The Politics of the Gun in Pakistan and the Illusion of Lasting Peace: Khyber Pakhtunkhwa’s Strategic Crisis

By Dr. Khan Zaman

For more than two decades, Pakistan’s Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province has been facing a violent conflict driven by the Pakistani military, one whose flames continue to burn at the expense of peace and ordinary Pashtun civilians, as well as the state itself. One of the most troubling questions in contemporary military history is this: why does a regular army, equipped with advanced military technology, claiming control of the airspace, and backed by some of the world’s finest professional training, appear unable to defeat a network of only a few thousand armed fighters?

To understand this security deadlock, it is not enough to look only at today’s battlefield maps. It is also necessary to examine Pakistan’s past strategic decisions, geographic changes, and the long history of mistrust between the state and armed groups. Here, the usual rules of military comparison lose much of their explanatory power.

On one side stands the Pakistani military, with thirteen permanent cantonments under the command of Peshawar’s XI Corps and a force that can reach as many as 150,000 troops when needed, supported by the Frontier Corps.

On the other side, according to estimates by international research centers, the combined number of active fighters belonging to Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) and the Hafiz Gul Bahadur group stands between six and seven thousand. If Pakistan’s newer proxy force, ISIS, is also included, the figure approaches eight thousand. ISIS is counted here because the Pakistani military publicly presents itself as an opponent of the group. On paper, therefore, the balance of force appears to be roughly twenty to one in favor of the military.

Yet one principle of military science, known as the “tooth-to-tail ratio,” tells us that a large part of any army is occupied with logistics, intelligence work, and the protection of military installations. Even after taking that into account, the Pakistani military still enjoys numerical superiority in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. This raises an obvious question: why has the security problem still not been resolved?

Many military analysts point to the complexities of guerrilla warfare as an excuse for the Pakistani military. But that argument becomes weaker when we look at history. During the 1980s, these same Pakistani security institutions claimed to be teaching Afghan Mujahideen the methods of guerrilla warfare against the Soviet Union. Here a basic principle of military history becomes clear: supporting a proxy war on foreign soil and conducting a counterinsurgency campaign inside one’s own territory are two very different skills.

In a foreign conflict, the damage falls on someone else’s land. At home, however, the careless use of heavy weapons and air power inevitably leads to civilian casualties.

Such losses turn local people against the state and provide ideal conditions for strengthening the militants’ narrative.

When a state insists on its constitutional authority and armed groups refuse to abandon their demands, a deadlock emerges. In such circumstances, no matter who claims victory, ordinary people inevitably begin questioning the thinking and decisions of those who shape state policy. The roots of Pakistan’s current crisis largely go back to the strategic decisions made after September 11, decisions that pushed Pakistan onto the front line of the American-led war.

The large-scale military operations that followed may have temporarily destroyed some militant bases and hideouts, but the cost was paid by millions of local people. Thousands of families were displaced. Checkpoints and security restrictions widened the psychological distance between the people and the state. In the end, the state inherited public resentment and frustration as well.

The emergence of regional movements such as the Pashtun Tahafuz Movement (PTM) should also be viewed in light of this public frustration, mistrust, and sense of alienation. The state tried to fill the gap created by military operations, and for that reason presented the 2018 merger of the former Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) with Khyber Pakhtunkhwa as a positive step. The goal was to free the tribal population from colonial-era laws such as the Frontier Crimes Regulation (FCR) and bring them into the mainstream of development.

But the reality is that the loyalty of the tribal population to Pakistan has long been regarded as an accepted and unquestioned fact. Even so, after the merger, promised development funds from the federal government failed to materialize, while weak civilian institutions and administrative neglect created a dangerous administrative vacuum.

History shows that an army may clear an area of militants for a time, but lasting peace and stability can only be maintained through strong civilian institutions, effective administration, and economic well-being. The real obstacle to progress in negotiations lies in the strategic limitations and pressures facing both sides. The state is unwilling to show flexibility toward an armed group that rejects its constitution. The militants, meanwhile, are unwilling to accept unconditional surrender because deep-rooted mistrust of the state remains firmly embedded in their thinking.

Still alive in the memory of many militants is the 1959 incident involving the Baloch leader Nawab Nauroz Khan, when a pledge made on the Holy Quran was broken and several of his companions were executed. That historical breach of trust strengthened the belief among armed groups that surrendering weapons to the Pakistani state without international or political guarantees amounts to self-destruction.

For this reason, the conflict has now taken the shape of a long war of attrition. The state possesses the technical capabilities needed to prevent the militants from gaining complete control, while the militants possess guerrilla networks that prevent their total destruction.

The history of armed movements around the world teaches us that lasting peace does not emerge solely from the barrel of a gun; rather, it is achieved through political wisdom, understanding, and prudent statesmanship.

If the state truly wants peace and stability in Pakistan, it must do more than pursue armed groups. It must also address the conditions that leave peaceful citizens frustrated and push them toward the path of conflict.

The most effective way forward is for the state to show flexibility in its hardline positions, bring local tribal jirgas and grassroots political forces forward as neutral mediators, and provide credible guarantees that encourage armed groups to enter a legal and political framework.

Until the strategic contradictions in Pakistan’s foreign policy are resolved, and until local communities receive economic rights and swift justice, the dream of lasting peace and security in Pakistan will remain only a dream.

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