For Pakistan’s small Sikh community, long associated with sacred shrines and historical memory, but seldom with state authority, it marked a rare breakthrough.

Pakistan is often described as an Army with a state rather than a state with an army. In such a system, even seemingly routine decisions, such as military promotions, can carry deep political meaning. One such case was the promotion of Lt Col Harcharan Singh in February this year, as the first Sikh officer in Pakistan’s history to attain this rank. Months later, it still merits attention, not because it was merely unusual, but because it revealed how identity, military power, and regional politics continue to intersect in Pakistan.

At one level, the promotion was politically noteworthy and institutionally revealing. For Pakistan’s small Sikh community, long associated with sacred shrines and historical memory, but seldom with state authority, it marked a rare breakthrough. Yet in Pakistan, where the military remains the country’s most powerful institution, promotions are seldom read only as personnel decisions. They can also be instruments of strategic messaging.

Advancement within Pakistan’s armed forces carries prestige, influence, and political meaning beyond what most civilian institutions can confer. For a minority officer to rise in that structure is therefore no minor development.

Harcharan Singh’s own journey helps explain why the event resonated so widely. 

Born in 1987 in Nankana Sahib: the birthplace of Guru Nanak and one of Sikhism’s holiest centres, he came from a town central to Sikh religious consciousness worldwide. He later studied at the prestigious Forman Christian College in Lahore, one of Pakistan’s oldest and most respected institutions, historically known for producing political leaders, diplomats, academics, and public figures across communities.

Afterward, he reportedly cleared Pakistan’s Inter Services Selection Board and entered the Pakistan Military Academy, Kakul, through the 116^th Long Course. When commissioned in 2007, he was widely described as the first publicly known Sikh officer to receive a regular commission in the Pakistan Army since Partition.

He was initially inducted into the Army Ordnance Corps, a technical branch responsible for logistics, stores etc. Subsequently he joined the 12^th battalion of Baloch Regiment, indicating movement into a more operational environment linked to field command structures. In professional militaries, such trajectories matter. They reveal whether representation remains ceremonial or extends into the institution’s core functions.

By that measure, Singh’s promotion is meaningful. But it is placed within a broader strategic context.

Pakistan’s Sikh population is small, commonly estimated to be no more than 15,000. Yet its political value exceeds its demographic size. Unlike other minority communities, Sikhs occupy a space where faith, geography, memory, and India-Pakistan rivalry converge. Pakistan hosts some of Sikhism’s most sacred sites: Nankana Sahib, Kartarpur, Panja Sahib. Few states possess custodianship over the sacred geography of a community whose largest population lives elsewhere.

Islamabad has increasingly recognised the utility of that reality.

The Kartarpur Corridor, opened by former PM Imran Khan in 2019, was welcomed by pilgrims as a humanitarian and religious breakthrough. It was also an exercise in modern soft power. It allowed Pakistan to project tolerance, engage Sikh sentiment directly, and shape international perceptions at relatively low strategic cost. 

That same logic helps explain why Sikh inclusion carries a different strategic weight from the inclusion of other minorities. Sikhs constitute roughly 1.7 to 2 percent of India’s population, but their national influence exceeds numbers alone. They are economically prominent, politically mobilised, globally networked through a substantial diaspora, and historically overrepresented in India’s armed forces relative to population share. Their presence in Punjab, India’s border state adjoining Pakistan, adds another layer of geopolitical relevance.

Unlike Christians or Hindus, Sikhs offer Pakistan something rare in geopolitics: a minority constituency with emotional relevance inside India, religious relevance globally, and sacred geography inside Pakistan. 

This is why Pakistan’s engagement with Sikh politics has never been merely domestic.

During the militancy years of the 1980s, Pakistan’s security establishment was widely understood to have provided sanctuary, training, financing, and logistical support to Khalistani militant networks operating against India. Over time, the methods evolved from covert infrastructure and cross-border facilitation to diaspora outreach, information campaigns, and symbolic religious diplomacy. The objective, however, has often appeared consistent: keep Punjab politically sensitive and India strategically vulnerable. 

Seen in that light, Harcharan Singh’s promotion is about more than minority advancement. It reinforces outreach to Sikh communities abroad, complements Pakistan’s custodianship narrative over Sikh heritage sites, and projects institutional openness at a time when the country continues to face scrutiny over blasphemy laws, discrimination against Christians, insecurity among Hindus, and the constitutional exclusion of Ahmadis.

That leads to a more difficult question. If this promotion is evidence of broad-based inclusion, why has no Christian, Hindu, or other minority officer publicly emerged with comparable prominence in the Army’s visible hierarchy? Are others less capable, less deserving, or simply less useful to the state’s strategic narrative?

This is where representation shades into selective inclusion.

Institutions sometimes elevate a few exceptional individuals not only to reward merit, but also to project an image of systemic openness and institutional inclusivity. One success story can be amplified as proof of reform. Yet symbolic mobility for a handful does not necessarily amount to structural equality and inclusion of minorities. 

None of this diminishes Harcharan Singh’s personal achievement. Rising through a rigid military hierarchy requires discipline and competence. But in Pakistan’s case, it would be simplistic to read the episode solely through the language of diversity and one individual’s calibre.

As with many political gestures in Pakistan, the significance of this promotion lies not only in what it reveals, but in what it may conceal. The deeper story is about how states convert identity into influence. Pakistan’s handling of Sikh symbolism: from Kartarpur diplomacy to selective representation in the army, suggests a maturing soft-power strategy in which minority visibility serves not only domestic optics, but wider geopolitical aims vis-à-vis India. 

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

Until Pakistan matches words with actions, its participation in regional counterterror frameworks will remain a facade.

When Pakistan assumed the chair of the Shanghai Cooperation Organization’s permanent anti-terror body, the Regional Anti-Terrorist Structure (RATS), last month, the optics were striking: a state sponsor of terrorism now overseeing a regional network tasked with combating it.

The irony is hard to ignore. For Islamabad’s international posture and domestic rhetoric to carry credibility, its territory must no longer serve as a safe haven for groups trained and funded to strike Indian soil. Yet, the evidence suggests this condition remains far from met.

Pakistan’s enduring militant ecosystem aligns closely with the country’s long-standing military doctrine of “bleeding India with a thousand cuts”—a strategy that leverages proxies and covert militants to impose costs on India while avoiding direct conventional conflict. Under this logic, groups like Jaishe-e-Mohammad (JeM) and Lashkar-e-Taiba (LeT) serve not merely ideological but strategic purposes. 

If Pakistan is serious about counterterrorism, the persistence of this doctrine is inexplicable. The question remains: why does Islamabad continue to nurture a system that directly contradicts its international obligations and its stated commitment to counterterrorism?

Persistent Militant Ecosystems and Digital Adaptations

Notwithstanding India’s precision strikes on select Pakistani terrorist camps in May 2025, Pakistan’s militant ecosystems remain largely intact. Take the case of Masood Azhar-led JeM, which continues to plan operations, maintain training facilities, and innovate its fundraising mechanisms. Recent investigative reporting reveals that JeM has shifted toward digital-wallet fundraising and is attempting to rebuild as many as 313 terror hubs across Pakistan.

Despite severe losses during Operation Sindoor—which killed more than a dozen members of Azhar’s family and destroyed JeM’s headquarters in Bahawalpur—he remains defiant in his terrorist drive against India.

In a recent speech at a JeM site in Bahawalpur, Azhar announced plans to establish a women’s jihad course, Jamat-ul-Mominat. The 15-day training program reportedly aims to establish female combat units within JeM. If implemented, this can be a critical operational development for JeM, reminiscent of the Islamic State and Boko Haram, both of which have deployed women as suicide bombers and assault operatives.

Further worrying is the public conduct of the sons and successors of designated terror figures. The son of Lashkar-e-Taiba (LeT) chief Hafiz Saeed, for example, has openly defied extradition calls, using public rallies to proclaim that Pakistan will continue to shield his father while praising military operations and urging “jihad.” 

An anti-regime Pakistani journalist recently reported that Talha Saeed has assumed leadership of an LeT-linked mosque in Lahore—signaling a generational shift in the group’s command and control. These are not isolated cases but part of a broader ecosystem in which religious, militant, and political networks overlap with visible impunity. Their continued prominence underscores the depth of Pakistan’s structural complicity and the normalization of militant influence in public life.

The Digital Evolution of Terror Financing

Pakistan’s counterterrorism narrative further collapses under the scrutiny of its financial oversight. While Islamabad touts its cooperation with the Financial Action Task Force (FATF), militant funding has evolved faster than its regulatory mechanisms. Groups such as JeM have reportedly shifted from traditional banking channels to fintech platforms, mobile wallets, and decentralized e-payment systems within Pakistan to sustain operations.

This digital adaptation is not evidence of militant defeat but proof of resilience. Despite a recent implicit warning from FATF President Elisa de Anda Madrazo that Pakistan’s removal from the Grey List in 2022 was not “bullet-proof” and Pakistan’s own finance minister’s admission of rampant unregulated digital transactions, terrorist financing remains largely unchecked. The shift into digital ecosystems allows militant organizations to operate under the radar, with minimal state interference or consequences.

Paradoxical Cover from the United States

Pakistan’s growing diplomatic and economic proximity to the United States may paradoxically weaken Washington’s leverage over Islamabad’s behavior. Historically, U.S. pressure has occasionally forced Pakistan’s military-intelligence establishment to rein in militant proxies. But today, the strategic calculus appears to have shifted. 

As Pakistan portrays itself as a “regional counterterror partner” and a reliable economic hub, Washington remains inclined to prioritize a transactional relationship over accountability. These dynamic risks emboldening Pakistan’s military leadership, led by Field Marshal Asim Munir, to maintain its use of jihadist groups as tools of statecraft. Islamabad’s confidence that its strategic importance shields it from meaningful repercussions only deepens the challenge.

The policy risk for India and its partners is that Pakistan will use its SCO-RATS role to deflect scrutiny while continuing asymmetric operations. If training camps are allowed to be rebuilt, if digital funding networks flourish, and if terrorist rallies continue with active state approval, then Pakistan’s leadership in counterterror structures becomes an exercise in hollow symbolism rather than substantive change.

Pakistan’s claim to regional leadership in counterterrorism rests on fragile ground so long as its own territory hosts—and in many cases, protects—the very networks it purports to combat. The U.S.–Pakistan relationship, increasingly transactional and detached from shared security priorities, risks reinforcing Islamabad’s belief that it can pursue dual policies: cooperation abroad and complicity at home. 

Until Pakistan matches words with actions, its participation in regional counterterror frameworks will remain a facade. The question for the international community is not whether Pakistan can change, but whether it wants to.

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

Education is never neutral, but the persistent distortions in Pakistan’s textbooks have long-term consequences.

Education is often regarded as the foundation of a nation’s future. But in Pakistan, state-approved textbooks continue to reveal a troubling pattern: the blending of religion, nationalism, and selective history into a narrative that risks deepening social divides and shaping generations in ways that undermine pluralism and peace.

A new report by IMPACT-se, in partnership with the Ronald S. Roadburg Foundation, provides an in-depth review of 86 textbooks from Punjab, Sindh, and the Federal Directorate, exposing how the country’s curriculum falls short of international standards of tolerance and respect.

Religion as the Core of Identity

At the heart of the curriculum lies the portrayal of Pakistan as an Islamic republic created “exclusively as a free state for Muslims.” This framing, repeated across grades and subjects, sidelines the multi-religious and multi-ethnic reality of the country.

While textbooks claim that minorities live “happily according to their beliefs,” the lived reality of Hindus, Christians, Sikhs, and Ahmadis suggests otherwise. The curriculum’s heavy Islamization extends beyond religious studies into secular subjects such as Urdu, General Knowledge, and even Mathematics, where exercises are framed around Islamic expressions or prayer times.

The emphasis on Islam as the sole foundation of national identity feeds a narrow worldview. It conditions young Pakistanis to equate patriotism with religiosity, leaving little space for pluralism or the idea of citizenship beyond faith.

A Skewed Portrayal of Democracy and Dictatorship

Textbooks often praise democracy as a system but simultaneously undermine it by stressing inefficiency, high costs, and delays. A Civics textbook from Punjab goes so far as to call democracy a “burden on the people.”

In contrast, authoritarian rule, particularly military dictatorships, is described in neutral or even positive terms. Some texts astonishingly highlight Adolf Hitler as an example of a leader who restored “German pride,” while omitting the genocide and horrors of Nazism.

Such selective glorification is not accidental; it reflects Pakistan’s own history of repeated military coups. By downplaying the dangers of authoritarianism and exaggerating its “efficiency,” the curriculum normalizes undemocratic interventions in governance and erodes the value of democratic accountability.

India as the Perpetual Adversary

Few themes dominate Pakistani textbooks more consistently than the portrayal of India. From early grades, students are taught to see India not as a neighbor but as a historic and permanent adversary. The Kashmir conflict is presented solely as Indian aggression, while agreements, cooperation, or shared cultural histories are absent.

Hinduism occasionally receives respectful treatment—described in one Ethics textbook as a religion of “love, tolerance, and peace”—but this is overshadowed by the negative portrayal of Hindus during Partition and the depiction of India as an existential threat to Pakistan’s survival.

The textbooks also describe India’s revocation of Kashmir’s Article 370 as a “black day,” without presenting the legal or political complexities.

This constant framing entrenches a siege mentality, ensuring that reconciliation remains distant and hostility is passed from one generation to the next.

Jews, Israel, and the Erasure of History

The report highlights that Jews are systematically excluded from comparative religion lessons and are instead framed in narratives of betrayal during early Islamic history. Passages accuse Jewish tribes of Medina of “conspiracies,” while some texts repeat medieval tropes about Jews being responsible for the crucifixion of Jesus. There is no mention of the Holocaust, even in references to Hitler’s Germany.

Israel, meanwhile, is depicted solely through the lens of conflict. Textbooks describe Pakistan as supporting Muslims “on every front in their war against Israel,” reinforcing an uncompromising position.

Even the October 7, 2023 Hamas attacks are absent from accounts of the Gaza war, with blame placed entirely on Israel for humanitarian suffering.

This selective erasure and demonization foster intolerance and deny students an opportunity to understand Jewish history or the complexity of the Middle East.

Women Between Progress and Patriarchy

Gender representation remains deeply conflicted. On one hand, textbooks celebrate figures like Fatima Jinnah and Benazir Bhutto, and highlight women in professions such as engineering or aviation.

On the other, traditional gender roles are reinforced, with young girls portrayed as naturally suited for sewing and domestic tasks. Imagery consistently depicts women in hijabs, linking dignity and morality to modest dress codes.

This duality sends mixed messages to young learners: women can succeed, but only within culturally sanctioned boundaries.

Foreign Policy Through a Religious Lens

Pakistan’s foreign policy is consistently framed as an extension of Islamic solidarity. The country’s leadership in founding the Organization of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) is described as part of a divine mission to unite Muslims. Its nuclear capability is celebrated not only as strategic defense but as a symbolic victory for the Islamic world.

The United Nations is portrayed as biased against Muslims, while Pakistan’s ties with China are praised uncritically. By framing diplomacy as a moral struggle between Muslims and “the West,” the textbooks leave little space for nuanced understanding of global politics.

Why This Matters

Education is never neutral, but the persistent distortions in Pakistan’s textbooks have long-term consequences. By glorifying authoritarianism, demonizing neighbors and minorities, and embedding religion into every subject, Pakistan risks raising generations conditioned to mistrust pluralism and embrace hostility.

For an international audience, the findings raise a crucial question: how can a nuclear-armed state grappling with extremism prepare its youth for peace when its schools normalize intolerance?

The report underscores a fundamental truth: curricula are not just about teaching facts—they shape values, worldviews, and future policies. Unless Pakistan reforms its educational system to embrace inclusivity, critical thinking, and historical honesty, its classrooms will remain breeding grounds for division rather than bridges to peace.