The frontier smell of smoke lingers in our valleys again, in the charred walls of homes, in the echo of sirens, in the unanswered questions of those left behind. In Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Balochistan, where silence once felt like a tenuous peace, the cheers of bloodshed have returned. New ambushes. Fresh bombings. Grieving mothers and fathers, raising cries that sound hauntingly familiar. The question choking every conversation is not if we can prevent this, but why we have allowed it to happen yet again.
In recent months, the TTP, the BLA, and IS-KP have reasserted themselves with a boldness born of neglect and contradiction. They strike not only because of external havens in Afghanistan, but because inside Pakistan, the boundaries between political expedience and moral resolve have blurred. We have tolerated ambiguity where we needed clarity. We have rewarded appeasement where we needed accountability.
If history has lessons, we seem determined not to learn them. The PTI government’s “talks” with the TTP were marketed as pragmatism, but in truth were a political shortcut masquerading as strategy. The militants regrouped, rearmed, and re-emerged; grateful, no doubt, for the gift of time. The KP government, even more recently, has clung to the same mirage of conciliation. A polite word here, a delayed operation there, all wrapped in the rhetoric of “our people.”
Terrorists do not need to defeat the army; they need only wait for politics to defeat itself.
Except these “our people” were the same men who had, for years, bombed bazaars and mosques. That irony was lost on those who thought a handshake in Doha could undo a blood-soaked decade. Instead, the militants returned with better logistics, a stronger network, and a renewed sense of invincibility.
Worse than policy failure is the narrative collapse. Once upon a time, counterterrorism was the rare subject on which Parliament could sound united. No longer. PTI flirts with linguistic leniency for the TTP and their Afghan patrons. Others, in their own registers, question the legitimacy of counterterror operations.
Each mixed message mocks the memory of soldiers who died in Waziristan, of children slaughtered in Peshawar classrooms. It tells the enemy what they crave to hear: that Pakistan’s politicians cannot tell friend from foe. Terrorists do not need to defeat the army; they need only wait for politics to defeat itself.
Since 2021, when America’s exit left Kabul to the Taliban, the problem has metastasised. It is not just TTP fighters slipping across porous borders; it is entire cadres, 70 to 80 per cent Afghan by origin, now embedded in the fight. Camps flourish across the border; training grounds and launch pads, more than 50 by some counts. Afghan “operations” against them are stage plays: detain a few, release a few, whisper reassurance to Islamabad, and carry on as usual.
Sovereignty, the Taliban say, must be respected. Sovereignty, they mean, is their right to shelter the men who kill our children, while demanding silence from the neighbour whose funerals grow longer each week.
Afghan refugee networks, long tolerated on humanitarian grounds, have been turned into logistics and recruitment pipelines for militants. Forged documents, smuggling routes, shadow economies; all woven into a tapestry of impunity. Yet when Islamabad orders undocumented repatriations, PTI-led KP shrugs. Humanitarian gloss is applied selectively and national security is treated as someone else’s problem. Thus, a strategic necessity becomes a political football, and terror finds fresh cover.
Beyond borders and bunkers lies the deeper fracture: trust. The families of martyrs wonder if their sacrifices have been bartered for political convenience. Citizens hear leaders call counterterror operations “dollar wars” and ask: Is this bloodshed in vain? Confusion metastasises into cynicism, cynicism into apathy. This is how long wars are lost; not on the battlefield, but in the erosion of collective will.
The way forward is not mysterious. It requires courage, not creativity.
Zero tolerance, declared and demonstrated. No reconciliatory double-speak, no ambiguous winks. Parliament, provinces, media – one line, one voice.
Afghanistan held to account. Diplomatically, regionally, at the UN. Sovereignty cuts both ways. Safe havens must close, launch pads dismantled, double games ended.
Refugee repatriation, humane but firm. Gradual, legal, coordinated with international partners, but resolute. The logistics of terror cannot be allowed to masquerade as asylum.
Narrative supremacy. Expose political doublespeak with facts. Empower KP and Balochistan through visible development and inclusion, so the state’s commitment is seen not just in force but in opportunity.
Law, applied without fear or favour. Whether militant or politician, anyone amplifying terror propaganda must face consequences: transparently, legally, impartially. This battle was never only about guns. It was always about politics, ideology, and society. The militants know this and that is why they play in the grey zones of our divisions. We can either continue to quarrel while funerals multiply, or we can remember that nations at war cannot afford ambiguity.
The writer is OpEd Editor (Daily Times) and can be reached at durenayab786 @gmail.com. She tweets @DureAkram.