When the truth slips out: Pakistan’s terror ties!

Raju Korti
There are moments in geopolitics when the mask slips. When an offhand remark – made perhaps in haste, or under pressure – ends up confirming what the world has long suspected but diplomatically chosen not to state outright. Pakistan’s Defence Minister, Khawaja Muhammad Asif, has just delivered one such moment.

In an interview to Sky News, Asif made a stunning admission: that Pakistan had been doing the West’s “dirty work” for the past three decades – training, funding, and backing terrorist organisations. When asked directly about Pakistan’s history of backing such groups, he did not deny it. Instead, he said, “We have been doing this dirty work for the US for the past three decades, including the West and the United Kingdom.” He tried to soften the blow by calling it a “mistake,” claiming Pakistan had “suffered” because of it, and suggesting that had Islamabad not joined the West in its Cold War and post-9/11 escapades, its track record would have been “unimpeachable.”

But the damage was done.

One could argue this was a classic case of political candour gone wrong. Perhaps Mr. Asif was rattled. Perhaps he was speaking in the heat of the moment. Or perhaps – and this is more likely – he simply underestimated the weight of his words, unaware that his candid confession would ignite diplomatic firestorms, especially in Washington and London. For the first time, a senior sitting member of the Pakistani government admitted – on record – what the world has long known: that Pakistan’s so-called “non-state actors” were in fact state-nurtured assets, wielded at will to serve both domestic and foreign policy objectives.

For decades, Pakistan has perfected the art of plausible deniability. Every time a terror attack occurred – whether in India, Afghanistan, Balochistan or elsewhere – Islamabad would run through its now-familiar playbook. First, deny any involvement. Then, ask for "credible proof." Once the proof is produced, deny its validity. And if cornered, invoke the fig leaf of “non-state actors,” suggesting that while outfits like Lashkar-e-Taiba or Jaish-e-Mohammad might operate from Pakistani soil, they did so without official sanction.

It was a diplomatic dance performed with a straight face, despite mountains of evidence and testimonies from defectors, intelligence intercepts, and the very geography of terror training camps pointing squarely at state complicity. Yet most nations – tied up in their own strategic compulsions – chose to treat Pakistan as both problem and partner, hoping that constructive engagement might one day yield a shift in behaviour. It never did.

Khawaja Asif, Wikipedia grab

What Mr. Asif has done – unwittingly – is to blow apart that charade. By admitting Pakistan’s role in doing the West’s "dirty work," he has let the cat out of the bag. This was never just about rogue elements or uncontrolled militias. The Pakistani state – through its military-intelligence establishment – was an active participant in the creation and management of the very groups it now disowns.

To be clear, this is not new information. The US State Department, countless global think tanks, and intelligence agencies have all hinted, if not outright declared, Pakistan’s role in fostering terrorism. But for a country’s own defence minister to state it publicly – even as an attempted deflection or justification – changes the tone entirely. It provides irrefutable confirmation, from the horse’s mouth.

Pakistan’s entanglement with terror has roots in the 1980s, when it became a frontline ally of the United States in the Soviet-Afghan war. At the time, the objective was to arm and train mujahideen fighters to bleed the Soviets in Afghanistan. Pakistan’s geography and the ISI’s reach made it an ideal proxy. But when the war ended, those militant networks did not dissolve – they mutated. Some turned into the Taliban. Others joined or formed outfits that operated with near-impunity across South Asia. The distinction between state and non-state actors blurred further with each passing decade.

For the record, international relations have long acknowledged the power of non-state actors – from civil society groups and multinationals to religious networks and terrorist outfits. They lack formal sovereignty but can wield tremendous influence, often shaping global narratives and outcomes. But when non-state actors are armed, trained, funded, and strategically deployed by state actors, the lines of accountability become inescapably clear.

Mr. Asif’s remarks strip away those lines of obfuscation. By calling it a “mistake,” he attempts to reframe Pakistan as a victim of its own misjudged alliances. But the consequences of that “mistake” have been too vast, too violent, and too enduring to be brushed aside. From Mumbai to Pulwama, from Kabul to Kashmir, the footprints of terror have too often led back to Islamabad.

The real question now is: what will the international community do with this admission? Will it finally recalibrate its dealings with Pakistan? Or will it, as before, prioritise short-term geopolitical expediency over long-term accountability?

One thing is certain: no amount of posturing or backpedaling can undo what Khawaja Asif has inadvertently confirmed. In a moment of unintended honesty, he has told the world what it already knew – but could never get Pakistan to admit.

Now that the mask is off, will the world finally stop pretending?