By Junaid S. Ahmad
More than a month has passed since the deadly terrorist attack in Pahalgam, deep in the restive terrain of Indian-occupied Kashmir. Yet, the region has not exhaled. That attack was the spark; the explosion was narrowly averted—this time. Fighter jets scrambled, missiles were mobilized, and once again the world held its breath as two nuclear-armed rivals, each armed with doomsday in their back pocket, flirted with mutual annihilation.
While the episode may have slipped from international headlines, its implications remain radioactive. South Asia is not a playground, though its leaders often behave like unruly children with grenades. If the world needed a reminder that nuclear deterrence is not a fail-safe, rationally managed insurance policy but a glorified gamble with apocalyptic stakes—this was it.
This wasn’t officially a war. But it was close enough to provoke real questions about the sanity—or lack thereof—guiding the region’s leadership, and the broader geopolitics that embolden them.
No winners in a nuclear firestorm
Let us first dispense with the nationalist pageantry that follows every skirmish between India and Pakistan. There are no victors when nuclear states collide. This is not a cricket match where bragging rights are exchanged over biryani and Bollywood memes. It is a potential extinction-level event. The myth that one side can decisively “win” a war against the other is not just dangerous—it is delusional. In such a conflict, “victory” is synonymous with vaporisation.
Nuclear war is the only war where the “first strike” is also the “last mistake.” Both India and Pakistan have built narratives of strength around their capacity to deter one another, but those narratives assume their leaders are rational, stable, and immune to populist bloodlust. If recent history is any guide, that’s a deeply hazardous assumption.
Kashmir: The forgotten epicenter
Amid all the saber-rattling, missile-counting, and testosterone-soaked monologues from news anchors on both sides of the border, the most important reality—the brutalized lives of Kashmiris—vanishes into the fog of war games. It’s a remarkable trick of geopolitical distraction: the occupied become a footnote, the oppressed rendered invisible. Kashmir, the powder keg at the center of this madness, is not just a disputed territory—it is a living, bleeding reminder of unfulfilled promises and colonial leftovers. While Delhi and Islamabad perform their ritualistic chest-thumping, the people of Kashmir remain locked under surveillance, silenced by curfews, and suffocated by a military presence so pervasive it would make apartheid strategists blush. The right to self-determination, so casually championed in Western capitals when convenient, finds no champions here. Like the Palestinians, Kashmiris are expected to endure occupation quietly, their resistance mislabeled as ‘terrorism,’ their pain dismissed as background noise. In the nuclear theatre of South Asia, they are not even cast as actors—merely collateral set dressing for a show they never auditioned for.
India’s sub-imperial delusions
India, for all its economic swagger and Western endorsements, remains a sub-imperial power largely punching itself in the face. The notion that aligning with American hegemony has elevated its regional standing grows increasingly farcical. As a subservient junior partner in Washington’s Indo-Pacific strategy, India plays sidekick to a declining empire, all while its internal fractures deepen.
Domestically, the country is a simmering pot of sectarianism and authoritarianism. Internationally, India has learned that buying Western military tech and mimicking Washington’s rhetoric doesn’t guarantee strategic supremacy. What good is a billion-dollar weapons cache if it cannot prevent a border incursion or a humiliating drone interception? Sub-imperialism may earn you applause in think tank panels, but on the battlefield, reality is a far less generous evaluator.
The Modi government’s chest-thumping in the wake of the Pahalgam attack, amplified by India’s hyper-nationalist media, was revealing. This wasn’t policy—it was performance art. A volatile cocktail of wounded pride and Hindutva paranoia turned the threat of war into spectacle. And spectacle into potential catastrophe.
Rational actors don’t start fires with gasoline
Following Pakistan’s successful deterrence and its calibrated military response, a comforting narrative began circulating: that deterrence had worked, that tensions would now cool, that the worst was over. This is the lullaby of rational-choice theorists who still believe men with nuclear buttons act like emotionless chess players—immune to ego, history, and political pressure.
But we’ve seen this movie before. And in South Asia, the villains never die—they just get re-elected.
India is a wounded tiger at present—its pride bruised, its media frenzied, and its ruling class under immense pressure to perform strength. That makes it more dangerous, not less. When regimes derive their legitimacy from dominance, any sign of parity becomes intolerable. The urge to “hit back harder” next time—to reassert superiority—lurks ominously in the background. This wasn’t an ending, merely an intermission.
Western arms, brown battlefields
Let us not forget the role of the great powers—the true puppet masters of this regional tragedy. For decades, South Asia has been a profitable theater for arms dealers, military contractors, and imperial strategists. Washington, in particular, has played both sides with a brazenness that would make a colonial viceroy blush. It preaches peace while selling India advanced military systems, lectures Pakistan about democracy while greenlighting Israeli spyware for New Delhi.
To the architects of global power, hundreds of millions of brown lives are nothing more than collateral calculus. Testing drones, radar jammers, and missile shields in Gaza was bad enough. But testing them in South Asia? Even better. Low-cost, high-reward. What better terrain to experiment in than among “superfluous” populations already deemed burdens on the global order?
The U.S. military-industrial complex doesn’t care whether Delhi or Islamabad survives. It only cares that both keep buying.
Chinese tech, Pakistani pride
One of the most consequential takeaways from this latest pseudo-conflict was the effectiveness of Chinese military technology. Under combat conditions, Pakistan’s Chinese-supplied radar and missile systems held their own, even outpacing some of India’s more expensive Western hardware.
This sent quiet shockwaves through Western capitals. For the first time, Chinese military exports weren’t just affordable—they were battle-tested. The implications are immense. It’s a shift not just in the Indo-Pak balance, but in the global arms market. A credible Chinese alternative is now firmly in the mix.
Predictably, Pakistan’s military elite rushed to take credit. Army Chief Asim Munir strutted like a peacock, casting himself as the mastermind behind Pakistan’s restraint and control. He even indulged in the farcical fantasy of self-appointing as “Field Marshal.” It would be amusing if it weren’t so tragic.
The reality is far less flattering. Pakistan’s deterrence held not because of Munir’s strategic genius, but thanks to the engineers—Pakistani and Chinese—who built dependable systems, and the disciplined air force officers who operated them. The generals, as ever, are more adept at plotting domestic coups than defending borders.
The phantom of Imran Khan
While the generals preened, one man remained locked in a prison cell: Imran Khan. The wildly popular former prime minister, incarcerated on ridiculous charges, still casts a long shadow over Pakistan’s political landscape. His absence is not merely political—it is symbolic.
The message to the public is clear: loyalty to the military trumps public mandate. The message to the rank-and-file within the armed forces is worse: your service means little unless it aligns with elite interests.
This contradiction is unsustainable. Many in the military, offended by Khan’s treatment and disgusted by elite corruption, now view the top brass with suspicion, if not outright disdain. The chasm between soldier and general is widening—and no number of medals can plaster over that decay.
Toward real liberation
The only real victory awaiting Indians and Pakistanis alike lies not in missiles or dogfights, but in dismantling the internal tyrannies that keep both nations locked in cycles of fear, war, and dependency.
For India, that means rejecting the fascist Hindutva project and building a genuinely pluralist democracy before authoritarianism becomes permanent. For Pakistan, it means breaking the totalitarian grip of the military and dynastic mafias masquerading as governance.
For both, it means finally completing the project that began in 1947: true decolonisation.
Decolonisation is not merely about lowering a foreign flag. It is about rejecting the imperial operating system—one that teaches you to fear your neighbor more than your overlords, to worship Western power while loathing your own, to exchange your sovereignty for IMF loans and American weapons.
True sovereignty lies not in nuclear arsenals but in justice, dignity, and democracy.
The final lesson
This latest near-war was more than a border incident—it was a historical tremor. It served as a warning, not only to Delhi and Islamabad but to all of South Asia. As long as India and Pakistan remain trapped in the logic of empire—one fueled by Hindutva exceptionalism, the other by military feudalism—the region will continue to be a loaded gun aimed at its own temple.
The only escape lies in mutual reckoning. Not through grandiose gestures or naïve utopianism, but through a ruthless confrontation with internal decay and external manipulation. Until then, every ceasefire is but an intermission, every de-escalation a pause in the countdown.
And in the shadows, the arms dealers keep smiling.
7 June 2025
Source: middleeastmonitor.com
