Pakistan-IMF: Partnership Built on Dependence

In my recent reflections on Pakistan’s economic dilemmas, one truth stands out — our relationship with the IMF has never been economic, it has always been political. What began as assistance for growth soon turned into a calculated trap of dependency. The IMF didn’t reform Pakistan’s economy; it reprogrammed its sovereignty.

Pakistan’s long association with the IMF has never truly been about stability; it has been about control. What started in the name of “support” evolved into a vicious cycle of borrowing, serving both foreign powers and the ruling elite at home.

During the Cold War, IMF lending was less about economics and more about strategy. Pakistan’s geography made it a convenient pawn in Washington’s global game of containment. Loans came with neatly crafted “conditionalities,” but the real aim was to keep Pakistan’s economy tethered to Western influence.

The much-advertised structural reforms were cosmetic. Land reforms never touched the feudal elite, tax reforms spared the powerful, and privatization transferred wealth to cronies. Instead of fostering industrial growth, policies promoted consumer industries — assembling fast-moving consumer goods rather than producing capital or export goods. The result: an illusion of progress built on imports and consumption.

With every bailout, the dependency mindset grew stronger. The IMF was always available, and policymakers were always willing. A belief took root — that salvation lies in foreign help, not self-reliance.

After the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in the late 1970s, Pakistan was declared a “frontline ally.” The US poured in funds and influence, effectively turning Pakistan’s economy into a Cold War instrument. IMF support neatly aligned with Washington’s geopolitical interests, ensuring compliance rather than reform.

Over the decades, this external control merged with internal manipulation. Regime changes — military or civilian — often bore foreign fingerprints. Today, the IMF stands not as a partner in reform but as a symbol of economic subservience — proof that Pakistan’s journey from aid to autonomy remains unfinished.

Trump and world leaders sign Gaza peace accord

According to the media reports, US President Donald Trump joined more than 20 world leaders in Sharm El-Sheikh on Monday for high level talks on Gaza’s future as the first phase of the Israel-Hamas ceasefire agreement took effect. The exact contents of the agreement have not yet been made public by the White House.

Noticeably absent from the signing ceremony and discussions in Egypt were representatives of Israel and Hamas, whose ceasefire—brokered by the United States—formally began last week after two years of war in Gaza.

Among those attending the Gaza Peace Summit were Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas, French President Emmanuel Macron, German Chancellor Friedrich Merz, British Prime Minister Keir Starmer, Qatari Emir Shiekh Tamim bin Hamad, Turkish President Erdogan, former British Prime Minister Tony Blair, and senior officials from Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and the United Arab Emirates.

The leaders posed for a group photo in front of a backdrop reading “Peace 2025” before a formal signing ceremony tied to the ceasefire deal.

Trump, Egyptian President Abdel Fattah el-Sissi, Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, and Qatari Emir Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani signed the document on behalf of the participating nations, with world leaders seated behind them.

“This took 3,000 years to get to this point. Can you believe it? And it’s going to hold up too. It’s going to hold up,” Trump said as he signed the document.

In his remarks, Trump called the signing “a turning point for the region,” describing it as the culmination of months of diplomacy.

“This is the day that people across this region and around the world have been working, striving, hoping, and praying for,” he said.

“With the historic agreement we have just signed, those prayers of millions have finally been answered.”

 

Trump’s Knesset Speech: A Performance of Power and Paradox

US President, Donald Trump’s much-anticipated address to the Israeli Knesset was as dramatic as expected — part peace declaration, part political theatre. He declared the Gaza war “over,” calling it the “historic dawn of a new Middle East.” Yet beneath the triumphal tone lay a familiar Trumpian paradox - big claims, limited substance, and a heavy dose of personal politics.

Trump’s first major announcement — declaring the Gaza conflict “a painful nightmare finally over” — aimed to project him as the peacemaker who ended a bloody chapter. But the reality on the ground tells a murkier story: Gaza remains shattered, its future uncertain, and Israel’s hold over its security unresolved.

For all his talk of peace, Trump’s narrative was built more on optics than on outcomes.

In one of the most controversial moments, he called on Israel’s president to pardon Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, dismissing his corruption charges as “trivial.” That plea blurred the line between diplomacy and political favoritism. It was a gesture that played well to Netanyahu’s loyalists but jarred with those who still value judicial independence.

Equally striking was Trump’s unexpected olive branch to Iran. Saying the US was ready for a deal “when Tehran is,” he tried to reposition himself as the only leader capable of balancing hostility with negotiation. Yet the statement raised eyebrows — could Trump really reconcile his pro-Israel stance with outreach to Iran, a country that views Israel as its sworn enemy?

He also insisted Gaza must be “completely demilitarized” and that Israel’s security “will never be compromised.” The phrasing underscored his alignment with Israel’s long-standing narrative: security first, sovereignty later.

In the end, Trump’s Knesset speech was less about the Middle East and more about reclaiming his image as the global dealmaker.

It blended symbolism with self-promotion, leaving unanswered whether his “new dawn” will bring genuine peace or simply another round of political grandstanding.

Why Trump Took So Long to End Israeli Killing in Gaza?

As Gaza bled, Washington watched. For weeks, bombs rained on civilians while the so-called champion of “peace through strength” stayed silent. Donald Trump, quick to boast of brokering deals, turned hesitant when the cost of morality threatened his politics. His long silence over Israel’s brutality was not confusion — it was complicity.

Trump’s trademark swagger vanished when Gaza burned. The self-proclaimed deal-maker watched from the sidelines as Israel’s relentless bombing turned a crowded strip into a graveyard. His hesitation wasn’t diplomacy — it was political calculation dressed as caution.

He delayed action because he feared offending the Israel lobby and evangelical base that bankroll and bolster his politics. Their loyalty mattered more than the lives lost under Israeli bombs.

Washington’s silence was not indecision; it was endorsement. By refusing to restrain Tel Aviv, Trump aligned moral blindness with political convenience.

Behind the scenes, his advisers argued that Israel remains America’s indispensable proxy in the Middle East, and any pressure might embolden Iran or upset Gulf partners.

In truth, Trump was unwilling to challenge a policy that defines US dominance in the region — where stability is measured by arms sales, not peace. Gaza’s children simply did not fit into that equation.

But the cost of silence mounted fast. The world watched in horror, and even US allies began questioning Washington’s humanity.

When images of famine and flattened hospitals flooded global screens, Trump finally called for restraint — a gesture too late to cleanse the blood on American hands.

His eventual push for ceasefire wasn’t moral awakening; it was damage control. The U.S. was losing global credibility, and Trump’s “America First” mantra was turning into “Morality Last.”

For all his talk of strength, Trump blinked when leadership demanded courage. Gaza will remain the chapter where his silence spoke louder than his slogans.

Pakistani Policies Turning Taliban Foe

The unraveling Pakistan–Taliban relationship highlights the limits of old security doctrines in a changing regional order.

When the Taliban returned to power in Kabul in 2021, Pakistan hoped for a friendly neighbor and a stable frontier. Four years later, that optimism has faded. Relations have soured, trust has eroded, and the Taliban’s growing warmth toward India signals how far Islamabad’s Afghan policy has drifted from reality.

Pakistan’s once-comfortable relationship with the Taliban is deteriorating — not because of ideology, but because of Islamabad’s own policy. What was once hailed as “strategic depth” is now fast becoming a strategic setback.

For decades, Pakistan believed that supporting the Taliban would ensure border security and limit Indian influence. But since the group’s return to power, those assumptions have collapsed.

Instead of cooperation, Pakistan now faces increasing hostility - frequent border clashes, defiant statements from Kabul, and a resurgent Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) operating from Afghan soil.

The Taliban’s visible tilt toward India is a symptom of Islamabad’s stance. Pakistan has chosen pressure over diplomacy — closing key crossings, threatening to expel Afghan refugees, and publicly accusing Kabul of harboring militants.

These measures have not subdued the Taliban; they have driven them closer to New Delhi, which offers humanitarian aid and political legitimacy without direct interference.

The irony is stark. Pakistan, once the Taliban’s strongest backer, now finds itself isolated, while India — long regarded as an adversary in Afghan affairs — is quietly re-establishing presence in Kabul. The Taliban, in turn, are using this outreach to project independence and resist external dictates.

Islamabad’s Afghan policy remains trapped in outdated security thinking, viewing Kabul solely through the prism of control.

Unless Pakistan recalibrates its approach — replacing coercion with constructive engagement — it risks losing whatever influence it still retains. The “strategic depth” doctrine that once shaped policy has now turned dangerously shallow.

 

Deepening US Venezuela Confrontation: Drug War or Power Play

Once Washington’s most reliable oil partner, Venezuela now stands accused of becoming a narco-state. The transformation did not happen overnight; it is the outcome of two decades of political defiance, institutional decay, and Washington’s growing use of the “war on drugs” as a tool of geopolitical pressure. What began as a dispute over sovereignty has hardened into a prolonged confrontation where every allegation serves a strategic purpose.

Venezuela’s geography made it a natural corridor for cocaine shipments long before its politics turned hostile. Sharing a 2,200-kilometer border with Colombia — the world’s largest cocaine producer — the country became an attractive route for smugglers. When state capacity weakened and corruption spread across security institutions, trafficking networks found protection within official structures.

The first open clash came in 2005, when President Hugo Chávez expelled the US Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA), accusing its agents of espionage and interference. Washington dismissed the charges, warning the decision would turn Venezuela into a “safe haven for traffickers.” Cooperation collapsed, and intelligence links were cut. The move symbolized a decisive shift - from uneasy partnership to open hostility.

US sources later claimed that cocaine flows through Venezuela rose from 60 tons in 2004 to more than 250 tons by 2007, though these figures remain unverifiable.

For Washington, the statistics justified its narrative that Chávez’s Venezuela had become a narco-military hub. For Caracas, the accusations were a familiar tactic — to equate economic sovereignty with criminal behavior.

The confrontation escalated in March 2020, when the US Department of Justice indicted President Nicolás Maduro and top officials for “narco-terrorism,” alleging collaboration with Colombia’s FARC rebels to ship hundreds of tons of cocaine to the United States.

The US$15 million bounty on Maduro’s arrest blurred the line between diplomacy and law enforcement. It was unprecedented for a superpower to treat a sitting head of state as a cartel boss.

Maduro’s government called the move “a pretext for intervention,” and not without reason. Having failed to unseat him through sanctions and isolation, Washington found in the drug war a new justification to tighten pressure. While Venezuela’s institutional rot is undeniable, the “narco-state” label has become a convenient geopolitical weapon — used selectively against regimes unwilling to align with US strategic interests.

The drug war, in this case, is less about cocaine and more about control. Two decades after the first rupture, the US–Venezuela standoff remains a contest of narratives — one dressed in the language of law enforcement, the other wrapped in defiance of imperial power. Between them lies a reality both sides refuse to face - geopolitics, not narcotics, fuels this enduring hostility.

Is Pakistan Being Pushed into a ‘US Proxy War’ in Afghanistan?

Behind the new wave of border clashes may lie an old script — one written in Washington and played out in Islamabad and Kabul. Has Pakistan once again been cast in the role of America’s proxy?

The recent spike in Pak-Afghan border tensions has once again pushed the region to the edge of confrontation. Reports suggest that armed militants crossing from Afghanistan have attacked Pakistani security posts, prompting Islamabad’s “severe retaliation.” Yet, beneath the visible smoke of gunfire lies a far more intricate and disturbing reality — one that hints at the shadow of global power politics.

Following the US withdrawal from Afghanistan in 2021, Washington appeared to have lost its strategic foothold in the region. The Taliban’s refusal to hand over the Bagam Air Base — once a vital hub of American military operations — was not merely a symbolic rejection; it was a strategic rebuff. The superpower lost a vantage point near China, Iran, and Central Asia.

It is no coincidence that within months of that refusal, Afghanistan began facing renewed instability, and Pakistan started encountering an inexplicable surge in cross-border attacks.

My hypothesis is simple: when Washington cannot re-enter Afghanistan directly, it may seek to create circumstances that justify intervention. The most effective way to do that is to provoke conflict. The pattern fits. Anonymous “operators” — possibly non-state actors with advanced intelligence capabilities — carry out attacks inside Pakistan, inviting a retaliatory strike. The resulting escalation allows the US to portray the region as unstable and Taliban-controlled Afghanistan as a “global threat.” A familiar pretext for yet another intervention is thus created.

Ironically, Pakistan — which has already paid an enormous price in blood and economy during the first “War on Terror” — now risks being drawn into another one, this time as an unwilling participant in someone else’s geopolitical chessboard. The tragedy is that Islamabad still struggles to draw a clear line between its national interests and Washington’s regional ambitions. History, it seems, is repeating itself — and not for the better.

What complicates matters further is the deep mistrust between Islamabad and Kabul. The Taliban government, already under economic sanctions and political isolation, accuses Pakistan of toeing the American line. Pakistan, on the other hand, blames Afghanistan for harboring militants of the Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan (TTP). Yet neither side seems willing to see how external forces might be manipulating both.

The strategic question Pakistan must ask is: Whose war are we fighting this time? If recent cross-border provocations are indeed part of a larger plan to destabilize the region, Islamabad must avoid taking the bait. A measured, intelligence-based response — not blind retaliation — is the need of the hour. Pakistan’s security cannot depend on reaction; it must rest on foresight.

The lesson from the past two decades is painfully clear. Every time Pakistan has fought on behalf of someone else, it has lost — in lives, in reputation, and in internal cohesion. If history is repeating itself, the least we can do is refuse to play the same role again.