The ongoing conflict over water distribution is likely to intensify as the country is facing a severe water crisis.

The conflict over water distribution in Pakistan has resurfaced. Sindh and Balochistan have registered a strong protest against the Indus River System Authority(IRSA)’s decision to reduce their water share by diverting it to Punjab. IRSA is Pakistan’s main body responsible for “the regulation and distribution of surface waters amongst the provinces according to the allocations and policies spelt out in the Water Accord” 1991.

Sindh’s ongoing water shortage stems from IRSA’s actions, which, by allocating more water to Punjab despite overall scarcity, intensify perceptions of unfairness and fuel the conflict over water distribution. This pattern has sharpened the provincial dispute, positioning Punjab as a consistent beneficiary at Sindh’s expense. 

This is not the first time that the issue of water distribution has been contested between Punjab and Sindh. The country has a long history in which smaller provinces complained against Punjab over the unfair distribution of resources, including water.

In a major development, after years of delay, the Government of Pakistan issued the first National Water Policy (NWP) in 2018. Claimed to be have formed after gaining the consensus of the chief ministers of all four provinces, the NWP, according to the Planning Commission Deputy Chairman Sartaj Aziz, “covered all water-related issues, including water uses and allocation of priorities, integrated planning for development and use of water resources, environmental integrity of the basin, impact of climate change, trans-boundary water sharing, irrigated and rain-fed agriculture.” However, the committee subsequently formed to oversee its implementation could not reconcile the interests of Punjab and Sindh, mainly. 

Sindh is of the view that the policy was formed under coercion, as the Pakistan Muslim League-N (PML-N), the party with a strong presence in Punjab, was leading the federal government, forcing the decision upon smaller provinces. Sartaj Aziz, the deputy chairman of the Planning Commission, was considered to be close to Nawaz Sharif. So, the reservations of Sindh and Balochistan may not be entirely unfounded. 

In 2021, Sindh raised the issue and demanded a new water-sharing arrangement. The conflict came into the limelight in January 2025 when Pakistan People’s Party (PPP) chairman Bilawal Bhutto and the PML-N-led government in Punjab, led by Nawaz Sharif’s daughter Maryam Nawaz, issued strong statements against each other over a project in Punjab—the Cholistan canal project. 

In February 2025, Chief Minister of Punjab Maryam Nawaz and Army Chief Gen. Asim Munir inaugurated an ambitious project in Cholistan to irrigate barren land under the Green Pakistan Initiative. The project would draw new canals from the Indus River, impacting the lower riparian Sindh Province. 

The decision expectedly led to a reaction from Sindh and protests from the Sindhis. They alleged that allocations were already extensively in Punjab’s favour, and any new such project would cripple Sindh’s irrigation system. Bilawal Bhutto even threatened that if the canal project was not shelved, his party would leave the alliance government in the centre. Unmoved by such threats, Maryam Nawaz said in September 2025 that “If Punjab wants to construct canals for its water, why are you bothered? It is Punjab’s water. It belongs to the people, farmers and fields of Punjab.” To make such a statement would not have been possible without the support of the Army who seen siding with Punjab.

The Cholistan canal project’s inauguration illustrates how Punjab’s dominance in Pakistan’s power structure influences resource allocation. High-profile involvement of the Army leadership in the project reinforces the perception that Punjab’s interests prevail over those of the smaller provinces, exemplifying the central argument that resource disputes are shaped by entrenched political and institutional imbalances.

Second, the project was launched despite the fact that Sindh had strongly protested against it; thus, it showed that Punjab pays the least attention to the concerns of smaller provinces. In the past as well, Sindh and Balochistan have raised the larger question about the water distribution in the country, which they think is not fair and needs renegotiation, but have not received any response from the federation. 

The latest controversy underscores the same attitude of the Punjab Province towards the smaller and weaker provinces of the country. Instead of being mindful of the requirements and demands of Sindh and Balochistan, Punjab’s interests remain preferable for the country’s rulers. 

Former President of the United States, John F. Kennedy, had said that “Anyone who can solve the problems of water will be worthy of two Nobel Prizes—one for peace and one for science.” Kennedy had said these prescient words over sixty years ago. Still, Pakistan has been unable to address one of its core issues—the water scarcity and the distribution of its water resources among the provinces equally. 

For over 70 years of its formation, Pakistan’s colonial hangover continues. Despite all these challenges, the colonial structure has been deployed by the existing military-bureaucratic oligarchy, as the noted political scientist of Pakistan, Hamza Alavi, called it, to favour the powerful province, i.e., Punjab, over other weak provinces of the country. 

Resultantly, in the total share of the country’s water resources, equal distribution is hampered by the existing political system that remains overwhelmingly dominated by the Punjabis. For example, Field Marshall Asim Munir is the fourth successive Punjabi to lead the country’s powerful military, which remains dominated by the Punjabis. Of the last seven prime ministers since 2008, all but Imran Khan have been Punjabis. 

Implications of such a political system in which the largest province has been a dominant and driving force have often led to conflicts, for example, on the distribution of resources. Balochistan’s main complaint has been the exploitation of its resources by the Punjab Province at the cost of the local population: they call it Punjabi colonisation of Balochistan. And Sindh has often raised its concerns about the Punjab’s overuse of water that is meant for its use.

The ongoing conflict over water distribution is likely to intensify as the country is facing a severe water crisis. If Punjab continues its recklessness and prefers its interests over the weaker provinces, local resistance in Sindh and Balochistan will strengthen, forcing the provincial governments to take a stand against the federal government. That can lead to confrontational politics and even the fall of the government, if the PPP withdraws its support, as Bilawal had threatened. 

Overall, the situation remains grimmer than it seems. The military establishment might have forced the PPP to be part of the government, but if the local basic requirements, like water, are not delivered by the PPP-led government in Sindh, it cannot retain the support of the Sindhis, the third largest ethnic group of Pakistan- after Punjabis and Pashtuns. If their resistance revives against the Punjabi domination, the subsequent strengthening of the Sindhudesh movement can expose yet another fault line of Pakistan.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

At the centre of the ongoing unrest in Pakistan occupied Jammu-Kashmir lies a challenge that extends beyond electricity tariffs and inflation. The deeper issue is governance and a widening trust deficit between citizens and institutions.

The political unrest witnessed across Pakistan administered Kashmir since 2023 and the parallel grievances emerging in Gilgit-Baltistan represent one of the most significant governance challenges confronting Pakistan in recent years. While public attention has largely focused on the immediate triggers of protests; electricity tariffs, wheat subsidies, inflation and rising costs of living, the underlying causes are far deeper and more structural.

The rise of the Joint Awami Action Committee (JAAC) has transformed local economic grievances into a broader movement demanding accountability, transparency and political responsiveness. The movement has highlighted growing dissatisfaction regarding governance practices, implementation of government commitments and the perceived disconnect between decision makers and ordinary citizens.

At the same time, recurring protests in Gilgit-Baltistan regarding constitutional status, resource utilisation, development priorities and economic opportunities have exposed similar governance fault lines. Although Pakistan administered Kashmir and Gilgit-Baltistan remain distinct political entities, both regions demonstrate increasing demands for meaningful participation in decision making and a greater share of economic benefits arising from strategic projects.

The central question confronting Pakistan government is whether existing institutions can adapt to rising public expectations regarding accountability, representation and development.

The mountains of Kashmir and Gilgit-Baltistan have historically been viewed through the lens of geopolitics. However, political developments of the last five years suggest a gradual shift in public priorities.

Increasingly, ordinary citizens are focusing on issues that directly affect their daily lives. The cost of electricity, availability of employment, quality of infrastructure, reliability of public services and effectiveness of governance have become central concerns. These issues have generated a new form of political mobilisation that differs significantly from traditional political movements.

The emergence of the Joint Awami Action Committee represents perhaps the clearest example of this transformation. Unlike conventional political organisations, JAAC derived its legitimacy not from ideological positions or constitutional debates but from its ability to articulate practical concerns affecting ordinary citizens.

The current unrest should therefore be understood not simply as a reaction to economic hardship but as part of a broader process through which citizens seek greater accountability, responsiveness and participation in governance.

 Rise of  Joint Awami Action Committee

The emergence of the Joint Awami Action Committee represents one of the most significant political developments in Pakistan occupied Jammu-Kashmir in recent years. Unlike traditional political parties, JAAC emerged organically from civil society and grassroots activism. Its origins can be traced to growing public dissatisfaction regarding inflation, rising electricity tariffs and the increasing cost of essential commodities.

Initially, the movement focused on economic concerns. Citizens questioned why regions possessing significant hydropower resources continued to face high electricity costs. Many argued that local populations were not receiving adequate benefits from resources generated within their own territory.

What distinguished JAAC from previous protest movements was its ability to unite diverse segments of society. Traders, transport unions, lawyers, students, labour organisations and civil society groups increasingly coordinated their activities under a common platform.

As demonstrations expanded, the movement’s demands evolved. Economic grievances gradually merged with governance concerns. Protesters began demanding greater transparency, accountability and implementation of previous commitments. Public discourse increasingly focused on whether institutions were capable of responding effectively to citizen concerns.

The rise of JAAC reflects broader regional trends where issue-based movements centered on governance, accountability and public services increasingly challenging the traditional political structures.

Accountability and Crisis of Trust

At the centre of the ongoing unrest in Pakistan occupied Jammu-Kashmir lies a challenge that extends beyond electricity tariffs and inflation. The deeper issue is governance and a widening trust deficit between citizens and institutions. Repeated protests indicate growing concern regarding responsiveness, transparency and implementation of commitments. Disputes over agreements reached between protest leaders and authorities have reinforced perceptions that institutions are not adequately accountable. Economic hardship has intensified these concerns, while digital connectivity has enabled citizens to compare governance outcomes across regions and just across the LoC in Jammu & Kashmir. The resulting crisis is therefore not merely administrative but fundamentally political, centered on legitimacy and public confidence.

POJK and Balochistan: Similar Fault Lines, Different Challenges

Although Pakistan occupied Jammu-Kashmir and Balochistan differ substantially in history and political context, both reveal recurring debates regarding resource utilisation, local participation and development outcomes. In both regions, citizens frequently question whether the benefits generated from local resources are distributed equitably. Another similarity concerns perceptions of centralised decision making and limited local influence over major policy choices. However, important differences remain. The movement in POJK has largely remained civil and issue based, while Balochistan has experienced a prolonged insurgency alongside political activism. The comparison highlights how governance grievances can evolve into broader political challenges when populations feel excluded from decision making processes.

Lessons from East Pakistan

The history of East Pakistan and the emergence of Bangladesh in 1971 remains a significant lesson in political legitimacy, representation and governance. Historians point to a combination of political exclusion, economic disparities and institutional failures as contributing factors. The contemporary relevance of this experience lies not in drawing direct parallels but in recognising the importance of responsive institutions and public trust. States derive resilience from legitimacy as much as from administrative capacity. The lesson for policymakers is that sustainable stability requires meaningful participation, accountable governance and confidence that institutions represent citizen interests.

Gilgit-Baltistan: Pakistan’s Emerging Strategic Challenge

Gilgit-Baltistan occupies a critical strategic position linking South Asia, Central Asia and China. Its importance has increased significantly with regional connectivity projects and the China Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC). Despite this strategic significance, recurring public debates concerning constitutional status, subsidies, electricity shortages, trade restrictions and local participation in development have generated periodic protests. Many residents argue that while the region contributes substantially to national strategic objectives, local communities do not always perceive proportional economic benefits. This tension between strategic priorities and local expectations represents one of the most significant governance challenges facing policymakers.

Comparative Development Across LOC

The digital age has transformed public awareness. Citizens increasingly compare governance outcomes, infrastructure, education, healthcare and economic opportunities across regions mainly in Jammu & Kashmir. Such comparisons influence perceptions of governance effectiveness and political legitimacy. Arguably, comparative narratives has shaped the public expectations and it has placed pressure on Pakistan government to demonstrate tangible development outcomes. Infrastructure, tourism, public services and employment opportunities have become important indicators through which populations evaluate governance performance.

Pakistan’s Strategic Dilemma

Pakistan faces a complex challenge in balancing security, development and political responsiveness. Pakistan administered Kashmir and Gilgit-Baltistan remain strategically important regions. However, democratic protest movements differ fundamentally from conventional security threats. While administrative and security measures may restore temporary stability, long term legitimacy depends upon public confidence, institutional credibility and meaningful participation. Policymakers therefore face the challenge of addressing governance concerns without overt or covert use of Pakistan Army to silence the people by use force or fear of jail.

Future Outlook and Policy Implications

The government of Pakistan immediately needs to restore confidence of the people of the region by increased participation in governance and central institutions. Exploitation of the resources allowed by Pakistan Army and China needs to stop. Failure to address recurring grievances, however, risks perpetuating cycles of protest and mistrust. The broader lesson is that development and governance must progress together. Citizens increasingly expect institutions to be accountable, responsive and capable of delivering measurable improvements in quality of life. Pakistan has to accept the internal challenges first without attributing all its problems to Indian state.

Conclusion

The ongoing protests in Pakistan occupied Jammu-Kashmir and Gilgit-Baltistan highlight the growing importance of governance, accountability and public trust in contemporary politics. Economic concerns provided the initial catalyst for mobilisation, but the underlying debate increasingly concerns institutional responsiveness and legitimacy. Sustainable stability will depend not only on strategic considerations but also on the ability of institutions to address citizen expectations through transparent governance, meaningful participation and effective development policies. Pakistan needs to take cue from 1971 on how largescale suppression of homogenous communities can lead to outburst of violent protest. The country needs to look inside rather than involve itself in more that what it can chew.

If anything, the present nexus between the military establishment and the toothless civilian leadership has shown that it is difficult to have a fair space for criticism and dissent in Pakistan.

In yet another flummoxing display, Pakistan has charged the opposition leader in the National Assembly with treason. Mehmood Khan Achakzai, Chairman of the Pashtunkhwa Milli Awami Party (PkMAP), has been booked and charged with treason for his remarks at a public meeting in Balochistan. Achakzai is the president of Tehreek Tahaffuz Ayeen-i-Pakistan (TTAP), a multi-party opposition alliance formed to protect the Constitution of Pakistan, which, according to the opposition, is under attack from the military establishment, with the support of the government.

Although a long practice in the country, using the draconian law to silence critics of the military establishment/government has picked up in recent years. One reason for that is the nature of the present ruling administration.

It is interesting to see that the scope of these laws has expanded; now the political opponents of the existing “hybrid model” of government in Pakistan, as Defence Minister Khawaja Asif calls it, have borne the brunt of the sedition laws for their criticism of the government, or the hybrid regime, to put it in its truest description. The civilian leadership is forced to mitigate the adverse effects of the model simply because it cannot be in government or run functions if it were to break ties with the military establishment. That being the case, the civilian part of the model is subservient to the military establishment. How can that be called even a “hybrid model”?   

The civilian leaders act as intermediaries, while the military establishment pulls the strings on every decision. No wonder that in the last couple of years, Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif, Defence Minister Khawaja Asif, and others have been currying favour with the country’s security forces, even on the economy. Prime Minister Sharif, known for his unhinged use of praise to extract favours from powerful personnel, went beyond even his own previous injudicious acts and said on an occasion recently that “History will always remember the wise and courageous leadership of the field marshal (Asim Munir) in golden words.”

Such flattering words from the Prime Minister tell a lot about the nature of the current model of governance in Pakistan: the civilian leaders will act on behalf of or for the military generals, and critics will bear the brunt.   

Achakzai’s case is not the only one. On a similar pattern, in yet another high-profile case, former Prime Minister Imran Khan was charged with treason for a rather bizarre accusation. Several activists and political opponents have been sent to jail after being charged with the draconian law.

All these cases are nothing but a mockery of such a serious penal law. While Imran Khan was accused of wrongfully dissolving parliament in 2022, Achakzai’s case is more interesting: he is charged with treason because he questioned the law and order situation in Balochistan and said that the government had failed to provide security to the people. There is no shortage of reports, even statements from the military establishment and the government on the situation in Balochistan that would mean the same, but it coming from the opposition leader is chargeable with the harshest possible penal code in the country, underscoring the strict policy of the current administration towards its opponents.   

More importantly, the case against the Opposition Leader in the National Assembly exposes the nature of politics in Pakistan. Essentially, the crux of the issue is that the military establishment is domineering in the present ruling political system, and any criticism of an issue points towards the failures of the military establishment. And given the stakes of Field Marshal Asim Munir in the system, the Army is unlikely to tolerate that. Therefore, conformity is sought in every case, at every possible cost.

It also shows that Pakistan’s perennial political crisis has taken a life of its own. There is no sign of it getting resolved. The Pakistani State has taken a clarion call: everyone must conform to the current administration, i.e., the military establishment, the deep state and its coterie in the civilian power circles.    

Historically, the military has dominated the country’s politics. Its domestic and foreign policies have been shaped by the generals. Even domestically, it is well documented that the military has “groomed” and “appointed” leaders in the country.

In politics, it is said that nation and state function as synonyms; in Pakistan, the military establishment and the state function as synonyms. So, any criticism against the military means the state is criticised. Such criticism therefore begets a strong punitive and legal response, including the charges of sedition. 

The story does not end here. Given that the military establishment is deeply involved in the government, any criticism, therefore, against the government is interpreted as a criticism against the military, and thus against the state. And there is a long list of such cases in Pakistan. Some of these include the cases of Baloch and Pashtun activists. In such cases, the people who have questioned the government policies towards Balochistan and Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa (KP) have been accused of treason and put behind bars.  

Almost the entire leadership of Baloch Yekjehti Committee (BYC), a non-violent Baloch organisation mainly comprised of the Baloch whose relatives have been victims of enforced disappearances, is in jail. So is the former member of the National Assembly and Pashtun activist, Ali Wazir. Wazir has been behind bars for a long time on treason charges for questioning the policy of the military operations and their impact on the common Pashtun in KP. Ali Wazir has spent a good share of his life in jail. He was arrested a few hours after he was released on bail on 26 March. The cases against Wazir are various sedition cases.  

Likewise, Mahrang Baloch, a Baloch and doctor by profession, along with others, is facing multiple cases of sedition. Even if she gets some relief or bail in one case, other cases are invoked to keep her behind bars. The same method is used against the people who support or defend activists in the courts of the country. Imaan Mazari and Hadi Chattha, advocates who are fighting cases of several victims of state violence, have been booked, charged and sentenced to 17 years of imprisonment for social media posts that were critical of the country’s security institutions.  

If anything, the present nexus between the military establishment and the toothless civilian leadership has shown that it is difficult to have a fair space for criticism and dissent in Pakistan. Now, since the military establishment has increasingly taken control of the country into its hands, any civilian leadership or government is symbolic. Naturally, any criticism directed at the government will be seen as criticism of the military establishment. Therefore, in all likelihood, draconian laws like treason and others will be employed more to frighten and curb dissenting voices in Pakistan. 

On the one hand, Pakistan keeps China entangled by highlighting the potential of the CPEC; on the other, it abides by the dictates of the IMF to get new loans and delays CPEC projects.

Ishaq Dar, the Deputy Prime Minister and Foreign Minister of Pakistan, recently said that “Pakistan and China share a converging vision on regional and global issues.” Dar’s silver-tongue didn’t spell out the “vision”; he doesn’t have one. Pakistan doesn’t have one. That is the reason for its consistent loan-seeking and reliance on foreign bailouts to keep the country’s economy afloat.

Islamabad has been knocking at every possible door with its begging bowl. It holds the record of taking the maximum number of loans from the International Monetary Fund (IMF) – 23 in a short span of over 75 years since joining the financial body in 1950.

A part of Dar’s statement highlighted the true intention behind Pakistan’s relationship with China. Dar said that the ties between Islamabad and Beijing have “grown from strength to strength into a robust economic and strategic partnership”. The downside of the latter part of the statement is that it is overwhelmingly one-sided, heavily favouring Pakistan.

Pakistan has been shrewd in buttering up China to extract maximum economic help from the Chinese. Celebrating Pakistan-China’s 75th anniversary of diplomatic relations with much fanfare remains part of the same policy. Even the Senate passed a resolution praising China for its support for Pakistan. The latter, in turn, has led to Beijing’s entanglement in Pakistan’s economic mess.

Pakistan has become a rentier state, living off financial support provided to it by others. It has time and again failed abysmally to reform its economic structure. From the money coming from outside the country, the ruling elite and the military establishment siphon off a large chunk. Some portion of it is used to manage macroeconomic indicators, to keep hopes of the local population alive and, at the same time, keep money flowing in from countries like China, Saudi Arabia, Qatar and international financial institutions.

Islamabad’s relations with China are emblematic of what can be called Pakistan’s rent-seeking policy. For example, the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC) has been presented by Islamabad as a “game changer” for the country. The project has been seen as vindicating “ironclad friendship” between Pakistan and China. It is sold to build infrastructure, create jobs, and transform the country’s economic structure for lasting suitability.

Hardly anything concrete has been achieved from the billions of dollars of investment from China. In the last few years, about $8 billion in potential investment was lost due to the failure to woo foreign investors. An editorial in Dawn vindicates the larger failure of the project: “The gap between ambition and delivery is too wide to ignore. The fact that only four SEZs have moved beyond the planning stage in over a decade exposes the deeper failure of execution.” This remains important as 75 per cent of the CPEC was supposed to go into the development of new and old Special Economic Zones (SEZs) that could have boosted outputs to be transported on the corridor to other countries, helping in increasing exports.

Pakistan’s decision not to establish SEZs was taken because the IMF had set no SEZ condition for new loans. On the one hand, Pakistan keeps China entangled by highlighting the potential of the CPEC; on the other, it abides by the dictates of the IMF to get new loans and delays CPEC projects. In this way, it keeps both sponsors hooked.

Despite all hyperbolic talks and symbolism about the potential of the project, given Pakistan’s structural constraints for economic reforms and security threats for foreign investors, CPEC has underperformed in achieving whatever goals it was supposed to achieve. Already, various issues are being raised over the CPEC. Many projects started since it was rolled out in 2014 have not been completed; work on many goes slowly, and many are yet to take off. And whatever has been completed has not yielded economic benefits.

China has realised that. The Chinese have expressed their frustration with Pakistan time and again. The Chinese were “not happy with the current progress of CPEC projects” and wanted the government of Pakistan to work to remove bottlenecks in the implementation of the project. Later, China’s concerns were compounded by increasing armed attacks in Balochistan, also targeting Chinese investments and nationals working on various projects and political instability in Pakistan, asking Pakistan to overcome its political crisis. None of these issues has been addressed. In fact, armed attacks in Balochistan have increased, and political instability remains.

There is a difference in the views of CPEC as well. While for Pakistan the CPEC is projected as a solution to all its problems, for China, it is part of larger Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). Therefore, expectations of the two are consequently different. Both, China and Pakistan, however, are aware of the fact that the CPEC is not meeting the desired expectations. Still, they keep selling it, in Pakistan particularly, by overstating its potential. Both countries have their interests in doing so; more so, Pakistan.

Pakistan’s foreign exchange reserves always fall short of the country’s needs to pay for imports and pay back loans to countries and institutions. Pakistan has mostly suffered a current account deficit; lately, again in April, the current account deficit was $324 million. That being the case, Pakistan needs two things: continuous foreign financial aid and its deferment, since it cannot pay back loans on time.

That is the reason Pakistan wants to be in China’s good books: it does so by showering praise on China and highlighting the potential of CPEC, which it knows very well has not been achieved. By rolling a narrative about “iron-clad” relationship, “all-weather” friendship, etc., Pakistan seeks keep China hooked on to the Pakistani dream. Time to time, high level visits and requests from the Pakistani side aim to convince China about investing its fortunes in Pakistan. The recent visit by President Asif Zardari to China was also aimed at securing Chinese assurance to stay engaged economically under CPEC.

Pakistan is eternally busy dragging China into various sectors of its economy. After welcoming Chinese investment in infrastructure, industry and agriculture, Pakistan has now opened the defence sector to China. During Zardari’s visit, it was clear that Islamabad wanted to present provinces as new potential investment options. He went on to sign memorandums of understanding (MoUs) on agriculture technology, water desalination, and tea production, with a focus on provincial-level collaboration: at least two agreements were signed with the Sindh Government.

Even China seems to know it well and has lost its enthusiasm in CPEC. Given the failure of CPEC to achieve its goals, its consistently rising costs, and the security threats to the investment, China now wants to protect the huge investment at all cost. To do so, it has announced new small projects — more to keep a watch on the current investment than being hopeful of securing benefits from them. China has not so far announced any major investment, knowing that previous ones have not yielded desired dividends.

Pakistan has been trying to increase its labour-intensive exports but faces tough competition from countries like Bangladesh and Vietnam. Any possible success in this sector would depend on credible policy determination and a viable business environment. Both these are lacking in Pakistan. And given the mindset of the Pakistani ruling elite, they are likely to continue their rent-seeking policy vis-à-vis China by playing various cards, like offering new sectors for investment, of late.

It is unlikely, however, that the inscrutable but highly mercantile Chinese will fall for Pakistani charm in the realm of economics. This would mean that while Pakistan-China will try to remain geopolitically together, geo-economic bonding between the two will not be as strong as Pakistan would like the world to believe.  

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

In its efforts to woo foreign investment and overhaul its image, Pakistan is trying to sell the natural resources of Balochistan to the world.

The Government of Pakistan has imposed a series of restrictions to maintain law and order in Balochistan, the largest and most troubled province of the country. Issuing a notice on 17 May, the Government imposed Section 144 across Balochistan for a period of one month. The notification put restrictions on all public gatherings, including rallies and processions involving five or more people. Covering of faces in public places is also prohibited.

Imposition of restrictive measures in Balochistan vindicates the failure of the Pakistan Military, Federal Government, and the Provincial Government led by Chief Minister Sarfaraz Bugti to bring the armed struggle of Baloch rebels under control. Pakistan security forces have been incurring huge losses at the hands Baloch militants. On 12 May, in the latest case, a search operation team came under heavy fire from the Baloch militants in Barkhan District, killing five Pakistani military personnel.  

Pakistan’s Balochistan problem has lingered for eight decades. The ruling elite has failed to come up with a mutually acceptable solution to the problem that has led to four Baloch insurgencies in the short history of the country: 1948, 1958, 1973, and 2003. The latest insurgency intensified with the alleged rape of a Baloch doctor, from the Bugti Tribe, by a colonel of the Pakistan Army in 2005. 

The rape took place at Sui, Dera Bugti, in the heavily guarded government-owned natural gas plant. The colonel was never held accountable; instead, the doctor was held captive and threatened to stay silent. This not only provoked the Baloch but also united various tribes to seek justice for a Baloch woman, intensifying attacks on the Pakistan Army. In response, instead of addressing the heinous crime and punishing the colonel, Pakistani forces killed the prominent Bugti tribe leader, Akbar Bugti, in August 2006. 

Naturally, the killing stoked up anger, strengthening Baloch nationalist sentiment and escalating the conflict. Since then, the situation has been compounded further with huge human rights violations, with the adoption of the brutal “kill and dump” policy of the Pakistani State. 

In 2011, a senior vice-president of the Balochistan High Court Bar Association (BHCBA) had warned that if the “kill and dump” policy was not stopped, the situation in Balochistan could go out of control. Over 15 years later, the situation in Balochistan has only worsened further. Even the people who raise their voice on human rights violations of the Baloch people, like the leadership of Baloch Yekjehti Committee (BYC) and their supporters, are sent behind bars. 

The ruling elite remain deluded by the notion that the country’s strong military can help it to end the conflict in Balochistan. That is a grossly miscalculated assumption. Internal reports have time and again underlined the reality in Balochistan. Calling its 2025 report on Balochistan Balochistan’s Crisis of Trust, the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan (HRCP) had said in its press release that “The mission’s findings reveal a disturbing pattern of continued enforced disappearances, shrinking civic space, erosion of provincial autonomy and unchecked impunity—conditions that continue to fuel public alienation and political instability.” 

At a time when Islamabad is trying to promote an image of being a regional stabilising force and making efforts to bring the two warring factions in the US-led war against Iran to the negotiation table, the persisting internal instability and Islamabad’s approach towards Balochistan and the Baloch people expose its efforts to portray the country in a positive light. 

Shorn of any credibility that it could utilise to overhaul the country’s image by overlooking conflict in Balochistan and security issues in general, the country’s leadership resorts to the practice of externalising the blame and accusing others of damaging its image. 

In a recent statement, Pakistani Federal Minister for Information and Broadcasting Attaullah Tarar issued a long statement on X: “We understand quite clearly that behind such stories are certain elements, mainly the detractors of peace, who are unable to come to terms with Pakistan’s role for peace in the region as well as Pakistan’s continued and successful fight against foreign-sponsored and abetted terrorism.” Tarar stated that it seems some elements could not digest the fact that Pakistan was playing a role in regional stability and making progress in eliminating terrorism. 

Measures like the ones taken in Balochistan are a self-evident acknowledgement that the real situation in the province is worrying. Reality is that Balochistan remains Pakistan’s most deprived and poor province despite being rich in natural resources and having a long coastline. The poverty in Balochistan increased from 41.8 per cent in 2019 to 47 per cent in the Financial Year 2025, way high above the national poverty rate of over 29 per cent.

In its efforts to woo foreign investment and overhaul its image, Pakistan is trying to sell the natural resources of Balochistan to the world. Lately, it has tried to woo the US to invest in the critical minerals of Balochistan, including copper. When Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif and Field Marshall Asim Munir presented rare earth minerals to President Donald Trump while on a visit to the US in October 2025, the Chief Secretary of Balochistan said in a statement in December that “American and other companies are interested in investment in this mineral (antimony, among others), which is more precious than gold and copper.” 

While the government is making ambitious efforts to entice foreign countries to invest and dig minerals from Balochistan, regional parties like the Balochistan National Party (BNP) have raised questions on the laws that allow the extraction of Balochistan’s resources. 

The hard reality is that situation in Balochistan remains abysmal: use of force, threatening and arresting people like Mahrang Baloch and others. This will not resolve the Baloch problem; nor will it divert attention from the issue. The country needs concrete steps, acceptable to the Baloch people, to resolve the issue of continued Baloch resistance.

But the brutal use of force by the Pakistani state against the poorest province of Pakistan is unlikely to change in a country where the military’s domineering presence in politics remains strong. This will keep fuelling public apathy and disaffection in Balochistan and in the absence of any genuine and sincere approach by the state if Pakistan to resolve the issue of Baloch alienation, the situation in likely to aggravate further in the days to come.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

Some disappeared are released, broken by torture. Some are formally charged. Some are killed and their bodies dumped.

Some human rights crises burst into international consciousness through a single image, a single video, a single act of resistance that the world cannot ignore. Other crises unfold in the dark, year after year, building a pile of unaddressed suffering that grows so high it becomes invisible. Balochistan belongs to the second category. It is the most underreported sustained human rights crisis in modern South Asia, and the international community’s silence on it is one of the diplomatic failures of our time.

The numbers, when assembled, are difficult to dismiss. The Baloch Yakjehti Committee documented over 1,250 cases of enforced disappearance in 2025. The Human Rights Council of Balochistan recorded 1,455 cases in the same year. Paank, the human rights wing of the Baloch National Movement, documented 95 enforced disappearances in November 2025 alone, along with 21 cases of severe torture and 20 extrajudicial killings. These figures, reflecting only what could be verified, suggest that what is happening in Balochistan is not occasional repression but a sustained campaign of state violence against a population.

The Pattern of Disappearances

The mechanism of enforced disappearance in Balochistan follows a well-documented pattern. Pakistani security forces, operating in plain clothes or in uniform, conduct raids on homes, often at night, and take individuals away without warrants, charges, or notification of family members. The detained person enters a network of informal detention centres run by the army or intelligence services, where they may be held for weeks, months, or years without external contact.

Some of the disappeared are eventually released, often visibly broken by torture, with explicit warnings against speaking publicly about their experience. Some are formally charged after extended periods in incommunicado detention and transferred to regular prison. Some are killed during their detention, with their bodies dumped near roads or in remote areas, in what Baloch activists call kill and dump operations. And some simply vanish, never accounted for, leaving families to wait indefinitely for information that does not come.

The targets of disappearance are not, by and large, militants. They are students, lecturers, journalists, doctors, lawyers, and human rights activists. Mahrang Baloch, the woman human rights defender who has emerged as the most prominent voice of the movement, is a medical doctor. Many of her colleagues in the Baloch Yakjehti Committee come from professional and academic backgrounds. The pattern is one of targeting the educated, articulate, and organisationally capable members of Baloch civil society, not just suspected separatists.

Some disappeared are released, broken by torture. Some are formally charged. Some are killed and their bodies dumped. Some simply vanish, never accounted for, leaving families to wait indefinitely.

The Recent Escalation

The crisis in Balochistan has escalated sharply since 2024. The triggering events have included a March 2025 attack by Baloch separatists on a passenger train, after which Pakistani authorities launched broad sweeps under the Counter Terrorism Department and arrested or disappeared several prominent Baloch human rights defenders. In response to peaceful protests organised against these arrests, Quetta police stormed a Baloch Yakjehti Committee gathering at the University of Balochistan in March 2025. A subsequent sit-in, organised by Mahrang Baloch and other activists, was raided by police using batons and tear gas at five-thirty in the morning.

The pattern continued through 2025 and into 2026. The provincial government’s approval of the Balochistan Prevention, Detention and Deradicalisation Rules 2025, signed off by Chief Minister Sarfraz Bugti, was understood by human rights organisations as a state attempt to legalise the disappearance system that had been operating informally for years. The new rules permit the designation of individuals as suspects subject to interrogation in detention centres, formalising what had previously been an extra-legal practice.

Federal-level changes have made the situation worse. Amendments to Pakistan’s Anti-Terrorism Act of 1997 now allow law enforcement to detain individuals for up to three months without charge or judicial oversight. This power has been used repeatedly against Mahrang Baloch and other Baloch Yakjehti Committee activists. The legal framework that emerged in 2025 essentially provides Pakistani authorities with broad discretion to detain whoever they wish for as long as they wish, with minimal accountability.

The International Response Gap

The international response to Balochistan has been thin compared to the scale of the crisis. UN human rights experts have issued statements. Some Western governments have raised concerns in private diplomatic channels. Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International have published reports. But there has been no sustained international campaign comparable to those organised around other comparable crises. There has been no UN Security Council attention. There have been no targeted sanctions against the Pakistani officials responsible. There has been no equivalent of the Magnitsky-style measures that Western states use for other human rights abusers.

The reasons for this gap are partly geopolitical. Pakistan has been treated as an important state by various Western governments, by China, and by Saudi Arabia. Each of these relationships has imposed costs on the willingness of those states to confront Pakistan publicly on its conduct in Balochistan. But the gap is not just about external geopolitics. It is also about the difficulty of access. Foreign journalists are largely barred from Balochistan. Foreign human rights observers face severe restrictions. The information space is, by Pakistani design, opaque. As a result, what is happening in Balochistan does not generate the kind of viral images and stories that drive sustained international attention.

This dynamic has allowed the Pakistani state to operate in Balochistan with a degree of impunity that would not be tolerated anywhere with greater external scrutiny. The pattern of disappearances has continued for over two decades. The international response has been incremental concern, rarely translating into structural pressure.

What Operation Sindoor Changed

Operation Sindoor, indirectly, has begun to change the international information environment around Pakistan. The detailed exposure of Pakistan’s relationship with Jaish-e-Mohammed and Lashkar-e-Taiba during the May 2025 conflict, combined with international attention to the Pahalgam massacre, has raised broader questions about the Pakistani state’s conduct. Some of those questions extend naturally to Balochistan. If Pakistan’s security establishment is willing to host UN-designated terrorists in major cities, what is it willing to do to its own citizens in marginalised provinces?

Indian diplomatic engagement with international human rights bodies has also become more sophisticated. The contrast between India’s open society in Kashmir, where journalists work and tourists travel, and Pakistan’s closed system in Balochistan has been highlighted in international forums by Indian representatives in ways that previously felt heavy-handed but now resonate more credibly.

The Baloch movement itself has become more articulate, more organised, and more capable of presenting its case in international languages. Mahrang Baloch’s prominence as a face of the movement has helped. So has the work of diaspora communities in Europe, North America, and the Gulf, who have built advocacy networks that did not exist a decade ago.

These developments are early. They have not yet translated into the structural international pressure that would force a change in Pakistani conduct. But they represent a shift in the information landscape that, if sustained, may eventually force the world to look more carefully at what has been happening in Balochistan for far too long. The first step is to refuse to look away. Operation Sindoor, by exposing what Pakistan does abroad, may help sustain attention on what Pakistan does at home. That is a small consolation for the families of the missing. It is not nothing.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

The international community has, for too long, accepted Pakistan’s victim narrative at face value. The reasoning has often been geopolitical.

Every time the world confronts Pakistan with evidence of its support for terrorism, it responds with the same script. It is a victim of terrorism, not a sponsor. Its neighbours are out to defame it. The groups operating from its soil are rogue actors, beyond state control. The script has worn thin. Operation Sindoor, in May 2025, demolished it.

The Indian airstrikes on the night of May 6 to 7, 2025, did not target shadowy hideouts in remote tribal regions. They targeted Bahawalpur, a city of nearly a million people in central Punjab, well within Pakistan’s settled and policed heartland. They targeted Muridke, the sprawling Lashkar-e-Taiba complex on the outskirts of Lahore. They struck nine sites in total, four in Pakistan proper and five in Pakistan-occupied Jammu and Kashmir. The locations told their own story. These were not camps that Pakistan had failed to find. These were camps that Pakistan had built.

The Family Business of Terror

Consider the case of Jaish-e-Mohammed, the group whose Bahawalpur headquarters India struck on May 7. Jaish was founded in 2000 by Masood Azhar, a man Pakistan released from Indian custody in December 1999 in exchange for hostages on a hijacked plane. According to multiple accounts cited by Pakistani journalists and Western researchers, the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) directorate paraded Azhar through Pakistan after his release on a fundraising tour, and helped him stand up the new outfit.

Pervez Musharraf, who served as Pakistan’s president from 2001 to 2008, admitted in a 2019 interview that Jaish-e-Mohammed had carried out attacks in India on the instructions of Pakistani intelligence. This was not an Indian allegation. This was the former military ruler of Pakistan acknowledging that Pakistan’s spy agency had directed terror operations against a neighbouring country.

Lashkar-e-Taiba, the group whose Muridke complex India also struck, has a similar profile. The Centre for Strategic and International Studies has documented that Lashkar conducts its attacks, including the 2008 Mumbai siege, with the consent and support of the ISI. David Coleman Headley, the Pakistani-American operative who scouted the Mumbai targets, testified that he met with six different ISI officers during his time with Lashkar. American investigators identified one of them, known only as Major Iqbal, as having provided 25,000 dollars in cash and direct operational guidance for the attack that killed 166 people.

What the Strikes Revealed

If Jaish and Lashkar were really rogue outfits operating outside Pakistani state control, the strikes of May 7 should have produced confused and uncertain reactions. Pakistan should have struggled to identify what had been hit, who had died, and why. Instead, the response was immediate and revealing. Pakistan’s military leadership knew exactly what had been targeted, because the targets were on Pakistan’s books in all but name.

In September 2025, a senior Jaish commander named Masood Ilyas Kashmiri appeared at the group’s annual Mission Mustafa conference and openly admitted that Masood Azhar’s family had been killed in the Bahawalpur strikes. Ten members of the family died, including Azhar’s sister, her husband, a nephew, a niece, and five children. Four close aides also died. The location of the strike was Jamia Masjid Subhan Allah, the headquarters of Jaish-e-Mohammed, sitting comfortably inside Pakistani territory, with a UN-designated terrorist living openly within its walls.

The picture this paints is unambiguous. Masood Azhar, listed as a global terrorist by the United Nations Security Council since May 2019, was not in hiding. He was at home, with his family, in a complex protected by the Pakistani state. His brother Abdul Rauf Asghar, also a UN-designated terrorist and the operational head of Jaish, was reportedly killed in the same strike. Pakistan’s posture of plausible deniability has rested for decades on the fiction that men like these are difficult to find. India’s strikes proved that the only people who found them difficult to find were Pakistan’s own authorities.

The Cost of the Charade

The international community has, for too long, accepted Pakistan’s victim narrative at face value. The reasoning has often been geopolitical. Pakistan was a frontline state in the Cold War. Pakistan was a partner in the war on terror. Pakistan held nuclear weapons that demanded careful handling. Each of these arguments contained a fragment of strategic logic. None of them justified the systematic protection of men who killed civilians in Indian cities and villages.

The cost of this charade has been borne by India and by the broader region. Pakistan’s continued sponsorship of terror groups has poisoned the entire South Asian neighbourhood. It has prevented the development of normal trade and travel relations. It has consumed resources that could have built schools and hospitals on both sides of the border. And, most tragically, it has cost thousands of innocent lives across decades of attacks that Pakistan’s intelligence services helped plan, fund, and execute.

Operation Sindoor changed the equation. By striking Bahawalpur and Muridke, India made plain what had always been true. The terrorist infrastructure attacking India operates from inside Pakistan, with the protection of the Pakistani state. The terrorist leadership lives in Pakistani cities, raises families in Pakistani neighbourhoods, and runs operations from Pakistani buildings. The fiction of state distance from these activities has collapsed.

The world now has a choice. It can continue to accept the Pakistani script of victimhood, in spite of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Or it can finally treat Pakistan as what it has long been: a state that uses terrorism as an instrument of policy, and that pays a price every time it does. India has decided which path it will follow. The international community must now decide which path it can credibly continue to ignore.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

The broker gets the headline. Whether the broker shapes the outcome is a different matter entirely.

Every few years, usually after some dramatic diplomatic moment, a version of the same argument resurfaces in Western policy circles: Pakistan, despite being economically fragile and institutionally troubled, keeps showing up at the table. India, despite being the region’s dominant economy and a democracy with global ambitions, somehow doesn’t. The implication is usually that India is doing something wrong, or that Pakistan has figured out a trick India refuses to learn. This reading is understandable. It is also, on closer inspection, considerably overstated.

What Pakistan Actually Does — and What It Costs

Let’s be clear about what Pakistan’s diplomatic record actually consists of. It has, at various points, served as a conduit between parties that could not talk to each other directly. In 1971, it facilitated the Nixon-Kissinger opening to China. Through the 1980s, it managed the American and Saudi pipeline to the Afghan mujahideen. Most recently, in early 2026, it apparently relayed a fifteen-point American peace proposal to Tehran as Washington and Iran traded strikes across the Middle East.

These are real accomplishments. The structural explanation for them is also fairly persuasive: Pakistan is nuclear-armed, so India cannot simply overwhelm it; it is perpetually broke, so it needs patrons and is therefore always in the market for a useful role to play; and it sits at a geographic crossroads that makes it hard for any outside power with regional ambitions to simply ignore. A state that needs patrons to survive is a supplicant. A state that needs patrons for everything except survival has leverage.

But this picture has a shadow side that tends to get glossed over. The same army that makes Pakistan useful as a broker also spent two decades as the Taliban’s primary patron and ran the A.Q. Khan nuclear proliferation network, which is perhaps the most consequential act of nuclear irresponsibility since the Cold War. The Saudi-Pakistani defence pact signed in September 2025 — widely celebrated as evidence of Pakistani strategic genius — places Islamabad in the position of simultaneously acting as Sunni military guarantor to Riyadh and back-channel to Tehran, while managing a domestic population that includes forty million Shia Muslims. That is not strategic elegance. That is a set of contradictions held together by willpower and ambiguity, and ambiguity eventually runs out.

As for the 2026 Iran ceasefire — the centrepiece of Pakistan’s current claim to indispensability — what has it actually produced? A communication channel, some announcements, a few deadlines that came and went, and a running commentary on Truth Social that has alternately declared peace imminent and threatened renewed bombardment, sometimes within the same week. Pakistan relayed a message. That is nothing. But it is a long way from a settlement, and attributing structural significance to a back channel whose existence owes something to a crypto deal signed in January 2026 between Pakistan’s army chief and the Trump family’s business venture requires a certain generosity of interpretation.

India’s Forgotten Record

The standard critique of Indian foreign policy — that it is all relationships and no obligations, all presence and no commitment — proceeds as though India’s diplomatic history began sometime around 2014. It didn’t.

During the Korean War, it was India’s V.K. Krishna Menon who broke the armistice deadlock that had stalled negotiations for over a year. The specific problem was prisoner-of-war repatriation — neither side could accept the other’s terms, and the talks had collapsed. India proposed voluntary repatriation overseen by a neutral commission. The formula was adopted in the 1953 Armistice, and India chaired the commission that implemented it. This is precisely the kind of creative, trust-based mediation that gets attributed exclusively to Pakistan in contemporary analysis. It happened, it worked, and it has been largely forgotten.

In Cyprus, from 1964 onward, India contributed meaningfully to the UN peacekeeping force at a moment when Greek and Turkish Cypriot violence was threatening to pull NATO members into direct confrontation. Again, not a passive gesture — load-bearing participation in a genuinely difficult situation.

In South Asia itself, India built SAARC in 1985 as a regional integration framework, and the diagnosis of its failure matters enormously. SAARC did not fail because India lost interest or refused to make commitments. It failed because Pakistan consistently used it as a platform for bilateral grievance rather than regional cooperation — most visibly when the 2016 Islamabad Summit was cancelled after Pakistan-based militants attacked an Indian Army base at Uri. When an institution you helped build gets repeatedly blocked by one of its members, the conclusion to draw is not that you should have built more institutions.

The Gulf: A Different Kind of Presence

The argument that India has no real presence in West Asia because it has no defence pacts or troops stationed in Gulf states reflects a fairly narrow idea of what presence means. Over nine million Indian nationals live and work across the Gulf. Their remittances — exceeding forty billion dollars annually — are not just an economic statistic. They represent a web of human and institutional relationships that generates its own diplomatic weight.

When conflict has broken out in Yemen, Sudan, or Lebanon, India has mounted large-scale evacuation operations for its citizens. These operations do not happen without the quiet cooperation of Gulf governments. That cooperation reflects a relationship of mutual utility — not formalised in a treaty, not legible in alliance databases, but real. India also does not need troops in Riyadh to have influence in Riyadh. It needs Saudi Arabia to care whether India is doing well. Given the depth of economic and human ties, Saudi Arabia does.

More recently, the India-Middle East-Europe Economic Corridor — announced at the 2023 G20 Summit in New Delhi — represents exactly the kind of connectivity architecture that is supposedly absent from Indian foreign policy. It ties Indian ports to Gulf infrastructure to European markets, and it gives multiple partners a concrete stake in Indian diplomatic stability. It is slower than a defence pact. It is also, arguably, more durable.

Strategic Autonomy and its Variables

None of this means India’s foreign policy is without genuine limitations. The doctrine of strategic autonomy — India as friend to all, obligated to none — has real costs that deserve honest acknowledgement. A state that declines binding commitments on most contested questions of international order does not accumulate allies in the deep sense — states that owe their security to Indian support and therefore have a structural interest in Indian success. Strategic autonomy, practised consistently, means India has many friends and few clients. That is a real constraint on the kind of influence that gets exercised in crisis moments.

Whether that is a correctable policy or structural reality is the more interesting question. India’s size and economic trajectory mean that many states want its friendship regardless of whether it takes sides. The United States cultivated a similar posture through much of the early twentieth century — extensive economic engagement, minimal alliance obligations — and the transition from that posture to full great-power engagement was ultimately forced by external events rather than chosen. Whether the current deterioration of the regional security environment, including the 2025 India-Pakistan conflict, might function as a similar forcing moment is perhaps the most consequential open question in South Asian foreign policy today.

What the Competition Actually Is

The framing of India versus Pakistan as competing models of diplomatic influence obscures something important: they are not competing for the same thing. Pakistan is optimised for crisis relevance — it is useful when things are going wrong, when parties cannot talk to each other, when someone needs a conduit. That is a real and valuable role. It is also, by definition, dependent on there being a crisis, on the crisis involving parties who both trust Pakistan, and on the political incentives of outside powers aligning in ways that make Islamabad useful rather than inconvenient.

India is building something slower and harder to see — economic interdependence, connectivity infrastructure, institutional presence across multilateral forums, and the accumulated credibility that comes from not being anyone’s instrument. Whether that model generates more durable influence over the next two decades than Pakistan’s brokerage model is a genuinely open question. But it is the right question to ask, and it is not answered by pointing to who was on the phone with Trump and Tehran in the same week. The broker gets the headline. Whether the broker shapes the outcome is a different matter entirely.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

India has tended to treat each episode as a bilateral matter, protest, and move on.

On April 10, 2026, China’s Ministry of Civil Affairs unveiled its sixth round of “standardised” place names for what it calls “southern Tibet”—a reference to India’s Arunachal Pradesh—adding 23 new entries to its expanding list. This latest exercise continues a pattern that began in 2017, taking the cumulative number of renamed locations to over 110.

Before 2017, such efforts were limited, with just 16 names officially retained between 2009 and 2017. However, the pace has accelerated significantly in recent years, with successive batches introduced in 2017 (6 names), 2021 (15), 2023 (11), 2024 (30), 2025 (27), and now 2026 (23), reflecting a sustained and deliberate push.

Notably, the 2026 list is overwhelmingly focused on geographical features rather than inhabited areas. Only two names—Chaku and Xinjing (Shincheon)—refer to settlements, both located in zones of historical or strategic relevance dating back to the Sino-Indian War. The remaining 21 names are assigned to mountains, peaks, and slopes, many situated around the Yarlung Tsangpo basin and its adjoining valleys, underscoring a targeted approach to cartographic assertion in sensitive terrain.

Three Fronts, One Target

Arunachal Pradesh is only one corner of a much larger game. In Nepal’s northern districts — Humla, Rasuwa, Sindhupalchowk — there have been documented encroachments over the last several years: border pillars moved, Chinese infrastructure appearing on areas Nepal’s own maps show as Nepali territory, grazing land that Himalayan communities have used for generations quietly absorbed into what Beijing treats as administered Chinese space. The renaming of these locations follows the encroachment, retrospectively assigning Chinese names to places already brought under de facto control.

Nepal’s response has been muted, for reasons that are not hard to understand. Its Belt and Road commitments — including the Pokhara International Airport, financed by Chinese loans and opened in 2023 — create financial obligations that generate strong incentives to avoid confrontation. Beijing’s United Front Work Department has invested heavily in cultivating relationships within Nepal’s major political parties and media institutions. And Nepal’s political instability — the country has cycled through governments with remarkable speed since its 2015 constitution — means there is rarely an administration in Kathmandu with both the institutional continuity and the political will to push back consistently.

In Bhutan, the stakes are starker still. China and Bhutan have been negotiating their border since 1984, with more than 25 rounds of talks without resolution. In 2020, China introduced an entirely new dispute by listing Bhutan’s Sakteng Wildlife Sanctuary as a “disputed area” at a Global Environment Facility board meeting, despite having raised no prior claim there. Sakteng lies in eastern Bhutan, far from the longstanding western disputes, abutting Arunachal Pradesh. The strategic logic was transparent: manufacture a new bargaining chip to trade for concessions in Doklam, the plateau whose military value China has coveted ever since the 73-day standoff of 2017.

Doklam matters not because of its size but because of where it points. A Chinese military presence there would command the Chumbi Valley, which in turn points directly at the Siliguri Corridor — the narrow strip of Indian territory, roughly 22 kilometres at its narrowest, that connects India’s entire northeastern region to the rest of the country. Strategists sometimes call it the Chicken’s Neck. It is the most consequential piece of geography on the eastern front, and it is what sits at the end of the thread that runs from Doklam through Bhutan’s border negotiations to Beijing’s renaming exercises in Arunachal.

The Real Prize Is Not on the List

None of the 23 newly named locations in Arunachal Pradesh are what China actually cares about most. Arunachal is a display case — a pressure point kept warm to ensure that India cannot concentrate its diplomatic and military energies on the one piece of territory that China genuinely cannot afford to lose: Aksai Chin.

China’s National Highway 219, which traverses the Aksai Chin plateau at an altitude, is the primary logistical link between Tibet and Xinjiang — two regions whose stability is central to the CCP’s territorial narrative. Beijing quietly built the road through Aksai Chin in the late 1950s before India even knew construction had begun. When New Delhi eventually discovered it, the resulting crisis fed directly into the 1962 war. India has never formally conceded the territory. Every official Indian map still shows Aksai Chin as part of Ladakh. The 2019 reorganisation of Jammu and Kashmir, which created the Union Territory of Ladakh with Aksai Chin explicitly within its stated boundaries, was a deliberate signal — and Beijing read it precisely that way. The military buildup in Ladakh that led to the Galwan Valley clashes of June 2020 was, at least in part, a response to Indian infrastructure development that China interpreted as preparatory to a more assertive posture.

The shadow of Zhou Enlai’s “package deal” offer to Nehru still haunts the diplomatic architecture. In 1959, China proposed recognising the McMahon Line in the east in exchange for India’s acceptance of Chinese sovereignty over Aksai Chin in the west. Nehru rejected it, and the offer was never formally revived. What China appears to be doing today is inflating the price of any future version of that deal: each new disputed name in Arunachal, each encroachment in Humla, each manufactured claim in Sakteng adds another chip to Beijing’s side of the eventual table. India’s domestic political constraints — no government can publicly concede Aksai Chin and survive — mean that formal negotiation remains frozen. But in the meantime, the ground shifts.

What India Has Got Right, and What It Hasn’t

India’s response since Galwan has been more serious than its pre-2020 posture. The acceleration of border infrastructure in Ladakh and Arunachal — roads, tunnels, forward helipads — has been real and measurable. The forward deployment of additional mountain divisions has followed. The Modi government’s decision to ban hundreds of Chinese apps, restrict Chinese investment in sensitive sectors, and publicly call out Beijing’s encroachments represented a departure from the studied ambiguity that characterised Indian China policy for most of the 2000s.

What India has not done well is tell this story internationally. The cumulative pattern of China’s toponymic campaigns, its physical encroachments in Nepal, its manufactured Bhutan disputes, and its administrative restructuring in Xinjiang is not a series of bilateral irritants. It is a coherent grey-zone strategy whose logic would be recognised—and should concern—any government that has watched Beijing deploy the same playbook in the South China Sea.

India has tended to treat each episode as a bilateral matter, protest, and move on. It has not systematically built the international narrative that would make Beijing’s methods legible and costly in global opinion.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

The Yunus-led interim government provided fertile ground for Pakistan to manoeuvre this policy.

When Sheikh Hasina was removed from office in August 2024 after mismanaging two-month student uprising through violence, the political aftershocks were felt well beyond Dhaka. While an interim administration led by Nobel laureate Muhammad Yunus took charge shortly to stabilize and reset the country, but inside the shifting currents of Bangladeshi politics, there was another country saw opportunity, which was Pakistan.

For Islamabad, the fall of Prime Minister Hasina, who was long perceived as closely aligned with India, appeared to offer a rare strategic opening. The interim arrangement which was crowded by sympathizers of Bangladesh Jamaat-e-Islami, created space for religious parties long marginalized under the Awami League’s rule. Pakistan moved quickly with intensified diplomatic exchanges, and even senior military leadership of two countries making reciprocal visits.

But what increased with unusual frequency was Pakistani religious delegations travelling to different cities and towns of Bangladesh from Dhaka to Cox’s Bazar in south and Sylhet in east, among others.

Behind the choreography appeared Islamabad’s clear calculation that if Bangladesh’s Islamist political sphere could be rejuvenated, Dhaka might be kept away from New Delhi and within the broader regional orbit of Islamabad. That bet seems to have failed now. In the recently concluded 13^th general election, Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) won a landslide two-thirds majority, winning 212 of the 299 seats on the ballot.

Led by Tarique Rahman, son of former Prime Minister Khaleda Zia and former President Ziaur Rahman, BNP campaigned on the slogan of “Bangladesh First”, emphasising that it will not be beholden to any foreign capital. This political messaging seems to have resonated powerfully with the Bangladeshi electorate.

Such a decisive vote has delivered a strong message to Pakistan, which seemed convinced that its favoured Islamist bloc will win the elections and give Islamabad a strong footing in Dhaka.

Pakistan’s Bangladesh policy in the post-Hasina moment followed a familiar template. It has for decades viewed South Asia through the prism of strategic competition with India. Where New Delhi consolidates influence, Pakistan seeks counterweights as has been witnessed in Afghanistan where this logic has shaped policy for years. In Bangladesh, Islamabad appeared to hope for a softer replay.

The Yunus-led interim government provided fertile ground for Pakistan to manoeuvre this policy. As Islamist networks that had faced political constraints under the Awami League suddenly found renewed visibility, Islamabad’s outreach extended beyond official channels into clerical and ideological spaces.

For instance, Maulana Fazlur Rehman, head of Deobandi Islamist Jamiat Ulema-e-Islam (F), led a delegation of around two dozen prominent Pakistani religious leaders to Bangladesh ahead of parliamentary election in November 2025. They addressed large gatherings, organised under the banner of Khatm-e-Nabuwat conferences, across major cities and towns of the country, which were reportedly held in support of Islamist political actors preparing to contest the February 12 election.

The symbolism of this religious affinity was hard to miss and, it seems, Islamabad believed that by encouraging the Islamization of Bangladesh’s political sphere, it could cultivate a government less beholden to India and more receptive to Pakistan.

Yet this approach rested on two flawed assumptions. Firstly, it overestimated the electoral pull of Islamist forces in contemporary Bangladesh and secondly underestimating the depth of Bangladesh’s historical memory around 1971 war crimes committed by Pakistan Army in what was then East Pakistan.

This memory and Islamabad’s reluctance to issue a formal apology over the war crimes remains central to Bangladesh’s national identity. It seems Pakistani policymakers willingly or otherwise seemed to calculate that five decades were enough to blunt that legacy and that religious affinity could transcend historical grievance.

For many Bangladeshis, Pakistan is not simply another state but a former ruler whose actions precipitated immense trauma which remains unchanged across generations. If anything, it has been institutionalized through education, public commemorations and war crimes trials. And BNP’s campaign slogans captured this sentiment with clarity as it called for “Bangladesh First” against any outright alliance with any foreign power (Na Pindi, Na Dilli).

Moreover, Pakistan’s attempt to leverage Islamization as a foreign policy tool also reveals a deeper tension. While Bangladesh is a Muslim-majority country, yet its political culture remains fundamentally based on Bengali linguistic nationalism. The Awami League’s secular framing was one expression of that synthesis.

Even the BNP, while more accommodating of religious parties as was witnessed during its earlier rules, has not sought to subordinate national policy to clerical authority. While it is true that interim government’s closeness with Jamaat-e-Islami may have energized segments of Islamist base, but, as the results showed, it did not translate into a groundswell.

Therefore, it is quite possible that Islamabad’s outreach through clerical visits, cross-border religious gatherings, symbolic solidarity may have reinforced suspicions that Islamist mobilization was being externally encouraged. For a country sensitive to sovereignty, such perceptions usually prove counterproductive.

In fact, there is an irony here.  While Pakistan’s own domestic experience illustrates the complexities of entangling religion and statecraft, yet in Bangladesh, it appeared willing to encourage precisely that dynamic in pursuit of geopolitical advantage.

Nevertheless, the failure of Pakistan’s Bangladesh bid echoes its recent miscalculation in Afghanistan where Islamabad’s military-dominated establishment believed that it possessed decisive influence in Kabul after backing Afghan Taliban’s return to power in 2021. But relations with Afghanistan today are strained, marked by months long border closure and recurrent skirmishes along the contested Durand Line dividing the two countries. 

It can be argued that Pakistan overestimated the durability of ideological affinity as a substitute for structural partnership in both the cases. Neither has religious affinity guaranteed strategic alignment with Kabul nor has it now delivered political ascendancy in Dhaka as Bangladesh’s electorate has signalled that while religion remains integral to social life, it does not automatically translate into foreign policy alignment.

For Pakistan, this presents a dilemma since Dhaka’s determination to pursue a “Bangladesh First” policy offers limited space for the kind of ideological leverage that Islamabad sought to cultivate.

While Islamabad’s Bangladesh policy after 2024 was built on the hope that a moment of political flux could be shaped into strategic realignment, its engagement will therefore need recalibration and for any pragmatism to sustain, the relations will have to be transactional and grounded in mutual interest rather than religious solidarity.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.