The terrorism that continues to plague Balochistan has three distinct dimensions: pre-terrorism, terrorism, and post-terrorism. No durable solution is possible unless all three are addressed simultaneously. This is a multidimensional challenge and demands an equally multidimensional response.
The immediate and unavoidable response to terrorism is decisive action by the security forces. There should be no ambiguity on this point. Any group that takes up arms against the state must be dealt with firmly and without delay. A nation cannot afford uncertainty when confronting those who wage war against it.
Yet force alone cannot resolve either the pre-terrorism or the post-terrorism phases.
Before terrorism takes root, a carefully crafted narrative is built. The state is portrayed as the oppressor, while those resorting to violence are presented as victims driven to desperation. Political sympathizers and media facilitators work tirelessly to reinforce this narrative, gradually creating an environment in which militancy begins to appear justified.
Even fewer know that when Pakistan came into existence in 1947, the State of Kalat did not have a single high school, while the children of its ruling elite received their education outside the state.
The post-terrorism phase begins almost as soon as an attack occurs. Its purpose is to prevent national unity from emerging. Instead of standing with the victims and the state, public debate is diverted. Some begin questioning the sacrifices of soldiers, others search for explanations that end up justifying terrorists, while still others invoke the language of human rights only to place the state itself on trial. Whether coordinated or spontaneous, the result is the same: confusion replaces national resolve.
Pakistan must therefore confront not only the terrorists but also the conditions that allow hostile narratives to flourish. Why are some young people vulnerable to militant recruitment? What failures of governance, politics, administration, or society create spaces that extremist organizations exploit? These are questions that cannot be answered through military operations alone.
The armed forces and security institutions have the responsibility of defeating terrorists, and they continue to discharge that responsibility. Addressing the fault lines that feed militancy, and dismantling the ideological and media ecosystem that sustains it before and after acts of terror, is the responsibility of the political leadership. Where does Pakistan’s collective political consciousness stand on Balochistan? Where are the federal government, the provincial government, and Parliament?
Balochistan’s youth must be engaged, not simply told that they are part of the national mainstream, but made to feel that they genuinely belong to it. Those who stand with the state and the Constitution should have a real stake in Pakistan’s political and national life. Poverty remains widespread, deprivation runs deep, and both require sustained attention.
But money alone will not solve the problem. Reserving seats for Baloch students in Punjab’s medical colleges, important as such initiatives may be, cannot by themselves transform the situation. What is needed is a genuine sense of participation in power and ownership of the Pakistani state. Has Parliament ever seriously debated how that can be achieved? The answer may well lie in revisiting Quaid-e-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah’s constitutional vision, which remains as relevant today as it was at the country’s founding.
The political landscape of Balochistan is also undergoing profound change. There was a time when tribal chiefs and nawabs exercised an almost complete monopoly over political influence. That era is gradually fading. Just as industrialization transformed Europe, social media has transformed the political consciousness of Pakistan’s younger generation. Yet our national conversation about Balochistan continues to revolve around electables, tribal elites, and political alliances. The Baloch youth, arguably the province’s most consequential constituency, remain largely absent from that conversation. They are seldom the audience, and even more rarely the participants. The distance between them and the state continues to widen.
We must recognize that the traditional centres of power in Balochistan are steadily losing their hold. The real contest for influence is increasingly taking place among young people, particularly in colleges and universities where ideas are formed, challenged, and spread. Have we paid enough attention to this transformation?
While the armed forces confront terrorists on the battlefield, where is Parliament in the battle of ideas? Has it ever produced a compelling counter-narrative capable of dismantling separatist propaganda?
No one denies that Balochistan continues to suffer from poverty, underdevelopment, and genuine grievances. Much remains to be done. But has anyone honestly compared the Balochistan of 1947 with the Balochistan of today? What was the condition of the Khanate of Kalat then, and what is the condition of the province now? Has nothing changed over the decades, or has meaningful progress also taken place? Are all of Balochistan’s challenges solely the product of exploitation, or have geography, vast distances, and an unforgiving terrain also contributed to its difficulties? Above all, are these problems more likely to be solved through violence or through dialogue?
Karachi became Pakistan’s economic engine because it welcomed people from every corner of the country. Punjab, too, has prospered because citizens from every province have been free to live, work, and invest there. The separatist narrative in Balochistan, however, often rejects such openness. It resists the arrival of people from other provinces out of fear that the local population may become a minority, while at the same time demanding rapid economic development. History suggests that isolation and prosperity rarely coexist.
Anti-federation sentiment is cultivated because resentment is one of the easiest political commodities to market. Many Pakistanis may know that Quaid-e-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah’s Fourteen Points called for constitutional reforms in Balochistan, but few understand what those reforms actually entailed or the historical circumstances in which they were proposed. Even fewer know that when Pakistan came into existence in 1947, the State of Kalat did not have a single high school, while the children of its ruling elite received their education outside the state.
There is still considerable room for reform, and those reforms should be pursued with urgency. Where military action is necessary, it must be carried out with determination. Where reconciliation and healing are required, they must not be neglected. Pakistan must not only defeat terrorism but also repair the political, social, and psychological fault lines that allow it to endure.
Force is necessary, but so is healing.
The writer is a lawyer and author based in Islamabad. He tweets @m_asifmahmood