Afghanistan Pakistan Terrorism War

Pakistan Bombed a Rehab Hospital. It Is a War Crime.

slamabad called it a military target. International humanitarian law calls it a protected facility. The evidence supports one of those positions. Rahul PAWA | x – imrahulpawa At approximately 9 p.m. on 16 March 2026, an airstrike hit the Omid Addiction Treatment Hospital in Kabul, a 2,000-bed drug rehabilitation facility near the city’s international airport, destroying large sections of the building. Afghanistan’s Interior Ministry confirmed 408 dead and 265 injured. Rescue crews were still recovering bodies from the rubble the following morning. The patients were civilians in medical treatment for addiction. Pakistan’s Information Minister said the air force had carried out precise, deliberate, and professional strikes on military installations and terrorist support infrastructure, that secondary detonations clearly indicated the presence of large ammunition depots, and that no hospital, no drug rehabilitation centre, and no civilian facility had been targeted. The factual dispute between Islamabad and Kabul has not been independently resolved. The legal analysis does not require it to be, because under international humanitarian law the evidentiary burden does not rest on the victim. It rests on the state that fired. International humanitarian law does not prohibit civilian deaths in armed conflict as such. It prohibits specific categories of conduct, and attacking medical facilities sits near the top of that list. Article 12 of Additional Protocol I requires that medical units be respected and protected at all times. Article 18 of the Fourth Geneva Convention states explicitly that civilian hospitals may in no circumstances be the object of attack. The Rome Statute, in Article 8(2)(b)(ix), classifies intentionally directing attacks against buildings dedicated to medical purposes as a war crime, provided those buildings do not constitute military objectives. Residents and a Reuters journalist present at the site confirmed it was the hospital that was struck, and that the Omid hospital and Camp Phoenix, the former NATO base Pakistan claims to have targeted, were not the same location. The facility held protected status under four separate instruments of international humanitarian law. Its location beside a former NATO base that had been repurposed by Afghan authorities after 2021 does not extinguish that protection. The central legal question is whether Pakistan can demonstrate that the facility’s protected status had been lawfully forfeited before the strike was ordered. Under IHL the threshold for forfeiture is narrow and procedurally demanding. A medical facility loses its protection only when it is actively used to commit acts harmful to the enemy, not when a state suspects proximity to militants, not when it occupies ground adjacent to a former military installation, but when the facility itself is engaged in hostile military conduct. Even then, a warning must be issued, a reasonable deadline set, and that warning must go unheeded before an attack becomes lawful. Pakistan issued no warning. Its claim that secondary detonations indicated ammunition storage was made after the strike, not before it. Post-hoc assertion is not pre-strike evidence, and the burden of proof rests entirely on the attacking party. Article 50 of Additional Protocol I is explicit: in case of doubt, civilian status is presumed. That presumption applied to the Omid centre. Pakistan made no demonstrated effort to rebut it before firing, which means the strike was unlawful from the moment the order was given. The proportionality and precaution analysis is an independent and equally serious exposure. Article 57 of Additional Protocol I requires commanders to do everything feasible to verify that targets are military objectives, to select means and methods that minimise civilian harm, and to refrain from attacks where civilian losses would be excessive relative to the anticipated military advantage. These are binding obligations, not operational guidelines. The strike occurred at 9 p.m. in a populated district of Kabul, against a 2,000-bed medical facility, with no warning issued to staff or patients. Pakistan has not defined the military advantage it anticipated, has not quantified it, and has not demonstrated that any proportionality assessment was conducted before weapons were released. The precautionary duties of Article 57 exist precisely to prevent this scenario. They were not discharged. Pakistan’s stated defences do not survive legal scrutiny. The first is that it struck a legitimate military objective, which requires verified pre-strike evidence of hostile use and established forfeiture of protected status. Neither has been demonstrated. The second is that Afghanistan provides sanctuary to Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan fighters, giving Islamabad just cause. This is irrelevant to the targeting legality of a specific building on a specific night. The principle of distinction requires attacks directed at identified military objectives, not at territory as collective accountability for the conduct of armed groups operating there. The third, implicit in Pakistan’s public framing, is that Taliban cross-border attacks on Pakistani civilians provide reciprocal justification. That argument was explicitly and permanently rejected at the Nuremberg Tribunals in 1946. Reciprocity does not suspend the laws of war. An adversary’s violations do not authorise your own. On the mental element, the Rome Statute does not require proof that Pakistan intended to kill patients. It requires that the attack be intentionally directed at a protected site, and recklessness satisfies that threshold. A commander who orders munitions onto a compound at night, without verifying it is a lawful military objective, without issuing a warning, when a civilian medical population is foreseeably present, has met the intent standard through recklessness even absent specific malice. On the present public record, every element of the war crime of attacking a protected medical facility is satisfied. The site held protected status. No forfeiture was established. No warning was issued. The proportionality obligation was not discharged. The UN High Commissioner for Human Rights has called for an investigation and for those responsible to be held to account in line with international standards. That call will almost certainly go unmet. Pakistan is not a party to the Rome Statute, and a Security Council referral would face veto from states with their own unresolved targeting exposure. The legal classification and the probability of accountability are two entirely separate questions. The strike constitutes a war crime. Whether

Bharat Hindus Human Rights Khalistan Pakistan

Khalistani Terror Propaganda Put Bharat, US on Edge

Free run given to SFJ that equated Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi with Iran’s Khamenei reflect insensitivity of US & Canada. N. C. Bipindra Latest provocative images and videos posted on social media by Sikhs for Justice (SFJ) have triggered a controversy intersecting free speech, diaspora politics, territorial integrity, global diplomacy and international relations. SFJ frames its posts and messages as a free speech exercise asserting democratic rights within United States. But, the content portraying Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi alongside Iranian Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei killed in airstrikes by US and Israel on February 28, 2026 is of serious concern. Such messaging not only constitutes indecency and insensitivity but crosses limits and enters the realm of hostile propaganda, incitement of violence, deliberate misinformation and intolerable provocation. US authorities, particularly President Donald Trump, who calls Modi his good friend, should not turn a blind eye to such provocative content. For New Delhi, such freedom to propagate violence against India’s elected prime minister on US soil should have potential consequences for India-US relations. To understand why the SFJ’s post and its contents are contentious and objectionable, it is important to consider both the nature of messaging and broader political context in which the proscribed terrorist organisation operates. SFJ has no ground support in India, particularly the Sikh-majority Punjab province, but it operates freely in US and neighbouring Canada with impunity. SFJ advocates balkanisation of India, in particular, creation of imaginary Khalistan, a proposed independent theocratic Sikh state carved out of only Indian territories. An illegal Khalistan map that SFJ has released in last few years conveniently ignores territories that are now part of Pakistan but were historically ruled by Sikh emperors. But, the map includes present-day Indian provinces of Punjab, Haryana, Sikh-majority areas of Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh and Himachal Pradesh with Shimla as its future capital. The reasons for not claiming Pakistan’s Punjab and other provinces that were part of the erstwhile Sikh kingdom’s rule are not so difficult to fathom. Trump administration and Mark Carney government must read two key research reports released by US-based Hudson Institute and Canada-based Macdonald-Laurier Institute (MLI). Hudson Institute’s ‘Destabilisation Playbook: Khalistan Separatist Activism within the US’ authored by Aparna Pande, Husain Haqqani, C. Christine Fair and others present two main arguments that warrant attention of Trump administration. The Hudson Institute’s September 2021 report calls for investigations into Khalistani groups’ activities in US noting that these were directly involved in numerous terror attacks around the world including 1985 Air India’s ‘Kanishka’ bombing that left 329 people including Canadians dead and to shed reluctance to act on intelligence provided by India. MLI’s September 2020 report authored by senior Canadian journalist Terry Milewski, titled ‘Khalistan: A Project of Pakistan’ argues that the separatist movement was designed to subvert national security of both Canada and India, a serious threat that Carney’s government should be vigilant about. Those two reports would help Western democracies that are open to understand dangers of allowing SFJ and self-styled general counsel Gurpatwant Singh Pannun to be haughty. SFJ was banned in India in 2019 for threatening its sovereignty and territorial integrity. But, US and Canada are inviting such treacherous tendencies to grow within their territory without realising that the snake they feed would come back to bite them tomorrow, if not today. Indian proscription notwithstanding, SFJ continues to hold farcical “referendums” in US, Canada United Kingdom and Australia attempting to mobilise sections of Sikh diaspora around Khalistani cause. The latest social posts along with a video shared by SFJ are controversial due to their tone, tenor and intent. Equating Modi with Ali Khamenei is a clear attempt to draw parallels between a democratically elected popular leader of India and head of a theocratic state, often regarded as adversarial to West, particularly the US. This can’t be just criticism of Indian government or simply free speech, but rather a deliberate bid to delegitimise and demonise the Indian state, its political leadership and 1.4 billion Indians before the global audience and calling for destablising India through elimination of its prime minister or overthrowing the existing regime. Hudson Institute and Macdonald-Laurier Institute reports point to “playbook” and “project” against India, its political leadership and its people. In particular, use of “India’s Khamenei Alive” slogan juxtaposed with reference to Iran’s Ali Khamenei is a calculated attempt to evoke hostility, suspicion in US to frame India as a strategic adversary of West alongside Iran. Contrasting the phrase “Iran’s Khamenei dead” with “India’s Khamenei alive” is suggestive and goes beyond political free speech and commentary. It stops short of an explicit call to assassinate Indian prime minister. It normalises the idea of dastardly outcomes that can be interpreted as endorsement or glorification which is more troubling. Such rhetoric in democratic societies may not meet strict legal threshold for incitement but is nonetheless considered irresponsible and potentially vicious. SFJ’s post escalates issue by portraying India as an “enemy” of US. This messaging contradicts reality of India-US ties that have grown into a comprehensive strategic partnership since 2007 encompassing defence cooperation, economic ties and shared strategic interests in Indo-Pacific region grounded in values common to both nations. SFJ’s narrative-building is an attempt to influence public opinion and policy discourse in the West particularly United States. This messaging is sensitive, as it weaponises diaspora activism to advance geopolitical perceptions. The objection to such content is rooted in broader pattern associated with SFJ activities. Over the years, the proscribed fringe outfit has carried on inflammatory and divisive campaigns from controversial slogans to provocative demonstrations at Khalistan-related events. Its members have defaced Hindu temples in US and attacked Indian diplomatic missions. These actions have regularly pushed the boundaries of acceptable political expression and free speech. While some such instances have drawn condemnation in host nations, they highlight the fine line between activism and provocation that governments such as Trump’s and Carney’s should be mindful of. The US may have protection for free speech under First Amendment in its Constitution, but highly offensive and objectionable messages directly incite violence and

Geopolitics Pakistan Security Terrorism

A Mirage: Islamic Unity & Security

Pakistan trashed global Ummah at altar of its own selfish interests. Afghan fighters reframed to justify its attacks N. C. Bipindra At the very outset of holy month of Ramadan in February 2026, Pakistan carried out a series of overnight airstrikes across Afghan border characterizing them as “Intelligence-Based, Selective Operations” against seven alleged militant camps linked to Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP). Islamabad stated that the strikes were a retributive response to a wave of recent attacks, including suicide bombings in Bannu, Bajaur and bombing of Khadija Tul Kubra Mosque in Islamabad that killed dozens of worshippers. Pakistani officials claimed that they possessed “conclusive evidence” that these attacks were orchestrated from Afghan soil and framed cross-border operation as an exercise of state’s intrinsic right to self-defense. Taliban administration in Kabul, on the other hand, emphatically refuted Islamabad’s claims. Ministry of Defence in Afghanistan asserted that airstrikes targeted civilian residences and a religious educational institution in the provinces of Nangarhar and Paktika, condemning these actions as infringements upon territorial integrity and violations of international law. In Behsud district of Nangarhar, local authorities and humanitarian organisations reported that between 16 and 18 members of a single family were killed, including an infant aged one year, as their residences were destroyed. Additional casualties were recorded in other areas, with several individuals presumed missing under debris. International Human Rights Foundation characterised the event as a total “destruction of a familial lineage” and advocated for an independent inquiry into potential violations of international humanitarian law. Timing of these attacks that coincided with beginning of Ramadan, a month associated with piety, gratitude and community unity, renders the incident of considerable analytical importance. It exemplifies how, in periods of heightened insecurity, strategic considerations may eclipse religious symbolism, thereby highlighting predominance of national security imperatives over Islamic moral frameworks in the conduct of state affairs. For decades, Pakistan has projected itself as custodian of Islamic solidarity and proponent of global ‘Ummah’. Through vocal advocacy regarding matters impacting Muslim communities and proposals for collective security frameworks akin to an “Islamic NATO,” Islamabad has meticulously crafted an image of authority and strategic importance. The term “Islamic NATO” typically denotes a prospective security coalition among nations such as Turkey, Saudi Arabia and Pakistan, drawing inspiration from NATO’s principle of collective defence. This line is most pronounced in Pakistan’s intricate engagement with Afghanistan. Throughout two-decade-long US-led military intervention in Afghanistan, Pakistan publicly conformed to counterterrorism objectives while concurrently facing allegations from international analysts regarding its maintenance of links withTaliban as a strategic contingency. The disparity between its collective-security posturing on international stage and its selective partnerships locally has reinforced the perception that such alignments are motivated more by deterrent considerations than by ideological commitments in a dynamically evolving regional context. However, a meticulous examination of its regional conduct unveils a recurring pattern of inconsistencies, wherein ideological discourse frequently diverges markedly from geopolitical actions. This dissonance prompts essential inquiries: If Islamic unity and collective security serve as the foundational principles underlying proposals such as an “Islamic NATO,” how can one reconcile these ideals with military operations against a neighbouring Islamic nation? The resolution resides not in ideological frameworks, but in strategic calculations. Historically, Pakistan’s foreign and security policy has been primarily influenced by national interests, managing border security and ensuring internal stability, rather than adhering to a coherent Pan-Islamic solidarity. During Soviet–Afghan conflict of ‘80s, Pakistan seemed desperate to lead as principal operational base for Afghan mujahedin, accommodating millions of refugees while acting as primary channel for international assistance. Islamabad allocated billions in covert financing and expedited training of anti-Soviet fighters. This era significantly entrenched influence of security establishment in Afghan affairs and institutionalized Pakistan’s enduring engagement in cross-border militancy. Pakistan’s involvement with Taliban transcended passive tolerance. Throughout 1990s and again post-2001, it afforded diplomatic leeway and established cross-border networks that enabled the movement’s consolidation, viewing a favourable regime in Kabul as pivotal to curtailing Indian influence and ensuring strategic depth. The presence of Taliban leadership on Pakistani territory and the group’s battlefield capabilities were inextricably linked to these supportive frameworks. Nevertheless, following Taliban’s resurgence in power during 2021, bilateral relations soured. Instead of providing strategic depth and border stability, Taliban administration opposed Pakistan’s intent to control the regime and increased cases of border fortifications along Durand Line. As assaults within Pakistan escalated, Islamabad’s rhetoric underwent a pronounced transformation. Officials and state-affiliated clerics commenced labelling anti-state militants as “Khawarij,” invoking a classical Islamic term historically linked to an early sect that opposed authority of Hazrat Ali (RA). By employing this designation, the state aimed to religiously delegitimise TTP, framing it not merely as a militant entity, but as a deviant faction that had drifted from doctrinal tenets of Islam. This terminological shift holds considerable political implications. A movement once framed within narratives of Islamic resistance was recast as religiously deviant once it threatened Pakistan’s internal security, illustrating how ideological language adapts to strategic necessity. The state has formalised this rebranding effort by prohibiting religious honorifics such as “Mufti” and “Hafiz” for individuals associated with proscribed organisations and by officially appending the designation “Khariji” to their identities. By reframing counter-insurgency as a safeguard of Islamic authenticity rather than merely a security campaign, authorities sought to strip militants of symbolic religious capital, undermine their claim to “defensive jiha” and mobilise clerical support, proving once again that while religious framing shifts with circumstance, national interest remains the steadfast constant. Ultimately, Pakistan’s strategic stance embodies not merely a selective approach but rather a manifestation of strategic amnesia. The rhetoric surrounding ‘Ummah’, Islamic unity, shared dignity and mutual security, is invoked when it enhances diplomatic stature, yet recedes when it impedes critical security decisions. Ramadan airstrikes into Afghanistan, undertaken during a month associated with piety, restraint, forgiveness, and communal solidarity, illustrate this contradiction starkly: Religious symbolism yielded to national security doctrine. From advocacy concerning Muslim issues to proposition of an “Islamic NATO”, a collective defence arrangement among Turkey, Saudi Arabia, and Pakistan, modelled after NATO’s principle of mutual defence,

Bharat Canada Disinformation Geopolitics Hindus Human Rights Pakistan Security

100

Did SOAS Institutionalise Hinduphobia on behalf of George Soros?

The Leicester unrest of 2022 generated a crowded and contested reporting ecosystem. By the time the SOAS commission published Better Together: Understanding the 2022 Violence in Leicester in February 2026, the evidential field already included rapid-response briefs, computational forensic analysis, fact-finding reports, media investigations, and an ongoing UK government-commissioned review. The key analytic question, therefore, is not whether the SOAS report entered a vacuum. It did not. The real question is whether it fairly integrated the prior evidential landscape, or whether it reorganised that landscape through a pre-set ideological frame. Across the pre-2026 reporting ecosystem, a striking convergence is visible. Reports issued by CIHS, NCRI, CRT/Charlotte Littlewood, and CDPHR differ in method, tone, and institutional location, yet they repeatedly arrive at two common findings. First, disinformation and influencer amplification were not incidental features of the Leicester violence; they were causal drivers in escalating tensions, shaping perceptions, and mobilising individuals towards real-world confrontation. Secondly, Hindus were not merely one community among many caught in a diffuse breakdown of cohesion. They were, in significant respects, targets of online incitement, doxxing, false attribution, intimidation, and attacks on property and religious symbols, much of which these reports attribute to Islamist factions and allied misinformation ecosystems operating in and around Leicester. This matters because media gatekeeping failed at a critical moment. The prior reports, especially NCRI, CIHS, and CRT, converge on the claim that unverified influencer narratives were elevated into mainstream discourse without sufficient due diligence. In that environment, misinformation ceased to be rhetorical noise and became operationally consequential. False claims about “RSS terrorists”, “Hindutva thugs”, or organised Hindu extremism were not simply descriptive errors; they shaped how violence was interpreted, whom authorities and media treated with suspicion, and which communities were left exposed. The result was not neutral confusion, but a reputational inversion in which Hindu victims could be reframed as presumptive aggressors. It is against that background that the SOAS commission report must be read. The report adopts the formal language of inquiry, relies on mixed methods, and includes an express statement that Open Society Foundations had no influence over its methods or findings. Yet the report was privately funded, publicly linked to a reported £620,000 OSF grant, and conducted in parallel with an already existing UK government review. In a politically charged communal context, that institutional configuration was always likely to attract scrutiny. Even if one accepts the non-interference disclaimer at face value, such statements do not settle the deeper question of whether funding relationships, institutional culture, or ideological priors shaped the report’s framing, priorities, and recommendations. The central criticism advanced in this paper is not that the SOAS report contains no useful material. On the contrary, its own descriptive sections document anti-Hindu harm in serious terms, including intimidation, attacks in Hindu neighbourhoods, and the Shivalaya Mandir incident. The problem lies elsewhere: in the report’s interpretive and policy architecture. While acknowledging anti-Hindu targeting and admitting verification limits around some claims concerning alleged Hindutva-linked organisational involvement, the report nonetheless elevates “Hindutva extremism” into the principal prescriptive concern. In doing so, it produces a structure in which Hindus are descriptively recognised as having suffered harm, yet prescriptively positioned as the primary object of suspicion and institutional management. That asymmetry is the report’s most serious flaw. A report can document harm accurately and still institutionalise bias through the categories it privileges and the remedies it recommends. In the Leicester case, the cumulative evidential landscape pointed first towards protection: countering disinformation, recognising anti-Hindu prejudice, scrutinising Islamist mobilisation, and repairing failures of media and civic response. The SOAS commission instead shifts the centre of gravity toward the ideological containment of “Hindutva”. That is not a neutral synthesis of the evidence. It is a policy reorientation with downstream consequences for safeguarding, public discourse, community recognition, and the equal treatment of Hindus in Britain. This report therefore proceeds from a narrow but important contention: the SOAS commission should not be assessed only by what it says, but by what it does institutionally. Read against the wider evidential record, it raises a serious question as to whether a privately funded, politically salient inquiry helped recast a pattern of anti-Hindu victimisation into an official-sounding framework of Hindu suspicion. If so, the issue is larger than one report. It is whether elite institutions, media ecosystems, and donor-linked inquiry structures together contributed to the normalisation of a one-sided narrative of Leicester—one with damaging implications for public trust, social cohesion, and the recognition of Hinduphobia in the United Kingdom. Prior reports and what they establish The pre-2026 report ecosystem is largely overlapping. It contains briefs, computational forensics, and fact-finding studies. The correct analytic method is to compare what each report credibly establishes, given its methods, and then evaluate whether the SOAS commission report fairly integrates that evidential landscape or reorganises it into a pre-set ideological frame. The Centre for Integrated and Holistic Studies (CIHS), an independent Delhi-based think tank issued rapid-response briefs in September 2022. Its Leicester briefs highlights that organised Islamist entities and individuals targeted Leicester’s Hindu population and that over fifty Hindu properties and vehicles were damaged in targeted attacks; it further records that Leicester police refuted the kidnapping narrative, and it names Majid Freeman as a prominent misinformation disseminator. CIHS reports there after have been tested against the computational and police-referenced work in NCRI and CDPHR. The Network Contagion Research Institute (NCRI) report is the most technologically explicit computational study. It describes multi-platform data collection and applies machine learning, natural language processing, network analysis and OSINT to build a timeline of malicious narratives and mobilisation patterns. Its headline figures include that AI models detected calls for violent action on Twitter during the Leicester events, with 70% of those calls directed against Hindus and 30% against Muslims. Crucially, NCRI also states that disinformation about Hindus as “bloodthirsty and genocidal” motivated attacks by recruiting online reinforcements to real-world engagements, and it explicitly criticises mainstream outlets for failing due diligence and amplifying Majid Freeman as a “central agitator”. This is not an aesthetic

Afghanistan Geopolitics Pakistan Security Terrorism United States War

Pakistan’s War of Its Own Making: Durand Line, Pashtun Identity, and Terrorist Blowback

How a colonial boundary drawn in 1893 planted the seeds of war that now threatens to engulf the entire region and why Pakistan is its own worst enemy. Rahul PAWA | x – iamrahulpawa On February 26, 2026, Pakistani jets struck targets in Afghanistan’s Nangarhar, Paktika, and Khost provinces. Kabul retaliated. Islamabad declared open war. The international community scrambled for its talking points. But for anyone who has studied the Afghanistan-Pakistan relationship with any intellectual honesty, there was nothing surprising about this moment. It was, in every sense, inevitable, the product of a colonial wound never properly healed, an ethnic identity never properly reconciled, and a strategic miscalculation of historic proportions that Pakistan inflicted upon itself In November 1893, British civil servant Sir Mortimer Durand sat across a table from Afghan Amir Abdur Rahman Khan and drew a line across a map. That line, 2,670 kilometres of mountain, desert, and river became the Durand Line, and it bisected the Pashtun tribal homeland with surgical indifference to the people who lived there. It was a colonial instrument of administrative convenience, not a meaningful border between two nations. When Pakistan was carved out of British India in 1947, it inherited the Durand Line as its western frontier. Afghanistan refused to accept it. Kabul was, in fact, the only country in the world to vote against Pakistan’s admission to the United Nations that year, a remarkable act of diplomatic hostility toward a nation barely days old, driven entirely by the conviction that Pakistan had absorbed Pashtun lands that had no business being part of a new Muslim state in the subcontinent. Every Afghan government since; monarchy, communist, mujahideen, the first Taliban, the Western-backed republic, and now the second Taliban has refused to formally recognise the Durand Line as an international border. Pakistan has spent 75 years insisting the matter is settled. It is not settled. It has never been settled. And that unresolved dispute is the tectonic fault line beneath everything that has erupted in 2026. Fifty Million People Who Refuse to Be a Border Roughly 50 million Pashtuns live across both sides of the Durand Line. They share language, tribe, genealogy, and code, the ancient honour system of Pashtunwali that governs loyalty, hospitality, and revenge in equal measure. To a Pashtun tribesman in Waziristan, the line on Pakistan’s map means little when his cousin lives in Khost. Cross-border movement, cross-border marriage, and cross-border allegiance are not insurgent behaviour. They are culture. Pakistan’s military establishment has never fully grasped or chosen to accept this reality. Its periodic attempts to fence and fortify the border, most aggressively from 2017 onward, have been met with fierce resistance from tribal communities that view the fence not as a security measure but as a colonial imposition. Skirmishes between Pakistani border forces and Afghan fighters over the fence are practically routine. The current war did not materialise from a vacuum; it escalated from a slow-burning conflict that has been claiming lives along the Durand Line for years. The Monster Pakistan Built To understand how Pakistan arrived at this catastrophic juncture, one must understand the doctrine of “strategic depth.” Pakistan’s generals, perpetually preoccupied with the Indian infatuation on their eastern border, became obsessed with ensuring that Afghanistan would never side with India, or worse, open a second front. The solution, as conceived by Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) through the 1970s and 1980s, was to cultivate a network of jihadist proxies in Afghanistan that Islamabad could control and deploy. The Afghan mujahideen. The Taliban. Assorted terrorist networks that moved through Pakistan’s tribal areas with impunity. The Taliban of 1994 were, in significant measure, a Pakistani creation. The ISI funded them, armed them, and provided the political scaffolding that allowed them to sweep to power in Kabul in 1996. For five years, Pakistan had the compliant Afghan government it had always wanted. Then came 11 September. Under intense American pressure, and out of greed for US dollars, Islamabad was forced to publicly disavow the very asset it had spent two decades cultivating. What followed was perhaps the most cynical double game in modern geopolitical history. Pakistan publicly cooperated with the American-led war on terror while elements of its intelligence apparatus continued to shelter, fund, and facilitate the Taliban through two decades of conflict. Safe houses in Quetta. Sanctuaries in Baluchistan. The Haqqani network operating from Pakistani soil. American generals and CIA directors said it in public, in congressional testimony, with barely concealed rage. Pakistan denied everything, pocketed billions in American aid, and continued. Blowback: The Reckoning When the Americans abandoned Afghanistan in August 2021 and the Taliban swept back into Kabul, General Faiz Hameed, Pakistan’s former ISI chief, was famously photographed sipping tea at Kabul’s Serena Hotel. But Pakistan had not fully reckoned with what came next: the Afghan Taliban, now rulers rather than stateless militias, showed little appetite for serving as Pakistan’s instrument. They had decided long ago to govern as Afghans and think as Pashtuns. And they have shown no meaningful inclination to police their eastern border on Islamabad’s behalf particularly not against the Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan, the Pakistani Taliban known as TTP. The TTP is, in ideological and genealogical terms, indistinguishable from the Afghan Taliban. They share theology, ethnic identity, and in many cases, blood. The Afghan Taliban’s refusal to launch operations against TTP is not weakness or negligence, it is a deliberate choice rooted in Pashtun solidarity. Pakistan created the militant infrastructure that spawned the TTP. It nurtured the ideology that animates them. It is now being consumed by the very forces it engineered, and it wants the Taliban to solve a problem that Pakistan itself created. That is blowback in its purest form. TTP has killed thousands of Pakistani soldiers since 2007. It has Pakistani military installations. Pakistan has responded by demanding the Afghan Taliban act, and when they don’t, by launching airstrikes into Afghan territory. Those airstrikes kill civilians. They inflame Pashtun sentiment on both sides of the Durand Line. They validate every Afghan suspicion

Hindus Human Rights Pakistan Security Sikh Terrorism

233

Debt Bondage: Pakistan’s way of exploiting its minorities

Forced labour, servile marriages, bonded inhuman labour, physical torture and abuses against women, children and the elderly have threatened Sindh’s minorities. I. Executive Summary Debt bondage in Sindh is systemic, inter-generational and structurally embedded. Legal prohibitions and international commitments notwithstanding, serious gaps in enforcement and socioeconomic inequalities sustain a cycle of exploitation. Without coordinated, evidence-based and politically accountable reform, millions of minorities, women and children remain at risk of continued slavery. Scale of Crisis Debt Bondage in Sindh High-Risk Districts & Sectors Impact on Minorities Child Labour Dimension Legal and Policy Gaps Structural Drivers Challenges in Rehabilitation & Reintegration Human Rights Relevance II. Context Debt bondage, a contemporary type of slavery wherein employees are obligated to their employers against unpaid advances and structural pressure, remains deeply ingrained in Sindh’s rural economy. It continues to be one of the most pervasive yet under-addressed human rights issues. Statutory prohibitions notwithstanding, international commitments and constitutional protections, exploitative practices continue unhindered due to systemic socioeconomic and governance failures, trapping millions of people in debt bondage, forced labour and coercive exploitation across important economic sectors. Minorities, especially low-caste Hindus, are disproportionately affected by cycles of inequality and exploitation perpetuated. Millions of people are still working in bonded labour in agricultural, brick kiln and informal sectors, according to extensive data and field reports. Minorities are disproportionately affected due to socio-cultural marginalisation. III. Background: Sindh, one of the world’s oldest centres of civilisation, is home to the Indus Valley and has historically served as a hub for ideas, trade and cultural development. The region’s multi-layered history, which includes Persian, Afghan, Mughal and eventually British colonial dominance, illustrates both cultural richness and repeated conquest from Mauryan, Kushan and Gupta rule to its significance as a centre of Islamic study and trade under Arab and Turkic rulers. Sindh has struggled with persistent concerns about political centralisation, unequal resource distribution and influences on its linguistic and cultural identity ever since it joined Pakistan in 1947.Discussion about representation, economic justice and provincial autonomy is still essential for understanding current conflicts and the Sindhi movement’s desire for increased involvement in choices affecting the future of the area. Owing to mistreatment and mismanagement, there have been persistent demands for complete independence as a sovereign Sindh nation. As of 2023, Sindh, one of Pakistan’s four provinces, is home to an estimated 55 million people and occupies 140,914 square kilometres. In addition to serving as the provincial capital, Karachi is the biggest metropolis and centre of Pakistan’s economy. English is commonly used in government, administration and education, whereas Sindhi is the official provincial language and Urdu is the national language. Due to Sindh’s historically complex social fabric, majority of the province is Muslims (around 91 per cent) with Hindus making up the largest religious minority (about eight per cent). World Sindhi Congress (WSC), which represents Sindh abroad at Unrepresented Nations and Peoples Organisation (UNPO), promotes Sindhi political, cultural and human rights concerns on a global platform. Sindh has a long history of civilisation that dates back to ancient times. The ancient homeland of the Sindhu (Indus) River is known as Sindhudesh or Sindhu Kingdom in Mahabharata. Sindh’s longstanding status as a unique cultural and political entity in early South Asian history is reflected in the name. Sindhi people face increasing environmental, socioeconomic and human rights challenges that require immediate international attention. The targeting of ethnic Sindhis and religious minorities, together with reports of enforced disappearances, extrajudicial executions and dissent repression, highlights a very alarming accountability vacuum. Religious prejudice has escalated, making minority groups, especially Hindu girls, more susceptible to kidnapping and coerced conversion. Simultaneously, Sindh’s agrarian economy has been severely damaged by climate vulnerability, rising sea levels, soil salinity and frequent flooding. Economic Corridor (CPEC) have accelerated ecological degradation, industrial pollution and displacement without sufficient local consultation. Sindh’s socioeconomic stability and cultural security have been undermined by these intertwined crises that have strengthened calls for greater political representation, minority rights protection, environmental protection and meaningful involvement in decisions that impact the region’s resources and future development. IV. Debt Bondage: A Silent Killer Debt bondage also known as bonded labour is contemporary form of slavery. It happens when someone is forced to pay back debt or advance payments (commonly referred to as peshgi) on terms that make it nearly difficult to comply due to exorbitant interest rates and pitifully low salaries. They are unable to refuse or flee exploitative labour which traps workers and their families. Forced labour, human trafficking, servile marriage and bonded labour are all considered forms of modern slavery and are included in the Global Slavery Index framework. On paper, millions of Sindhis in Pakistan enjoy freedom, but in practice, bondage rules their lives. Debt is a multigenerational trap designed to keep an indigenous community economically reliant, socially immobile, and politically silent in rural Sindh. It is not a short-term misery. Poverty is not the cause of this. It is a social order that was created. Districts where agriculture and kiln-based labour dominate local economies, such as Tharparkar, Umerkot, Sanghar, Mirpurkhas, Badin, Thatta and portions of Hyderabad division, are regularly designated as high-risk. V. Signature Patterns in Sindh In Sindh, bonded labour is still widely used, especially in brick kilns and agriculture, where unskilled labourers and landless peasants (haris) take advance loans from kiln owners or landowners and get caught in never-ending debt cycles that last for generations. Farmers are frequently forced to give up a disproportionate amount of their produce due to informal and opaque sharecropping arrangements, which increase their financial dependence and restrict any feasible route to repayment. Importantly, bonded labour is not limited to adult male workers; women and children are also ensnared in household debt commitments, making them more susceptible to abuse, exploitation and systematic denial of their basic rights. These obligations are: A Sindhi child is often born with debts that will never be paid off, including money the child never borrowed and working land he/she will never own. This isn’t labour but ‘hereditary imprisonment’. VI.

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Seven Years after Pulwama Terrorist Attack: Global Responses

On the 7th anniversary of #Pulwama terrorist attack, we release our new brief on Jaish-e-Mohammed (#JeM): major attacks, India’s counter-terror response, and global actions; UN listings, bans, sanctions, and FATF-linked pressure. It also tracks Pakistan’s retrospective denial and optics, even as JeM’s infrastructure persists. A seven-year audit of accountability, impunity, and what constrains terror.

Bharat Human Rights Kashmir Pakistan Security Terrorism

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Pulwama@Seven: No Room for Complacency

Brig Brijesh Pandey Seven years after the Pulwama suicide bombing claimed the lives of 40 Central Reserve Police Force personnel, India’s security strategy still carries the imprints of that national tragedy. The body bags wrapped in the National Flag catalysed the strategic shift. This terrorist attack by Pakistan-based and backed terror outfit Jaish-e-Mohammed (JeM), from the Pakistan-occupied territories of Jammu & Kashmir (PoJK), was not merely an act of terrorism; it marked a geopolitical turning point that permanently reshaped India’s approach to deterrence. This incident also signaled a strategic shift toward Pakistan, emphasising the development of asymmetric capabilities and consequently, reshaping the balance of power in South Asia. The anniversary, however, should not turn out to be just a solemn remembrance; it should impel us to ponder over more serious questions, such as what changed after the Pulwama terror strike? What was the overall spectrum of India’s response? Have the risks been resolved? The Shock and Aftershock Pulwama suicide bombing was one of the most heinous attacks in over a decade. Within 12 days of the incident, India responded with a Trans-Line of Control (LoC) air strike at Balakot, deep inside PoJK. Trans LoC action, employing conventional forces, had thus far been defined as an “act of war.” Consequently, Pakistan was expected to respond with conventional kinetic action inside Indian territory. Perhaps the shock of the air strike was so great that it shook the military planners in Pakistan. They not only preferred to give it a pass, but also quickly returned the Indian pilot, the then Wing Commander Abhinandan Varthaman, who was taken as a prisoner after his aircraft crashed inside PoJK. In the pre-2019 era, India’s response to terrorist initiated incidents (TIIs) was characterised by restraint. It oscillated between diplomatic isolation of Pakistan, ceasefire violations across the LoC, limited covert operations and return to normalcy. What changed with Pulwama was India’s definition of “terror acts” and the unwarranted restraint caused by the term “act of war.” The most remarkable part was India smashing the glass ceiling of nuclear overhang, making a statement that Proxy War will no longer be cost- free. So what was the significance of the Balakot air strike? Firstly, it brought about a paradigm shift in the security policy from strategic restraint to calibrated punishment. Secondly, India dislodged Pakistan’s nuclear bluff and reinforced the deterrence established through the Uri Surgical strikes of 2016. Thirdly, at the global level, India suddenly altered the threshold levels of tolerance towards conflict between two nuclear-armed states. End of Strategic Restraint Balakot air strikes were domestically followed with a decisive mandate in favour of the ruling dispensation in India. This served not only as the public endorsement of India’s punitive action against Pakistan but also as the National consensus on “zero tolerance” towards any form of attack, conventional or sub-conventional. What followed was silent yet substantive: – There is no ambiguity about the dismantling of terror infrastructure post abrogation of Article 370 substantively. There has also been a remarkable improvement in most of the parameters of terrorism, such as recruitment, infiltration by foreign terrorists, number of TIIs and the resultant loss of lives. However, to assume that the entire framework of Proxy War encompassing ideological radicalisation, nexus networks and terror infrastructures will get dismantled so easily, will be a fallacy. So long as the “idea of terrorism” is alive, peace will remain elusive and the trajectory of stability can be altered in the blink of an eye. Deterrence in South Asia In the immediate aftermath of the Balakot air strikes, it was believed that deterrence had been restored and would dissuade Pakistan from orchestrating a major terror strike against India. This belief was shattered by the terror attacks at Pahalgam on 22 April 2025, killing 26 tourists after segregating them in the name of religion. Given the nature of the attacks and manner of execution, it can well be called a step higher than the Pulwama suicide bombing. Consequently, this led the Indian security planners once again to redefine the boundaries of deterrence through Operation Sindoor. For Pakistan, the costs were multiplied manifold, and the spectrum of punishment was enhanced to encompass the entire length and breadth of Pakistan. Even foreign assets stationed in Pakistan were not spared, and the attacks signalled a “conventional anti-dote” to the strategic comfort Pakistan derived from India’s “no first use” nuclear doctrine. Despite such a decisive action, compelling Pakistan’s Director General of Military Operations to rush to seek a ceasefire, the Delhi Car Bombing of 10 November 2025 at Red Fort Metro Station occurred. This time too, the trail pointed towards Pakistan, though the network differed in character and the arc of orchestration extended as far as Türkiye. Recurrence of terror attacks underscores a basic reality that deterrence in South Asia is neither static nor absolute. It is a dynamic contest shaped by big power alignments, multiple regional actors (often working in concert), proxy players embedded within the society, internal political machinations, and ideological currents. The challenge is further compounded by the constant mutation of terrorist organisations, evolving new methods, funding patterns and operational space. This helps them to evade the conventional operational responses. Consequently, even decisive actions such as Balakot or sophisticated, high-precision operations such as Operation Sindoor cannot be expected to create permanent deterrence. Pakistan Army, whose relevance has long been based on perpetual hostility with India, will continue to innovate and rewire its Proxy Warfare. Moreover, the regional and global players whose geostrategic interests are served by constraining India’s rise or drawing India into asymmetric dependencies that undermine India’s strategic autonomy will keep discovering new ways of supporting Pakistan’s disruptive designs. Internal Security Question Beyond the realm of geopolitics and external dimensions lies an uncomfortable yet fundamental question: could Pulwama have been prevented through an anticipatory mechanism? Investigations into major TIIs have constantly indicated the gaps in intelligence, inter-agency coordination, integrated threat assessment, and the last-mile operational preparedness of forces operating in various conflict zones. While procedural and structural measures

Bangladesh Bharat Hindus Human Rights Pakistan Policy Security

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Hindu Pogrom Under a Nobel Laureate’s Watch in Bangladesh

Ethnic Cleansing of Bangladeshi Hindus A Nobel Peace Prize is not a shield against scrutiny. Bangladesh’s post-August 2024 reality demands a hard, evidence-led assessment: violence against Hindus has escalated into a pattern that aligns with internationally recognised elements of ethnic cleansing. This is not a claim made lightly, nor is it built on rhetoric. It is grounded in documented indicators that appear repeatedly across historical cases, from the Balkans to Rwanda and the forced flight of Kashmiri Hindus. Our report, “Hindu Pogrom Under a Nobel Laureate’s Watch in Bangladesh,” examines what changed after the extra-constitutional transition that installed Muhammad Yunus as head of the interim administration. In the immediate aftermath of Sheikh Hasina’s ouster, Hindu homes and temples were specifically targeted, and minority families attempted to flee toward India. This is the first stage seen in many ethnic cleansing trajectories: a sudden collapse of security, followed by identity-targeted attacks that signal “you are not safe here.” Reuters reporting captured these early markers, including vandalism of Hindu temples and homes and attempted flight by minorities. Ethnic cleansing is defined less by slogans and more by method. The method in Bangladesh is visible through six elements. Forced displacement is the predictable output when a minority is subjected to sustained terror and sees no credible protection from the state. When families attempt to flee, when communities retreat into guarded enclaves, when daily life becomes a risk calculation, the displacement is no longer voluntary. It is coerced Violence and terror form the second element. The pattern includes killings by shooting, hacking, abduction, lynching, and arson. The purpose is not only to kill, but to send a message to all remaining members of the community. Dipu Chandra Das’s lynching and burning is an emblematic example of violence designed to intimidate, not merely to harm. Deliberate attacks on civilians are the third element. The victims are not combatants. They are teachers, traders, community leaders, elderly couples, workers, and youth. They are targeted in homes, workplaces, and transit routes, consistent with identity-based selection rather than incidental crime. In the first post-ouster phase, minority groups documented attacks on Hindu homes and temples across multiple districts, underscoring organised targeting rather than isolated incidents. Destruction of property is the fourth element, and it is a strategic tool. Burning homes, looting businesses, and desecrating temples do more than punish. They make return difficult, erase cultural presence, and collapse economic survival. These are classic “remove the population by destroying the conditions of life” tactics. Reuters recorded that hundreds of Hindu homes and businesses were vandalised and multiple temples damaged during the initial post-ouster violence. Confinement is the fifth element. Even without formal camps, a minority can be confined by fear. When communities self-restrict movement, rely on volunteer night-guards, and avoid public visibility, they are being functionally contained. This is how pressure accumulates until exit becomes the only perceived option. Systematic policy is the sixth element. Ethnic cleansing does not require a written decree. In many cases, it proceeds through the combination of organised extremist violence and state failure: weak protection, delayed response, denial of communal targeting, and persistent impunity. Here, the core accountability question is state responsibility. Minority groups have accused the interim government of failing to protect Hindus, and the Yunus administration has denied those allegations. Denial, in the presence of repeated identity-targeted attacks, is not neutrality. It is an enabling posture. This is where the Yunus interim administration becomes central. The issue is not whether Yunus personally directs each assault. The issue is whether the state under his leadership has fulfilled its duty to prevent, protect, investigate, prosecute, and deter identity-based violence. When the outcome is repeated killings, recurring temple attacks, widespread property destruction, and the steady tightening of fear around a minority community, responsibility does not stop at the street-level perpetrator. It rises to the governing authority. The report also examines the role of Islamist forces operating in the current environment. Independent reporting notes that hardline Islamist actors have become more visible and influential since the fall of Hasina. This matters because ethnic cleansing campaigns typically require both ideological mobilisation and operational impunity: a narrative that dehumanises the target, and a system that fails to punish the perpetrators. Bangladesh is at a decision point. It can either reassert protection for all citizens and rebuild the rule of law, or drift toward a majoritarian model where minorities survive only as tolerated remnants. The world has seen this script before. The lesson from Rwanda and the Balkans is that early warning indicators are not “political noise.” They are the architecture of atrocity. What is required now is not performative condemnation. It is measurable action: robust protection for minority localities, transparent investigations, prosecutions that reach organisers and inciters, disruption of extremist mobilisation networks, and independent monitoring that makes denial impossible. Without these steps, the pattern described in our report will continue to harden. The Nobel label does not change the facts on the ground. The responsibility of the interim government is to stop the trajectory. If it cannot, it must be treated internationally as enabling an ethnic cleansing process by omission, denial, and impunity.

Khalistani-Jamaat Joint Operations amid Minority Killings in Bangladesh

Hindus Bangladesh Bharat Human Rights Khalistan

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Situational Analysis: Khalistani-Jamaat Joint Operations amid Minority Killings in Bangladesh

Khalistani support for Islamist-linked violence and minority killings in Bangladesh, and the appearance of anti-Hindu and anti-India sloganeering outside the Bangladesh High Commission in London, reiterate that this is not simply a local Western “public order” problem. It is foreign territory being utilised as an outward-facing theatre for a Pakistan-rooted, anti-India orientation, where street spectacle and digital amplification do the work of deniable pressure.

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