This duality—preaching unity while practicing duplicity—has become Pakistan’s diplomatic hallmark.

When the Taliban stormed into Kabul in August 2021, Pakistan’s powerful intelligence chief, Lt. Gen. Faiz Hameed, appeared at the Serena Hotel and assured journalists, “Everything will be okay.”

His confident smile captured Islamabad’s belief that decades of strategic maneuvering had finally paid off. Pakistan, long accused of nurturing the Taliban, assumed it would now wield decisive influence over its western neighbor.

Four years later, those hopes have turned to ashes. The Taliban’s rise, once hailed in Islamabad as a geopolitical triumph, has become a source of profound insecurity and humiliation.

The Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), emboldened by its ideological kin in Kabul, has unleashed a deadly insurgency across Pakistan’s tribal belt. Hundreds of Pakistani soldiers have been killed in cross-border raids. The Taliban, despite Pakistan’s past support, has refused to curb the TTP.

The so-called “strategic depth” has instead exposed Pakistan’s strategic shallowness. A state that once boasted of controlling its proxies now finds itself hostage to them. The illusion of regional mastery has dissolved into a grim reality: Pakistan is isolated, insecure, and rapidly losing credibility.

Weaponizing Refugees

Having failed to tame the Taliban, Pakistan turned its frustration toward Afghan civilians. In October 2023, Islamabad launched the Illegal Foreigners Repatriation Plan (IFRP), targeting nearly 1.7 million undocumented Afghans. For decades, Afghan refugees had lived, worked, and raised families in Pakistan. Suddenly, they became scapegoats for Islamabad’s security failures.

By mid-2025, more than 600,000 Afghans had been deported in what international observers described as one of South Asia’s largest forced repatriations in decades. Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch chronicled chilling stories of police harassment, arbitrary detentions, and family separations.

Pakistan justified the campaign as a counterterrorism measure, accusing Afghan refugees of harboring TTP militants. But analysts saw it differently: an act of political retribution against the Taliban regime. Kabul condemned the deportations as a breach of international law and accused Islamabad of deepening Afghanistan’s humanitarian catastrophe.

This was more than just a border dispute—it was a symptom of Pakistan’s broader malaise. A state that once prided itself on being a refuge for the oppressed had turned into a place of fear and hostility. The moral cost of Islamabad’s Afghan policy was now unmistakable.

Airstrikes and Escalation

Pakistan’s response extended beyond deportations. Under the guise of pursuing TTP sanctuaries, it began conducting airstrikes inside Afghan territory.

In April 2022, bombings in Khost and Kunar killed 47 civilians, mostly women and children. Similar attacks followed in March and December 2024, targeting Paktika and Khost. In January 2025, fresh strikes were launched along the volatile Durand Line. Over a hundred civilians have died since 2021, according to regional monitors.

Each operation fuelled anger and anti-Pakistan protests across Afghanistan. The Taliban government condemned the attacks as violations of sovereignty, accusing Pakistan of hiding its failures behind a counterterrorism narrative.

By 2025, Pakistan’s western frontier was once again aflame—only this time, without American troops to share the blame. The Afghan war that Islamabad once believed it had outsourced had come home, exacting both human and diplomatic costs.

Diplomacy as Deception

The crisis reached a symbolic peak in September 2025, when Islamabad hosted the “Towards Unity and Trust” conference under the South Asian Strategic Stability Institute.

Despite the event’s conciliatory title, the Taliban government was conspicuously excluded. Instead, the gathering featured anti-Taliban activists and politicians, turning what was billed as a dialogue into an exercise in diplomatic provocation.

Just days later, Defense Minister Khawaja Asif labeled Afghanistan an “enemy state”—a stunning reversal from Pakistan’s earlier rhetoric of “brotherhood.”

This diplomatic whiplash mirrors a deeper inconsistency at the heart of Pakistan’s foreign policy. It speaks of a nation perpetually caught between ambition and insecurity, between Islamic solidarity and realpolitik.

Even its domestic realities now echo this hypocrisy.

In early October 2025, a story broke that underscored how deeply investor confidence has eroded under the current administration. Out of 23 oil and gas exploration blocks offered for bidding, no local or foreign bids were received for 22. The only bid came from Mari Gas, and even that was for a small block with negligible output.

Taimur Saleem Khan Jhagra, Pakistan’s opposition leader, wrote “investors know this is an illegitimate govt,” saying no company—foreign or domestic—was willing to invest in a country “without rule of law.” He accused the government of driving away foreign direct investment through arbitrary governance, economic mismanagement, and political repression.

This episode is emblematic of Pakistan’s larger credibility crisis. When even domestic energy firms shy away from state-backed ventures, the problem is not market dynamics—it is a collapse of trust. The same lack of accountability that defines Pakistan’s regional duplicity now poisons its economic foundations.

The Iran Paradox and the Palestine Hypocrisy

Pakistan’s double-dealing extends far beyond its Afghan misadventure.

In June 2025, Islamabad publicly condemned U.S. airstrikes on Iran’s nuclear facilities, declaring solidarity with Tehran. Yet, only days earlier, Army Chief Gen. Asim Munir had met privately with Donald Trump, reportedly discussing “regional stability.” In a surreal twist, Pakistan went on to nominate Trump for the 2026 Nobel Peace Prize, effectively undercutting its supposed alignment with Iran.

This duality—preaching unity while practicing duplicity—has become Pakistan’s diplomatic hallmark.

The same contradictions stain its stance on Palestine. While Pakistani leaders have long professed unwavering support for the Palestinian cause, history tells another story. During Black September 1970, Brigadier Zia ul-Haq, later Pakistan’s military ruler, helped Jordan crush the Palestine Liberation Organization, a massacre that claimed thousands of lives.

In July 2025, Pakistan awarded the Nishan-e-Imtiaz to U.S. CENTCOM Commander Gen. Michael Kurilla, despite his role in coordinating American military support for Israel during its Gaza operations.

At the UN General Assembly’s 80th session, Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif met Daniel Rosen, head of the American Jewish Congress, signaling a quiet but unmistakable outreach to pro-Israel circles.

For a country that brands itself the guardian of Muslim causes, the hypocrisy is striking. From Amman to Gaza, Pakistan’s leaders have consistently traded principle for expediency.

A Consistent Inconsistency

Across every theater—Afghanistan, Iran, Palestine, and even its own energy sector—a single pattern emerges: Pakistan’s promises collapse under the weight of its own contradictions.

It seeks influence in Kabul but alienates Afghans through bombings and deportations. It pledges brotherhood with Tehran while courting Washington. It proclaims solidarity with Palestine while decorating America’s military commanders. And now, it claims to welcome foreign investment while creating an environment so lawless that even local companies refuse to bid.

In the end, Pakistan’s gravest betrayal is not of its neighbors, but of itself. The erosion of credibility abroad mirrors the decay of governance at home. As investors flee, allies distance themselves, and insurgents advance, the message is clear: a nation that manipulates every alliance eventually stands alone.

For decades, Pakistan’s generals and politicians have built policies on the illusion of control. The Afghan gamble was meant to cement regional influence; instead, it has exposed a state adrift, distrusted by friends and foes alike.

The “everything will be okay” optimism of 2021 now rings hollow. For Pakistan, everything is decidedly not okay—and the world, finally, has stopped believing its promises.

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.