By Prof. Junaid S. Ahmad
What was feared has happened. India has launched military strikes deep inside Pakistan, and Islamabad claims to have retaliated in kind. The spark? A terrorist attack over a week ago in Indian-administered Kashmir. As has become tradition, New Delhi wasted no time in pointing the finger at Islamabad, offering no concrete evidence—only the kind of certainty that usually accompanies nationalist fervor, not legal proceedings. Pakistan, for its part, condemned the attack and pledged cooperation in any investigation—knowing full well it would be ignored.
But behind this theatrical display of missiles and national outrage lies something far more cynical: two deeply unpopular regimes, in both India and Pakistan, seizing upon the ever-reliable bogeyman of war to shore up domestic support and distract from the fires burning at home. When bread runs out, regimes turn to circuses—and nothing dazzles quite like the possibility of Armageddon.
Let’s start with Islamabad. Pakistan’s military establishment—those men in khaki suits who’ve mistaken the country for a perpetual garrison—are enduring perhaps their most despised moment in history. The once-loyal Punjab, long the spiritual and electoral base of military chauvinism, now joins other provinces in loathing a military high command that has transformed repression into an art form. The generals have done everything short of banning oxygen to keep Imran Khan and his party out of politics—and one wouldn’t put that past them either.
Censorship, arrests, disappearances—Pakistan has perfected the autocrat’s handbook with a bureaucratic blandness that almost makes the tyranny seem procedural. The result? A nation under undeclared martial law, ruled by a civil-military clique so paranoid and unpopular that only the looming threat of nuclear war could momentarily pull public attention away from their totalitarian grip. If nothing else, Pakistanis may be surprised that the generals finally mustered the courage to fight an external enemy, rather than their favorite punching bag: the Pakistani people themselves.
But don’t let New Delhi off the hook. Narendra Modi, once the unassailable darling of Hindutva nationalists, is now a leader in slow decline. His iron grip on Indian politics has loosened, though not from lack of trying. With elections on the horizon and criticism mounting—from rising unemployment to a backfiring agricultural policy—the Indian prime minister did what all authoritarian populists do when the economy falters or the media turns curious: he found an enemy at the border.
In a ritual that now borders on parody, India claims to have targeted “terrorist training camps” inside Pakistan. These claims have been made many times before, and are typically shown to be fabricated or exaggerated—but they serve a purpose. They allow Modi to appear tough, feed the Hindutva base, and deflect attention from the ongoing brutality in Kashmir, where homes are razed, children jailed, and collective punishment has been elevated to statecraft. New Delhi, it seems, has been taking notes from Tel Aviv’s colonial playbook—and learning fast.
India’s media, meanwhile, has abandoned any pretense of journalism. Television studios have morphed into war rooms, with anchors playing generals and hashtags replacing facts. Debate has been replaced with chest-thumping monologues; dissent, with treason accusations. It’s infotainment for the fascist age, and business is booming.
Of course, when nuclear powers start lobbing missiles and shooting down aircrafts, the stakes rise well beyond cynical domestic theatrics. Pakistan says it downed five Indian fighter jets in response, and India, predictably, denies it. Somewhere between truth and propaganda, two nuclear arsenals inch closer to an exchange that would turn subcontinental politics into radioactive dust.
To make matters worse, India’s rumblings about walking back its commitments under the Indus Water Treaty—a pillar of regional stability since 1960—are nothing short of a death sentence for Pakistan. That treaty isn’t a diplomatic nicety; it’s a lifeline. Pakistan’s agriculture, drinking water, and even electricity generation depend on it. Tampering with it is tantamount to biological warfare via drought.
Yet, amid all this regional madness, the broader geopolitical chessboard looms large. This isn’t just a local blood feud—it’s a subplot in a much grander drama, with Washington, Beijing, and Moscow lurking in the wings.
Sources in Washington—always eager to play puppet-master—have privately admitted they had advance notice of India’s strikes. That’s a diplomatic euphemism. In reality, the U.S. didn’t just nod; it winked, nudged, and handed over the coordinates. Why? Because the Pentagon’s patience with Pakistan has run dry. Once tolerated as a duplicitous “ally” in the War on Terror, Pakistan is now seen as something worse: China’s friend.
The China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC)—that ambitious project linking Xinjiang to the Pakistani port of Gwadar—has become a red flag in Washington. Not just figuratively, but literally. Gwadar isn’t just a trade route; it’s a potential naval base for Beijing. And in today’s rebooted Cold War, that makes Pakistan a problem to be handled, not a partner to be engaged.
The generals in Islamabad, in an almost comedic display of desperation, are reportedly offering Beijing more than just port access—they’re practically renting out the coastline. A few years ago, this would have drawn quiet reprimands from the Americans. Now it elicits overt threats. The message from Washington is clear: you’re either with us or with the Chinese. There is no non-aligned movement in Cold War 2.0.
Meanwhile, the ‘strategic depth’ Pakistan’s generals hoped for in Afghanistan—after years of grooming the Taliban—has vanished. The Taliban now flirts with both New Delhi and, astonishingly, Washington. It turns out you can’t buy loyalty with ideology, especially when there’s money, power, and recognition on the table. Like everyone else in this geopolitical theatre, the Taliban has learned that neutrality is for losers—and cash is king.
So what we are witnessing isn’t just another border skirmish. It’s the convergence of decaying leadership, imperial recalibrations, and regional ambitions—all playing out in a nuclear theatre. It’s reality television for the geopolitically deranged, except this show has no reruns—only fallout.
And amid this grotesque spectacle, who speaks for the people of Kashmir? Thousands remain imprisoned, families mourn their disappeared, and homes continue to be bulldozed into oblivion. Their suffering, once the moral center of the regional discourse, has been reduced to a mere footnote in the war games of old men with delusions of empire. No one listens. No one dares. Kashmir, for all its tragedy, has become too inconvenient for the international conscience.
Yes, we’ve seen these “ego strikes” and retaliations before. But each time, the world inches closer to catastrophe. You can only play chicken with nuclear war so many times before the laws of probability catch up. And this time, the brinkmanship feels less like diplomacy and more like death wish in formal attire.
Still, there’s one thing you can count on in South Asian politics: if things are bad, they can always get worse. And if the generals, strongmen, and foreign powers have their way, they will.
Prof. Junaid S. Ahmad teaches Law, Religion, and Global Politics and is the Director of the Center for the Study of Islam and Decolonization (CSID), Islamabad, Pakistan.
7 May 2025
Source: countercurrents.org