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.

By adopting Chinese technology, Pakistan has effectively imported the architecture of one-party authoritarianism and repurposed it for its own military-led state.

In today’s interconnected world, surveillance has become the defining tool of authoritarian power. For decades, whispers of phone tapping, hidden cameras, and intercepted letters formed part of the political folklore in Pakistan. Opposition leaders complained about bugged hotel rooms, journalists spoke of mysteriously leaked recordings, and ordinary citizens lived with the suspicion that their conversations were never entirely private.

But what was once fragmented and clumsy has now been consolidated into a sophisticated and institutionalized state machinery of repression. Today, Pakistan’s rulers command a surveillance and censorship apparatus capable of monitoring millions at home. And at the heart of this system lies a troubling partnership with China, the global architect of digital authoritarianism, which has become Pakistan’s model and its main supplier.

Beijing’s Digital Spy Trade in Asia

The Pakistan-China collaboration on domestic espionage aligns with the broader framework of the Digital Silk Road, Beijing’s effort to export its technological dominance alongside its governing philosophy. As China extends its influence through infrastructure projects and military ties, it also exports the invisible infrastructure of repression.

Chinese firewalls, intercept systems, and biometric databases become complementary products. Pakistan, indebted to Chinese investment and strategically reliant on Beijing’s support, has proven to be one of the most eager markets. China is not merely exporting a surveillance technology, but an ideology of the state’s overarching control over society.

The cornerstone of this collaboration is the Web Monitoring System 2.0 (WMS 2.0), introduced in 2023. According to a recent Amnesty International report, the system is fueled by Chinese company Geedge Networks and hardware from the state-owned China Electronics Corporation. It functions like a smaller version of Beijing’s own Great Firewall, capable of deep-packet inspection, VPN detection, website blocking, and real-time throttling of online traffic.

This is not mere censorship; it is preventive digital warfare, designed to identify dissent before it can mobilize. By adopting Chinese technology, Pakistan has effectively imported the architecture of one-party authoritarianism and repurposed it for its own military-led state.

Alongside WMS, Pakistan has also integrated sophisticated European-based technology to conduct mass surveillance of personal communication devices. Pakistan’s armed forces and its notorious spy agency, the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), use the Lawful Intercept Management System (LIMS) to track the population’s digital activities through Pakistani telecommunications providers.

In practice, European states have legal and technical safeguards that prevent law enforcement agencies from exploiting this technology. The absence of such safeguards in Pakistan, however, empowers the government to spy on more than 4 million people at any given time. Instead of utilizing LIMS for targeted monitoring of terrorist groups within Pakistan, the state conducts indiscriminate and illegal surveillance of Pakistani citizens to suppress dissent and free speech.

Indiscriminate Surveillance over Targeted Monitoring

Pakistan’s government insists such powers are needed for national security, but the pattern of use tells a different story. The true targets are not terrorists or foreign spies; they are Pakistanis who dare to dissent. Journalists in Pakistan describe how private WhatsApp calls mysteriously leak, or how investigative reports are quietly spiked because editors fear their communications are being monitored.

Human rights defenders, particularly those campaigning against enforced disappearances, speak of constant digital harassment. Activists in Balochistan and among the Pashtun community in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa find their social media posts flagged, their movements tracked, and in some cases, their family members kidnapped by intelligence agencies.

Even judges have accused the ISI of using secret surveillance to interfere in judicial proceedings.

In each instance, surveillance serves less to protect citizens than to protect the military from accountability.

Nowhere are the costs more visible than in Balochistan, Pakistan’s most resource-rich but also the most impoverished province. Pakistan’s state breakdown on civil rights activists and the military oppression of Balochis have left the region marginalized for decades. For years, large districts of Baluchistan have been cut off from the internet entirely. These blackouts are not temporary inconveniences; they stretch on for months, even years, leaving entire communities digitally silenced.

As human rights watchdogs have documented, the blackouts often coincide with military operations, enforced disappearances, and crackdowns on protests. Families searching for missing relatives are unable to mobilize, activists cannot get their message out, and international attention is blunted by the lack of communication. In this context, WMS 2.0’s ability to block VPNs and throttle platforms is not a neutral tool but an active weapon of repression.

The Digital Silk Road Meets Rawalpindi

The Chinese role in Pakistan’s state surveillance is not merely a trade of technology, but a political partnership.

Beijing gains a strategic partner whose governance increasingly resembles its own, while Pakistan gains tools of repression that strengthen military control in areas like Balochistan and KPK, where anti-Pakistan sentiments remain strong. Pakistan’s strategic reliance on China now extends beyond roads and ports into the intimate sphere of its citizens’ communications. This alignment is ideological as it normalizes the view that dissent is treason and citizens exist to be managed, not represented.

This is why Pakistan’s surveillance state matters beyond its borders. When a fragile democracy like Pakistan adopts the Chinese model, it sends a message to other countries that repression can be imported, and authoritarian technology can be globalized. The spread of systems like WMS 2.0 is not just a Pakistani issue; it is a challenge to the very idea of digital freedom worldwide. What is tested in Balochistan today may be exported to Central Asia or other parts of the world tomorrow.

Takeaway

The track record of Pakistan’s current civil-military regime paints a bleak picture of the country’s future. It can continue down the Chinese path, perfecting the machinery of digital authoritarianism while hollowing out its democratic promises. Or it can confront the reality that surveillance without oversight is not security but tyranny.

That would mean empowering courts to enforce warrant requirements, demanding transparency from telecom companies, and refusing to import technologies designed to silence. Yet Pakistan is far from this path, given its recent trajectory on political representation and its crackdown on former Prime Minister Imran Khan.

For now, the temptation for authoritarian rule in Islamabad and Rawalpindi appears irresistible. Surveillance is cheap when subsidized by Beijing and comes in handy when backed by military power. Moreover, it is politically convenient to silence opposing voices en masse. But in choosing this path, Pakistan risks not only violating the rights of its citizens but eroding the very legitimacy it seeks to protect.

The firewall may shield those in power from criticism today, but it will also trap them in a model of governance that cannot tolerate transparency, accountability, or debate. The verdict is clear that Pakistan’s surveillance state is not merely domestic. It is the Great Firewall of China with Pakistani characteristics, assembled in Islamabad, and tested in Balochistan.