In contrast, New Delhi has never used such a language against Pakistan, a rival that has constantly carried out sub-conventional warfare and imposed three wars on India.

Pakistan has reacted strongly to India’s decision to put the 1960 Indus Water Treaty (IWT) in abeyance in May 2025. More importantly, New Delhi has retained its position, which Pakistan seems not to have expected.

The rulers in Pakistan might have thought that the decision taken by New Delhi would be temporary and meant to cool down the public anger over the Pahalgam terror attack in which 26 innocent civilians were gunned down by Pakistan-backed terrorists in April 2025.

India’s position and its strong defence of putting the treaty in abeyance have given a clear message to Islamabad that the IWT was no longer inviolable. India has not only defended its decision strongly but has also offered a legal basis for its decision. In this way, New Delhi has got on the nerves of the military establishment in Pakistan.

The point is not what the rulers and several commentators say about India’s decision; the real issue is what they can do about it. Not much, to be clear.

It is a well-established international practice that the upper riparian states need to be mindful of the needs of the lower riparian states. And India has been overly conscious and considerate about that. Otherwise, besides signing the treaty and allowing Pakistan to use the majority of the waters of the western three rivers—the Indus, Chenab, and Jhelum—New Delhi never thought of using the treaty to react to Pakistan’s three unprovocative wars that it imposed on India.

Pakistan has no locus standi to challenge India’s decision. One point that the rulers in Pakistan and several commentators make to question India’s position is the legality of India’s decision to put the IWT in abeyance. First and foremost, there is no precedent and no legal binding that a treaty or agreement is eternal. If that had been the case, there would not have been amendments or clauses in agreements meant to address issues that pop up from time to time. More importantly, what if the situation and the circumstances change? If a treaty favours one signatory at the cost of the other, would that be fair to the essence of an agreement? Of course not.

Furthermore, Pakistan should be thankful that New Delhi has not taken an irrational and reckless position. Like in Pakistan, the provinces are ready to adopt punitive water policies to deprive each other of water. Punjab is accused of using the waters of the Indus River and depriving Balochistan and Sindh of their share. These two provinces are up against Punjab for the latter’s decision to divert water to irrigate barren land, affecting the lower riparian areas.

To quote Chief Minister of Punjab Maryam Nawaz, “If Punjab wants to construct canals for its water, why are you bothered? It is Punjab’s water. It belongs to the people, farmers and fields of Punjab.” Maryam Nawaz is just the chief minister of a province of Pakistan. Still, she minces no words in underlining the reality that Punjab, since it is the most powerful province of the country, can overlook the concerns and reservations of the weak and lower riparian provinces.

In contrast, New Delhi has never used such a language against Pakistan, a rival that has constantly carried out sub-conventional warfare and imposed three wars on India. In fact, India has been considerate about the implications of such a decision and its generosity towards the common people of Pakistan, despite the hostile policy of the country’s military establishment, is well known. Not only did it not disrupt the flow of the water towards Pakistan, but it also diplomatically raised its concerns about the changing circumstances of the IWT and the need for its renegotiation.

That should be enough to refute the claim of Islamabad that the water was being “weaponised”. Had that been the policy, New Delhi could have done that a long time ago. The point is that the behaviour of the military establishment remains detrimental towards India’s security. And having made all sincere efforts to convince Islamabad to refrain from pursuing such a policy, the only option was to remind Islamabad of its vulnerability.

Notwithstanding the hollow claims of several leaders in Pakistan, war is and will be devastating for the country. The rulers in Pakistan may claim that it has nothing to lose, but India is focused on development and progress. It doesn’t want to be dragged into a war, although it can easily win one by making Pakistan pay a heavy price, but a lot of resources will be consumed by such an action.

For Pakistan, on the other hand, conflict and wars have sustained the military establishment in the country. Since the brief conflict in May 2025, the country’s military has overly dominated the country’s domestic and foreign policy. Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif has been reduced to an honorary position, standing behind Field Marshal Asim Munir to nod his head to the latter’s decisions. Sad, but reality.

Be that as it may. The reality is that New Delhi has made it clear that Pakistan cannot claim normalcy on one front and remain involved in anti-India subversive activities on the other. If internally Punjab can make a claim over the waters that flow through it to the lower areas of Pakistan, why can New Delhi not explore the option of putting the IWT in abeyance to build pressure on Pakistan to take concrete measures against its sponsored groups that have been active in threatening India’s security?

If the military establishment believes that India cannot do that, then it is living in a fool’s paradise. India has options to force Pakistan to revisit its policy of sponsoring anti-India terrorist groups. New Delhi still prefers diplomatic ways to send a message across the border.

The decision to put the IWT in abeyance is a step towards achieving that goal. And India is fully entitled to abrogate the treaty if Pakistan doesn’t revisit its behaviour or refuses to acknowledge India’s concerns.

If history has anything to teach us, Pakistan is known for making misguided policy decisions. Often, such short-sighted policies have backfired. Whether it’s support to the Islamist radicals like Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) or the Afghan Taliban, to mention just two. Its support for the TTP has led to military confrontations between Pakistan and Afghanistan. And the situation remains tense, which potentially can deteriorate if better sense does not prevail.

Pakistan is in no position to claim having the upper hand, whether militarily, diplomatically or legally, to challenge India’s decision on the IWT. All it can do is carry out sub-conventional warfare that, in turn, can provide New Delhi with a strong casus belli((a Latin term meaning “cause for war” or “justification for war). Where will that end? Islamabad should know that better. In no way can it inflict harm on India that can be compared to the potential damage that India can unleash on Pakistan.

On the issue of IWT, Pakistan has no case, no clout. It, therefore, is wise and sensible for the country to behave as a responsible state and stop supporting anti-India terrorist groups. That would help it save a lot of money for development. The rulers of Pakistan have the responsibility to act sensibly and in the interests of the people of their country.

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.

The world must confront an uncomfortable truth: Pakistan does not merely fight extremism—it manufactures it, repurposes it, and unleashes it on its own people.

For decades, Pakistan’s security establishment has perfected a dangerous strategy: using extremist groups as tools of statecraft. While presenting itself as a frontline ally in the “war on terror,” Islamabad has quietly nurtured violent networks to crush dissent, manipulate politics, and control narratives. Nowhere is this duplicity more visible than in Balochistan, Pakistan’s largest yet most neglected province, where Daesh-linked groups and sectarian militias operate under the shadow of state protection.

Daesh Sanctuaries in the Heart of Balochistan

Daesh has publicly admitted to having sanctuaries in Mastung and Khuzdar, two regions that were once strongholds of sectarian militants. Instead of dismantling these extremist hubs, Pakistan’s establishment allegedly repurposed them for political utility. Militants who once targeted Shias were redirected towards suppressing Baloch nationalists and silencing voices of dissent.

These sanctuaries offered more than mere safe haven. Training camps, recruitment networks, and financial channels enabled extremists to extend their reach across the province and beyond. Evidence points to these camps being linked to suicide bombings in Sindh and massacres of Hazara Shias in Quetta, demonstrating that Balochistan’s militancy is not isolated but integrated into a nationwide terror infrastructure.

The Rise of Shafiq Mengal: From Extremist Recruit to State Asset

A central figure in this playbook is Shafiq Mengal, son of former Balochistan Chief Minister Naseer Mengal. After leaving Aitchison College, he immersed himself in a Deobandi seminary and developed links with Lashkar-e-Taiba, a group long accused of enjoying state patronage. By the mid-2000s, the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) had reportedly recruited him as a pro-state tribal leader.

Mengal founded the Musalla Diffa Tanzeem, a militia that became synonymous with abductions, torture, and extrajudicial killings. His death squads targeted activists, students, and poets who championed Baloch rights. What began in Khuzdar soon spread to Wadh, transforming peaceful regions into hubs of sectarian terror. Under Mengal’s leadership, extremists flourished, often acting with complete impunity.

Pakistan’s “Kill-and-Dump” Strategy

Since 2008, Balochistan has witnessed a grim pattern of disappearances and executions, a policy critics describe as “kill-and-dump.” Death squads like Mengal’s were instrumental in executing this strategy on behalf of the state.

A grenade attack on a Baloch Students Organization (BSO-Azad) rally took place in 2010. This was followed by targeted assaults on cultural events, which killed and crippled young participants. Abductions and executions of minors, such as Balaach and Majeed Zehri, further deepened the climate of fear.

Each incident reinforced the perception that Pakistan’s security agencies outsourced their dirtiest operations to extremists. This outsourcing provided deniability to the Army while terrorizing Baloch civil society into silence.

The impact of these networks was not confined to Balochistan. Suicide bombings in Sindh’s Shikarpur, targeted killings of Hazara Shias, and assassination attempts on political leaders like MQM’s Khawaja Izhar-ul-Haq all traced their roots back to Wadh’s training camps.

In 2016, the first captured Daesh suicide bomber confessed that he had been trained in Wadh, and that his explosive vest was assembled by a handler named “Maaz.” Such revelations highlight how Balochistan’s extremist infrastructure fed directly into Pakistan’s broader sectarian and political violence.

The Double Game of Pakistan’s Establishment

The strategic logic behind nurturing militias becomes clear when examining their political utility. Baloch nationalist leaders, students, and intellectuals became primary targets of Mengal’s squads. Writers, poets, and activists who articulated demands for rights were branded “Indian agents” and eliminated.

Even established politicians, including Sardar Akhtar Mengal, accused the Army of arming and protecting militias to suppress nationalist movements. The complicity extended deep into the political class. Caretaker Interior Minister Sarfraz Bughti, for example, has been accused of maintaining his own militia. This convergence of politics, militancy, and military patronage reveals how entrenched the system has become.

Pakistan’s security establishment has long practiced a dangerous double game. While presenting itself to Washington, Brussels, and Riyadh as a committed partner against extremism, it simultaneously sustains militias for “strategic depth.” In Balochistan, these groups are deployed to weaken nationalist movements. In regional politics, they offer Islamabad leverage in Afghanistan and India.

Figures like Shafiq Mengal are the byproduct of this strategy: once extremists, later repackaged as state allies, always indispensable for maintaining control. Meanwhile, dissenting voices are silenced through fear, exile, or assassination.

The Real Terror Factory

Behind the headlines lies a deeply human tragedy. Families of missing persons gather daily in Quetta and other cities, holding photographs of sons, brothers, and fathers who vanished at the hands of militias or security forces. Their peaceful protests are often met with indifference—or outright repression. Even demonstrations in Islamabad demanding accountability have been crushed, underscoring the hypocrisy of Pakistan’s claims to democratic governance.

Civil society remains caught between the hammer of the Army and the anvil of extremists. While families demand answers, groups like Daesh and Mengal’s militias operate with apparent freedom, enjoying access to weapons, vehicles, and funding.

Balochistan offers a sobering lesson in how states can manufacture and weaponize extremism for political ends. The Daesh footprint in the province is not merely about sectarian violence; it reflects a deeper policy of political engineering and state-backed terror.

The career of Shafiq Mengal illustrates this dangerous nexus. From jihadi recruit to Army asset, his rise exemplifies how Pakistan’s establishment uses extremists to crush dissent, control politics, and maintain its dominance.

The world must confront an uncomfortable truth: Pakistan does not merely fight extremism—it manufactures it, repurposes it, and unleashes it on its own people. Until this duplicity is acknowledged, Balochistan will remain a killing field where freedom is strangled, and extremists act as the silent enforcers of military power.