I had half a mind of making fun of Pakistani Armed Forces. But I have promised my editor that I would be serious this one time. So, let’s get on with this very Pakistani habit of igniting flames and then fleeing for cover.
A few days ago, Pakistan suddenly began airstrikes and incursions along the Afghan territory across the heavily contested Durand Line. The reasons provided? They were apparently targeting TTP’s Pakistan hideouts. Do not look for logic; perhaps Pakistan thinks Afghanistan across the other side of the Durand Line is also Pakistan. Anyway, this showboating fetched a quick and brutal response by Taliban forces. By October 12, 2025, Afghan troops had launched retaliatory operations, claiming to have eliminated 58 Pakistani soldiers, wounded 30 more, and seized 25 border posts in areas like Spin Boldak, Angoor Adda, and Nangarhar.
Keep in mind, this was the Taliban paying back in the same coin. They violated Pakistan’s borders, entered Pakistan soil, dismantled outposts, and left Pakistani positions in ruins. So, Pakistan flew their jets and bombed Kabul. These explosions killed civilians and wounded dozens, as reported by medical NGOs on the ground.
And what was the Afghan response to that? More incursions. More killings and humiliation of Pakistani soldiers. In Spin Boldak, HUMILIATION alone was the headline. Pakistani Army, full in their uniform and equipped with all US-sourced gears, fought with their M4 carbines, thermal scopes. And got mauled by the Taliban — their knowledge of the terrain, and their penchant for a good fight. Videos circulating on social media depict Afghan fighters parading through captured posts, hoisting their flags over smouldering Pakistani bunkers, a visual testament to Rawalpindi’s practical incompetence.
The Pakistani response? A frantic appeal for truce, brokered through backchannels and mediated by faint echoes of Saudi influence. Interestingly, this is no isolated blunder. The Pakistani Army’s doctrine appears rooted in overreach: strike first to try and assert dominance and then run away when the blowback arrives. The Durand Line is presently doubling up as a graveyard for Pakistani ambitions. And I am not even considering the halted trade, and the effect that could have on Islamabad.
Echoes of the Recent Past
Rewind to May 2025, during Operation Sindoor, and the script repeats with lazy familiarity. Pakistan orchestrated the Pahalgam terror attacks and India retaliated with surgical strike in response. It was a lightning campaign that neutralized terror infrastructure and exposed the fragility of Rawalpindi’s nuclear bluster. Pakistan’s response (in the shape of drone swarms and other ticklish toys), was met with faint amusement by Indian civilians along the border who took to their terrace and made videos of them. And as India continued to pummel their launchpads, radar stations, and nuclear facilities, Rawalpindi quickly dispatched envoys to Washington, pleading for U.S. intervention to halt the onslaught. Reports from diplomatic circles revealed frantic calls to the State Department, framing the conflict as a “regional escalation” that demanded American mediation.
It was a humiliating pivot. Operation Sindoor laid bare the Pakistani military’s core weaknesses. That aside there were casualties (over 100 militants minimum). There was destruction of infrastructure worth millions. And Pakistani counterfire fizzled against superior Indian air defence (random civilians on terrace video-shot this very “Pakistani” incompetence). The ceasefire during Operation Sindoor allowed Pakistan to lick its wounds and regroup under the shadow of U.S.
The Mirage of Friendly Embraces
Pakistan’s overtures to Saudi Arabia, once a cornerstone of its foreign policy arsenal, have curdled into another emblem of diplomatic desperation. In the lead-up to the Afghan clashes, Islamabad touted a “strategic partnership” with Riyadh, complete with arms deals and economic lifelines, positioning KSA as the backstop against India, Afghanistan, and perhaps Iran too. Shehbaz Sharif’s visits to Jeddah were billed as game-changers.
And when the Talibans arrived in their pick-up trucks and fighting erupted? That mirage popped in thin air. Taliban Army overran posts in Kandahar and Khost, but KSA remained silent. No frantic Crown Prince calls, no dispatched envoys; just vague statements urging “restraint” from afar.
This kind of abandonment is the result of realistic assessment by the regional players. Of the nature of Pakistan. Riyadh, once a reliable check-writer for Pakistani deficits, now views Islamabad as a liability. MBS, clearly focussed on Vision 2030 (and limiting Qatar too, probably?), understands that Pakistani military adventure is a long drag on regional stability. The result? The “fancy deal” of arms transfers and economic corridors, that Sharif waved around all our noses, collapsed under the weight of real combat. And that left Pakistan begging unilaterally for the 48-hour truce announced on October 15.
The visuals of the carnage are quite telling. Nowhere is the depth of this humiliation etched more vividly than on X, where Afghan users flood timelines with unfiltered evidence of victory — raw broadcasts from the front. Mutilated bodies, semi-naked Pakistani soldiers, Pakistani Army uniform hoisted on wooden poles being waved at cheering locals, and even the proud display of US made Pakistani tanks that have been captured by Taliban… This is not a war, this looks like conquest. This is the second indictment of Pakistan Army’s incompetence in less than 6 months.
The ISI’s Smoke Screen
But now with the ceasefire secured, the Pakistani military’s propaganda machinery has gone into an overdrive. ISI outlets are flooding state and social media channels with doctored claims: “200 Taliban terrorists neutralized,” “19 Afghan posts captured,” assertions of unyielding dominance that clash with the battlefield reality. Press briefings from Rawalpindi General Headquarters have already painted the clash as a “decisive repulsion,” airbrushing away the surrendered troops and looted arsenals. X bots are busy amplifying the fiction, and hashtags like #PakistanStrong are trending already.
This is the ISI’s dark art: alchemize incompetence into legend. Post-ceasefire, expect montages of “heroic stands” in Chaman, eulogies for the fallen reframed as martyrs of a phantom victory, and perhaps another self-awarded promotion for “failed” Marshall Asim Munir. The playbook is the same. This is like after Operation Sindoor, where initial admissions of loss morphed into tales of phenomenal victory.
What is Rawalpindi’s Game?
Here is the deal:
At its core, the Pakistani Army is not a bulwark of national defence; it is a syndicate of money-grabbing mercenaries who are addicted to escalation and allergic to accountability. They provoke, emboldened by their belief in their own propaganda, and then crumble under real, sustained, assault. The begging follows: to the U.S. for shields, to Saudis for succour, to adversaries for breath. Ceasefires become “wins,” propaganda the salve for shattered morale, and the cycle spins on, devouring lives and treasure. The concessions extracted from Washington, those drips of aid and diplomatic cover, sustain the illusion. A few million in counterterrorism funds, a quiet nod at the UN (rewards for the charade), doled out by patrons weary of the cycle but invested in the status quo.
This Afghan fiasco is but the latest scar in a litany of self-sabotage. Pakistan’s military, minus the support of its overseas patrons, dances a clumsy tango of hubris and humiliation. And until a comprehensive defeat — one that even drowns this ISI proclivity for propaganda — this garrison state will remain a wannabe predator that cries fowl every time, after entering a clawing game.
