The optics could not have been better: Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif in the Oval Office, Army Chief Asim Munir beside him, Donald Trump across the table. For the first time in many, many years, a Pakistani civilian leader was back in the White House for a formal sit-down. Unlike past visits dominated by demarches to “do more,” this one carried the optics of approval: a visible pat on the back. The meeting lasted roughly 75-80 minutes, by pooled timings, and touched on investment, counterterrorism, and Gaza.
But while Washington produced optics of seriousness, New York broadcast a fiasco.
Defence Minister Khawaja Asif’s interview with Mehdi Hasan should have been an opportunity to project confidence in Pakistan’s legal system. Mr Asif brushed aside UN experts’ finding that Imran Khan’s detention lacked “legal basis,” relied on vague references to “intelligence,” and muffled what should have been a straightforward defence of judicial independence.
The problem was not Hasan’s questions. Tough scrutiny is his brand. The problem was preparation. Who advises senior Pakistani politicians to step onto such grassy pitches without a helmet? Either someone wants to see the PML-N fail, or someone has no idea what they are doing.
This was a chance to reassure investors and allies that Pakistan can defend its institutions with clarity. Instead, it delivered ambiguity and defensiveness.
The irony is that Islamabad did the hard part. It secured the Oval Office meeting, reopened a channel with Washington, and pitched investment in priority sectors. That was the uphill climb. The easy part is where it stumbled.
If Asif’s performance was a bouncer misjudged, the Shama Junejo affair was nothing short of a comic run-out. Including in the prime minister’s UN entourage a figure known for advocating normalisation with Israel was always going to raise eyebrows. That it spiralled into a crisis reflected a government unable to manage its own optics.
The Foreign Office insisted Junejo had no letter of credence. Asif distanced himself, pointing toward the FO. Junejo claimed she travelled with the prime minister’s party and helped with speeches. Ministers quarrelled, and each clumsy explanation deepened the damage.
What should have been a one-line clarification became days of headlines. Instead of coverage about investment or tariffs, Pakistan was in the news for amateur hour. For critics at home and abroad, the episode reinforced the perception of a government not in control of its own narrative.
In Washington, Islamabad pitched American capital into agriculture, IT, minerals, and energy. Trump’s envoy outlined what he described as a 21-point Gaza plan, though the White House itself has yet to publish details. There was no formal readout, but there was a signal. The US channel is open again. For Pakistan, that alone was a win.
Yet credibility is not measured by the meetings you secure. It is measured by how you carry yourself once the spotlight moves. The Oval Office was supposed to reframe Pakistan as serious, stable, and open for business, yet these fiascos suggest the opposite.
This is the oldest story in Pakistan’s foreign policy playbook. The state achieves breakthroughs – a White House invite, an IMF tranche, a Gulf pact – and then undermines itself with poor execution. The Saudi defence treaty, presented as continuity by formalising decades of deployments, projected stability and Riyadh showed coherence. We cannot afford to look incapable of managing our own delegation list without collapsing into conspiracies.
The disconnect is glaring. In Washington, the government spoke the language of investment and counterterrorism cooperation, but in New York, it looked distracted and disorganised. Allies and investors notice such dissonance, and they judge reliability accordingly. The fixes were obvious. Asif could have walked into Hasan’s studio with a single prepared line: “Pakistan’s courts are functioning, charges are public, appeals are pending, and we welcome scrutiny.” No muffling, no vague intelligence claims, just clarity.
Similarly, on Junejo, the prime minister’s office could have issued a one-paragraph statement within hours: “She is part of the prime minister’s private staff, not an accredited delegate.” End of story. Instead, days of contradictory statements made a minor staffing oversight look like a conspiracy. Pakistan’s external relationships are fragile and heavily transactional. American warmth can shift quickly. The only way to make a reset endure is to show competence: clarity on the rule of law, discipline in optics, predictability in diplomacy. Without that, resets will collapse into reruns of the same old script. The irony is that Islamabad did the hard part. It secured the Oval Office meeting, reopened a channel with Washington, and pitched investment in priority sectors. That was the uphill climb. The easy part–message discipline, internal coordination–is where it stumbled.
If Islamabad wants the White House reset to last longer than a photo-op, it must do its homework: prepare ministers before sending them into interviews, vet delegations before flying to New York, and project clarity instead of chaos.
The writer is OpEd Editor (Daily Times) and can be reached at durenayab786 @gmail.com. She tweets @DureAkram.