For more than two decades, Pakistan has been fighting a war that many outside the region barely understand.
It began with suicide bombers walking into mosques, markets and military installations. Now it has reached the skies.
Last week, crude drones launched from across the Afghan border attempted to enter Pakistani airspace. Pakistan’s air defence systems intercepted them before they could reach their intended targets. Yet even the falling debris injured four civilians, including two children – a stark reminder that terror has found a new delivery system.
President Asif Ali Zardari called the incident a “red line” that had been crossed.
But anyone who has followed the region closely knows that the red line was not drawn overnight.
Pakistan today faces one of the worst waves of terrorism since the dark years of 2009-2014. According to the Global Terrorism Index 2025, terrorist attacks in Pakistan more than doubled from 517 in 2023 to 1,099 in 2024, while deaths from terrorism increased by 45 per cent to more than 1,080.
No state in the world can accept a situation where armed groups launch attacks across the border while enjoying a safe haven just a few kilometres away.
That report placed Pakistan as the second most terrorism-affected country in the world.
The Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) alone was responsible for more than half of those deaths, making it one of the fastest-growing militant threats globally.
These numbers are not just tally marks.
They represent the bombing of Quetta railway station that killed more than thirty civilians in 2024. They represent the ambush in Kurram that left over fifty people dead. They represent suicide attacks on military convoys in North Waziristan that killed soldiers and injured civilians.
Each attack tells the same story: militant groups planning violence against Pakistan while operating from sanctuaries across the Afghan border.
Islamabad has raised this issue repeatedly with Kabul since the Taliban returned to power in 2021. Pakistani officials expected that a government in Kabul claiming Islamic legitimacy would prevent its soil from being used against a neighbouring Muslim country.
Instead, infiltration continued. Militants regrouped. Cross-border attacks increased.
And now, apparently, drones have entered the equation.
Let us be clear: the drones intercepted over Pakistan were crude devices. Their accuracy was poor. Their destructive capacity was limited.
But their purpose was psychological.
Terrorism has always relied on fear more than firepower. A single drone buzzing above a city can create panic far greater than the damage it causes.
Pakistan’s response has been predictable and, from its perspective, unavoidable. Military operations have targeted militant infrastructure across the border – training camps, logistics hubs, and command facilities used by groups responsible for attacks inside Pakistan.
Kabul disputes these claims. Islamabad disputes Kabul’s counterclaims. In modern conflicts, the battle for narrative often becomes as intense as the fighting itself.
But one fact remains difficult to deny.
No state in the world can accept a situation where armed groups launch attacks across the border while enjoying a safe haven just a few kilometres away.
This is not simply a Pakistan-Afghanistan dispute. It is a classic dilemma of modern asymmetric warfare. Militant networks exploit weak borders, fragile governance, and ideological propaganda to operate across multiple territories while avoiding accountability.
The tragedy is that ordinary people on both sides of the border pay the price.
Villages in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa live with the fear of suicide bombings. Communities in eastern Afghanistan fear retaliatory strikes. Families who have never carried a weapon become victims of a conflict they did not start.
That is why military action alone cannot solve this crisis.
The ideological infrastructure of militancy must also be dismantled. Groups like the TTP cloak their violence in religious language even while bombing mosques, killing fellow Muslims and destabilising entire societies.
Religious scholars, media voices and educators must challenge this narrative relentlessly.
Otherwise, the cycle will continue: suicide bombers today, suicide drones tomorrow.
The real question now is not what Pakistan will do.
That answer is already clear. Pakistan has shown patience for years, but cannot allow cross-border militancy to threaten its citizens indefinitely.
The real question is what the rulers in Kabul will choose.
They can dismantle militant sanctuaries and help stabilise the region.
Or they can continue exporting instability – first suicide bombers, now suicide drones – and push the region toward deeper confrontation.
The writer is a freelance columnist.