Qamar Bashir

During his recent visit to Libya, Pakistan’s Field Marshal addressed a high-level gathering that included senior Libyan leaders and top military officials. What he presented was not a routine diplomatic message but a strategic doctrine shaped by Pakistan’s own experience of war, sanctions, and pressure. He reminded the audience that Pakistan learned long ago that depending on foreign military technology becomes dangerous when the nation faces existential threat. In moments of conflict, supplier nations often convert technology into leverage—delaying or freezing spare parts, blocking software updates, halting ammunition supply, or suspending technical support. When the survival of the nation hangs in the balance, such dependency can turn fatal. That is why Pakistan deliberately chose to minimize reliance on imported technology and began developing its own air defence systems, land warfare platforms, naval capabilities, cyber and electronic warfare tools, and—above all—independent and secure communication systems. This was a long and difficult journey, born not of luxury but of necessity.

The Field Marshal explained that this strategy was tested decisively during the twelve-day confrontation with India, when Pakistan’s integrated cyber, communications, missile defence and air combat systems were exposed to real battlefield stress. According to him, Pakistan did not lose a single aircraft, while neutralizing India’s most advanced platforms including Rafale, MiG-29 and Tejas fighters. Indian command-and-control networks were disrupted by cyber operations. Even India’s S-400 missile defence system failed to deliver the deterrence New Delhi expected. These developments, he said, proved that Pakistan had achieved technological parity—and even superiority in certain domains—despite facing a much larger and wealthier adversary.

But what turned his address into a historic moment was not the recounting of Pakistan’s battlefield resilience; it was the offer that followed. The Field Marshal declared that Pakistan is now ready to share its indigenous defence technologies with Muslim countries who seek strategic autonomy, self-respect, and credible deterrence. These technologies, already tested in war, will not be used as political leverage but as a means to strengthen the collective defence of the Muslim world. In his most emphatic words, he advised Muslim leaders: “Ensure your armed forces are strong enough to protect your sovereignty, your dignity, and your independence. Without that strength, no country can ever truly claim to be independent.”

This message reverberates far beyond South Asia. In the Middle East, nearly every state hosts U.S. military bases, finances their operations, and relies heavily on Western defence umbrellas. Yet recent conflicts—such as the Israel-Hamas war and the Israel-Iran escalation—revealed an uncomfortable truth. These military installations, systems and manpower were not mobilized to defend the host nations. Instead, they were activated primarily to shield Israel. The wealthy Gulf states therefore face a paradox: they pay for foreign troops on their soil, yet remain strategically exposed when their national interests diverge from those of Washington.

In this context, Pakistan’s offer becomes transformative. Saudi Arabia’s expanding defence partnership with Pakistan reflects a strategic awakening. A combination of Pakistani technology, combat experience, and human capital—supported by Middle Eastern financial strength—could reshape the regional security order. If replicated across other Muslim states, this framework could eliminate the perceived need to host foreign military bases as guardians of sovereignty. Equally important, jointly-developed or indigenous systems would remove the external leverage that often appears during crises: no blocked spare parts, no sudden software restrictions, no political strings attached at the moment of war.

It is inevitable that such a shift would alarm existing power centres. Israel would see any dilution of its technological edge as a direct challenge. The United States, Israel’s principal guarantor, would likely apply diplomatic and economic pressure to prevent Muslim states from seeking autonomous defence solutions. There will be narratives claiming Pakistan’s capabilities are exaggerated, or dismissing its industrial scale as inferior. Yet, as the Field Marshal implied, credibility is measured on the battlefield—not in marketing brochures. Pakistan’s systems have already faced real-world combat and performed under fire.

The argument also rests on a deeper reality: technology evolves fastest where capital and experience converge. With Gulf investment, Pakistan’s defence industries can rapidly innovate, expand and customize systems suited to regional threat environments. For Pakistan itself, the benefits would be equally meaningful. Defence exports would generate much-needed foreign exchange, strengthen geopolitical influence, and position Pakistan as a provider—not merely a consumer—of security within the Muslim world.

Still, the Field Marshal acknowledged that breaking existing dependencies will not be easy. Many Muslim states are deeply embedded in Western defence ecosystems, bound by treaties, procurement pipelines and political expectations. Escaping that orbit will take courage, foresight and coordination. But strategic independence begins with the first decisive step. Pakistan’s offer represents that moment.

From a broader perspective, this proposal could finally allow Muslim nations to stand on their own feet in matters of defence. It could create an ecosystem where capability replaces dependency, dignity replaces insecurity, and sovereignty becomes more than a symbolic word. Pakistan is not promising miracles. Rather, it is offering tested technology, operational knowledge, and a philosophy of self-reliance, backed by the lived experience of facing a larger, wealthier and well-equipped adversary—and surviving without external rescue.

Of course, powerful forces will resist this change. Israel and its allies will exert pressure. Some Muslim leaders will hesitate. There may be attempts at sabotage and diplomatic intimidation. But the Field Marshal’s words cut through the doubt: true independence is impossible without strong, sovereign, and self-reliant armed forces.

Pakistan’s outreach is therefore more than a defence export initiative. It is a strategic doctrine—one that seeks to align technology, sovereignty, and dignity across the Muslim world. If embraced, it could mark the beginning of a new era in which Muslim nations no longer rely on others to guarantee their security, nor fear political manipulation at the moment of crisis. The path ahead is difficult, but history has always favored nations that choose self-reliance over dependency, courage over caution, and dignity over fear. For the Muslim world, this may be the first genuine opportunity in generations to defend itself on its own terms—and to respond to aggression with confidence and capability rather than hesitation and dependence.

Qamar Bashir

Press Secretary to the President (Rtd)

Former Press Minister, Embassy of Pakistan to France

Former Press Attaché to Malaysia

Former MD, SRBC | Macomb, Michigan, USA

On August 21, the Chinese foreign minister Wang Yi landed in Kabul, after visiting India and Pakistan. The visit to Afghanistan holds significance as it comes after a gap of three years, the last being in March 2022. But far more consequential was the actual itinerary of the visit, notably a tripartite meeting with Pakistan and Afghanistan intended to address Chinese security concerns related to a narrow piece of land connecting China and Afghanistan, called the Wakhan Corridor.  The Wakhan Corridor is a 350-km narrow piece of land, ranging from 10 to 50 km in width, which connects China’s Xinjiang Autonomous region and Afghanistan’s Badakhshan province in the northeast and is sandwiched between Tajikistan on its western side and Khyber Paktunwa, Gilgit Baltistan to the east.

While it is a fact that the Chinese have been investing in Afghanistan and have not shied away from the country since the Taliban takeover in 2021, Beijing has been cautious in its approach in dealing with the Taliban given that early investments have not been as lucrative as they hoped. According to a report published by the Stimson Center, Chinese investments have more or less remained at the same level since 2021, with imports from Afghanistan not growing in any substantial way. The same report claims that the Chinese investments in the Mes Aynak copper mine have not taken off, nor have investments in the Amu Darya oil fields. Despite these hurdles, the Taliban and Beijing are moving ahead on a plan to build a road through the Wakhan Corridor, connecting China and Afghanistan. According to Al Emarah English, which is the official mouthpiece of the Taliban government, the Wakhan Corridor road will be constructed in two stages, the first running 50 km from Bazai Gonbad in Little Pamir to the zero-point border with China, of which preliminary groundwork is complete with 60% of construction work currently underway as of March 2025. The second stage will cover 71 km, which is to be completed by the end of this year. Experts believe that once this road is complete, it will give China access to new markets in Europe through Afghanistan and at the same time, provide landlocked Afghanistan a new corridor to export and import goods directly with China.

Risk Factors along the Wakhan Corridor

Despite the potential for outsize economic benefits for China, Beijing has remained wary and reluctant to expedite the project due to security threats emanating from non-state actors. The Chinese foreign minister last week called for joint patrols and aggressive efforts to counter terrorism from the Taliban to address these threats.  Beijing’s concerns stem from the presence of groups like East Turkistan Islamic Movement (ETIM) and the Islamic State in Khorasan Province (ISKP), both of which operate in Afghanistan and have mounted past attacks against Chinese interests in the region.

These concerns appear justified in light of the following:

Firstly, there is the persistent threat of the East Turkistan Islamic Movement (ETIM). ETIM is a Uygur separatist movement seeking the independence of the Xinjiang Autonomous region in China’s northwest. Southern Xinjiang is primarily populated by Islamic Uygurs while the northern part of Urumqi region consists largely of Han Chinese. The Uygurs claim that Xinjiang, which was once known as East Turkestan, is under illegal Chinese occupation. Hence, the East Turkistan Islamic Movement, which is also known as Turkistan Islamic Party (TIP), mounted numerous violent attacks through the late 1990s and the early 2000s. More recently, the Chinese government has clamped down on the movement, forcing them migrate to Afghanistan, where they have been sheltered by the Taliban, fighting alongside Al Qaeda. ETIM’s present leader Abdul Haq Turkestani was a member of Al Qaeda Shura council. ETIM has strong presence in Badakhshan province which is where the Wakhan Corridor originates. Since coming to power in 2021, the Taliban government has moved ETIM elements from Badakhshan further down south, yielding to Chinese pressure. However, recent reports suggest that ETIM may possibly be regrouping in Syria, Afghanistan, and elsewhere which will set off the alarm bells in China.

ETIM fighters consisting of ethnic Uygurs were dispatched to Syria by its top commander Abdul Haq Turkestani to fight alongside Al Nusrah Front, the predecessor of Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), which later became an indispensable part of that coalition. ETIM in Syria which is part of HTS coalition that overthrew the Assad regime, has been rewarded for this loyalty. HTS leader Abu Mohammad al-Jolani and the president of Syria have absorbed some of the senior ETIM commanders into the Syrian army. Al-Jolani promoted a top ETIM leader Abdulaziz Dawud Hudaberdi (‘Zahid’) to brigadier general in the Syrian army and also integrated Uygur fighters into the newly created 84th Division of the Syrian army. Its fighters are believed to be battle hardened with experience in maritime combat skills, including speedboat assaults, maritime rescues, and armed swimming and diving. Reports indicate that ETIM cadres operated a drone assault team called the Falcons against the Assad regime forces in Syria.

In Afghanistan, ETIM is believed to be expanding, with its ranks now numbering as high as 750. ETIM in Afghanistan is believed to possess anti-tank missiles, including BGM-71 TOW missiles. Given the success of its military intervention in Syria, ETIM  has decided to “accelerate” its push for the independence of Xinjiang from China. In light of ETIM’s strength, ranging from 2000-3000 fighters in Syria, possible migration of battle-hardened fighters from Syria to Afghanistan would inevitably bolster the existing strength of ETIM in Afghanistan, which was reportedly discussed with the Taliban government in December 2024. Notwithstanding the above, ETIM has been on a tight leash by the Taliban, leading to defections and splinters, some joining the group’s archrival – the Islamic State in Khorasan Province (ISKP).

Secondly, Islamic State in Khorasan Province has mounted past attacks targeting Chinese interests, and the group has renewed its vow to mount such attacks in Afghanistan and elsewhere. In a message titled “Voice of Resistance” released in July 2025, ISKP called the Chinese “infidels” and “atheists,” claiming that Taliban is becoming too close to the Chinese, such that the only hope for Uygur Muslims is Islamic State. By directly calling out China’s oppression of the Uygurs in its message, ISKP has revealed its intention to recruit Uygurs and disenchanted ETIM Uygur fighters. It appears as though they have met with some early success in the effort. ISKP in October 2021 conducted an attack on a mosque in Kunduz, where the attacker was an ethnic Uygur. Following the incident, some Uygur fighters from ETIM may have switched sides to ISKP, given the Taliban’s stranglehold on ETIM in Afghanistan. At the same time, ISKP has ramped up propaganda targeting other Central Asian sympathizers from Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. ISKP’s official mouthpiece, Al Azaim, has started actively propagating, mainly in the Tajiki language targeting Tajikistan nationals. Reports indicate that ISKP is known to have conducted at least nine attacks since 2017, using Tajik nationals in Afghanistan, including one in Shahr-e-New area in Kabul in December 2022, injuring five Chinese nationals. Given these new recruitments and defections, ISKP’s strength appears to be somewhere around 2000 fighters in Afghanistan alone, constituted by Sunni Pashtuns, Tajiks, Uzbeks, and Uygurs.

Thirdly and more importantly, it is believed that elements of groups such as ETIM, which are under the control of the Taliban, have clandestinely worked with ISKP and other smaller groups to mount attacks on Chinese interests. For example, it is believed that some elements of ETIM appear to have participated in the December 2022 attacks on Chinese targets in Kabul, conducted by ISKP. Reports indicate that ETIM and ISKP worked together in tracking Chinese nationals in Afghanistan, despite being otherwise opposed to each other.

Factoring in all of the above, China’s overriding security concern, that ETIM and ISKP pose a serious threat to its borders and nationals in Afghanistan, appears to be coming true. In January 2025, ISKP targeted and killed a Chinese national working in a mine near Tajikistan border, possibly the first ever Chinese fatality in Afghanistan from a terror attack perpetrated by ISKP. In July 2025, four Chinese nationals working in a mine were killed in the Badakhshan province, though this was not directly attributed to any terrorist group.

There are already indications that ISKP has relocated some personnel away from its core area of Kunar and Nangarhar, with factions migrating to Badakhshan. ISKP seems to draw strength from its Tajik members to conduct attacks, including the attack on a Chinese national in 2025 in Badakhshan which borders Tajikistan on the western flank of Wakhan Corridor. Similarly, Khyber Paktunwa in Pakistan, which abuts the eastern side of Wakhan Corridor, is a mine field for the Chinese with already multiple attacks taking place in the past orchestrated by Baloch separatists, including an attack in March 2024, killing five Chinese nationals. Add to this the possibility of ETIM defections and cooperation with ISKP and Chinese security concerns will only deepen.

The views expressed in this article belong to the author(s) alone . First published in Group political monitor on August 28, 2025