Seen from such a lens, Asim Munir’s use of analogies like ‘dump truck’ or the ‘railway engine’ are not harmless political theatre.

Pakistan’s leaders, both political and military, have long relied on self-serving metaphors to shape the domestic sociopolitical sphere and frame their country’s place in the broader region. Often delivered with a dramaturgical embellishment, these analogies do more than reflect insecurity or national mythmaking. They reveal a deeper strategic mindset in which Pakistan sees value in disruption, leverage through instability, and the cultivation of terrorism as a tool of statecraft.

The latest examples come from Pakistan’s powerful military establishment, which has historically dominated the country’s political and security architecture. It started with Pakistan Army Chief Asim Munir’s interaction with expatriates in Florida, United States, in August this year, wherein he deployed a comparison that captured headlines for its brazenness. “India is a shining Mercedes coming on a highway like a Ferrari,” he said. “But we are a dump truck full of gravel. If the truck hits the car, who is going to be the loser?”

On its surface, such remarks appeared to emphasize resilience: that Pakistan as a lumbering truck may not be glamorous, but it can endure any difficulty and overcome any obstacle. Yet the real significance of this ironical analogy lies elsewhere. It implies that Pakistan retains the capability as well as readiness to cause strategic disruption, even at great cost to itself, and in doing so shape regional outcomes. The metaphor glorifies collision as an equalizer. It suggests that while India surges economically and diplomatically, Pakistan’s relevance lies in its ability to destabilize.

A parallel metaphor that is being increasingly used by the country’s political and military elite describes Pakistan as a “railway engine”, that is portrays it on a slow, traditional, yet persistent mode of progress. The image is meant to frame Pakistan as foundational to South Asian stability, chugging along in contrast to India’s sleek modernization. Implicit in this imagery is the claim that the region’s momentum, direction, and safety can still be both set and derailed by Pakistan’s choices.

Such analogies may seem rhetorical to common masses and yet contain within them a longstanding doctrine of purposeful disruption that Pakistan has employed in the last several decades. It is based on its decades-old strategic worldview wherein it has consistently valorized confrontation, framing India as an existential threat, and more domestically more significant objective of positioning proxy-terrorism as a legitimate extension of state power. 

Such a propagandistic rhetoric has found currency amidst Asim Munir’s sweeping consolidation of authority through constitutional amendments to expanded control over the judiciary, nuclear command, and internal security. This narrative push is designed to reinforce his martial narrative that Pakistan may be economically battered, politically unstable, and diplomatically isolated, but it remains capable of inflicting damage that forces global attention.

As such, while Pakistan’s establishment may dress its messaging in fresh metaphors, the underlying doctrine has barely evolved. Since the 26/11 attacks by ISI supported Lashkar-e-Toiba terrorists in Mumbai, there has been little substantive reckoning within Pakistan about the use of terrorist groups as strategic assets. If anything, the rhetoric of state officials in the years since reveals continuity, not change.

It should be noted that there has been consensus within Pakistani establishment, as exposed by the statements from senior retired generals, political leaders, and religious ideologues, who often reiterate that proxy terrorism can be a “force multiplier” against India. Such an argument has been repeatedly framed as asymmetric necessity given that since Pakistan cannot match New Delhi conventionally, so it must leverage “non-state actors” to disrupt India’s rise even as its own economy falters. It explains why and how terrorist groups like LeT and Jaish-e-Mohammed have been normalized within the socio-political discourse of the country by portraying terrorists as instruments of pressure than what they are: terrorists.

This mindset is reflected not only in Pakistan’s reluctance to prosecute figures like Hafiz Saeed or Masood Azhar, but also in its sustained tolerance of groups that openly espouse cross-border terrorism sold as so-called jihad. And the danger of such rhetoric is not abstract as it has recurrently translated into violence that has spilled far beyond India’s borders. Be it 26/11 attacks of 2008 in India or the 9/11 attacks in the United States in 2001, these showcased how such a mentality that the Pakistani establishment patronises can have devastating human costs.

Just as the 9/11 attacks targeted symbols of American openness and global leadership which the world forever, 26/11 targeted India’s cosmopolitan identity to sow internal discord and disrupt its global economic rise. Therefore, should Pakistan’s leadership continue to present disruption as strategic leverage, as they are doing currently, the risk of mass-casualty attacks would remain unacceptably high.

Seen from such a lens, Asim Munir’s use of analogies like ‘dump truck’ or the ‘railway engine’ are not harmless political theatre. It is a reflection of a national mindset of a country of mismanaged economy, which is unable to compete with rising India in any domain, sees strategic relevance in the threat of sabotage. It is a worldview that sees regional equilibrium not in growth or cooperation but in managed instability maintained through terrorist proxies. And that worldview does not confine risk to South Asia, which is why Pakistan’s analogies matter. 

In such a scenario, while India cannot afford any complacency, it makes it implicit on the international community to acknowledge that South Asian terrorism, especially when linked to state sponsorship like Pakistan’s role, poses a threat transcending national borders.

Nevertheless, two lessons stand out. Firstly, there needs to be greater transnational intelligence synergy at the international level. For instance, given that countries like India, the United States, the EU, Israel, Southeast Asian partners, and Gulf states, have a shared interest in tackling terrorism, they would need to bolster real-time intelligence exchange, establish joint tracking of financing networks, and coordinated monitoring of extremist propaganda.

Secondly, diplomatic isolation of terror-sponsoring frameworks is no longer optional. The world must explicitly differentiate between Pakistan as a nation and Pakistan’s security apparatus as a destabilizing actor and shape policy accordingly. This is because civilian government is a façade in that country as it is overwhelmingly dominated by the military establishment. 

Therefore, the “dump truck” and “railway engine” analogies may have been meant to project endurance, but they expose a darker truth of Pakistan’s military leadership’s outdated belief that regional power can be exercised through disruption and not development. Unless such a mindset is confronted at political, diplomatic, and strategic levels, the international community should rest assured that its risks will not be borne by India alone. 

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.