How Pakistan Is Weaponising Borders To Strangle Afghanistan’s Economy

-Arun Anand

 

Tensions Escalate on Pakistan-Afghanistan Border

For decades, Pakistan has insisted that stability in Afghanistan is essential for its own security. Yet today, Islamabad is pursuing a policy that does exactly the opposite by strangling Afghanistan’s fragile economy. The objective is to ‘coerce’ the Afghan Taliban government into submission. The prolonged closure of key border crossings along the Durand Line, including Torkham between Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Nangarhar and Chaman-Spin Boldak between Balochistan and Kandahar, has turned geography into a weapon. It is a classic case of Pakistan weaponising Afghanistan’s landlocked reality in order to force political compliance through economic suffocation.

Border Closures as Economic Warfare

For more than four months since October 2025 heavy military clashes, these border crossings have remained shut. The informal cross-border trade that has been a feature of Afghanistan-Pakistan relations since decades. Millions of Afghans depend on this for daily survival. With the daily movement of essentials like food, medicine, fuel, and construction materials effectively stopped, Afghans face a severe crisis as Afghanistan used to export much of its agriculture and horticulture produce besides coal to the Pakistani market.

The cross-border trade between the two countries saw a 40 per cent decline in 2025 from 2024, down from over $2.64 billion to $1.77 billion. For a landlocked country already reeling from international sanctions, frozen assets, and humanitarian crisis, the impact has been more than severe. And Pakistan knows this, which is precisely what gives its policy a coercive power.

Islamabad has justified the border closure by accusing the Afghan Taliban of sheltering terrorist groups such as Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), besides enabling attacks by Baloch insurgents like the Balochistan Liberation Army (BLA). On January 20, Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif repeated this familiar refrain, insisting that while the blockade “should not have been there”, and yet warning that Afghanistan must decide “whether it wants to live peacefully or not”.

But this rhetoric serves as a smokescreen. While the struggle with militancy is real and deeply destabilising for Pakistan, the current crisis cannot be explained solely or even primarily by security concerns.

From ‘Strategic Depth’ to Strategic Frustration

Instead, it reflects a deeper failure of Islamabad’s Afghan policy, one that has left Pakistan’s military-dominated establishment frustrated, exposed, and resorting to blunt instruments to regain leverage over Kabul.

It may be recalled that when the Taliban returned to power in August 2021, Pakistan’s political and military establishment celebrated openly. The American withdrawal and the collapse of the Western-backed Afghan government were hailed as a vindication of decades of strategic investment. Senior generals spoke of “strategic depth” finally being secured, with then Director General of Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) famously sipping coffee in Kabul the next day. There was a kind of confidence among Pakistani experts and establishment figures that finally a pliant Kabul would align closely with Islamabad’s regional priorities.

The expectations were sweeping. A Taliban-ruled Afghanistan, it was believed, would deny India any influence in the country besides erasing New Delhi’s soft-power gains built through billions of dollars in infrastructure, education, and development projects. It would accept, or at least stop contesting, the legitimacy of the Durand Line, a colonial-era boundary that cuts through Pashtun lands and has never been formally recognised by any Afghan government, including Taliban in its previous rule from 1996 to 2001. And most importantly, the expectation from the Taliban government was to rein in anti-Pakistan terrorist groups like TTP operating along its porous frontier.

None of this has materialised. Instead, Pakistani leadership now finds itself facing an Afghan Taliban leadership that is assertive and nationalist as well as far less malleable than they had anticipated. Taliban officials speak openly of Afghan sovereignty and have pushed back the Pakistani pressure. They have raised the pitch over the legitimacy of Durand Line hence continuing a long-standing Afghan position that cuts across ideological lines. The result of Pakistani stubbornness means that their relations have grown increasingly tense as marked by border skirmishes, diplomatic barbs, and mutual accusations.

The Deep Roots of Afghanistan-Pakistan Border Violence

Security Rhetoric and Failing Coercive Strategy

The resurgence of the TTP has been particularly exasperating for Islamabad. Since the Taliban’s return to power in 2021, the group has grown bolder and launched multiple attacks across Pakistan’s northwest. For instance, 667 Pakistani soldiers were killed in 2025 alone as per a report by Pakistan Institute of Conflict and Security Studies (PICSS), up by 26 per cent from 2024.

Likewise, Baloch insurgent violence has also intensified, which has fed a sense of encirclement within Pakistan’s security establishment. Interestingly, rather than addressing the domestic roots of these insurgencies prevalent across KP and Balochistan, such as political exclusion, economic neglect, and heavy-handed military policies, Islamabad has chosen to externalise blame, pointing squarely at Kabul. This is where the accusation that the Afghan Taliban are “backing” the TTP and BLA becomes politically useful for Pakistan. It allows the establishment to escape any calls for accountability over the serious security debacles and present its coercive measures against Afghanistan as defensive.

The tactic of Pakistan leveraging Afghan geography to achieve what its diplomacy has failed to deliver fits a broader pattern of attempts to salvage its failed Afghan strategy. After having overestimated its influence over the Afghan Taliban, its military-dominated establishment now oscillates between coercion and complaint. The mass deportation of hundreds of thousands of Afghan refugees over the past few years is part of the same effort. Though they have framed this measure through legal and security cover, the expulsions have nonetheless added to Afghanistan’s humanitarian burden while signalling Pakistan’s willingness to use vulnerable populations as leverage.

The irony is hard to miss as Pakistan’s leaders insist that instability in Afghanistan threatens regional peace and yet their policies actively deepen that instability. They are willingly overlooking the fact that economic strangulation does not produce compliance and restore lost influence; rather, it breeds resentment and exposes the limits of such a policy.

Nevertheless, Pakistan’s attempt to weaponise Afghanistan’s landlocked status reveals less about Taliban culpability than about Islamabad’s strategic frustration as their grand vision of a compliant, controllable Afghanistan has collapsed. In its place, there is a harder reality at display with a sovereign neighbour with its own interests, grievances, and limits of tolerance.

As such, if Pakistan continues down this path of closing borders, expelling refugees, and masking strategic failures behind its security rhetoric, it may succeed only in entrenching hostility on its western flank. The establishment led by Asim Munir would do Pakistan a favour by understanding that stability cannot be coerced through economic siege but must be built through sober reassessment, regional cooperation, and an acceptance that influence earned through pressure is always fragile. But for now, however, Pakistan appears intent on tightening the noose, betting that hunger and hardship will achieve what decades of policy could not even as history suggests otherwise.

Exclusive-World Sees A Saint, We Saw A System’: Bangladesh’s Ex-Intel Officer On Yunus’ ‘Shadow State’

Bangladesh’s former intelligence officer and diplomat Aminul Hoque Polash, in exile since the fall of the Sheikh Hasina regime, has broken his silence on the hidden power structures, financial engineering, and political ambitions surrounding Nobel laureate and the country’s interim leader Muhammad Yunus.

Bangladesh’s former intelligence officer and diplomat Aminul Hoque Polash opens up in an exclusive interview

In an exclusive conversation, Polash walks News18 through classified insights, internal documents, and lived experiences inside Bangladesh’s national security system, revealing a side of Yunus the world has never seen before.

Before we get into the details about Dr Yunus, tell us how you ended up in exile.

I never pictured myself sitting in another country, talking about the collapse of the institutions I once served. I spent nearly a decade inside national security and foreign service. My work was simple in principle: follow evidence, protect the state, and protect the people.

But the moment my investigation started touching the financial arteries of Yunus’s network, everything shifted. People inside the system began warning me quietly that I had stepped into an area no one was supposed to touch. When the Yunus-led interim regime took power in an unconstitutional way, the pressure around me tightened instantly.

Intelligence colleagues told me my name was circulating in rooms where dangerous decisions get made. Words like “neutralise” and “make him disappear” were being thrown around. And these weren’t idle threats—my family was included in that danger.

Then came the abrupt recall from my diplomatic post in India. That single action told me exactly what was coming next. Going back home would’ve been like walking into a death sentence. Exile wasn’t a choice. It was the only way to protect my family and to stay alive long enough to tell the truth they wanted buried.

You published archival documents challenging Yunus’s claim of inventing microcredit. What did those documents really show?

Those papers rewrite the mythology. They show that Yunus didn’t invent microcredit—he absorbed it, rebranded it, and erased the actual creators from the story.

The rural credit project in Jobra wasn’t his personal idea. It was a Ford Foundation-funded university project designed by younger researchers—people like Swapan Adnan, Nasiruddin, and HI Latifee. Yunus was supervising a completely different section at the time. Over the years, though, every one of those names disappeared from history, and the entire narrative became “Yunus invented microcredit”.

If you want to understand the system he built later, this is where it begins. His first act wasn’t financial corruption, it was intellectual hijacking. Taking credit for something others built. That pattern never stopped.

Globally, he’s seen as a hero. What did you see from the inside that contradicts that?

The world sees a saint; Bangladesh saw a structure. A structure built on capturing institutions, moving public money into private vehicles, and ensuring that real accountability never follows the trail.

Grameen Bank, backed by donors and the government, created a fund called the Social Advancement Fund. That money was quietly shifted into a private body called Grameen Kalyan. From there, a web of nearly 50 entities emerged—Grameen Telecom, Grameen Fund, and so many others. People abroad think these bodies are separate. They’re not. Every decision, every movement of money eventually leads back to one centre of gravity.

By 2022, Grameen Telecom alone had collected more than Tk 10,890 crore in dividends from Grameenphone. Meanwhile, workers who legally owned a share of that money were denied it for years. Other entities conveniently showed “losses”, but somehow all the money stayed within the unified ecosystem he controlled.

This wasn’t charity. It was engineering—corporate engineering wrapped in the language of poverty alleviation.

When you followed the money, what shocked you the most?

The precision. The scale. And the deliberate design behind it.

Take one example: Grameen Kalyan transferred Tk 53.25 crore to Grameen Telecom for guaranteed dividends from Grameenphone. That deal alone produced more than Tk 2,222 crore across the years. Yet the actual rural borrowers—the legal owners of the money—never saw a single taka.

Or look at the Tk 437 crore “settlement” for workers. The money entered a special account and almost immediately started flowing somewhere else—into private accounts of lawyers and union leaders. It was only after Bangladesh Bank froze those accounts and the High Court flagged the transactions as “dubious” that the public even found out the truth.

Once you see the pattern, it stops looking like a mistake. It looks like a strategy.

What about tax evasion? There were many accusations around that.

The tax trail is one of the clearest indicators of intent. Yunus transferred roughly Tk 100 crore of his own wealth into trusts he personally controlled, but labelled the transfers as “loans”. Why? Because loans aren’t taxed the way asset transfers are.

The National Board of Revenue pursued him for Tk 15.4 crore. He went to court, appealed repeatedly, fought it for years. Every single court rejected his claim. The Supreme Court upheld the tax demand. He had to pay.

His network of institutions faces nearly Tk 2,000 crore in unpaid taxes. Instead of paying, dozens of legal cases were filed to stall the process for as long as possible. It’s a pattern the public never saw, but it’s all there in the paperwork.

The labour case was a major turning point. What did your investigation uncover?

The irony is painful. The man celebrated for empowering the poor wouldn’t follow basic labour law inside his own organisations.

Grameen Telecom workers fought for years to receive their lawful benefits. Many were fired unjustly—99 during the pandemic alone. The Labour Court held 21 hearings. It framed charges based on hard evidence and delivered a conviction.

That conviction disappeared almost overnight once Yunus seized power in 2024. It vanished. As if justice was optional.

For the workers, it was a betrayal. For people like me who understood how the system works, it was a clear message: the law applies only until it becomes inconvenient for him.

The Tk 437 crore settlement scandal became national news. What does that episode tell you?

It reveals the inner mechanics of the system. Workers were told, “You’ll finally get your dividends.” Money was deposited. And then, behind the scenes, a large chunk—26 crore—moved into a union account. From there, almost the entire amount flowed straight into the private accounts of lawyers and union leaders.

Bangladesh Bank froze the money. The High Court questioned the legitimacy of the transactions. The Anti-Corruption Commission started investigating.

And then Yunus took power and the entire process lost momentum. It shows how workers were used as bargaining chips, not beneficiaries.

You’ve also spoken about foreign remittances he received during the 2006-08 caretaker period. Why does that matter now?

Because it shows that his political ambitions didn’t suddenly appear. They were already in motion nearly two decades ago.

Around Tk 48 crore entered his personal account during that period, just as he was preparing to launch a political party. A large portion of that money wasn’t properly declared to the tax authorities. Some of it moved into accounts linked to a travel business.

When you align those remittances with the political timeline, it’s impossible not to see the pattern. He was positioning himself for power back then and he did the same again in 2024, but with far more sophistication.

What changed once he took over the 2024 interim government?

The speed was shocking. Within days, the entire legal landscape around him flipped.

His labour conviction disappeared. The Anti-Corruption Commission withdrew its major case against him. Five more labour cases vanished. Even a food adulteration case involving Grameen yoghurt vanished; something that had nothing to do with national politics.

A huge tax burden—Tk 666 crore owed by Grameen Kalyan—evaporated after a mysterious reversal. Grameen Bank received a five-year blanket tax exemption covering rental income, interest income, operational revenue—everything.

This wasn’t coincidence. This was a man finally in control of the machinery he had spent decades cultivating.

Critics say nepotism defines the current regime. What did you observe?

It’s not an accusation; it’s the operating system.

Yunus’ nephew, Apurba Jahangir, was suddenly the Deputy Press Secretary to the government. His long-time aide, Lamiya Morshed, secured high-level roles tied to SDGs and development priorities. Beyond these names, many people from the Grameen ecosystem now hold strategic roles inside ministries and regulatory agencies.

This is how a captured state functions. Not through flashy purges, but through quiet placement of loyalists in key positions. Once that network is in place, one man can effectively guide national policy without ever being visibly present.

Why do you think the West still doesn’t see this?

Because the world fell in love with a story—a gentle professor, the Nobel prize, and rural women. It fit perfectly into the global development narrative. It made everyone feel good.

Once a myth becomes comfortable, people stop questioning it. But myths don’t erase court verdicts. Myths don’t pay back unpaid taxes. Myths don’t explain disappearing convictions and strategic placements of loyalists.

The evidence exists. The world has just chosen not to look closely.

Finally, what would you say to people who still see Yunus as a saint-like figure?

I’d say this: judge him by what he’s doing with power today, not by the medal he won two decades ago.

Look at the cases that disappeared. Look at the institutions he captured. Look at how quickly a lifetime of liabilities evaporated once he took office.

And if he truly believes in the purity of his legacy, let him agree to a full international forensic audit—of his finances, his institutions, and every vanished case. If he has nothing to hide, he has nothing to fear.

Bangladesh deserves that clarity. And the world deserves to stop confusing myth with truth.

Pakistan’s crisis caused by internal failures, not external pressure: Report

A new 186-page report by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) has again highlighted an uncomfortable reality: Pakistan’s economic troubles are mainly the result of internal weaknesses, not outside pressure.

Elite capture’; How Pakistan is losing 6 percent of its GDP to corruption

The report says corruption, weak institutions, and powerful vested interests have pushed the country to the edge of economic collapse, according to Pakistan Observer website.

According to the IMF, corruption affects almost every level of governance in Pakistan. Policymaking is often controlled by influential groups that use state institutions for personal gain. The report said Pakistan has no reliable system to measure corruption, but one indicator is the National Accountability Bureau’s recovery of 5,300 billion rupees in just two years. Even this massive figure, the IMF says, represents only a small part of the bigger problem, as per the report.

The report states that ordinary people face corruption in everyday services, while the judiciary is widely seen as compromised. Public trust in state institutions has been steadily falling. It also notes how powerful business and political groups manipulate regulations and laws to protect their interests. The IMF cites the 2019 sugar crisis as a clear example. Influential business networks hoarded sugar, increased prices, and moved billions through fake accounts, while the state did little to stop them. Beyond such scandals, the IMF points to deeper structural issues such as a complicated tax system, weak financial management, non-transparent government buying processes, and poor performance in public institutions. It says Pakistan could add 5 to 6.5 percent more GDP growth over five years if it implements serious governance reforms.

The IMF report also highlights that corruption in Pakistan is not new. Both civilian and military governments have promised reforms but ended up creating new forms of misuse. Many leaders dismiss corruption allegations as political attacks, which allows the problem to continue unchecked. The IMF’s findings, however, cannot be brushed aside as political — they are based on independent analysis. The report warns that unless Pakistan breaks the power of strong business families, political dynasties, and elite groups, the country will remain in crisis. Citizens pay heavy taxes and high utility bills, yet public wealth benefits only a small group. The IMF says this imbalance harms not just the economy but also the moral foundation of the country. The report also points to global examples where strong action against corruption led to major reforms.

Countries like China, Japan, South Korea, Singapore, Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Rwanda have punished powerful officials, business leaders, and even former presidents. Their common principle is that no one is above the law.For Pakistan to follow the same path, the report suggests that accountability institutions must work independently, without political control. Judicial appointments need transparency. Political influence in state departments must end. Taxes should be simplified, government procurement must be transparent, and political financing must be regulated so that policymaking reflects public interest, not elite pressure. The IMF says its report is not meant to punish Pakistan, but to give it one last opportunity to fix its governance system. If Pakistan continues to borrow from the IMF, then it must also implement the governance reforms recommended in the report. Those responsible for the current crisis must show restraint and accept accountability.

–IANS

Militarism over Welfare: How Pakistan’s 2025–26 Budget Entrenches Army Dominance and Marginalizes the Provinces

The presentation of Pakistan’s Federal Budget for the fiscal year 2025–26 on 10 June serves not only as a financial outline for the nation but also as a telling indicator of the entrenched power dynamics within its political economy. With total federal spending amounting to Rs 17.57 trillion, the budget is framed in official discourse as a pathway to economic recovery and national security. Yet, a more critical and nuanced examination exposes these narratives as concealing a heavily militarised fiscal framework, wherein the Pakistan Army emerges as the primary beneficiary—frequently to the detriment of democratic institutions, inter-provincial fairness, and the country’s long-term developmental prospects.

Pakistan budget 2025-26: Rs2.8 trillion defence budget proposed citing ‘war-like situation’ with India – Pakistan

A particularly striking illustration of this military-oriented strategy is evident in the federal government’s distribution of resources through the National Finance Commission (NFC) Award. Of the Rs 8.21 trillion allocated for provincial transfers, Punjab—widely regarded as the military establishment’s political bastion—receives Rs 4.25 trillion, constituting 51.74% of the total. Sindh is granted 24.55% (Rs 2.01 trillion), Khyber Pakhtunkhwa 14.62% (Rs 1.20 trillion), while Balochistan—the nation’s most underdeveloped and marginalised province—receives a scant 9.09% (Rs 0.75 trillion).

Budget Allocation State-wise

This distribution highlights not merely economic partiality, but also the military’s entrenched involvement in shaping inter-provincial fiscal allocations to favour compliant constituencies while marginalising dissenting regions. The reality that Punjab receives more than double the funds allocated to Sindh and almost six times that of Balochistan—without any remedial provisions to address the latter’s enduring underdevelopment—raises significant concerns regarding the military’s opaque yet enduring influence over federal policy formulation.

The situation in Balochistan is especially grave. Despite its abundant natural resources, the province has endured persistent economic neglect, political exclusion, and military repression. In the 2025–26 budget, Balochistan has once again been overlooked in terms of significant federal development projects. This fiscal marginalisation is no coincidence—it exemplifies a wider securitisation agenda, wherein the state, under military dominance, views Balochistan more as a geostrategic asset than as a population entitled to governance and service. Military cantonments continue to proliferate across the region, yet essential infrastructure such as schools, hospitals, and roads remain scarce. The Army’s approach to calls for enhanced resource autonomy and local governance remains rooted in coercion rather than dialogue.

In Sindh, and particularly in Karachi—the nation’s economic hub—the disparity in budgetary allocation is equally evident. Although the province is a significant net contributor to Pakistan’s overall revenue, its share of federal resources remains disproportionately low. The limited federal expenditure on Sindh’s urban infrastructure and rural healthcare or education reflects Islamabad’s wider policy orientation: maintain centralised authority and channel resources towards regions aligned with military interests, while penalising areas that challenge the establishment’s dominance. Sindh’s increasing political divergence from military-sanctioned narratives likely accounts for its persistent fiscal sidelining.

Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP), despite serving as a frontline region in Pakistan’s so-called war on terror and enduring the harshest impacts of military operations and their humanitarian fallout, is allocated a mere 14.62% of the federal divisible pool. The irony is stark—the province has borne immense human cost in service of the Army’s security objectives, yet receives scant developmental assistance in return. This inconsistency highlights the military’s instrumentalist approach toward peripheral regions: exploit them for strategic leverage while withholding the benefits of federal investment and post-conflict reconstruction.

Nowhere is the military’s hold over the national budget more visible than in defence expenditure. The 2025–26 budget earmarks Rs 2.55 trillion solely for military operations and equipment—a 20% rise from the previous fiscal year. When defence pensions are factored in, this figure increases to Rs 3.29 trillion. By comparison, the Public Sector Development Programme (PSDP)—the central mechanism for promoting public welfare and infrastructure development—has been limited to just Rs 1 trillion, accounting for only 6% of total federal spending.

Pakistan Defence Budget 2025–26: Old Script, New Promises

This fiscal imbalance reveals a troubling truth: Pakistan is not simply a state possessing a powerful military—it is a military possessing a state. Defence is allocated over three times the funding designated for all federal development initiatives combined. In a country burdened by IMF-driven austerity measures, escalating poverty, a failing education system, and a deteriorating healthcare sector, such budgetary priorities are not merely imprudent—they are fundamentally undemocratic.

The military’s economic dominion extends well beyond formal budgetary provisions. Through an extensive network of foundations, real estate enterprises, and corporate entities such as the Fauji Foundation and Army Welfare Trust, the Pakistan Army maintains a commanding presence across the national economy. Nevertheless, it persistently demands an increasing proportion of federal tax revenues under the pretext of “national security.” The most recent rise in defence spending has been rationalised by invoking perceived threats stemming from India’s Operation Sindoor—a cross-border strike purportedly revealing Pakistan’s defence vulnerabilities. Yet, leveraging such incidents to justify inflated military budgets further illustrates the Army’s adeptness at securitising each fiscal cycle to its advantage, frequently at the expense of economic prudence and democratic accountability.

Public reaction to the budget has been largely unfavourable, particularly across digital platforms where a limited degree of free expression persists. On Twitter/X, Facebook, and YouTube, trending hashtags such as #Budget2025, #PakistanDefenceBudget, and #CivilianNeglect reflect mounting discontent over the military’s dominance in determining national priorities. Sentiment analysis of user posts and comments reveals a citizenry increasingly aggrieved by rising inflation, unemployment, and deteriorating public services, all while observing the Army amass greater wealth, influence, and impunity.

Pakistan’s economic crisis deepens!

From Baloch activists decrying the absence of schools and access to clean water, to Sindhi commentators criticising the inequities of the budget, and citizens in KP questioning the marginalisation of a region scarred by conflict and extremism, provincial discontent is no longer latent—it is erupting. Even prominent political leaders have begun to cautiously voice concerns over the budget’s military bias, although many continue to remain silent, constrained by the fear of institutional retaliation.

Exacerbating this growing public dissatisfaction is the stark contrast drawn between the current budget and those enacted during former Prime Minister Imran Khan’s tenure. Although his administration faced criticism for economic mismanagement, it was nonetheless seen as making some effort to invest in health, education, and social welfare. In the present context, citizens view even these limited advancements as having been reversed, supplanted by an inflated defence budget that delivers no tangible benefit to the ordinary Pakistani.

The debt burden is also intensifying. Pakistan’s obligations for debt servicing are steadily increasing, with a significant portion of non-defence expenditure now directed towards interest repayments. Yet, despite these fiscal pressures, the military remains untouched by austerity. On the contrary, it continues to benefit from consistent budgetary hikes, preferential land allocations, and expansive business entitlements—all safeguarded by a pervasive culture of impunity and the enduring absence of civilian oversight.

Even more troubling is the manner in which the military’s fiscal dominance is accompanied by political repression. Independent economists and journalists who challenge defence expenditures frequently encounter threats or censorship. Parliamentary scrutiny of military spending remains largely symbolic, with no transparency regarding detailed budgetary breakdowns. This lack of openness is deliberate—it constitutes an institutionalised mechanism of military governance by alternative means.

The 2025–26 federal budget thus reflects the distorted civil-military equilibrium in Pakistan. It is more than a fiscal plan; it constitutes a political declaration. It confirms that the Pakistan Army—unelected and formally subordinate under the Constitution—continues to operate as the country’s de facto authority, exercising control not only over foreign affairs and domestic security but also over financial governance. The implications of this dynamic are severe: inhibited human development, widening inter-regional disparities, and a nation locked into a persistent cycle of underdevelopment and authoritarian rule.

Nevertheless, the latest federal budget lays bare the deeply embedded militarism that characterises Pakistan’s state apparatus. While Punjab enjoys a disproportionately favourable share and the Army continues to consolidate its dominance, the provinces of Balochistan, Sindh, and KP remain mired in systemic marginalisation and underinvestment. The budget not only reinforces fiscal disparity but also perpetuates political inequity, upholding a status quo in which military power eclipses democratic will, and security takes precedence over justice, social welfare, and equity. Without a fundamental reconfiguration of civil-military relations—beginning with fiscal transparency and genuine civilian oversight—Pakistan’s prospects for democracy and development will remain subordinated to the ambitions of its military elite.

Fragile Federation: Sindh’s Unrest over the Indus Canal Project Turns Violent

Despite Pakistan achieving a tenuous peace with India following military escalations along the border after the deadly Pahalgam massacre, the regime simultaneously faced multiple internal challenges. The escalation of activities by insurgent groups such as Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) and Baloch Liberation Army (BLA) in the provinces of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Balochistan has already undermined the military establishment’s popularity, legitimacy, and morale. Meanwhile, popular protests in Sindh, ongoing for several months in opposition to the federal government’s proposed Indus canals project, have escalated into violence. Rather than addressing the grievances politically, the regime opted for a harsh crackdown, resulting in the deaths of two activists, which further incited protestors to set fire to the residence of Sindh’s Interior Minister, Ziaul Hassan Lanjar.

Firing on Sindhi youth: The price of asking for autonomy in a military-run state.

The province of Sindh has long been a simmering cauldron of discontent, spanning several decades. It has consistently voiced grievances over federal discrimination and political marginalisation, which have benefited the politically and economically dominant Punjab. Central to the inter-provincial conflict between Sindh and Punjab is the issue of water, particularly the Indus River. On this occasion, the province mobilised in protests against the federal government’s decree to construct “six strategic canals” intended to address agricultural underdevelopment and food insecurity nationwide. Although the regime agreed to suspend the project in April amid persistent protests until a consensus among provinces was achieved, the demonstrations persisted, accusing the government of secretly proceeding with canal construction and engaging in deception. Public frustration escalated, prompting the regime to launch a harsh crackdown that resulted in the shooting of Zahid Laghari, a prominent activist of the Sindhi nationalist group Jeay Sindh Muttahida Mahaz (JSMM). This triggered a volatile situation in which protestors blocked a vital national highway, set oil tankers on fire, and roamed the area armed with AK-47 rifles.

The canal project forms part of the broader Green Pakistan Initiative (GPI), launched in July 2023 with the aim of modernising the country’s agricultural sector. Agriculture is a vital component of Pakistan’s economy, contributing 25% to GDP and providing employment to 37% of the population.

Army chief, PM inaugurate Pakistan’s first corporate farm to modernize agricultural practices

The initiative seeks to promote modern farming techniques, including the introduction of high-yield seeds and fertilisers, attract investment, and convert barren land into fertile, cultivable areas. In June 2024, President Asif Ali Zardari, as part of the GPI’s progression, approved the construction of six canals, with two planned for each of the provinces Punjab, Sindh, and Balochistan. Among these, the Cholistan canal has provoked significant opposition in Sindh, as residents believe it will substantially divert water from the Indus, reducing the province’s equitable share. Although the government assured that the canal would be constructed along the Sutlej River—governed by India under the 1960 Indus Water Treaty—and would utilise surplus monsoon flows along with river water from Punjab, Sindhi leaders disputed this claim, highlighting the critically low flow levels of the Sutlej.

Despite hosting the country’s financial centre, Karachi, and making a substantial contribution to the national economy, Sindh remains marginalised by federal policies that systematically neglect its interests, leading to its gradual decline. Agriculture accounts for 17% of Sindh’s provincial economy, with 77% of its agricultural land reliant on irrigation from the Indus River. The Indus is vital to the province, serving not only as a crucial water source for agriculture and daily consumption but also preventing the intrusion of Arabian Sea water inland, sustaining the mangrove forests in the Indus delta, and preserving these ancient ecosystems and cultural lifeways. Unsurprisingly, the Indus has been a continual source of dispute for lower riparian Sindh, which bears the impact of federal water management policies, such as dam and canal construction, that divert water to upper riparian Punjab. A notable example is the Kalabagh dam, proposed by General Zia ul-Haq in the 1980s, which was halted following strong opposition from Sindh and other stakeholders.

In this context, the Water Apportionment Accord of 1991 was established to resolve inter-provincial water disputes and ensure a fair distribution of water resources. However, the authority responsible for implementing the accord, the Indus River System Authority (IRSA), has faced widespread criticism for operating through a non-transparent and complex process, which has exacerbated disputes among provinces regarding the interpretation of its provisions. Additionally, the accord did not address the issue of sharing water shortages. Given the severe infrastructural deficiencies, frequent flooding, and impacts of climate change contributing to water scarcity, the lack of a mechanism for equitable sharing places the greatest burden on lower-riparian Sindh. IRSA is also known for disregarding concerns raised by provincial representatives while prioritising the establishment’s agenda. This was evident when IRSA issued the ‘Water Availability Certificate’ for the Cholistan canal in February 2025, asserting adequate water availability for the project despite objections from the Sindhi representative.

Pakistan fights imaginary enemies abroad while killing its real people at home.

For decades, Sindh has persistently alleged that it receives significantly less water than allocated under the 1991 Accord. The diminishing flow of the Indus has had devastating effects on the province, including the encroachment of seawater inland, which has led to salinisation and erosion of extensive agricultural lands, reduction of mangrove forests, mass displacement of populations, destruction of livelihoods, and severe impoverishment. The frequent flooding experienced in the province is another outcome of these mismanaged water policies. Sindh is still struggling to recover from the catastrophic 2022 floods, which devastated approximately 4.4 million acres of agricultural land and resulted in nearly 800 fatalities. Consequently, it is understandable that the population has vehemently opposed efforts to further deprive them not only of their rightful share but also of their fundamental source of sustenance. Nabi Bux Sathio, Vice President of the Sindh Chamber of Agriculture, stated that the Cholistan canal would “ruin 12 million acres of agricultural land in Sindh to irrigate just 1.2 million acres of desert in Punjab.”

Therefore, the Pakistani government should address the grievances of the Sindhi population with sensitivity and accountability, rather than resorting to violent repression. Instead of treating the issue as merely a provincial concern, the regime must adopt a holistic perspective and recognise its reliance on its diverse constituents. With demands for provincial autonomy and government accountability intensifying across all provinces except Punjab, Pakistan must confront the profound seriousness of the situation and respond with rationality.

The Cost of Power: How Pakistan’s Military Economy is Undermining Its Future

Pakistan’s enduring economic difficulties are well recognised globally. In recent years, the nation has experienced alarming inflation, an ongoing crisis in foreign exchange reserves, and an overwhelming debt burden. These issues have led to widespread unemployment, increased poverty, and daily hardships for a population already caught in the crossfire of recurring terrorist violence and military operations ostensibly aimed at countering it. Nevertheless, despite this worsening scenario and the harsh effects of austerity measures imposed by the IMF on the populace, Pakistan’s disproportionately large military appears unaffected and is, in fact, gradually expanding its share of the national economy.

Pakistan’s economy isn’t civilian-run. It’s military-owned.

The expansive role of the military in Pakistan’s domestic affairs extends beyond politics and foreign policy, significantly permeating the economic sphere. To begin with, the military absorbs a substantial portion of the GDP—Pakistan’s defence expenditure for FY2025 stood at 2.3% of GDP, exceeding equivalent figures for India, China, and the European Union. According to a study by Moneycontrol, Pakistan’s defence budget experienced an annual growth rate of 12.6% between FY17 and FY25, compared to India’s 8%. In contrast, education and healthcare were allocated merely 2% and 1.3% of the GDP, respectively.

In addition, the military has developed an extensive private conglomerate, commonly referred to as the ‘milbus’ (military business)—a term introduced by prominent scholar Ayesha Siddiqa in her seminal work Military Inc.: Inside Pakistan’s Military Economy. Through a network of commercial enterprises, including the Fauji Foundation, Army Welfare Trust, Shaheen Foundation, Bahria Foundation, and the highly contentious Defence Housing Authority (DHA), the military has embedded itself across numerous sectors such as real estate, banking, manufacturing, agriculture, shipping, education, and media. Some estimates suggest that the military controls approximately 12% of the nation’s land.

Militaries are meant to defend borders. In Pakistan, they run the economy — and ruin it from within.

Although the military and its proponents contend that the professionalism, stability, and efficiency it represents are reflected in its economic endeavours, many critics challenge the monopolistic, expansive, and opaque nature of this military dominance. Defence-operated industries suppress local competition and private enterprise, while benefiting from tax concessions and minimal regulatory oversight. By blurring the boundary between protector and profiteer, the military prioritises strategic positioning and its own commercial gain over public welfare and principles of market equity. These concerns are amplified when certain ventures become entangled in corruption scandals, such as the DHA Valley Islamabad fraud, or disregard public interests, as seen in the Indus canals initiative. The DHA—initially established to offer affordable housing for retired military personnel but now catering to elite residential projects—has faced widespread criticism over questionable land acquisitions and community displacements to benefit the privileged. Moreover, the inclusion of senior military officials in the 2021 Pandora Papers exposed the extent to which they funnel vital national assets through offshore financial channels.

The ‘milbus’ in Pakistan has not only exacerbated the persistent and severe underinvestment in human development, but the military’s substantial economic influence also reinforces its political dominance within the country. It is well established that the military remains the most powerful institution in Pakistan, having governed directly for nearly three decades and exerting significant influence behind the scenes during periods of civilian administration. Given the military’s pervasive control over the economy, civilian governments are largely stripped of the ability to make independent decisions based on the needs and interests of the populace.

From fertilizer to finance, the army runs it all.

Thus, the expansive economic domain of the military in Pakistan has a direct impact on the nation’s socio-economic stability. On one hand, defence-operated enterprises—shielded from public audits and regulatory scrutiny—create monopolies that undermine local businesses, deplete public resources, and significantly intensify inequality. On the other hand, the ‘milbus’ entrenches authoritarianism, rendering civilian governments largely symbolic. At a time when the country’s economic crisis continues to spiral, inflicting severe hardship on ordinary citizens, it is essential to critically reassess the allocation of national resources, particularly those directed towards the military. The military’s vast commercial ventures must be brought under the same regulatory framework as civilian enterprises, and its market dominance restricted. Achieving this requires a fundamental recalibration of civil-military relations, along with a reflective discourse on the appropriate role of the military within a democratic framework.