More than three decades after Pakistan’s nuclear tests, the region’s security landscape has shifted dramatically—yet not in the way many once imagined. Despite possessing nuclear weapons, Pakistan finds itself navigating not just the old specter of all-out war with India, but a new, more ambiguous threat: limited, targeted attacks that stop just short of the nuclear threshold. This evolving dynamic, underscored by India’s recent Operation Sindhoor and Pakistan’s controversial airstrikes in Afghanistan, reflects a region where old doctrines are being tested, and the costs of perpetual conflict are borne by millions.
On October 15, 2025, the city of Kabul was rocked by the seventh Pakistani airstrike in recent months, part of a campaign that also hit Kandahar, Nangarhar, Paktika, and Khost. According to Afghan sources and international media, more than 400 civilians in Kabul alone were killed or wounded. Pakistan’s government framed the sorties as “hot pursuit” and “counterterrorism” missions, but for many in Afghanistan, the familiar pattern was clear: projection of force across the Durand Line, imposition of costs inside Afghanistan, and a continued effort to keep Kabul dependent and off-balance.
This pattern is hardly new. As chronicled by Najib Azad and other regional experts, Pakistan’s military and intelligence services have, since 1947, relied on proxy militias to fight their wars and advance national ambitions. Within months of Pakistan’s creation, Pashtun tribesmen were organized to invade Kashmir—a move that sparked the first war with India and established a template of plausible deniability and strategic leverage at minimal cost. The cycle repeated in 1965 with Operation Gibraltar, which saw disguised guerrillas infiltrate Indian-administered Kashmir. That gamble backfired, precipitating a conventional war Pakistan could not win, but the lesson learned was not restraint—it was refinement and repetition.
By 1971, as Bengali nationalism surged in East Pakistan, the military incubated paramilitaries like the Razakars, Al-Badr, and Al-Shams. These groups, alongside regular troops, committed mass atrocities against civilians, culminating in the secession of Bangladesh and a deep institutional trauma for Pakistan. Yet, rather than curbing the appetite for proxies, defeat only hardened it. If conventional wars ended badly, the thinking went, then unconventional ones—outsourced repression, violence cloaked in religious rhetoric—might deliver strategic gains at lower cost.
The Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979 turbocharged this doctrine. Pakistan became the indispensable conduit for CIA and allied support to Afghan mujahidin under Operation Cyclone. The Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) agency controlled arms, training, and funding, favoring Islamist factions and sidelining independent nationalists. As billions flowed through opaque channels, a “Milbus” (military business) economy flourished, with the army’s business interests expanding into everything from cement and cereals to banking and real estate. The incentive was clear: a security policy that sustains insecurity pays. As Najib Azad writes, "a military that thrives on conflict needs a peacetime business plan."
After 9/11, Pakistan again positioned itself as a frontline ally, opening airspace and supply routes to NATO and offering intelligence on al-Qaeda. Yet, at the same time, Taliban leaders were sheltered and rotated through Pakistani territory, ensuring that any settlement in Kabul would remain vulnerable to Rawalpindi’s veto. Military operations such as Al-Mizan, Rah-e-Haq, Rah-e-Rast, Rah-e-Nijat, Koh-e-Sufaid, Zarb-e-Azb, and Rah-e-Estehkam displaced millions of Pashtuns and devastated civilian life, but often spared the top leadership of “preferred” militant groups. Drone strikes, sometimes coordinated with Pakistani intelligence, killed many innocents but rarely the main targets.
This calculated ambiguity has not only devastated Afghanistan but has also left Pakistan’s own society and economy deeply scarred. Radicalization, lost investment, and a hollowed-out civilian state are just some of the boomerang effects. Meanwhile, the doctrine of “strategic depth”—the idea that a weak, pliable Afghanistan provides Pakistan with a fallback zone and leverage against India—has become a euphemism for permanent instability. As one observer put it, "the doctrine requires Afghanistan to be weak." Schools are outnumbered by madrassas, girls are blocked from classrooms, and the machinery of governance is replaced by the machinery of militancy.
Recent years have brought new complications. Since 2015, India has steadily shifted toward “surgical strikes” and limited cross-border operations, culminating in the 2019 Pulwama–Balakot exchange and, most recently, Operation Sindhoor in May 2025. During Sindhoor, India penetrated deep into Pakistani territory, launching missile assaults, drone swarms, and coordinated airstrikes on both key and symbolic targets. Pakistan responded forcefully, invoking its “quid pro quo plus” doctrine—first adopted in 2016—with the downing of several Indian aircraft. But India, undeterred, escalated further, signaling a risky new normal: small, managed conflicts that stop just short of nuclear escalation are no longer taboo.
This trend has exposed the declining effectiveness of nuclear deterrence as a standalone strategy. As Elizabeth Threlkeld of the Stimson Center notes, "India’s willingness to escalate right up to the nuclear threshold highlights the increasing weakness of Pakistan’s response framework." New technologies—precision-guided missiles, hypersonic weapons, drone swarms—shrink decision-making windows and create the dangerous illusion of controlled escalation. The 2022 BrahMos missile misfire into Pakistani territory, though dismissed as an accident, underscored just how easily miscalculation could spiral out of control.
Internal political pressures in India have also fueled this dynamic. Rising Hindutva-driven nationalism and electoral incentives have encouraged military adventurism, making riskier strikes like those in 2025 more politically palatable. As each crisis resets the boundaries of what is considered “acceptable,” the deterrent value of Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal erodes further.
For Pakistan, the lesson is clear: deterrence in the 21st century must be reimagined. Nuclear weapons remain the ultimate safeguard against existential threats, but they cannot address the challenges of limited war, technological innovation, or shifting political ideologies. Experts now argue for a multi-layered approach: modernizing conventional forces, integrating operations across land, air, sea, cyber, and space (with the Pakistan Air Force as the linchpin), and adopting strategic ambiguity through cyber operations and economic levers. Clearer communication of red lines is also essential, ensuring that prudence is not mistaken for weakness.
Equally crucial is the diplomatic front. India has often portrayed Pakistan as the aggressor, framing its own actions as defensive. Islamabad, therefore, must strengthen its public diplomacy and international outreach to expose the destabilizing effects of India’s grey-zone strategies. As Dr. Adil Sultan notes, "future battles will be short, sharp, and complex," requiring not just battlefield agility but narrative clarity.
Ultimately, the region’s security dilemma is not just about bombs and borders—it’s about the business models, doctrines, and incentives that keep conflicts simmering. Until those are confronted head-on, the costs will continue to mount for Afghans, Pakistanis, and the world at large. The time for a fundamental policy reckoning may be overdue, but the stakes have never been clearer.