadic claims of an economic turnaround from the government. Political imbroglio The omens were there from the start. In January, I mran Khan and Bushra Bibi were handed 14 and seven years , respectively, in the £190m Al Qadir Trust case. The sentencing would set the tone for the rest of 2025, with the state maintaining its hard line against the PTI, and the PTI, in return, hardening its stance and rhetoric against those it sees as responsible for its predicament. Access to Mr Khan would in the latter half of the year become a key challenge for the PTI, especially after the party made it clear it would not be taking any decision, big or small, without his express consent and involvement. Whether this was a strategic decision taken to preclude the possibility of the much-talked-about ‘minus-one formula’, only the party’s bigwigs can tell. Whatever the rationale, it seems to have proven useful in keeping Mr Khan at the front and centre of national political discourse. As in years past, the state seemed intent on demonstrating the logic of power over law, repeatedly blocking court orders, refusing the jailed ex-prime minister visitation rights or phone calls with his children, and breaking up opposition gatherings and protests with force. The heavy-handedness on display cemented the perception that the so-called ‘hybrid regime’ of yesteryear had evolved into something new, and that it now had a ‘zero tolerance’ policy for political dissent. Not all was hunky dory within the ruling coalition’s ranks either. A major dispute flared up early in the year between the PPP and PML-N over a proposal to irrigate the Cholistan desert. The PPP, which rules Sindh, accused the PML-N governments in the centre and Punjab of threatening the lower riparian province’s water rights. The proposal was eventually shelved. Another serious dispute arose when the PPP pushed for disbursal of relief and aid through the Benazir Income Support Programme after the devastating monsoon floods in Punjab, while the PML-N insisted on its own ‘relief card’ initiative. Matters turned ugly as the scions of both parties took jibes at each other. However, party elders intervened and the alliance remained intact, with the two parties even jointly contesting some by-elections in the latter part of the year. Another development of note on the political front was the o utlawing of the Tehreek-i-Labbaik Pakistan . The far-right political party crossed one line too many by insisting on holding its ‘Gaza solidarity march’ in October, which was to start from Lahore and Faisalabad and culminate outside the US embassy in Islamabad. The state, still revelling in its newfound bonhomie with the Trump administration , would not have it, and made its intentions clear. Defying Section 144, internet suspensions, heavy policy deployment and road blockades, the TLP attempted to press ahead anyway. A violent confrontation ensued, which quickly turned deadly. The government was eventually successful in dispersing the party’s workers and arrested thousands in the ensuing crackdown. The party was officially banned by the federal cabinet on Oct 23, and its leaders remain absconding. The fruits of this monumental realignment of our state have yet to be seen. Judicial developments Things were no quieter on the judicial front. The year saw profound changes to Pakistan’s judicial landscape, sparking intense debate over independence and institutional balance. The seeds of the crisis were sown early in the year, when judges from other high courts were transferred to the Islamabad High Court. It quickly became clear that not only were the new judges being moved to ‘dilute’ the IHC’s ideological leaning, they would also displace its existing judges in the court’s seniority lists. Despite attempts to secure justice for the affected judges, the architects of this ‘reshuffle’ were ultimately successful in installing one of the transferred judges as the IHC chief justice. And then came the kicker. November brought with it the contentious 27th Amendment , which would completely upend the judiciary. Its enactment resulted in the creation of the Federal Constitutional Court (FCC), and the reconstitution of key bodies like the Judicial Commission of Pakistan and the Supreme Judicial Council. There was considerable criticism. It was not without reason: the FCC stripped the Supreme Court of its original jurisdiction over constitutional matters, fundamental rights, and federal-provincial disputes. Even more problematic was the fact that the amendment granted the president (on the prime minister’s advice) the power to appoint the first batch of FCC judges, and to authorise the transfer of high court judges across provinces without their consent. It was clear to many that the existing judiciary had been completely neutralised. The amendment led to the immediate resignation of two senior Supreme Court judges on Nov 14, who regretted the “hollowing out” of the Supreme Court in their parting letters. Internal security The same year, Pakistan was grappling with the severest resurgence of terrorism in over a decade. By the end of the first three quarters of 2025, Pakistan looked set to surpass the previous year’s numbers. Through the first 11 months, independent monitoring by the Centre for Research and Security Studies had established at least 3,187 fatalities from violence-related incidents, surpassing the entire 2024 total of 2,546 deaths by more than 25pc. Close to 1,200 terrorism incidents had been recorded, with security forces killing close to 1,800 terrorists in response. Like the preceding year, most of this violence remained concentrated in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Balochistan. KP bore the brunt, thanks to relentless TTP assaults on security forces in the form of ambushes, suicide bombings, and raids. Balochistan saw a parallel rise in separatist attacks, with groups targeting infrastructure, convoys and ‘non-locals’. The March hijacking of the Jaffar Express, which resulted in dozens of deaths and hundreds held hostage, was the highest-profile example of terrorist violence in the outgoing year. The year saw the term ‘ fitna ’ feature more consistently in security parlance, with ‘ Fitna al-Khawarij ’ and ‘ Fitna al-Hindustan ’ used as umbrella references to actors believed to either be affiliated with religious militants (khawarij) or foreign-backed elements (specifically, India). Introduced a year earlier, the narrative strategy seems to reflect a desire to focus the national security narrative on two hostile fronts, Afghanistan and India. Major security-related incidents were therefore categorised according to where the threat was perceived to have emanated from. The making of a field marshal THE charred remains of a school bus after May’s suicide bombing in Khuzdar. — Dawn archive The most perilous moment of the year arrived in May during the “ Marka-i-Haq ” (The Battle of Truth). Following a dastardly attack in Occupied Kashmir’s Pahalgam region in April, New Delhi continuously blamed Pakistan — without any proof — of orchestrating the incident. The Pakistani military leadership, to its credit, was well-prepared for any misadventure. When it eventually transpired, in the form of airstrikes launched in the dead of the night under ‘Operation Sindoor’, Pakistan retaliated with a stunning counterpunch that saw multiple Indian jets shot down by the Pakistan Air Force with the help of superior tactics and technologies. That marked the start of the first high-intensity drone and missile battle between the two nuclear-armed neighbours. On May 10, Washington finally stepped into the fray, to de-escalate what the US president would later describe as imminent nuclear armageddon. The imprint left by this military standoff bears a closer look. One of the most consequential decisions taken by the Pakistani leadership in the aftermath was the promotion of the then-Chief of Army Staff, General Asim Munir, to the rank of Field Marshal. This made him only the second person in Pakistan’s history to hold the title. The move paid off in more ways than one. The promotion seems to have been aimed at establishing FM Munir as more than just a ‘general’. Becoming the face of Pakistan’s military prowess, he seems to have successfully secured the attention of the American president. Mr Trump would later describe FM Munir as his “favourite field marshal” . The relationship between the two appears to have been cemented during their first meeting, a private lunch in Washington in June, shortly after which Pakistan would publicly nominate Mr Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize. FM Munir was subsequently elevated further to Chief of Defence Forces of Pakistan through the 27th Amendment. The post, which abolishes the office of the Chairman Joint Chiefs of Staff Committee, introduced a unified command structure across the armed forces of Pakistan, making the CDF the highest-ranking officer of the army, navy and air force combined. This has placed unprecedented power and authority in the hands of the field marshal, giving him authority in making strategic decisions on behalf of the entirety of the armed forces. Whether this will yield more benefits, like reducing friction between Pakistan and potential military partners where it comes to strategic agreements, remains to be seen. With the Middle East in turmoil and new arrangements being shaped to ‘manage’ its affairs, Pakistan has emerged as one of the frontline players in the regional power matrix. It will seek to capitalise on this opportunity under its new CDF. Conclusion: a hardened state Pakistan witnessed a notable regression in civil rights in 2025, particularly in the realm of digital freedoms. It began with the enactment of more amendments to Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act to expand government powers over online content and expression. Critics argued that the vague provisions would enable further suppression of dissent, journalism, and criticism of state institutions. Protests by media organisations, and legal challenges in courts couldn’t amount to much. As 2025 closes, Pakistan is a country with a vastly different institutional map than it had a year ago. With a newly minted field marshal and a government-friendly Constitutional Court, the state has centralised power more than at any point in the last two decades. However, with millions directly suffering amidst a simmering economic crisis and denied a voice in their future, the ‘stability’ claimed by the leadership remains a thin veneer over a nation under deep stress. It is imperative upon the national leadership to secure a political ceasefire and chart a collective course forward. Immense resources have been expended on maintaining the status quo, even though it is clear it isn’t viable in the long term. The history of this present dispensation doesn’t offer much room for optimism, yet the desire for normalcy still survives. Perhaps 2026 will be the year it is finally realised. One can only hope for the best.