20/05/2025
Field Marshal Asim Munir vs FM Sam Manekshaw: How FM Asim Munir Won a 4-Day War While FM Manekshaw Waged Bloodshed
By Dr. Basharat Hasan Bashir, Geopolitical Analyst
In the brutal theatre of South Asian warfare, two men stand out as towering military figures—both earning the rank of Field Marshal. But where one left a legacy of hundreds of thousands of tortured and brutally murdered civilians in East Pakistan, ashes, r***d women, and mass graves, the other fought with precision, dignity, and intellect that stunned the enemy into silence. The world has long been told the tale of Sam Manekshaw—the Indian General lionized for breaking up Pakistan in 1971. But here’s a truth rarely spoken aloud: his campaign in East Pakistan, waged through a network of guerrilla Bahinis, was not just a war—it was a humanitarian catastrophe.
Hundreds of thousands of civilians were slaughtered by Manekshaw's trained Mukti Bahini, Women—innocent, voiceless—were r***d in numbers that boggle the conscience. Cities were burned, villages razed, and families ripped apart under the boots of an army claiming to be liberators. Manekshaw orchestrated this campaign. He didn’t win a war; he executed a campaign of mass violence, murder and r**e under the cover of military strategy. For this, India awarded him its highest military title—Field Marshal. Not for peace. Not for honor. But for the blood spilled and the chaos wrought.
Now, compare that to Pakistan’s own Field Marshal Asim Munir—a man of quiet resolve and unmatched strategic brilliance. In an era of loud sabers and empty posturing, Munir led a highly technical and devastatingly efficient military operation against India that brought its air force to the ground—literally and figuratively. The war lasted just four days. No prolonged bombardment. No mass civilian casualties. No need for bloody guerrillas to do the job. Just clean, disciplined military ex*****on. His strategy didn’t just halt the Indian advance—it humbled New Delhi’s political elite, who had no choice but to seek a ceasefire.
But Munir’s legacy does not rest solely on the battlefield. When Pakistan’s economy was in disarray, teetering on the brink of collapse, it was Munir—through his leadership and national coordination—who stepped in to stabilize the storm. He brought clarity where there was chaos. Discipline where there was disorder. Economic vision where there was drift. He was not merely a soldier—he was a steward of a nation in crisis.
It is time the world looks beyond tired Indian narratives and asks: What kind of Field Marshal should we honor? The one who orchestrated mass suffering, or the one who prevented it? The one who turned war into terror, or the one who used war to restore peace?
In Sam Manekshaw, India created a war hero soaked in the blood of innocents. In Asim Munir, Pakistan found a general who chose intellect over carnage, economy over ego, and dignity over destruction. History, if it seeks justice, will remember the difference.
