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.

Nearly a year after the April 22, 2025 terror attack in Pahalgam that killed 26 tourists, the families of victims such as Manjunath Rao and Bharath Bhushan continue to struggle with grief, trauma and the lasting psychological consequences of the violence.

The attack, which took place in the Baisaran Valley area of Pahalgam in Indian-administered Kashmir, remains one of the deadliest assaults on civilians in the region in recent years. Armed attackers opened fire on tourists, killing 26 people, many of whom were visiting Kashmir with their families.

The incident triggered a strong political and military response from India, including Operation Sindoor, which targeted what New Delhi described as terrorist bases in Pakistan.For the families of those killed, however, the consequences have extended far beyond national security and diplomatic tensions. A year later, many remain trapped in the emotional aftermath of that day.

Among the victims was Manjunath Rao, a realtor from Shivamogga in Karnataka, who had travelled to Kashmir with his wife and son for what was meant to be their first family visit to the Valley. According to family members, the trip was planned as a personal milestone and an opportunity to spend time together away from work and routine responsibilities.

Instead, it ended in violence.

Rao was shot dead during the attack in front of his wife and son, an experience that relatives say has left deep and continuing emotional scars on the family. His relative, Ravi Kiran, told local media that the family has found it difficult to recover from the shock of witnessing the killing directly.

The trauma, according to relatives, is intensified by the fact that the death unfolded in front of his immediate family. His wife and child were not only left to cope with the loss of a husband and father, but also with the memory of the attack itself.Family members say daily life has not returned to normal.

Routine activities continue, but the emotional burden remains. The family has attempted to move forward, yet the event continues to shape conversations, relationships and personal well-being.Mental health experts often note that violent loss witnessed firsthand creates a prolonged form of trauma, particularly for spouses and children.

In such cases, grief is frequently accompanied by recurring memories, anxiety and emotional withdrawal. While the report does not provide clinical details, relatives describe the family’s condition as one of continuing struggle rather than closure.

Another victim, Bharath Bhushan, was an IT professional from Bengaluru who was also among those killed in the same attack. Like Rao, he had travelled as a civilian tourist and was not connected to any political or security institution.Bhushan is survived by his wife and son.

According to the report, his family has chosen to remain largely silent in public, reflecting what relatives describe as the depth of their grief.His father reportedly expressed severe emotional distress and has found it difficult to speak openly about the loss. The silence of the family has itself become part of the story, illustrating how some families respond to tragedy not through public statements, but through withdrawal and private mourning.

The absence of public engagement does not lessen the impact. Rather, it reflects a different form of coping in which grief remains internal, often making recovery slower and more isolating.

For Bhushan’s wife and child, the long-term challenge is both emotional and practical. The sudden death of a family’s primary earning member can reshape household stability, financial planning and emotional security. Though the report focuses primarily on emotional trauma, the broader implications of such losses often extend into every aspect of family life.

The Pahalgam attack also had immediate strategic consequences. India responded by launching Operation Sindoor, a military action targeting locations identified as terrorist infrastructure across the border in Pakistan. The operation was presented as part of a broader national security response following the killings.

The incident intensified already fragile India-Pakistan relations and brought renewed focus to cross-border terrorism and civilian security in Kashmir. It also reshaped political discourse around counterterrorism policy and tourism security in the region.However, for the families directly affected, geopolitical responses offered little immediate relief.

For them, the central reality remains deeply personal: the absence of a husband, father, son or provider whose death cannot be reversed by military retaliation or political declarations.The report from Shivamogga places particular attention on how families continue to live with trauma long after public attention fades.

News coverage often focuses on the day of an attack, the number of casualties and the government response, but survivors and relatives continue to navigate consequences that unfold over months and years.

In Rao’s case, relatives describe a family trying to rebuild daily life while carrying memories of direct violence. In Bhushan’s case, silence and emotional withdrawal indicate grief that remains unresolved.Both cases reflect a broader truth about acts of terrorism: the damage extends beyond those killed. It enters homes, alters childhoods, changes family structures and creates emotional disruptions that may last for decades.

One year later, the names of the victims remain tied not only to the attack itself, but to the ongoing struggle of those left behind.

As public memory moves forward and political attention shifts elsewhere, families like those of Manjunath Rao and Bharath Bhushan continue to live with a reality that remains unchanged since April 22, 2025 a moment of violence that permanently divided life into before and after.

What Pakistan has surrendered in return is the institutional balance that once provided guardrails against rash escalation.

In Islamabad, history did not turn with a coup or a populist uprising — it changed quietly, with the stroke of a pen. When Pakistan passed its 27th Constitutional Amendment, there were no tanks in the streets, no suspended parliament broadcasts, no dramatic late-night speeches. The move was subtle, almost procedural. Yet, behind its legal language lies the most significant expansion of military authority in the country’s modern history.

While framed as a necessary reform to strengthen national security, the amendment fundamentally restructures Pakistan’s governance model by granting Field Marshal Asim Munir unprecedented authority over the state, the military, and—most critically—Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal.

The legal elevation of Pakistan’s de facto ruler into a constitutionally untouchable position marks a turning point for a country whose political system has long been undermined by military dominance. Now, that dominance is not just entrenched—it is formalized.

The Amendment That Institutionalizes Military Rule

The 27th Amendment establishes a new position, the Chief of Defense Forces (CDF), which consolidates command over the Army, Navy, and Air Force under Munir’s sole leadership. In doing so, it effectively eliminates the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Committee, the single institution responsible for balancing power across Pakistan’s tri-services.

Even more consequentially, the amendment grants lifetime immunity to five-star officers, placing Munir and future CDFs beyond legal accountability for both military and political decisions. Whereas past military rulers seized power through coups, Munir now commands Pakistan through the constitution itself.

Civilian leaders may occupy government buildings, but the reins of the state security, foreign policy, and strategic decision-making firmly rest with Pakistan’s most powerful general. Seizing power through the 27^th Amendment serves two purposes for Munir. He gets to be the de facto leader of Pakistan’s civil-military regime under law, a privilege previous military dictators did not have, and secondly, Munir gets to save his face, standing up to the reputation of a “legitimate” leader, with whom foreign leaders would not hesitate to engage directly. 

A New Nuclear Command: First country to have a military leader in command of nuclear weapons

Perhaps the most profound shift concerns nuclear oversight. The amendment introduces the position of Commander of the National Strategic Command (CNSC), a role directly under the CDF and responsible for all operational control of Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal. Previously, the nuclear launch authority sat within the National Command Authority, where both civilian and military leadership helped maintain a system of shared judgment.

Now, Munir commands the only finger on the button that matters.

This change shortens the chain of command in nuclear decision-making—something Pakistan justifies as necessary for deterrence against India. But a faster chain of command also reduces the time available for deliberation during crises, magnifying the risk of miscalculation. Moreover, placing nuclear authority solely under the Army eliminates institutional checks that are vital in a region marked by frequent militarized crises.

Such a move makes Pakistan the only nuclear country in the world where the sole command to authorize a strike rests with a military officer. Experts have historically warned that centralizing nuclear authority to a single military office poses serious dangers of weakened political oversight and increased risk of misperception and escalation. 

Can Military Centralization Fix Domestic Instability?

Supporters argue that stronger centralized command is essential to confront Pakistan’s rapidly deteriorating internal security environment. Over 1,000 Pakistanis have been killed in terrorist incidents this year, as the Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), among other militant organizations, regain operational reach and recruits.

Simultaneously, Baloch separatists have intensified attacks against Chinese personnel and critical infrastructure—a trend that threatens Pakistan’s major economic partnerships. Munir’s response has focused not on reforming intelligence agencies or reforming counterinsurgency policies but on kinetic pressure: cross-border missile strikes into Afghanistan, collective punishment in tribal districts, and crackdowns on political dissent framed as counterterrorism.

These operations have failed to reduce militant capabilities. Instead, they have deepened local resentment and produced blowback in the form of increased militant recruitment.

The 27th Amendment gives Munir even more control over internal security, but it does not equip Pakistan with the governance tools needed to address the political grievances driving these insurgencies. Military rule may offer speed and force, but it cannot deliver legitimacy—or peace—on its own.

India’s Deterrence Calculus Has Already Shifted

For decades, Pakistan’s nuclear signaling deterred India from responding militarily to Pakistan-based militant attacks. That strategic reality has changed as India’s ground and air operations over the past decade demonstrate a willingness to escalate even under the shadow of nuclear weapons.

Pakistan’s low-threshold nuclear doctrine—threatening early first use if India attempts even limited operations—has therefore lost credibility in New Delhi.

Munir’s control over nuclear forces may accelerate crisis escalation rather than prevent it. With fewer voices involved in decision-making and a nuclear doctrine that encourages rapid activation, India may find itself forced to preempt or retaliate quickly in a future confrontation.

And in a region where crises often begin with terrorist attacks, Pakistan claims no responsibility for; the risk of miscalculation is not theoretical—it is imminent. As I have recently warned in my analysis for the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists, a terror strike in New Delhi or Kashmir could rapidly transform into a conventional conflict fought under nuclear constraints, which neither state has truly tested.

Conclusion: The Strategic Cost of Militarized Stability

Pakistan’s leaders may believe that empowering the military is the only path to stability, especially amid political turbulence and economic crisis. But this amendment represents a paradox: a move justified in the name of security that may, in practice, make Pakistan—and the region—less secure.

Civilian authority is weakened, nuclear oversight is narrowed, internal grievances are unaddressed, and India’s evolving military posture further undermines Pakistan’s deterrent signaling. Munir now has the authority he has long operated with in practice. What Pakistan has surrendered in return is the institutional balance that once provided guardrails against rash escalation.

Pakistan is now a nuclear-armed country confronted by resurgent insurgencies, political instability, and hostile borders—yet governed by a security model that empowers one military commander with unchecked authority. The 27th Amendment does not strengthen Pakistan’s democracy or make nuclear war less likely. It does the opposite: it increases the speed of decision-making while decreasing the diversity of voices shaping those decisions.

As Pakistan enters this new era of legally sanctioned military supremacy, regional stability hinges on the judgment of a single leader commanding a nuclear arsenal built on a doctrine of early use. For a country defined by volatility, the future now balances on the narrowest margin imaginable.

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

It was interpreted, and often celebrated, as the echo of a much larger frenzy that commemorates and normalises violence against Hindus.

Pakistan opener Sahibzada Farhan has found himself at the center of fresh controversy after his explosive 58 off 45 balls against India in the Asia Cup 2025 Super Four. His half-century celebration, mimicking an AK47-firing action with his bat, set off a storm. The gesture, performed moments after he dispatched Axar Patel for six to bring up his fifty, was instantly polarizing.

Some hailed it as audacious. Many condemned it as provocative. Farhan himself defended it as nothing more than a spontaneous act he “does not care to over-explain.”

At first, I dismissed the idea of writing on this episode. At first sight this problematisation of his act appeared nothing more than a Hindu right-wing frenzy and a product of jingoism. But when I turned to the Pakistani discourse around it, I was jolted.

What I had imagined to be a lone, reckless gesture of a cricketer was in fact celebrated as a collective act of defiance against “Kafir Hindus.” Across the spectrum, with sensible exceptions of course, Pakistanis were glorifying him as a lion who had put Indians in their place. A hero who had demonstrated that if killing could happen in Pahalgam, it could happen anywhere.

The celebration was not of an individual’s defiance but of a deeper national consciousness. It is a consciousness that has always defined itself in negation, sustained by the singular idea that “we are not Hindus.” That founding negation continues to fuel Pakistan’s politics, its nationalism, and, as I saw, even its cricketing pride.

I was surprised, though not shocked, to hear such views. The very idea of Pakistan is voluntarist in nature. It was not founded on a shared language, culture, or territory, but on the deliberate assertion of religion as the sole basis of nationhood. In such a framework, every sphere of public life is inevitably tethered to religion. Nothing escapes the grip of the mullahs.

Even a cricket pitch, which elsewhere might be a space for sport and competition, becomes in Pakistan a stage for propagating anti-human, exclusionary and supremacist ideologies. This collapse of the boundary between religion and public life is not incidental. It renders even the most ordinary gestures freighted with political and sectarian meaning.

In the aftermath of the Pahalgam massacre, which killed 26 tourists on April 22, 2025, India accused Pakistan of sponsoring cross-border terrorism. The atmosphere between the two states was volatile. In that context, a celebratory gesture by a Pakistani cricketer on the pitch cannot be read as an innocent, isolated act. It was interpreted, and often celebrated, as the echo of a much larger frenzy that commemorates and normalises violence against Hindus.

Let us be blunt. 26 people were murdered because they were Hindus. To call this anything other than a crime driven by communal motive is to obscure the reality of targeted violence. If calling this Islamophobia alarms some, then so be it. Naming hatred clearly is the first step to fighting it. To fight for a just world, we must insist on that clarity.

Even if we assume the cricketer’s gesture was not meant to signal more than individual bravado, what matters is what the masses took from it. In the wake of the Pahalgam massacre, a jubilant or triumphalist response on the pitch could not be read as innocent. It became a public echo of a wider, sectarian celebration that normalises violence against Hindus.

The executive deserves blame as well. Despite nationwide protests and heightened sensitivities after the attack, authorities allowed the match to proceed. It was a failure of accountability that made the pitch a stage for humiliation rather than for sport.

The spectacle mattered because it showed how national identity in Pakistan is repeatedly remade through negation and ritualised hostility. It is a politics rooted in the two-nation idea that defines Pakistan as “not Hindu.”

If the only way some political communities can sustain themselves is by staging childish, violent affirmations of identity, then those identities are brittle and dangerous. They must be dismantled if we are to imagine a region where public life is not a theatre of hatred.

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

Pakistan has repeatedly weaponized the idea of “Ummah solidarity”—not as a moral or theological commitment, but as a bargaining chip in global diplomacy. 

Pakistan’s Army Chief, Field Marshal Asim Munir, has recently triggered global alarm by threatening that if pushed to the brink, Pakistan would “take half the world down,” explicitly naming India. Speaking in the U.S., he also hinted at missile strikes on Indian dams and economic assets, including Mukesh Ambani’s Jamnagar refinery.

India’s Ministry of External Affairs condemned the remarks as “nuclear sabre-rattling” and labelled Pakistan an “irresponsible nuclear state,” vowing not to yield to nuclear blackmail. Officials called it “regrettable” that such threats were made from the soil of a friendly third country.

Such bravado, however, is at odds with Pakistan’s historical pattern of opportunism and duplicity on the global stage — a track record that belies its self-portrayal as a principled actor. 

From its crypto-alliance with the United States during the war in Afghanistan, to betraying Iran by passing intelligence to Washington; from waging a silent war against its own Pashtun population through forced displacement and resource exploitation, to the mass expulsion of Afghan refugees; from its deafening silence on China’s repression of Uyghur Muslims, to suppressing Palestinian factions during Black September in Jordan; from covertly aligning with Israel in the Azerbaijan–Armenia conflict, to backing both Iran and Donald Trump — whom it bizarrely nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize — Pakistan’s foreign policy has often been a study in contradictions.

These contradictions reveal a nation untethered to any consistent moral compass or principled foreign policy. Pakistan epitomizes the adage: running with the hare and hunting with the hounds.

Pakistan’s Betrayal of Iran

Iranian commentators have long accused Islamabad of pursuing self-interest at Tehran’s expense. Following Pakistan’s June 2025 luncheon with U.S. President Donald Trump at Mar-a-Lago, the government even announced its intention to recommend Trump for the 2026 Nobel Peace Prize — a surreal move given Trump’s record of hostility toward Iran.

Only two days later, the U.S. launched devastating bunker-buster strikes on Iran’s nuclear facilities at Natanz, Isfahan, and Fordow. In a strange diplomatic twist, Pakistan publicly condemned the strikes and expressed “solidarity with the Islamic Republic of Iran,” even while maintaining private overtures to Trump.

Jamiat Ulema-e-Islam (Fazl), one of Pakistan’s largest religious parties, denounced the Nobel move as “morally indefensible.” Party chief Maulana Fazlur Rehman blasted it as an insult to victims of American aggression across the Muslim world.

The double-speak reflects a familiar pattern: Islamabad leveraging the “Ummah card” to appease domestic audiences, while pursuing pragmatic deals with Washington. Meanwhile, Iran continues to accuse Pakistan of harboring extremist groups like Jaish al-Adl, which launch deadly attacks on Iranian border guards from sanctuaries in Pakistan’s Balochistan province.

Pakistan’s Betrayal of the United States

Pakistan’s duplicity vis-à-vis Washington is not new—it is historical.

During the U.S.-led “War on Terror” after 2001, Pakistan allowed American forces to use its airbases while simultaneously sheltering and supporting jihadist proxies that targeted U.S. troops in Afghanistan. Billions of dollars in American aid poured into Islamabad, yet the ISI covertly facilitated the Taliban and the Haqqani Network.

The most damning episode came in 2011 when Osama Bin Laden was discovered living in Abbottabad, just a short distance from Pakistan’s premier military academy. The U.S. Navy SEAL raid that killed him exposed Islamabad’s double game.

Yet, in 2020, then Prime Minister Imran Khan openly called Bin Laden a “martyr” in Pakistan’s parliament. Former U.S. Secretaries of State Hillary Clinton and Mike Pompeo both condemned Islamabad’s duplicity. 

Clinton memorably said: “You can’t keep snakes in your backyard and expect them only to bite your neighbors.” Pompeo, in his 2023 memoir Never Give an Inch, recounted in detail how Pakistan undermined U.S. operations while pocketing aid.

By 2025, Pakistan had again drawn international ire by forcibly expelling more than a million Afghan refugees, many registered with the UNHCR. UN reports documented widespread abuses against returnees, particularly women and minorities, exposing the emptiness of Pakistan’s claims of “Ummah solidarity.”

Visit to the U.S.: War on Terror or War on Pashtuns?

Munir’s recent U.S. visit must also be understood in light of Pakistan’s decades-long militarization of its Pashtun belt. Under the guise of the “War on Terror,” Islamabad has waged a parallel war against its own Pashtun population, treating the tribal belt as both a buffer zone and an economic colony.

For years, Pakistan has deliberately kept low-intensity conflict simmering in the region to justify military control. Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International have repeatedly documented mass arrests, extrajudicial killings, and the denial of due process, pointing to a systemic policy of securitization. 

By engineering insecurity, the state ensures that local communities accept a perpetual military presence and even foreign interference in the name of peace. The Pashtun Tahafuz Movement (PTM) has gone further, recording numerous cases in which civilian areas were bombed under the pretext of counterterrorism.

The cost for ordinary Pashtuns has been devastating. Entire villages have been burned, residents uprooted, and people pushed into economic marginalization — a process critics describe as deliberate demographic engineering. 

According to the Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre (IDMC), more than five million Pashtuns were displaced during military operations between 2004 and 2016, many of whom remain in limbo without adequate resettlement or compensation.

At the same time, the mineral-rich belt of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Balochistan has become a source of extraction rather than empowerment. Gold, copper, and lithium deposits — vital for the global energy transition — are siphoned off by military-linked conglomerates and foreign partners, while local communities continue to live in poverty. 

Reports from the Pakistan Institute of Development Economics (PIDE) note how extractive projects disproportionately benefit military and political elites, leaving indigenous populations excluded from any meaningful share of the wealth.

Munir’s anti-India rhetoric in Washington thus masks a deeper agenda: securing U.S. geopolitical indulgence while sustaining the internal war economy on Pashtun soil.

Selective Outrage: Uyghurs Ignored, Palestinians Betrayed

Pakistan’s “principled” defense of Muslim causes unravels most starkly when examined through its selective outrage. Nowhere is this clearer than in its silence on China’s persecution of Uyghur Muslims and its contradictory stance on Palestine. Despite Beijing’s demolition of mosques, erasure of Islamic culture, and incarceration of more than a million Uyghurs in Xinjiang camps, Pakistan’s leadership has never once raised the issue on international platforms. 

When pressed in 2020 on why he vocally condemned India’s actions in Kashmir but remained mute on China’s atrocities in Xinjiang, then Prime Minister Imran Khan candidly admitted: “China has been a great friend… we do talk about things with China privately, not publicly.” The remark underscored that Islamabad’s so-called “Ummah solidarity” is less moral conviction than transactional diplomacy.

The same duplicity marks its approach to Palestine. For decades, Pakistan has claimed to be the staunchest defender of the Palestinian cause, even stamping its passports with the phrase: valid for all countries except Israel. 

Yet its actions tell a different story. During Black September in 1970, Pakistani General Zia-ul-Haq, then stationed in Jordan, advised Jordanian forces during their bloody crackdown on Palestinian factions. Between 3,000 and 5,000 Palestinians were killed, with more than 25,000 displaced — a massacre rarely acknowledged in Pakistani discourse.

Fast forward to 2020, and Pakistan stood with Turkey in backing Azerbaijan during its war against Armenia, even as Israel supplied Baku with drones and precision munitions. The result was an effective alignment of Pakistan, Turkey, and Israel — a triangular cooperation that starkly contradicted Islamabad’s anti-Israel rhetoric.

What It All Means

Pakistan has repeatedly weaponized the idea of “Ummah solidarity”—not as a moral or theological commitment, but as a bargaining chip in global diplomacy. 

Its foreign policy choices reveal a pattern: alliance with the U.S. while sponsoring its enemies; posturing as Iran’s partner while sheltering anti-Iran militants; waving the Palestinian flag while aiding Israel’s allies; condemning India while staying mute on China’s genocide against Muslims.

This is not a strategy. It is duplicity dressed up as ideology.

Pakistan continues to run with the West while hunting with the Ummah—a game that fools no one and secures nothing lasting.

The coordinated assault, attributed by India to Pakistan-based Islamist militants, triggered a dangerous escalation between the two nuclear-armed neighbors, prompting fears of broader conflict in South Asia. Pakistan has denied any involvement, urging an independent international investigation instead.

The statement, issued by the U.S. State Department following a Quad foreign ministers’ meeting in Washington, stopped short of naming Pakistan directly. However, it delivered an unambiguous message about the threat posed by cross-border terrorism.

“The Quad unequivocally condemns all acts of terrorism and violent extremism in all its forms and manifestations, including cross-border terrorism,” the ministers declared.

They also urged all United Nations member states to cooperate with authorities to ensure justice is served.

Strategic Implications and Regional Tensions

India is a key pillar of Washington’s Indo-Pacific strategy, increasingly seen as a counterbalance to China’s growing regional assertiveness. Conversely, Pakistan remains a long-time U.S. ally, creating diplomatic sensitivities when regional violence occurs.

Following the April attack, New Delhi launched airstrikes on targets across the Line of Control on May 7, which it described as “terrorist infrastructure.” This led to retaliatory strikes by Pakistan involving jets, drones, missiles, and artillery, killing dozens and raising fears of a wider conflict.

A ceasefire was eventually declared on May 10, after the United States held backchannel talks with both countries. U.S. President Donald Trump claimed credit for brokering the truce, citing threats to sever trade discussions. However, India has publicly distanced itself from Trump’s version of events.

India maintains that the resolution was achieved bilaterally with Pakistan, independent of third-party pressure.

India’s Diplomatic Position: No External Mediation

On Monday, Indian External Affairs Minister Subrahmanyam Jaishankar reiterated New Delhi’s longstanding position that its disputes with Islamabad must be resolved directly.

“Relationships will never be free of issues,” Jaishankar said, referencing U.S.-India ties. “What matters is the ability to deal with it and to keep that trend going in the positive direction.”

India’s refusal to acknowledge foreign mediation underscores its emphasis on strategic autonomy, even as it aligns more closely with Western partners like the U.S., Japan, and Australia through the Quad.

A Test for the Quad’s Resolve

The Kashmir incident and its aftermath present a crucial test for the Quad, which has positioned itself as a stabilizing force in the Indo-Pacific.

The group’s commitment to counterterrorism, sovereignty, and rule of law has gained momentum in recent years. However, balancing such principles with the realpolitik of regional alliances remains a complex challenge.

With terrorism continuing to serve as a destabilizing instrument in South Asia, the Quad’s latest statement signals a unified front — albeit with measured diplomatic language — against those seeking to exploit regional fault lines.

According to the intelligence report, TRT World has been providing repeated space to controversial figures linked to Pakistan’s Kashmir campaign, most notably Nasir Qadri—an Islamabad-based lawyer who heads the Legal Forum for Kashmir (LFK). Qadri, who once travelled extensively within India, is now operating from Pakistan’s capital, spearheading global campaigns to malign India’s military and government under the guise of human rights advocacy.

Observers say Qadri’s rise in the propaganda machinery is part of a broader, coordinated effort involving Turkey, Pakistan, and organizations linked to the Muslim Brotherhood. These connections came into sharper focus during the Russell Tribunal on Kashmir held in 2022—a politically charged event co-organized by actors from all three camps.

In a significant flashpoint noted by the report, Legal Forum for Kashmir, in collaboration with UK-based law firm Stoke White, ran a highly orchestrated Twitter campaign in January 2022 targeting key Indian leaders. The online offensive singled out Union Home Minister Amit Shah and then-Chief of Army Staff, General Manoj Naravane. Hashtags and posts flooded social media, attempting to paint India’s security operations in Jammu and Kashmir in a negative light.

This digital campaign conveniently coincided with the Russell Tribunal, raising questions about its timing and coordination. While the event branded itself as an independent tribunal on Kashmir, critics argue it was little more than a political showpiece aimed at India, leveraging platforms and personalities closely aligned with Ankara and Islamabad.

Analysts suggest TRT World’s coverage fits into Ankara’s broader geopolitical ambitions. Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan has, in recent years, amplified his rhetoric on Muslim causes, often positioning himself as a global defender of Muslim rights. In that narrative, Kashmir finds repeated mention—frequently aligned with Pakistan’s stance.

Qadri’s Legal Forum for Kashmir, though presented as a legal advocacy group, has drawn scrutiny for functioning as a front for anti-India narratives. Its frequent engagement with Turkish media outlets and joint events with organizations sympathetic to the Muslim Brotherhood only deepen suspicions about its true objectives.

What makes the situation more concerning, according to @OSINTWa_com, is the blurring of lines between journalism and state-driven messaging. When a state-funded broadcaster like TRT World gives repeated coverage to one-sided narratives without space for opposing views, it raises red flags about media neutrality and intent.

Experts urge caution and call for international media watchdogs to investigate the growing weaponization of public broadcasters in geopolitically sensitive regions. “This is not journalism—it’s soft warfare,” one analyst noted.

As India and Pakistan navigate yet another phase of tense relations, observers argue that platforms like TRT World must be held accountable for enabling biased discourse that could inflame public sentiment and undermine regional stability.

Operation Sindoor wasn’t merely a military response—it was a strategic communication to the world.

In the aftermath of the deadly Pahalgam terror attack that claimed the lives of 26 civilians—many of them Indian and foreign tourists—India responded with a calibrated and precise military operation that has since come to be known as Operation Sindoor. The strikes were not random, nor a knee-jerk retaliation. They were part of a broader message: India will not tolerate terrorism emanating from across its borders.

The Indian Army’s statement, released at 1:44 a.m., stressed that the operation was carefully executed with “considerable restraint in the selection of targets and method of execution.” Importantly, the strikes avoided any Pakistani military installations, targeting only confirmed terror infrastructure in Pakistan and Pakistan-occupied Kashmir (PoK). This selectivity reflects both strategic maturity and a desire to minimize escalation.

What caught international attention, however, was the advanced nature of the weaponry used—especially the SCALP cruise missiles and HAMMER precision-guided munitions, both launched from India’s cutting-edge Rafale fighter jets.

What is the SCALP Missile?

Known in the UK as Storm Shadow, the SCALP (an acronym for Système de Croisière Autonome à Longue Portée) is a long-range, air-launched cruise missile developed by European defense consortium MBDA. With a range of over 250 kilometers and equipped with stealth features, it is designed to strike high-value, well-protected targets deep within enemy territory.

What makes SCALP particularly formidable is its precision navigation system—a sophisticated blend of Inertial Navigation System (INS), GPS guidance, and terrain referencing. Upon launch, the missile descends to a low “terrain-hugging” altitude, making it difficult to detect by radar. As it nears the target, an onboard infrared seeker scans and matches the live image with pre-programmed target visuals. This final stage is what ensures remarkable accuracy, dramatically reducing the risk of collateral damage.

Its all-weather capability, minimal radar signature, and autonomous strike technology make SCALP one of the most lethal cruise missiles currently in service globally.

Why Was SCALP Chosen?

The decision to use SCALP for Operation Sindoor was rooted in both strategic and technical reasoning. India’s targets were deep inside Pakistan—many in hardened, underground facilities believed to host the leadership and logistical support of terror groups like Jaish-e-Mohammed and Lashkar-e-Taiba. These are not simple camps, but fortified compounds with reinforced bunkers and command centers.

In such scenarios, long-range precision and the ability to penetrate hardened structures without a large military footprint are critical. SCALP was the ideal fit—capable of reaching distant targets with surgical accuracy, while minimizing the chances of escalation through unwanted collateral damage.

What is the HAMMER Munition?

Alongside SCALP, the Indian Air Force deployed HAMMER (Highly Agile Modular Munition Extended Range) bombs—precision-guided air-to-ground munitions also of French origin. Manufactured by SAFRAN, HAMMER is what’s known as a “glide bomb.” Unlike traditional gravity bombs, it can be launched from low altitudes and still travel distances up to 70 kilometers, guided by GPS, inertial systems, laser, or infrared technologies.

One of HAMMER’s standout features is its modularity—it can be equipped with various guidance and warhead kits depending on the mission. It’s also resistant to electronic jamming, making it a potent choice in contested airspaces.

Why HAMMER Was Effective

While SCALP was used for deeper and more fortified targets, HAMMER served a complementary role, particularly against medium-range targets where agility and adaptability were key. Some of the terror infrastructure in PoK consisted of safe houses, weapons storage, and training compounds spread across mountainous terrain. For these targets, HAMMER’s high precision and jamming resistance made it a natural choice.

Moreover, the terrain in PoK is notoriously challenging—high altitudes, narrow valleys, and poor visibility. HAMMER’s ability to be launched from low altitude over rough terrain helped the Indian Air Force carry out the strikes without crossing into Pakistani airspace or exposing pilots to unnecessary risk.

A Message Beyond the Missiles

Operation Sindoor wasn’t merely a military response—it was a strategic communication to the world. India showcased its capability to strike surgically and ethically, respecting the international norms of engagement. Unlike conventional bombing campaigns that risk civilian casualties, India’s usage of SCALP and HAMMER highlighted its intent to degrade terror infrastructure without drawing civilian blood.

In contrast, Pakistan’s response—shelling of the Indian border town of Poonch, resulting in the deaths of multiple civilians including children—exposed the stark difference in military conduct between the two neighbors. While India carefully chose advanced precision weapons to avoid collateral damage, Pakistan resorted to indiscriminate shelling.

The Larger Implication

This operation marks a significant evolution in India’s defense posture. The acquisition of Rafale jets, and the integration of SCALP and HAMMER munitions into its arsenal, has provided India with the ability to conduct high-impact, low-footprint operations far beyond its borders. It also signals a clear departure from past restraint where terror attacks went unanswered diplomatically but not militarily.

Importantly, this shift does not indicate a desire for prolonged conflict. In its official communication, India reaffirmed its commitment to peace and regional stability—but underscored that it will not hesitate to act decisively against terrorism.

As tensions remain high, the focus now shifts to diplomatic efforts. But one thing is clear: the rules of engagement in South Asia have changed. With tools like SCALP and HAMMER, India now possesses the ability to respond to asymmetric threats with unmatched precision.

The decision follows a sweeping backlash from Indian Muslims themselves, who overwhelmingly condemned Hijab’s recent statements targeting their patriotism. The tipping point came after Hijab posted a controversial message on April 27, 2025, on X (formerly Twitter), declaring that any Indian Muslim siding with India on the Kashmir issue had “betrayed the ummah” and accusing them of disbelief, quoting Surah Al-Ma’idah (5:51).

“If any Indian Muslim sides with India on Kashmir, he betrays the ummah… Whoever allies with them is of them. And Allah does not guide the wrongdoing people.” – @mohammed_hijab, April 27, 2025

The Turning Point: Indian Muslims Fight Back

The post ignited a fierce and patriotic response from Indian Muslims across the country and the diaspora. Prominent voices, including intellectuals, religious scholars, journalists, and activists, launched a scathing rebuttal to Hijab’s takfiri rhetoric, defending their loyalty to India and rejecting the imposition of foreign Islamist ideologies.

This nationwide pushback was amplified by an exposé from Milli Chronicle UK, titled “Indian Muslims Slam UK Islamist Mohammed Hijab Over Kashmir Remarks”, which captured the firestorm that Hijab’s post unleashed.

Indian intelligence and cybercrime agencies reportedly escalated their monitoring of Hijab’s digital activities. Sources confirmed that Hijab’s platforms were being used to spread anti-India propaganda, glorify separatism, and subtly incite militancy, particularly in the sensitive Kashmir Valley.

Citing these violations, India invoked its Section 69A of Information Technology Act, 2000, resulting in Hijab’s official ban across Indian cyberspace. Major ISPs and social media companies were instructed to geo-block his content, and YouTube removed his channel from visibility within India.

Who is Mohammed Hijab?

Mohammed Hijab is a British-Egyptian YouTuber and self-proclaimed Islamic apologist, who gained notoriety through his debates at Speaker’s Corner in London and YouTube channels targeting atheists, Christians, Jews, and even moderate Muslims. Though not formally trained in Islamic scholarship, he claims credentials from Oxford and SOAS, yet has often been accused of spreading takfiri ideology and instigating religious hatred.

His resume includes:

• Leading violent demonstrations in Leicester (UK) in 2022 against Hindus.
• Making derogatory comments about reincarnation and calling Hindus “pathetic and cowardly.”
• Spewing anti-Semitic slurs during pro-Palestine rallies, where he was caught on tape threatening to “kill those dogs” (referring to Jews).
• Advocating violence and sectarianism under the guise of Islamic unity.

Strong Backlash from Within India

Indian Muslims quickly mobilized to denounce Hijab’s interference. Zahack Tanvir, a counter-extremism writer and founder of Milli Chronicle UK, accused Hijab of hypocrisy: “If Pakistan gave military bases to the US against the Taliban during the ‘War on Terror,’ doesn’t that make them disbelievers by your logic? Then why demand Indian Muslims side with Pakistan on Kashmir?”

Kashmiri scholar Arshia Malik condemned Hijab’s misogyny and irrelevance: “Hasn’t your ex-wife accused you of abuse? We don’t need you lecturing us. India is a liberal democracy—not a playground for takfiri fantasies.”

Mohammed Shoaib, a well-known Islamic debater, responded with visceral anger: “I’m an Indian Muslim. I support my India and its elected Hindutva government. F*** your Pakistani Ummah!”

From journalists like Zaira Nizam to activists like Shoeb Siddiqi, Indian Muslims unified to assert that their faith does not conflict with their patriotism.

“Kashmir is India’s pride. Supporting India isn’t betrayal of Ummah—it’s standing for truth,” said Saif Siddiqi.

The Kashmir Connection and Pahalgam Attack

The timing of Hijab’s incendiary remarks coincided with one of the deadliest terror attacks in Jammu & Kashmir since 2019. On April 22, 2025, armed terrorists attacked a tourist group in Pahalgam’s Baisaran Valley, killing 26 people. Investigations revealed cross-border support from Pakistani handlers, prompting a severe crackdown by Indian forces.

In this tense climate, Hijab’s tweet was perceived as tacit support for terrorism, inciting Muslims to reject their Indian identity. The government took swift action, citing “national security” and “digital de-radicalization.”

A Landmark Decision

This move marks the first time India has officially banned a foreign influencer’s entire online presence for spreading extremism, sending a strong signal to Islamist provocateurs exploiting social media to influence Indian youth.

Policy analysts hailed it as “a bold but necessary step to preserve India’s social fabric.”

In 2021, the CST did mention Mohammed Hijab in a report on antisemitism in the UK. They referred to him as an “influential Islamist YouTuber” who had been involved in antisemitic demonstrations.

A Victory for Moderate Voices

Perhaps the most heartening aspect of this development is the spontaneous unity displayed by Indian Muslims. In an age where online radicalization is a growing concern, Indian Muslims proved they are not swayed by divisive foreign clerics or Twitter preachers.

As Amana Ansari, a policy researcher, aptly said: “We have our voice. We don’t need foreign agents. Never did. Never will.”

This message was clear, forceful, and deeply patriotic—Indian Muslims stand with India. And Mohammed Hijab has no place in their discourse.

Now, Kashmir is at a crossroads again. The hard-won calm is in danger, and people are left wondering if the dream of a normal life was always meant to be just that—a dream.

The valley is calm, with only the distant sound of gunfire and the fast footsteps of tourists who want to leave before nightfall. In the grassy areas of Pahalgam, where people used to laugh with the sound of the Lidder River, there is now a red flag waving. This flag is a warning and shows that something is wounded or damaged.

New Mirage in the ancient Valley

For many years, the government talked about growth and peace, calling it “New Kashmir.” They said it was a place ready for business and tourists, with its problems being fixed through development. They pointed to the new train lines, hotels, and the increase in visitors as signs that the region was finally leaving its troubled past behind. But then, in April, when 26 tourists were killed, this carefully built image was destroyed. The hope, promises, and positive stories quickly faded on the bloodied grass of Pahalgam. This attack did more than take innocent lives; it showed the deep questions hiding underneath the government’s positive talk and statistics.

Pahalgam turned into Battleground

For the people in Kashmir, having tourists return meant more than just making money. It brought a spark of hope, offering a chance to show the world that their valley was more than just bad news headlines and conflicts. However, when attackers targeted people by asking their names, their religion, or how they belong to the area, it made a frightening point: in Kashmir, your identity could be relevant. 

Attacking outsiders, particularly Hindus, is not new. This has been allegedly a common tactic since the beginning of the conflict. It is meant to send a message to New Delhi and the world that Kashmir is not as safe as it appears. Some believe the militants are not only trying to control the land but also trying to decide who is accepted there and who isn’t.

Normalcy to Darkness

After Article 370 was removed, Kashmir seemed like it was slowly coming back to normal. Markets were busy again, and Dal Lake was full of boats with tourists from all over India. The well-known meadows echoed with laughter, a sound that was missing for many years. Local elections were held again after ten years, and the economy—which had suffered a lot from conflict—began to recover. In fact, people in Kashmir were earning even more than those in Delhi and Punjab. For the first time in years, Kashmiris started to hope that peace might finally start to grow in a place that had seen much sadness.

However, the Pahalgam attack changed everything, like a sudden storm in spring. Twenty-six people, including tourists and locals, were killed in a meadow that symbolized Kashmir’s return to normal life. This was more than just an act of violence; it was a clear message. It tried to drag the valley back into the darkness, reminding everyone that old problems were not gone. Now, Kashmir is at a crossroads again. The hard-won calm is in danger, and people are left wondering if the dream of a normal life was always meant to be just that—a dream.

The Crisis of a decade

Prime Minister Modi was in Saudi Arabia when he heard about the tragic events. He was in discussions with Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman on important subjects like energy and trade. As soon as he realized the seriousness of the situation in Pahalgam, he decided to return to India without delay. His urgent flight back to Delhi highlighted the critical nature of the crisis. Upon arrival, Modi’s motorcade hurried through the rainy streets, and he quickly convened emergency meetings with Air Chief Marshal Amar Preet Singh. The entire nation was attentive, eager to see Modi’s response. In the valley, there was a strong awareness that Delhi’s attention was once again focused on them, bringing both the hope for justice and the risk of further tensions.

Muslim Parliamentarian Asaduddin Owaisi blames Pakistan

Owaisi, known as a great critic of Prime Minister Modi, spoke out strongly against the attack, saying Pakistan acted like ISIS by attacking innocent people in India. He asked what type of faith could justify such violence. He also argued that Pakistan should not claim to be a nuclear power while causing terror in other nations. Owaisi warned that India will not remain silent against these threats. His remarks were very clear, particularly when he blamed powerful groups and terrorist networks in Pakistan for purposely trying to stir up religious tensions in India. He accused them of targeting non-Muslims and trying to create conflicts between Hindus and Muslims.

Pakistan’s former Cricketer blames Pakistan

After the Pahalgam massacre, Danish Kaneria, a former leg spinner from Pakistan, raised his voice when the government in Islamabad remained silent. He questioned, “If Pakistan has no part in the Pahalgam terror attack, why hasn’t Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif publicly condemned the incident? Why have your military forces become suddenly more alert? Deep down, you’re aware that you’re protecting and supporting terrorists. Shame on you.” His early remarks challenged the usual denials and diplomatic confusion. In a region already suffering from violence, his accusation spread like ripples in still water, breaking the silence and drawing attention from across borders.

Pakistan’s Response and the diplomatic, border war

Islamabad insisted it was not connected to the militants. They called for an independent investigation and accused Indian leaders of using the tragedy as a “false reason” for military action. India reacted strongly. They expelled Pakistani diplomats, suspended the Indus Waters Treaty, and closed their borders and airspace to Pakistani flights. Pakistan responded by closing its ports to Indian ships, shutting its own airspace, and threatening to leave the 1972 Simla Agreement, which is crucial for maintaining the Line of Control in Kashmir. This breakdown in diplomatic communication, suspension of important agreements, and back-and-forth economic and military actions caused tensions to rise quickly. These actions led to fights across the LoC, pushing the two nuclear-armed neighbours into a new border conflict.

What’s Next for Kashmir?

Kashmir, known as “paradise on earth,” is now going through tough times. Its beautiful rivers are witnessing violence and struggle. The United Nations is urging everyone to act carefully and ensure the safety of people. India is at a crucial point where it must decide whether to respond with anger or choose a wiser and more peaceful path. To move forward, India needs to focus on smarter intelligence, advanced surveillance technology, and building strong trust with local communities. This can turn local people from passive onlookers into active partners in maintaining safety. By addressing wounds, restoring dignity, and ensuring the protection of all Kashmiris, India can work towards ending the violence. This approach will help Kashmir regain its peaceful identity, allowing a song of peace to echo through the mountains and reach across the world, rather than a song of sorrow.

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