CIHS – Centre for Integrated and Holistic Studies

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Managed Unstable Equilibrium?

After US-Iran Peace Deal, West Asia continues to burn. India has to devise long term tactics to tide over uncertainties in the region. N. C. Bipindra The ink had barely dried on Bürgenstock framework before bombs started falling again. Four months after US and Israel launched their war on Iran on February 29, 2026, and weeks after Washington and Tehran sat across the table in Switzerland to sign a memorandum of understanding meant to end the fighting “on all fronts,” there’s uncertainty all over. Lebanon is still burning, the Strait of Hormuz remains a flashpoint and peace deal that was supposed to calm the region has instead exposed how far apart its core players really are. US – Iran interim agreement was billed as the moment the wider war finally ended. Iran agreed to stop blocking the Strait of Hormuz; Washington lifted its naval blockade of Iranian ports and both sides committed to 60 days of follow-on talks over Iran’s nuclear programme and sanctions relief. On paper, it looked like off – ramp the world had been waiting for since oil tankers first started getting stranded in the Gulf back in March 2026. The problem is that MOU’s very first clause calls for a permanent end to hostilities in Lebanon, a country that was never at the table. Iran insisted on this because Hezbollah, its most important regional proxy, has been devastated by months of Israeli ground operations and airstrikes that have killed more than 4,000 people and displaced over a million Lebanese. For Tehran, protecting what’s left of Hezbollah isn’t a side issue; it’s the price of the peace deal itself. Iran has repeatedly said Israeli strikes on Lebanon “blatantly violate” the ceasefire it signed onto. Israel sees it completely differently. Israeli officials have said openly that they view Lebanon’s inclusion in the MOU as a major concession Washington’s envoys’ handed to Iran, one Israel never agreed to. Defence Minister Israel Katz has said Israeli forces would keep operating in what he calls the “security zone” regardless of what any memorandum says and Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has separately negotiated a bilateral framework with the Lebanese government, bypassing Hezbollah entirely. That bilateral Israel-Lebanon framework signed in Washington just days ago, ties an Israeli troop withdrawal to Hezbollah’s disarmament, something Hezbollah has rejected outright. Hezbollah leader Naim Qassem called the agreement “humiliating, shameful, and a surrender of sovereignty,” and his supporters have taken to the streets of Beirut, burning tyres in protest. Even as the ink dried on that deal, an Israeli strike killed a civilian in southern Lebanon, the first casualty since the signing. This is the trap Lebanon is caught in: its own government wants out of a war it never chose, but doing so on Israel’s terms means publicly disarming Hezbollah which Hezbollah says it will never accept “unconditionally” without an Israeli withdrawal first. Meanwhile, Israel says it won’t withdraw until Hezbollah disarms. It’s a circular standoff, and Lebanese civilians are paying for it with airstrikes that haven’t actually stopped despite three rounds of declared ceasefires since April this year. Fragility of all this became impossible to ignore over past few days. An Iranian attack on a commercial vessel in the Strait of Hormuz triggered fresh US airstrikes on Iranian targets. Iran’s Revolutionary Guard responded by hitting American sites in the Gulf, warning that “if the aggression is repeated, our response will be broader.” Vice President JD Vance, who had just left Switzerland after peace talks, declared bluntly that “violence will be met with violence.” Israeli drones continued striking southern Lebanon’s Nabatieh area even as Netanyahu was publicly hailing his Lebanon framework as “a historic achievement.” In other words: the deal exists, the signing ceremonies happened and the shooting never really stopped. For countries like India, this war was never an abstract geopolitical drama; it hit the fuel pumps and the kitchen stoves directly. Roughly 41per cent of India’s crude oil imports, 55 per cent of LNG and an extraordinary 88 per cent of its LPG normally transit the Strait of Hormuz. When Iran effectively shut the strait in late February, India’s oil flow through that route collapsed from 2.8 million barrels a day to under 250,000, forcing New Delhi into a frantic scramble for alternatives. India responded the way it usually does in a crisis: pragmatically, and on multiple tracks at once. It ramped up Russian crude purchases, competing head-to-head with China for cargoes. It diversified toward Angola, Venezuela, Brazil, and the UAE. It even resumed direct oil and LPG purchases from Iran after a seven-year gap, betting that Washington wouldn’t punish it too harshly for doing so. The Indian Navy launched “Operation Urja Suraksha,” escorting Indian-flagged tankers through the Gulf rather than joining US-led naval coalition, a calculated act of strategic non-alignment. The payoff: by June, India’s crude imports had climbed back above 5 million barrels a day, roughly back to pre-war levels, even as the geopolitical map of its suppliers shifted dramatically. But the cost was real: a weaker rupee, an Indian crude basket that spiked from $ 69 to over $113 a barrel at the worst of the crisis and inflationary pressure that touched everything from fertilisers to transport. The deeper lesson for India and other import dependent developing economies is about exposure. A conflict thousands of kilometres away, between countries India does not quarrel with, was enough to threaten cooking gas supplies for hundreds of millions of households. That vulnerability is now feeding into longer-term decisions: faster EV adoption, push for piped natural gas over imported LPG and a renewed urgency around energy diversification that outlasts this particular war. Is peace tenable and everlasting: not yet and maybe not soon. US -Iran deal solved the problem the world cared most about: the global energy chokepoint. But it left the problem the region cares most about — Lebanon and Hezbollah — essentially unresolved. Iran needs Hezbollah alive enough to claim it didn’t abandon its allies; Israel wants Hezbollah disarmed before it ever

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As Iran Fights the Allies, China Learns from It

China did not start this war and will not finish it. What it will do is walk away with something more valuable than victory; the data, the proof, the blueprint for the confrontation it is quietly rehearsing on the other side of the world in the western Pacific. Rahul PAWA | March 3, 2026 |  x- imrahulpawa When three American F-15E Strike Eagles spiralled out of the sky over Kuwait on the night of March 1, the story that dominated headlines was one of tragic friendly fire. Kuwaiti Patriot batteries, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of Iranian drones and ballistic missiles crisscrossing the Gulf, misidentified their own side’s aircraft in a chaotic, saturated battlespace. All six aircrew ejected safely. The jets did not survive. CENTCOM was unambiguous: friendly fire in a saturated sky, not Iranian action. Iranian state media claimed otherwise. The Pentagon held its line. But the deeper question remains: why that sky was so saturated in the first place. The answer leads not to Tehran. It leads to Beijing. China has not fired a single shot in this war. It has condemned the strikes on Tehran as violations of international law. And yet the weapons flying over the Gulf, the drones that refused to be jammed, the missiles that found their targets, the internet blackout sealing 93 million Iranians from the outside world, all rest on a technological architecture Beijing spent a decade carefully constructing. Not as charity. As a field test. This is the war behind the war. China using Iran as a live laboratory for systems it will one day need against adversaries whose weapons it is now learning to defeat. Every drone that navigates through Western jamming. Every radar that acquires a stealth aircraft. Every $20,000 drone that forces the expenditure of a $4 million Patriot interceptor. Beijing is watching, logging, and learning. The most operationally significant Chinese technology active in this conflict is BeiDou-3, China’s sovereign alternative to GPS. Following Isreal-Iran’s Twelve-Day War last year, in which GPS spoofing partially blinded Iran’s guided munitions, Iran drew a hard lesson. It formally abandoned the American system and transitioned its military navigation architecture to BeiDou. The encrypted network resists allied electronic warfare; its integrated short-message service sustains command node communication even when terrestrial infrastructure is destroyed. Iran’s 2026 missile campaign has demonstrated navigational resilience its 2025 predecessor lacked, striking targets across all six GCC states simultaneously and forcing the UAE alone to intercept 161 of 174 ballistic missiles fired at it. But BeiDou is not merely Iran’s tool. It is China’s proof of concept, a navigation system battle-hardened against the world’s most sophisticated jamming apparatus, stress-tested under real combat conditions. The telemetry flowing back to Beijing from every Iranian strike package is worth more than any simulation its engineers could run. The same scenario applies to the YLC-8B anti-stealth radar, reportedly transferred to Iran after the 2025 war. Engineered to operate on VHF frequencies that defeat radar-absorbent coatings, it addresses the defining challenge of modern air warfare: how do you acquire what your adversary designed to be invisible? Whether the YLC-8B batteries survived the opening strikes of Operation Epic Fury remains unclear, the IDF claims over 200 Iranian air defence systems destroyed. But even degraded performance data feeds directly into China’s own development cycle. Iran is the test range. The PLA is the end customer. This Chinese pattern of real-world testing was visible long before this war. Last May, during India’s Operation Sindoor strikes on terrorist and Pakistani army infrastructure, Chinese-origin PL-15 beyond-visual-range missiles and HQ-9 surface-to-air systems were active on the Pakistani side. Beijing opportunistically leveraged the conflict to test its weapons in live combat. It did not stop at data collection. The US-China Economic and Security Review Commission confirmed that China deployed fake social media accounts to circulate AI-generated imagery purporting to show debris from aircraft destroyed by Chinese weapons. A deliberate campaign to discredit India’s Rafale purchase and advance sales of China’s J-35. Chinese embassy officials reportedly persuaded Indonesia to pause a Rafale procurement already in process. Beijing said nothing publicly. It did not need to. Iran and Pakistan have become China’s two most valuable proving grounds. One tests area-denial and air defence against American and Israeli platforms. The other tests beyond-visual-range air combat against Indian platforms. China supplied roughly 82% of Pakistan’s arms imports between 2019 and 2023, it had substantial strategic investment in the outcome. Together, both theatres are delivering what no exercise can replicate: live performance data against real Western hardware. The supply chain completes the picture. On February 25, three days before the strikes began, the US Treasury sanctioned procurement networks supplying precursor chemicals and sensitive machinery to Iran’s IRGC missile and drone programmes, following 2025 designations of six Hong Kong and PRC-based entities feeding Iranian arms production. The $20,000 drones flooding the Gulf, cheap enough to force the expenditure of interceptors costing two hundred times more are products of that chain. A think tank report warned that US high-end interceptors including SM-3, PAC-3 MSE and THAAD could be depleted within days of sustained high-tempo operations. That attrition calculus is now live. Away from the battlefield, Iranian internet connectivity has collapsed to roughly 4% of normal levels. The tools enforcing that blackout bear Chinese brand names: Huawei and ZTE deep-packet-inspection platforms, Tiandy facial-recognition hardware explicitly supplying the IRGC. The function is unambiguous; seal the population off, suppress evidence of military degradation, keep the regime viable long enough to matter. Prima facie, none of this has made Iran invincible. Khamenei is dead. The IDF has conducted over 700 strike missions. What Chinese technology has done, in both theatres, is keep the fight going longer than it otherwise would have, and send data back to Beijing that no laboratory can replicate. The drones are still flying. The missiles are still navigating. The lights inside Iran are still off. And in Beijing, someone is taking very careful notes. Preparing for the western Pacific. (Rahul Pawa is an international criminal lawyer and

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Britain's Palestine Recognition Hands China the Mediterranean

Britain’s Palestine Recognition Hands China the Mediterranean

CCP spent six decades cultivating Palestinian movements, embedding influence in Western activism and positioning itself as the indispensable power in a post-American WestAsia. Britain just made that job easier. Rahul Pawa On 21 September 2025, Prime Minister Keir Starmer broke with decades of U.K. policy formally recognising the state of Palestine. It was Britain’s most consequential West East move since the 1917 Balfour Declaration, made over explicit U.S. objections and Israeli fury. In London’s rush to show moral leadership, one reality was ignored: Beijing had spent six decades preparing for this moment. The CCP’s Palestinian project began in the 1960s. Between 1965 and 1970, Beijing sent small arms, mortars and anti-tank weapons to the Palestine Liberation Army and the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine. It trained cadres at the Whampoa Military Academy in Nanning and dispatched instructors to Syria and Algeria. In May 1966 Palestine Liberation Organization Chairman Ahmad al-Shuqairy thanked “Peking” for constant arms and training shipments. After the Six Day War in 1967, Israeli commanders displayed captured Chinese-made AK-47s, 81mm mortars and chemical decontamination gear seized in Gaza and Sinai. Alongside, Beijing also built a diplomatic bridge. In December 1995 it opened a foreign office in Gaza; a de facto embassy to the Palestinian Authority, decades before most Western states considered recognition. Its message to Palestinians was consistent: you can count on us when the West won’t. By Xi Jinping’s era the posture turned strategic. In 2017 the PLA opened its first overseas military base in Djibouti, a Red Sea hub housing thousands of Chinese troops. Beijing secured port stakes from Gwadar in Pakistan to Haifa in Israel, embedding itself along the arteries that supply Europe and the Gulf. A 25-year strategic agreement with Iran in 2021 locked in $400 billion in Chinese investments across oil, gas and transport corridors. CCP’s pattern is clear: first ports, then troops. Djibouti proved it, Hambantota confirmed it, Gaza may be next. Beijing has already demonstrated how commercial access becomes military power, and a recognised Palestine gives it the opening to repeat the same playbook on the Mediterranean. While Beijing built bricks abroad it built narratives at home. State-aligned Arabic media channels and TikTok streams pump out Gaza content at scale. A July 2025 Program on Extremism report mapped how the CCP’s influence runs through Western activism itself. That report details how Shanghai-based tech investor Neville Roy Singham, a onetime Huawei adviser, poured millions into U.S. and U.K. activist groups after Hamas’s October 7, 2023 attack. Groups like the People’s Forum, ANSWER Coalition and “Shut It Down for Palestine” became organising hubs for anti-Israel protests. BreakThrough News, their media arm, live-streamed marches while praising Xi Jinping Thought and Maoist revolution. Investigators concluded the effect was “to project the CCP as a defender of justice while undermining U.S. influence.” In December 2023 the People’s Forum hosted a “China75” event lauding Beijing’s governance model; by early 2024 its funding spiked from under $500,000 to $4.4 million as it expanded pro-Palestinian actions. The same network underwrote protests at Columbia University and in Whitehall, echoing CCP state rhetoric about “imperialist Zionism.” When Starmer spoke to recognise Palestine, Beijing didn’t improvise. Chinese State media instantly framed Britain’s recognition as vindication of the CCP’s “historic” support for Palestinian independence. Chinese diplomats in Ramallah pointed out they had welcomed Mahmoud Abbas to Beijing two years earlier and had pushed a ceasefire plan in 2023. They reminded Palestinian officials who had invested in them when no one else would. With London’s imprimatur, a Palestinian government now has every incentive to turn to CCP for reconstruction finance and infrastructure contracts. Beijing can bolt these onto its Belt and Road Initiative, locking in leverage over a new state at the heart of the Levant. U.S. influence, already eroded by drift and divided Congresses, will shrink further. China’s record speaks for itself. In Djibouti, commercial port access became a PLA base within three years. In Sri Lanka, Chinese loans turned into a 99-year lease at Hambantota. CCP has cultivated a pattern: ports, logistics, security co-operation and then military presence. If Palestine’s future leadership wants investment and security guarantees, CCP will deliver both. Even a small PLA signals unit or intelligence station would tilt the Eastern Mediterranean’s security balance. By presenting any facility as humanitarian or anti-piracy, Beijing can minimise Western backlash while gaining a front-row vantage on Israel, Egypt and NATO operations. Britain’s recognition may have been meant as a rebuke to Israel. However, in practice it is a strategic gift to Beijing. It signals to the Arab world that the West’s will is fractured and that China, not America, not Europe is the constant patron. It creates a diplomatic vacuum China is already moving to fill, from Gaza reconstruction bids to Palestinian security training. This is not hypothetical. Chinese firms dominated Iraq’s post-2003 oil fields; they built most of Africa’s new ports in the last decade. Palestine is a likely next. And unlike the United States or the U.K., the CCP fuses infrastructure with intelligence collection and military access as policy. Starmer’s Downing Street statement marks not the dawn of West Asia peace but a milestone in Beijing’s global ascent. The CCP spent six decades cultivating Palestinian movements, embedding influence in Western activism and positioning itself as the indispensable power in a post-American West Asia. Britain just made that job easier. (Rahul Pawa is director, research at New Delhi based think tank Centre for Integrated and Holistic Studies)

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Is Islamic Alliance in offing, With Ambiguities

Is Islamic Alliance in Offing, With Ambiguities 

Only a true test, a moment of crisis, will reveal whether this new alliance is as ironclad as advertised, or more of a strategic signal than a binding shield. Rahul Pawa When Saudi Arabia and Pakistan signed a sweeping mutual defense agreement in Riyadh this month, it marked a strategic pivot. The agreement, termed a “Strategic Mutual Defence” agreement declares that an attack on one is an attack on both, echoing NATO’s famous Article 5 commitment. It’s an unprecedented pledge between the guardian of Islam’s holiest sites and the only Muslim nation armed with nuclear weapons. Yet behind the celebratory rhetoric, the agreement’s true scope and weight remain uncertain. A NATO-Style on paper, the agreement’s collective defense vow is explicit: “any aggression against either country shall be considered an aggression against both” Pakistan’s government said. In practice, much is left vague. Notably, the agreement is silent on whether Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal, the Islamic world’s only nukes is now at Saudi Arabia’s disposal. Pressed about a potential Pakistani “nuclear umbrella” for Riyadh, a senior Saudi official would only say the agreement “encompasses all military means”. This careful ambiguity hints at a broad commitment while stopping short of any explicit nuclear guarantee. Another grey area is the agreement’s status. Riyadh and Islamabad pointedly call it an “agreement” and not a treaty. By definition, though, any written inter-state accord intended to bind is a treaty under international law, regardless of its label. The absence of a published text and the flexible wording suggest the parties prefer some wiggle room. Saudi Arabia has pursued grand defense coalitions before like a 2015 pan-Islamic military alliance against terrorism that proved “more symbolic than operational”. This time, the language of collective defense is tied to plans for concrete cooperation (joint exercises, intelligence-sharing, arms training). Whether it matures into a robust alliance or remains largely aspirational will only be clear with time. The agreement’s timing is telling. It came days after a surprise Israeli airstrike in Doha, Qatar that killed Hamas figures and stunned the Gulf States. Qatar hosts a major US airbase, yet Washington did not prevent the strike, a jolt to regional confidence in American protection. Saudi Arabia, already uneasy about U.S. reliability, seized the moment to bolster its own security. Officially, Riyadh says the deal “institutionalises” long-standing cooperation rather than targeting any specific incident. Still, it unmistakably signals that the kingdom can seek safeguards beyond the U.S. umbrella. The agreement even revived talk of an “Islamic NATO.” Saudi Arabia binding itself to Pakistan, Islam’s spiritual heart partnering with its only nuclear-armed state is a powerful image. Observers speculate that other Muslim countries might one day align under a similar framework. Yet longstanding sectarian and political rifts (Sunni vs Shia, Arab vs non-Arab) have doomed past unity efforts. For now, the Riyadh-Islamabad agreement is as much a message to big powers as a foundation for any broader alliance. Perhaps the toughest diplomatic test for Riyadh is managing the agreement’s fallout in New Delhi. India has spent years cultivating Saudi Arabia as a partner, a top source of oil, investment and Islamic-world backing on contentious issues. A formal Saudi-Pakistani security link is exactly what India hoped to avoid. New Delhi “would not welcome an explicit security tether between its principal energy supplier and its strategic rival,” one analysis noted. In effect, the agreement edges Saudi Arabia closer to Pakistan, risking awkward strain in Saudi-India ties. Indian government reacted in measured tones, acknowledging the agreement  and saying it would “study the implications” for her security. The real worry in New Delhi is not that Saudi forces would fight on Pakistan’s side which remains far-fetched but that Pakistan will feel politically bolstered by Riyadh’s backing. Pakistani hardliners may adopt a tougher posture in future confrontations, believing a wealthy Arab power has their back. There’s also concern that Saudi aid or arms could flow to Pakistan over time, indirectly strengthening India’s longtime foe. Aware of these optics, Saudi officials have been quick to reassure India. One senior official stressed that Saudi’s relationship with India “is more robust than it has ever been” and vowed to keep deepening it. Riyadh clearly wants to show it can defend its interests with Pakistan without abandoning its friendship with India. Even so, the balancing act is delicate. New Delhi will likely respond by tightening its own strategic bonds, for instance, with Israel, a close defense partner – and by quietly urging Riyadh to stay neutral in South Asian issues. Much progress in India-Saudi relations has come in recent years, and both sides have incentives to prevent this new alignment from derailing that momentum. As the dust settles, the Saudi–Pakistan agreement stands as a bold statement, but one not yet tested by crisis. Its ripple effects are already evident. Israel, which had been inching toward a historic normalisation with Riyadh, now sees that prospect put on hold Washington, too, must grapple with a Gulf ally hedging its bets on security. Ultimately, the agreement’s significance will hinge on how seriously Riyadh and Islamabad implement it. Regular joint drills coordinated planning or clear mutual defense protocols could turn the promise into genuine deterrence. Absent that, skeptics may view it as more posturing than substance. History offers caution: Pakistan’s past defense agreement s (such as Cold War alliances with the U.S.) often fell short when real wars loomed, and Gulf unity schemes have tended to fragment under pressure. For now, Saudi Arabia has made a dramatic bid to diversify its security options, a gamble on Pakistan’s reliability and on charting a more independent course without alienating old partners. If the gamble succeeds, it could redraw the strategic map of the Middle East and South Asia. If it falters, it will remind everyone that even grand agreements can carry unspoken caveats. Only a true test, a moment of crisis will reveal whether this new alliance is as ironclad as advertised, or more of a strategic signal than a binding shield. (Rahul Pawa is director, research at New Delhi

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Beyond Brick and Mortar!

Opening of magnificent Hindu mandir in Abu Dhabi mark tectonic shift in India – UAE friendship that’s transcended commercial, diplomatic & strategic issues BAPS Hindu Mandir that rose majestically in Abu Dhabi is a symbol of Middle Eastern tolerance of different faiths and cross-cultural mosaic. This architectural wonder represents harmony and understanding across cultures and is much more than just a place of worship. When Pramukh Swami Maharaj visited United Arab Emirates in 1997, he floated the idea of building a temple in Abu Dhabi that would unite two “countries, closer together by cultures, and religions.” This is how journey to the temple began. In August 2015, UAE government declared that land for a Hindu temple (mandir) would be provided in Abu Dhabi. The land was gifted for mandir (temple) by Sheikh Mohamed bin Zayed Al Nahyan who was then crown prince of Abu Dhabi & Deputy Supreme commander of UAE Armed force.

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