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Pakistan’s Emergency Rule Raises Uncomfortable Questions for Brussels

The imposition of emergency rule in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, an opposition-controlled province, raises disturbing questions about the relationship between Pakistan’s civilian government and its powerful military establishment. Is this a legitimate response to terrorism, or another calculated assault on democracy?

There is an old saying in Pakistan that most countries have an army, but in Pakistan the army has a country. It is a cynical observation, certainly, but one that has survived successive governments, constitutional crises and military interventions with remarkable durability.

The latest developments in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, the northwestern province governed by the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) party of imprisoned former Prime Minister Imran Khan, suggest that the observation may be as relevant today as ever.

President Asif Ali Zardari’s decision to impose emergency rule in the province, ostensibly in response to deteriorating security conditions, has prompted an obvious and deeply uncomfortable question: is Pakistan witnessing another military coup, albeit one conducted without tanks surrounding parliament or generals appearing on television to announce the suspension of democracy?

The answer depends largely upon how one defines a coup.

A constitutional manoeuvre with political consequences

Under Pakistan’s constitutional framework, federal authorities possess emergency powers that can, under specified circumstances, override provincial administrations.

Such powers are not inherently illegitimate. Khyber Pakhtunkhwa has experienced serious violence involving the Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), and the federal government has a responsibility to protect citizens against terrorist attacks.

Nevertheless, the timing of the intervention demands scrutiny.

The province represents one of the most significant remaining political strongholds of Imran Khan, whose imprisonment and continuing confrontation with Pakistan’s political establishment have generated considerable unrest.

Suspending an elected provincial administration in these circumstances inevitably raises suspicions that national security has become a convenient instrument for achieving political objectives.

The crucial distinction is between responding to a genuine emergency and exploiting that emergency to neutralise an inconvenient opposition.

Pakistan’s authorities must demonstrate not merely that a security threat exists, but that the removal of elected provincial leadership is necessary and proportionate.

The army that never really left politics

Pakistan’s military has exercised an extraordinary degree of influence over the country’s political development since independence in 1947.

General Ayub Khan seized power in 1958. General Zia-ul-Haq overthrew Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s government in 1977. General Pervez Musharraf removed Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif in 1999.

These were unmistakable military coups, involving direct intervention against civilian authority.

Yet Pakistan’s experience also demonstrates that generals need not formally assume the presidency to dominate political affairs. The military establishment has long maintained substantial influence over national security, relations with India, Afghanistan policy and, at various moments, the composition and survival of civilian governments.

Under Field Marshal Asim Munir, the relationship between the armed forces and civilian political authority has again attracted intense scrutiny. The central question is therefore not simply whether Pakistan’s generals have seized power. It is whether elected politicians retain sufficient independence to exercise it.

Imran Khan and the price of political defiance

Imran Khan’s political trajectory illustrates the extraordinary volatility of Pakistan’s relationship between civilian leadership and military power.

Once widely regarded as enjoying the establishment’s favour, Khan subsequently became one of its most prominent critics. His removal through a parliamentary no-confidence vote in April 2022 marked the beginning of an increasingly bitter confrontation.

His subsequent imprisonment, the prosecution of PTI figures and restrictions affecting the party’s political activities have fuelled allegations that Pakistan’s democratic institutions are being manipulated to exclude a popular opposition movement.

The authorities reject accusations of politically motivated persecution, while Khan’s supporters insist that his treatment demonstrates the extent to which democratic competition has been compromised.

Against this background, emergency intervention in a PTI-governed province cannot reasonably be viewed in isolation. It forms part of a wider struggle over who ultimately controls Pakistan’s political future.

A coup without the traditional trappings?

The latest emergency is particularly significant because Pakistan’s civilian government and military leadership appear aligned in their criticism of PTI.

According to Reuters reporting on 11 October, the province will be administered by a governor for an initial six months, with troops deployed to support security operations.

Hundreds of activists and three of Khan’s sisters have reportedly been detained ahead of opposition demonstrations.

PTI spokesperson Zulfikar Bukhari has characterised the emergency as a disguised coup. Even Maulana Fazlur Rehman, whose party has been involved in mediation efforts, condemned the intervention as an attack on democracy.

Yet evidence that the military directly ordered the takeover remains absent from the public record. Accusations of military involvement should be investigated rather than treated as established fact.

Nevertheless, a coup need not always involve soldiers removing a prime minister. Democratic institutions can also be progressively hollowed out through ostensibly lawful decisions that concentrate authority and deprive opposition parties of meaningful power.

A dangerous precedent for Pakistan

For Pakistan’s international partners, including the European Union, the implications extend beyond an internal constitutional dispute.

Pakistan benefits from preferential access to European markets under the EU’s GSP+ trading arrangement, which is linked to commitments concerning human rights, democratic governance and international conventions. Brussels should therefore be watching developments closely.

If emergency powers become a mechanism for suppressing political opposition rather than protecting public security, the European Commission will face legitimate questions about Pakistan’s adherence to its international obligations.

The immediate crisis may not constitute a conventional military coup. But the more troubling possibility is that Pakistan’s political system is evolving towards a form of government in which elections continue, civilian politicians remain in office, and the military’s influence is sufficiently powerful to determine the boundaries of democracy.

For Imran Khan‘s supporters, that distinction may offer little consolation.

Pakistan’s generals have seized power openly before. The question now is whether they need to do so again.

Geneva side event sharpens focus on Pakistan’s GSP+ status and rights record

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Saudi Arabia Has Allies. But Who Will Fight Its War in Yemen?

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Saudi Arabia is desperately trying to reverse its losses on the ground in the Yemeni conflict, while Houthi attacks reach its airports and threaten its oil trade. Yet the coalition Riyadh has assembled does not match the war it wants to fight. Washington is engaged in the conflict with Iran, Turkey excludes offensive deployments, and Pakistan draws the line at crossing into Yemen. The kingdom has foreign support, but the burden of recovering and holding territory still falls on its weakened Yemeni partners.

Retreat Before the Counteroffensive

By early October 2026, Riyadh was responding to a deteriorating military position. The Houthis’ September advance along Yemen’s western coast brought the loss of Mokha and strategic positions around Bab el-Mandeb. These setbacks exposed the weakness of Saudi-backed forces and strengthened the Houthis’ leverage over a shipping route increasingly important to Saudi oil exports.

The renewed Saudi–Houthi escalation began with the July 13, 2026, strike on Sanaa airport’s runway. Saudi aircraft sought to prevent an Iranian Mahan Air flight carrying a senior Houthi delegation from landing without coalition permission. The plane later landed in Hodeida after Omani mediation, but the Houthis retaliated against Abha airport and subsequently announced a blockade on Saudi shipping. The strike broke the relative calm established by the 2022 truce; September’s coastal offensive then turned the confrontation into a major territorial setback for Riyadh’s partners.

The retreat exposed divisions within the anti-Houthi camp. Saudi–Emirati cooperation had broken down, and the withdrawal of the UAE left command arrangements that Riyadh failed to replace effectively. The factions expected to carry the offensive remained divided and poorly prepared for a sustained campaign. Saudi airpower could not compensate for the absence of a coherent local force.

The cost is also being felt inside Saudi Arabia. The October 10, 2026, attack on Riyadh’s King Khalid International Airport killed 12 people and wounded 309, according to Saudi authorities, and temporarily suspended operations. Riyadh blamed the Houthis, who renewed their warning against using Saudi airports and airspace on October 11. Airport disruption, cancelled flights and attacks on oil facilities bring the economic consequences of the war directly into the kingdom. The Saudi air campaign has not secured its civilian infrastructure.

Operation Dawn of Yemen began on October 5, 2026, after Saudi-backed Yemeni leader Rashad al-Alimi announced military action the previous day. The immediate objective was to recover the coastal positions lost in September, alongside the Saudi-backed Yemeni government’s broader ambition to restore its authority over Houthi-held territory. On October 11, the coalition announced the destruction of 136 military targets in a large-scale operation. That tally says little about whether Saudi-backed units can hold territory, secure supply routes or reopen shipping lanes.

Houthi footage released October 10, 2026: Shawaz drone strikes on Saudi-backed forces in Kahbub and Al-Waziya, as presented by the movement’s military media


Why Taiz Matters

The counteroffensive has produced conflicting accounts of control on the coast. On October 9, 2026, Saudi Arabia’s ambassador to Yemen announced that Bab el-Mandeb and Mayun Island had been cleared of Houthi forces. The Houthis maintained that they still held those positions. Control of the waterway remains contested, despite Riyadh’s announcements of success.

Taiz adds another strain after the coastal setbacks. Pressure on its approaches threatens supply routes and forces Saudi-backed units to divide their effort between the inland front and the Red Sea coast. The Houthis can disrupt their opponents’ counteroffensive without winning every coastal engagement: sustained pressure inland prevents those opponents from concentrating their forces. Saudi airpower does not resolve the fragmentation of the Saudi-backed Yemeni forces expected to hold the ground.

Houthi military footage released October 10, 2026: the movement presents advances and the surrender of opposing fighters in Sami, As-Silw and Al-Mawasit, Taiz province. The fighting places further pressure on the ground forces on which Riyadh’s campaign depends


The Iran War Narrows Saudi Options

The US–Israeli war with Iran, which began in February 2026, has expanded the military demands on Washington. Regional deployments, shipping protection and operations against Iran compete with Saudi requests for a larger American role in Yemen. Riyadh cannot assume that American support will expand on its terms. Its dependence on outside assistance has grown at the same time as the regional war has made that assistance more conditional.

The Iran war compounds Saudi Arabia’s vulnerability. Disruption at Hormuz has increased Riyadh’s dependence on its westbound pipeline and Red Sea ports. Southbound cargoes from Yanbu must pass Bab el-Mandeb; northbound exports follow a different route. Moving crude across the peninsula bypasses Hormuz, but it does not remove the threat to shipping off Yemen.

Pressure at Bab el-Mandeb gives Iran an additional advantage while the Houthis gain territory and bargaining power of their own. Their overlapping interests put Riyadh under pressure on two fronts. A Washington–Tehran agreement would not automatically end the war in Yemen: the Houthis have their own territorial, political and economic demands.

Washington is already involved through military advisers, intelligence and targeting support. The issue is the extent of that involvement, not American neutrality. Earlier in October 2026, Trump rejected Saudi requests for direct strikes; after the Riyadh airport attack, he said the United States might join them. Riyadh still lacks a firm American commitment to the wider offensive. Its requests compete with Washington’s military operations and priorities in the Iran war.

Allies Draw Their Own Lines

Riyadh’s response is to widen its support network through the Mecca pact, signed with Turkey and Pakistan on August 7, 2026, and activated on October 5. But an agreement to defend Saudi Arabia is not an agreement to win its war in Yemen. Pakistan’s military presence and Turkey’s technical, intelligence and air-defense assistance address the kingdom’s security without supplying a joint ground campaign across the border.

The alliance has a secretary-general, retired Pakistani general Nauman Mahmood, but its detailed force-generation timetable, operational command arrangements, cost-sharing formula and mission duration remain unpublished. On October 8, 2026, Ankara excluded offensive operations while parliamentary ratification was pending. On October 9, Islamabad confirmed a substantial military presence in the kingdom but ruled out crossing into Yemen to attack the Houthis. Riyadh is obtaining defensive commitments, not a combined expeditionary army.

Pakistan’s decision-making has also shifted. In 2015, parliament unanimously rejected participation in the Yemen war while promising to defend Saudi territory and holy sites. In October 2026, reinforcement commitments are proceeding without a parliamentary vote. The government says it followed the necessary procedures. The political result is a narrower domestic debate over a commitment that could draw Pakistan further into the conflict.

Fewer political checks make deployments easier to authorize and harder to reconsider once costs and casualties accumulate. Pakistan’s own security pressures add another burden: the October 11, 2026, emergency in opposition-run Khyber Pakhtunkhwa coincides with its commitments to Saudi Arabia. Islamabad is extending support abroad while managing a deepening confrontation at home.

Peshawar, October 11, 2026: police guard the approach to the Red Zone. Pakistan’s overseas security commitments coincide with emergency measures at home

Saudi-led coalition footage, October 9, 2026: the coalition announces strikes on three Houthi missile launchers. The continuing attacks inside Saudi Arabia expose the limits of destroying individual launch sites


Defensive support can still sustain the offensive by freeing Saudi assets for use in Yemen. France’s support for the defense of Yanbu and Britain’s refueling assistance contribute to that effort. But none of this repairs the weakness of Riyadh’s Yemeni ground forces. Pakistan also has its border with Iran and its mediation role to consider, while Turkey keeps its commitment separate from offensive operations. Each partner sets limits according to its own interests.

Different Interests, No Shared Victory

Pakistan’s proposed $1.21 billion IMF disbursement awaits board approval. Turkey’s September 2026 inflation was 29.73%, with its policy rate at 37%. Both face financial pressures that favor limited missions over an open-ended expedition. Who pays for the current assistance remains undisclosed.

Saudi Arabia’s updated deficit forecast is 4.9% of GDP. September 2026’s non-oil purchasing managers’ index stood at 55.3, indicating expansion before the latest escalation. The airport attacks and disruption to transport now place that activity under additional pressure. Riyadh must finance the campaign while protecting the infrastructure and trade on which its wider economic plans depend.

The Houthis are using that pressure to advance their negotiating demands. On October 10, 2026, the Houthi authorities proposed reciprocal exclusion of airports, ports and other humanitarian infrastructure from blockade and attack. The proposal seeks to exchange limits on disruption for concessions over access and blockade. It puts the economic consequences of continued fighting at the center of the bargaining.

The conflict of interests runs through the entire coalition. Riyadh wants to reverse Houthi gains and protect Saudi infrastructure. The Saudi-backed Yemeni government wants to restore its authority. Turkey and Pakistan seek bounded commitments, and Washington calculates its involvement against the Iran war. The Houthis seek concessions while preserving their military leverage. A common adversary has not produced an agreed objective or a shared willingness to bear the cost.

Saudi Arabia therefore has partners willing to help defend the kingdom, but those partners have made no common commitment to reverse Riyadh’s setbacks in Yemen or sustain the ground campaign of the Saudi-backed Yemeni government. That is the gap behind the coalition’s announcements and strike tallies. Without stronger local forces and a political settlement addressing shipping, attacks and access, additional foreign support can prolong the campaign without resolving it. Riyadh risks remaining surrounded by allies while carrying a war none of them has agreed to finish.


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