Self Made Fieldmarshal

In the annals of Pakistan’s turbulent political and military history, few names provoke as much debate as Field Marshal Muhammad Ayub Khan. Once hailed as a savior of the nation and the architect of “guided democracy,” his legacy today lies in ruins—overshadowed by his obsession with self-glorification, cult personality, and political overreach.

A Rise Shrouded in Favoritism
Ayub Khan’s ascent to power began not on the battlefield, but in the corridors of influence. In 1951, despite being the junior-most general in Rawalpindi, he was appointed as Commander-in-Chief of the Pakistan Army. The decision baffled many. Why him?
The answer lies in Iskandar Mirza, then Defence Secretary, and Liaquat Ali Khan, Pakistan’s first Prime Minister. Liaquat, trusting Mirza’s counsel, promoted Ayub over more senior officers—viewing him as compliant, loyal, and politically unambitious. Ironically, this perception would prove to be tragically mistaken.

Jinnah’s Forewarning
There’s a telling anecdote often repeated among political circles: Quaid-e-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah, upon meeting Ayub Khan, allegedly remarked, “Be careful of this man. He’s too ambitious.” Whether apocryphal or not, the statement captures the crux of Ayub’s character—a man with an eye not just on the ranks, but on the reins of the state itself.

The Self-Styled Field Marshal
By 1958, Ayub had dismissed his political patrons and declared himself President of Pakistan through a military coup. Just a year later, in 1959, he took the unprecedented and controversial step of promoting himself to Field Marshal—a move devoid of military justification or institutional approval.
There was no major war victory, no historic campaign, no military revolution that merited this title. It was, as later acknowledged by Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, “a political decision” to place Ayub head and shoulders above the rest of the generals. The rank, traditionally earned in Europe through monumental wartime achievement, was in Pakistan bestowed by Ayub… upon himself.

Politicians and Historians React
The reaction was swift and scathing. Senior politicians criticized the act as a vanity stunt, and military professionals saw it as a mockery of meritocracy. Historians like Dr. Ayesha Jalal and Stephen P. Cohen argued that Ayub’s promotion marked the beginning of military authoritarianism in Pakistan—where rank was no longer tied to honor or war, but to power and ego.

The "Field Marshal" soon became more a title of ridicule than reverence, especially after the 1965 Indo-Pak War, where the nation expected strategic brilliance from its top soldier. Instead, General Musa Khan led the war effort, while Ayub remained largely absent from command decisions. His role in the war was passive, further exposing the hollowness of his self-appointed glory.

People Reclaim Their Voice
Ayub’s carefully crafted cult of personality—through state-controlled media, portraits, parades, and praise poetry—began to crack under the weight of reality. The war, economic inequality, press censorship, and rising political unrest culminated in mass protests in 1969. The people who had once tolerated his “benevolent dictatorship” now demanded his ouster.

Faced with a country on the brink, Ayub Khan resigned, handing power to General Yahya Khan. From that moment onward, his life slipped into political obscurity.
Ayub spent the remainder of his life in shame and silence—far from the public eye, far from the pomp of his heyday. He lived in his home in Islamabad, seldom seen and rarely heard. The once-powerful “Field Marshal” died in 1974, a man whose rise was meteoric but whose fall was absolute.

Ayub Khan’s story is not just about a man—it is about a mindset that blurs ambition with entitlement, power with glory, and military might with political authority. His self-appointment as Field Marshal will forever remain a symbol of institutional decay, of how a republic can stumble when one man begins to believe he is the nation.
History, as always, outlasts the cults. And in Ayub Khan’s case, it has judged without mercy.