By Qamar Bashir
The latest ISPR press release, announcing the killing of 23 alleged terrorists and the loss of 18 Frontier Corps personnel, is deeply distressing. These are not just numbers; they represent 41 shattered families, each bearing an unimaginable grief that will last a lifetime. Behind every fallen soldier and every slain insurgent are grieving parents, siblings, spouses, and children, struggling to fill the void left by their loss. What makes this tragedy even more painful is that these lives were lost not in defense against an
external enemy but in an internal conflict, one that pits fellow Pakistanis against each
other. Every loss on both sides is ultimately a loss for the nation.
For any Pakistani who values human life and dignity, the relentless cycle of violence and
extremism is deeply unsettling. This conflict has become an endless spiral of bloodshed,
with security forces and alienated Baloch elements locked in a battle that offers no real
resolution—only more suffering, more funerals, and more hatred. These individuals,
regardless of which side they are on, belong to the same nation. Yet, their deaths only
deepen existing divisions rather than resolve the underlying tensions.
As a nation, we must step back and reflect on what has brought us to this tragic point.
Why are Pakistani citizens fighting against the state? What drives this level of discontent
that entire communities feel alienated enough to take up arms? The answer lies not in
simplistic narratives of terrorism or separatism but in decades of political, economic, and
social neglect. The state's continued reliance on military force has only exacerbated the
problem, fueling resentment and widening the rift between the center and the periphery.
History has already provided its verdict: force alone does not work. The lessons of
Bangladesh remain unheeded—decades after its separation, the scars of that conflict
persist. The resentment against Pakistan’s military and bureaucracy in Bangladesh has
not faded, and those wounds have been passed down across generations. Hatred, once
embedded in a people’s consciousness, does not dissipate easily. It festers, it grows, and
it transforms into resistance.
The Baloch and Pashtun societies, known for their traditions of hospitality, communal
harmony, and unwavering commitment to protecting their land and dignity, should be
seen as assets, not adversaries. Yet, the persistent attempt to subdue their will through
force continues. This strategy has failed time and again. No military strength, however
overwhelming, can crush a people’s inherent determination to safeguard their identity,
heritage, and rights.
There are only two possible paths forward. One is built on peace, respect, and the
acknowledgment that these communities have the right to live with dignity, preserving
their tribal traditions and culture while being made stakeholders in Pakistan’s progress.
The other is one of continued repression, subjugation, and state violence, which will only
fuel further bloodshed, deepen resistance, and ultimately undermine national unity. The
logical and humane choice is clear: Pakistan must respect the dignity and honor of these
communities, recognize their unique identity, and treat them as valuable citizens, not as
problems to be "handled."
Every loss in this conflict—whether a Baloch fighter, a civilian, or an army jawan—is a
loss for Pakistan. We are not fighting an external enemy; we are fighting our own people.
The grief of a mother in Quetta or Gwadar is no different from that of a mother in
Rawalpindi or Lahore. The pain of losing a son, a brother, or a father transcends
geography, ethnicity, or political beliefs. Yet, this tragedy unfolds because decision-
making has been taken away from genuine civilian leaders—those who understand
governance, dialogue, and compromise—and handed over to unaccountable forces whose
primary tool is military might. These elements, operating without a public mandate, view
every problem through the lens of armed conflict rather than reconciliation. Violence
breeds more violence, deepens hatred, and creates generational wounds that may never
heal.
For every insurgent killed, more rise in defiance. Why? Because force alone has never
been a solution to political grievances. The state must ask itself: why are these young
men taking up arms? Why do they feel they have no stake in Pakistan’s future? The
answer lies in decades of economic exploitation, political exclusion, and a lack of basic
human rights.
Had Pakistan’s civilian leadership been genuinely empowered, many peaceful solutions
could have been explored. Instead of plundering Balochistan’s resources for the benefit
of central authorities, the region should be given its fair share of revenue from minerals,
gas, and ports. Balochistan contributes over $1 billion annually in natural gas revenues
alone, yet remains Pakistan’s most underdeveloped province. Investment in industries,
infrastructure, healthcare, and quality education could uplift the region instead of fueling
resentment. With over 71% of Balochistan’s population living in poverty, these are
urgent needs. Empowering local leadership to govern their own affairs, rather than
imposing decisions from Islamabad or Rawalpindi, would foster trust and engagement. A
structured economic reform to curb smuggling and the illicit arms trade could also
weaken extremist factions by cutting off their financial and logistical support.
Nothing radicalizes a population more than the disappearance of its youth. Reports
indicate that thousands of Baloch men have vanished, only for their bodies to be found
later, igniting further anger. A transparent judicial process, rather than extrajudicial
killings and forced disappearances, is the way forward. When people lose faith in the
justice system, they resort to desperate measures. The cycle of oppression and retaliation
continues because the state has refused to address grievances through democratic means.
Balochistan does not need more military operations; it needs justice, respect, and
development. The only way to win back hearts and minds is to treat the people of
Balochistan as equal Pakistanis, with the same rights, opportunities, and representation as
any other citizen. Balochistan must not be treated as a colony from which resources are
extracted while its people remain impoverished and disenfranchised. The region must be
developed with the same urgency and commitment as Punjab or Sindh.
It is time to break this destructive cycle. Pakistan must move beyond a militarized
response and address the real, underlying causes of this conflict—political representation,
economic equity, and social justice. Only through meaningful dialogue, empowerment,
and respect for the dignity of these communities can a sustainable and peaceful resolution
be achieved.
This is a moment of reckoning for Pakistan. Will we continue down the path of military
oppression and bloodshed, repeating the mistakes of 1971? Or will we finally choose
wisdom over force, justice over repression, and dialogue over violence? The choice is
ours. The consequences will be ours as well.
