Balochistan’s modern history is inseparable from the manner in which it entered Pakistan.

On December 10, the U.S. Chargé d’Affaires in Islamabad, Natalie Baker, announced that the U.S. Exim Bank had approved a package of $1.25 billion in financing to support mining operations at Reko Diq, one of the world’s richest untapped copper and gold deposits. On the surface, Washington framed the decision as a step toward securing global supply chains for critical minerals.

Islamabad portrayed it as a sign of renewed confidence in Pakistan’s investment climate. But for Balochistan, Pakistan’s largest province by land but its poorest by every measure, the announcement landed like yet another reminder that its natural wealth is a prize others are free to carve up.

This Exim Bank financing flows directly after two MoUs were signed on September 8, 2025, between Pakistan and the United States for “critical minerals cooperation.” The military dominated Shehbaz Sharif government heralded the agreements as a milestone. But in Balochistan, they are yet another chapter in an old story: the extraction of Balochistan’s resources by outside powers, facilitated by a central government that treats the province not as a partner but as a colony.

For decades, Pakistan has perfected a model of imperial governance in Balochistan, which combines military control, political manipulation, and economic dispossession. What is new today is not the extraction but the identity of the extractors. The United States now joins China, whose multibillion-dollar projects under the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC) have already given Beijing expansive access to Balochistan’s ports, highways, and mineral deposits.

Pakistan’s rulers have turned Balochistan into a marketplace where global powers shop for resources while the people who live above those riches remain among the most deprived in South Asia.

Balochistan’s modern history is inseparable from the manner in which it entered Pakistan. After the forced accession of 1948, the province was governed with suspicion and repression. Islamabad treated Baloch aspirations for autonomy as rebellion, not politics. The result is a province where the most powerful institution is not the provincial assembly but the Quetta cantonment, whose writ supersedes that of any civilian office.

Even today, Balochistan’s political leadership is crafted in military corridors of Rawalpindi and the condonement at Quetta. The current chief minister, Sarfaraz Bugti, is widely viewed as a product of the military establishment, who is another local administrator empowered to manage dissent rather than address the province’s material deprivation. The result is a governance system more interested in securing resource corridors than building schools, hospitals, or representative institutions.

Under this militarized order, resource extraction has been carefully organized to ensure that wealth flows outward to Pakistan’s dominant province, Punjab, and to foreign partners courted by the military-led state. Balochistan’s natural gas from Sui fueled Pakistan’s industrial growth for decades, yet most Baloch households cook on firewood.

Today, its copper and gold fields promise to enrich foreign corporations and deliver revenue to Islamabad, while the communities living in the shadow of these mines remain jobless, landless, and under surveillance.

Even menial jobs at major projects like security guards, cleaners, construction labor, are routinely filled by workers imported from Punjab. The message is unmistakable that the state does not merely extract from Balochistan, it excludes Baloch people from even the crumbs of that extraction.

The rush by both China and the U.S. for access to Balochistan’s minerals reflects how Pakistan’s ruling elite has repositioned the province within global competition. Beijing’s footprint was first to expand, anchored by the Gwadar port and a series of infrastructure and mining agreements.

CPEC promised development but delivered a model where Chinese companies received generous concessions, security cordons were erected to protect foreign workers, and local fishing communities were pushed to the margins.

Now, Washington enters the scene, not as a counterweight to China’s influence but as another partner in Pakistan’s long tradition of opaque, extractive deals. It reflects a bipartisan plunder with Pakistan inviting multiple patrons to mine a region whose own residents are denied the most basic political and economic rights.

The most striking thing about Balochistan is how starkly its material reality contradicts its mineral wealth. Despite being mineral rich in every aspect, the province ranks at the bottom of every development index in Pakistan. For instance, the poverty appears near-universal with 71 percent of the provincial population living in multidimensional poverty. It is nearly double the national average of 38 percent and in districts like Awaran, Kharan, and Panjgur, even exceeds 80 percent.

Likewise, education is in an equally dire state. Literacy hovers around 40–44 percent, the lowest in the country, with female literacy dropping below 25 percent in many rural districts. More than 60 percent of Balochistan’s children are out of school. These are not statistics of a neglected province; they are the metrics of deliberate underdevelopment.

The story is same across healthcare with the province recording the highest maternal mortality ratio of 785 deaths per 100,000 live births. It is abysmal compared to the national average of 186.

Nevertheless, the new U.S. financing for Reko Diq along with the other critical mineral MoU is significant not because it marks a shift in Washington’s policy but because it reveals a continuity in Pakistan’s own governing logic of treating Balochistan as a frontier to exploit.

The province is secured by force, governed through proxies, and opened to whichever foreign power is willing to invest billions with no questions asked about political rights or local consent.

Even when the government speaks of “benefit-sharing,” it does not specify it that the benefit is for Punjabis and Punjabi military and political elite that dominates the levers of power in Pakistan. As such, it is not partnership but a plunder with legal paperwork.

The tragedy is not just that Balochistan’s resources are being plundered. It is that this plunder is now bipartisan, endorsed by Islamabad, welcomed by Washington and Beijing, and justified in the name of development that never arrives.

For the people of Balochistan, the empire has simply added new partners. The loot continues. The province remains impoverished. And the world’s most powerful countries now share in the spoils of a land whose own residents have yet to taste the prosperity lying beneath their feet.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

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.

These questions are not niceties. They are tests of Pakistan’s credibility, and the answers will shape the future of U.S. engagement in South Asia.

As you read this, Pakistan’s Army Chief and Prime Minister are seated across from President Donald Trump in Washington, facing what may be the most consequential conversation of their careers. The room is heavy with subtext. Outside, aides shuffle papers and reporters speculate. Inside, the stakes are personal, political, and global.

This isn’t just another diplomatic handshake. It’s a reckoning.

Pakistan arrives at this meeting bruised and brittle. Just months ago, the May 2025 India-Pakistan crisis brought South Asia to the edge of nuclear war. Missile strikes, retaliatory air raids, and four days of high-stakes brinkmanship left the region shaken.

Now, with Pakistan’s economy teetering, its military entangled in governance, and its strategic loyalties drifting toward Beijing, the United States must ask hard questions — not tomorrow, not next week, but during the meeting.

President Trump, known for his blunt diplomacy, has a rare opportunity to demand clarity and accountability. These questions are not niceties. They are tests of Pakistan’s credibility, and the answers will shape the future of U.S. engagement in South Asia.

First – Will Pakistan End Enforced Disappearances and Deliver Justice?

Thousands of Pakistanis — journalists, activists, students — have vanished without trial. Many are believed to be held by state agencies, especially in Balochistan. Amnesty International has documented over 2,300 cases. UN experts in April 2025 called the practice “unrelenting” and a serious breach of international law.

If the U.S. is serious about human rights, it must demand a timeline for releasing detainees and prosecuting those responsible. Continued aid without accountability only deepens impunity.

Second – How Will Pakistan Prevent Civilian Casualties in Military Operations?

Just weeks ago, Pakistan’s military launched airstrikes in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa using Chinese J-17 jets, killing 30 civilians in their sleep. These are not isolated incidents. They reflect a troubling pattern of disregard for civilian life in counterterrorism operations.

President Trump must press for independent oversight and demand transparency in targeting protocols. Counterterrorism cannot be a license for indiscriminate violence.

Third – What Is Pakistan’s Plan to Escape China’s Debt Trap?

The China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC) has ballooned into a $9.5 billion liability. Power projects alone account for $7.5 billion. A January 2025 analysis warned of geopolitical strings attached, as Chinese loans deepen fiscal instability without delivering promised growth.

Washington must ask: What safeguards is Pakistan implementing to avoid becoming a client state of Beijing? Is there a plan for debt restructuring or diversified partnerships? The answers will reveal whether Islamabad remains sovereign or slides deeper into dependency.

Fourth – Will Pakistan Sever Ties with Anti-India Jihadist Networks?

Despite official denials, Pakistan’s military continues to be linked with jihadist groups targeting India. Lashkar-e-Taiba, Jaish-e-Mohammed, and the United Jihad Council operate with impunity, often under the guise of charitable or religious organizations.

A June 2025 MEMRI report exposed direct ties between these networks and military actors.

The recent Pahalgam attack, which triggered the May crisis, was traced to operatives with known links to Pakistan-based groups. Trump must demand concrete actions — asset freezes, prosecutions, and intelligence cooperation — to dismantle these networks. The era of strategic ambiguity must end.

Fifth – How Is Pakistan Cracking Down on Terror Financing via Hawala Networks?

Pakistan’s jihadi infrastructure is sustained by informal financial systems, particularly hawala networks. These unregulated channels allow billions to flow to militant groups, bypassing formal banking oversight.

A May 2025 investigation revealed a “complex web” of financial flows sustaining terrorism. Even Pakistan’s own National Counter Terrorism Authority (NACTA) admits the scale of the problem.

The U.S. must insist on enhanced financial intelligence capabilities, international cooperation, and stricter enforcement of anti-money laundering laws. Executive Order 13224 must be more than a symbolic gesture.

Sixth – Will Pakistan Reform Its Blasphemy Laws to Protect Free Speech and Minorities?

Pakistan’s blasphemy laws, hardened under General Zia-ul-Haq, are routinely weaponized against minorities, journalists, and dissenters. These laws have led to mob violence, extrajudicial killings, and widespread fear.

Human Rights Watch’s June 2025 report highlights their use in land grabs and personal vendettas. A July 2025 UN statement condemned the “widespread impunity” surrounding these laws.

With Pakistan ranking 125th globally in press freedom, Trump must push for legal reforms that protect speech and prevent religious vigilantism. Free expression is not a Western luxury — it is a universal right.

Seventh – Why Is Dr. Shakil Afridi Still in Solitary Confinement?

Dr. Shakil Afridi, the physician who helped the CIA locate Osama bin Laden, has spent nearly 14 years in solitary confinement. His continued detention is a betrayal of a man who risked everything to assist the United States.

A March 2025 State Department report and his son’s public plea underscore the urgency of his release.

Trump must make Afridi’s freedom a condition of continued engagement. Loyalty must be rewarded — not punished.

A Moment of Reckoning

Pakistan’s leadership has long relied on strategic deflection to maintain its position on the global stage. But the world has changed. With economic collapse looming, military overreach growing, and regional tensions escalating, Islamabad must choose: reform or isolation.

President Trump has a unique opportunity to demand clarity, accountability, and action. These questions are not diplomatic formalities — they are leverage points for a Pakistan that aligns with U.S. interests or risks marginalization.

India, too, must remain vigilant. The convergence of Pakistani and Bangladeshi leadership under the shadow of American strategic interests signals a new phase in regional politics. For New Delhi, this is a moment to assert its own narrative and defend its sovereignty with clarity and conviction.

The time for soft engagement is over. The time for hard questions is now — and they’re being asked as we speak.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.