The DG ISPR’s recent declaration; that Pakistan’s security is guaranteed by its armed forces and that guarantee cannot be given to Kabul, is not rhetoric for its own sake. It is a clear recalibration of policy language that reflects both frustration and resolve. The message is simple: Pakistan will seek peace, but it will not beg for it. If necessary, we will secure peace by force.
Since the start of talks between Pakistan and Afghanistan, every session has carried assumptions, allegations and counter-allegations. Social media has become a corrosive force, amplifying hostile narratives on both sides. Harsh statements and mutual blame, exchanged in public fora and behind closed doors, have risked derailing negotiations — whether in Doha, Istanbul, or other venues. When the tone between capitals hardens, it is the negotiating process that suffers first.
The Pakistani position has been straightforward: militancy that targets Pakistan must be stopped, including wherever it finds sanctuary. The Afghan Taliban’s pushback has been equally categorical, insisting they are responsible only for what happens within Afghanistan and cannot police Pakistani soil. That contradiction is the central fault line of these talks.
But this is not a matter of competing rhetoric alone. Pakistan has brought concrete evidence to the table — not stale footage or hearsay, but identity data, photographs and the bodies of militants that were officially handed over to Afghan authorities. These were presented in negotiation rooms in the presence of Turkish and Qatari officials; they were not casual claims. When identities were matched to bodies and family details confirmed, the evidence stopped being a talking point and became a demand for accountability.
This places a heavy responsibility on the Afghan leadership. If militant elements operating against Pakistan claim allegiance to the supreme leader in Kandahar, then that leadership must either disown those elements or accept responsibility. A clear, unequivocal statement from Kandahar rejecting cross-border violence — that this is not jihad and that Pakistan is not a battlefield for holy war — would change the tenor of engagement. It is a simple test of credibility.
The DG ISPR’s stance does not mean surrender; it signals capacity and will. We can do this by strength if diplomacy fails. Strength does not mean indiscriminate aggression, but it does mean preparedness to secure our borders and defeat those who use neighbouring territory as sanctuaries. When security measures are stepped up along the frontier and forces move to prevent infiltration, those very moves draw attacks from militants who see the state’s forces as the principal obstacle to their agenda. That is precisely why they target our formations and strike at our institutions.
There is also the practical question of whether the spiritual head in Kandahar, who speaks rarely and often through audio messages, is fully engaged with these external security challenges. His public interventions tend to focus on internal matters — education, social conduct and religious instruction. But if he commands allegiance, his voice matters beyond Afghanistan’s domestic agenda. A direct, clear message from him on the external conduct of those who claim his pledge could help corral disparate factions — the Haqqani network, Kandahari groups and other local centres of influence — and set boundaries for behaviour that affects regional stability.
Beyond ideology, there is a darker, more material link that has sustained militancy: the narco-economy and the smuggling networks. Terrorism today is not only about ideas; it is also about money. Drug production, trafficking and the smuggling that takes advantage of Afghan transit trade have become lifelines for extremist operations. Goods imported through legal channels for transit are often smuggled back, untaxed and unaccounted for, into Pakistani markets — a drain on the economy and a boon for criminal financiers. The factories, the processing centres and the hidden workshops that turn raw crops into heroin, chars and synthetic drugs are nodes in a supply chain that feeds terror.
Local politics and criminal actors have become entangled with these networks. In some tribal areas, this economy has been normalized or rationalized, even by those who should oppose it. That normalization — disguising a harmful trade as an “adulterated” livelihood — hides the fact that narco-money fuels recruitment, arms acquisition and the patronage networks that shield militants. Until we strike at this root, treating addicts or arresting foot soldiers will not cut the lifeline that keeps the network alive.
We have seen the costs firsthand: operatives who turn out to be insiders, clashes that coincide with infiltration routes, and even militants who wear or once wore uniforms. Incidents near our frontiers — where attackers have included members of the security apparatus — prove how deeply these networks penetrate. When a police officer appears among the dead on the other side, the questions of collusion and compromise cannot be ignored.
The pattern is clear: at times when Pakistani border forces clash with hostile elements, the next day militants try to cross into Pakistan. Such clashes can distract and draw attention, enabling infiltration. The possibility that individuals at check posts might meet or accept payments cannot be dismissed. This is why improved border management is not a rhetorical demand; it is a necessity. The border between Pakistan and Afghanistan stretches across roughly 2,500 kilometres, with large swathes that remain difficult to monitor or secure. A Bad-style barrier cannot be established everywhere, nor can open patrolling be sustained across all terrain. Yet where we can erect barriers, man checkpoints and tighten surveillance, we must do so with vigilance and accountability.
We have not kept these concerns to press conferences alone. Evidence has been shared through embassies, through military channels and in third-party forums. Pakistan has not only alleged wrongdoing; it has presented documented cases. When the facts are laid out — the names, the family records, the physical evidence — denials grow thin. At some point, denial is no longer an option.
There are also geopolitical overtones. Claims that terrorism is linked to external economic interests, or that proxy funding flows from adversarial quarters, complicate the problem. Regardless of these larger narratives, the immediate reality is local: unemployed youth knocking at doors asking for food, criminal networks offering quick money, and a supply chain that converts a crop into a commodity that buys arms and buys silence. If we do not address the supply at its source — the factories, the clandestine labs, the patronage networks — we will forever treat the symptom, not the disease.
The message I take from the DG ISPR’s statement is twofold: we will continue to pursue diplomacy, yet we will not be held hostage by it; and we will not tolerate the use of neighbouring territory as a safe haven for attacks. If Kabul chooses to act — to confront the TTP, to disrupt drug corridors and to bind local commanders to a common discipline — the region can move toward stability. If not, then the responsibility for what follows rests squarely on those who shelter and enable these groups.
Our border is not an abstract line; it is the fault line of futures. Closing the gap requires more than rhetoric — it requires candid engagement from Kabul, decisive action against those who derive power from chaos, and a commitment to dismantle the financial networks that sustain violence. This is both a moral and strategic imperative. The time for equivocation is over; the chain that links border smuggling, drug money and terror must be broken.
If the other side prefers to test our resolve on the maritime or land frontier, then the contest is unavoidable. We have tested our forces, our air power and our resolve. There remains only one way to secure our national life: to meet threats decisively — and if the situation demands it, to join the battlefield.
