Faaiz Amir

Congratulations

A moment of pride for Iran.
A pragmatic choice by the USA.
A touch of disappointment for Israel.
A renewed heartbeat for the GCC.
A spark of hope for Gaza.
An hour of joy for the world.
A time of consequence for Pakistan.

Well done, Pakistan.

The Permanence of the Temporary

Once upon a time, service to the state had a beginning and an end. A man or woman joined, served, retired, and made way for others. That was before “extension” became the highest form of recognition in public life—the final promotion one receives not for achievement, but for endurance and manoeuvre.

The word ‘extension’—once reserved for telephone lines—has evolved into a lifeline for the elite. Whispered in corridors, alluded to in primetime sitcoms, and dreaded in drawing rooms, the nation’s most anticipated ritual has acquired sanctity of its own.

We are told that certain men are “indispensable.” That without them, policies would falter, the economy would crumble, and the Islamic Republic itself would stand exposed and insecure. So, their tenures are stretched—a year, sometimes two, or until the people forget to care. Meanwhile, the younger lot, watching from below, learn an early and lasting lesson: that loyalty to the right patron matters more than competence and commitment.

In most countries, bureaucracy is a career. In ours, it’s a cycle of reincarnation. Every time a privileged senior officer approaches retirement, the heavens open, and a “special task” descends that only he, and he alone, can perform. The country, apparently, has no other capable soul. The work slows down, subordinates hold their breath, and all eyes turn upward, waiting to see if a miracle will descend from the Establishment Division. It usually does.

Once extended, the bureaucrat becomes a minor deity—answerable to none, immune to accountability, and cushioned by perks that would make a feudal lord blush. There’s a dedicated cavalcade, a staff that salutes before thinking, and perks and privileges enhanced in recognition of continued service. Of course, ‘service’ here means an uninterrupted propensity to say yes to whoever must be pleased.

In the judiciary, the principle is no different, only the language is more refined. There, an extension is wrapped in noble intents of continuity, institutional memory, or reform in progress. But at its core lies the same instinct: the reluctance to let go, a wish to test the elasticity of justice and tenure. It is not a service to the law, but an attachment to privilege. The robe becomes lighter, decisions become easier, and the package grows heavier.

Elsewhere, extensions have been perfected into an art form. Extension is not just a privilege—it is a license for perpetuity in doctrine. If bureaucrats get a year, and judges get two, the men in uniform get an era. National security, after all, cannot be risked on something as trivial as a calendar. Whole doctrines have been built to justify them, as if the nation would collapse the day a new name appears on the horizon. The notion of indispensability runs deep as it underpins the architecture of our power.

Extension has become a culture, a belief that the nation is a fragile toy that only the old hands know how to operate. No one asks what this culture does to an institution. When the top refuses to retire, the middle stops hoping, and the bottom stops trying. As this plays out, sycophancy and obedience become the only path to upward mobility.

The system, stripped of movement and talent, begins to decay politely but perceptibly. The only real losers are merit, morale, and the idea that institutions should outlive individuals.

Extension, in truth, has little to do with efficiency and everything to do with the fear of mortality. Beneath the rhetoric of continuity lies the familiar mix of greed, insecurity, and the dread of fading into ordinariness once the chair is gone.
And so, the country continues to run on borrowed time, managed by men who cannot leave and others who never get the chance to arrive.

Trump wins the election. The flip side is he is the '47th' POTUS.