From One Unit To Twelve Provinces: Why Pakistan’s ‘Reforms’ Are Really About Control

From One Unit to 12 provinces, Pakistan’s recurring “reforms” are less about governance and more about consolidating control

From One Unit To Twelve Provinces: Why Pakistan’s ‘Reforms’ Are Really About Control

“Political language is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.” — George Orwell, Politics and the English Language (1946)

Once again, Pakistan’s establishment is rolling out an old trick in a new disguise: splitting four provinces into twelve, all under the glossy claim of “better governance.” History tells a different story—these so-called reforms are rarely about efficiency or democracy, and almost always about control, distraction, and consolidation of power.

This is not new. The establishment has been experimenting with similar schemes since Pakistan’s inception. From the One Unit Scheme of 1955, which forcibly merged West Pakistan’s provinces into a single block in the name of “unity,” to Ayub Khan’s Basic Democracies system that bypassed real popular sovereignty (Sayeed, The Political System of Pakistan), to Zia-ul-Haq’s non-party elections of 1985 designed to depoliticise the electorate (Rashid, Pakistan: Between Mosque and Military), and finally Musharraf’s devolution plan of 2001, which appeared democratic but centralised control in reality (International Crisis Group, Devolution in Pakistan), the playbook is consistent: reforms as a façade for authoritarian control.

Advocates of the latest plan insist that Pakistan’s provinces are “too large” to govern effectively. But size is not the real problem. Around the world, there are provinces and states far larger than those in Pakistan—Uttar Pradesh in India, with over 240 million people or almost double the population of Punjab—functions through empowered districts and municipalities, while California in the United States, larger than Pakistan’s economy, remains a single state because it relies on strong local government. The real failure in Pakistan lies in the absence of genuine, autonomous local governments. And even when such bodies are established, they are kept on a tight leash by feudal bosses, ensuring perpetual interference from the same entrenched hierarchy of power.

History shows that control disguised as reform only deepens the crisis

Moreover, Pakistan’s provinces are not arbitrary administrative zones—they are historic homelands of federating nations and ethnic communities that consented to join Pakistan as equal units in a democratic federation. To carve them up at the whim of the establishment is not reform but rupture. It will fracture identities, provoke resentment, and deepen mistrust between the federation and its constituent nations. Worse still, the new provinces will not empower ordinary citizens; they will simply create more offices for the same feudal lords, tribal bosses, and client elites subservient to the establishment.

The key question remains: who will actually run the show—the people, or the establishment? If all major portfolios, decisions, and levers of power remain in the hands of the same entrenched military-bureaucratic hierarchy—propped up by tribal, feudal, client-capitalist elites and fundamentalist clergy—then slicing provinces into smaller units is nothing more than a street charmer’s trick, distracting the public while consolidating power.

This pattern is global. Military regimes everywhere have used administrative restructuring as a tool of control:

  • Nigeria: Four regions became twelve, then thirty-six states—claimed as efficiency but intended to weaken ethnic unity (Suberu, Federalism and Ethnic Conflict in Nigeria).
  • Indonesia under Suharto: Provinces in Aceh, Papua, and East Timor were divided to suppress separatism and empower military-backed elites (Aspinall, Opposing Suharto).
  • Sudan: Provincial boundaries were redrawn to pit communities against each other, prolonging civil war and ultimately creating South Sudan (Johnson, The Root Causes of Sudan’s Civil Wars).
  • Myanmar: Ethnic minority zones were administered by ex-military governors, turning reform into direct resource extraction (Callahan, Making Enemies: War and State Building in Burma).
  • Egypt: Governorate reshuffling was used to maintain military-bureaucratic dominance (Cook, Ruling But Not Governing).

The strategy is clear: divide, distract, dominate. Rhetoric about efficiency or national unity masks the same underlying goal—tightening the grip of unelected powers.

In Pakistan, this new and futile experiment will do nothing to improve governance. Instead, it will further jeopardise law and order and deepen the economic crisis. Either it is a planned deception to grab more of the public’s resources, or a reckless attempt to incite conflict among the country’s diverse communities.

In either case, it is not reform but regression. Pakistan does not need administrative gimmicks. It needs real democracy, genuine accountability, and policies shaped by the will of its people, not another scheme from those who have long mistaken control for governance.

History shows that control disguised as reform only deepens the crisis. Pakistan must break the cycle.