Once again, India and Pakistan are veering toward a dangerous precipice. This time triggered not by border skirmishes or dogfights in contested skies but by an act of terror in the fraught region of Kashmir. The recent attack in Pahalgam, which claimed the lives of 26 Indian tourists, has ignited a familiar chain of events: instantaneous accusations, retaliatory diplomacy, and ominous sabre-rattling. Within mere minutes of the assault, New Delhi accused Islamabad without an investigation, without evidence, and hesitation.
The Indian government’s response was both swift and sweeping. It suspended the Indus Waters Treaty (IWT), a landmark water-sharing accord that has withstood the convulsions of three wars and multiple crises since its signing in 1960. It shut down the Wagah border crossing, cancelled visas, expelled diplomats, and launched a sustained media blitz that placed Pakistan squarely in the crosshairs of blame. Notably absent from this litany of punitive gestures was any commitment to due process or fact-finding. India’s foreign secretary offered only a vague allusion to “cross-border linkages,” while national television channels turned speculation into certainty.
Pakistan’s response was measured, yet firm. Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif offered full cooperation with any “neutral, transparent and credible investigation” into the Pahalgam attack. Islamabad’s appeal for an impartial probe stands in sharp contrast to India’s unilateralism. But New Delhi has showed no appetite for international scrutiny, choosing instead to escalate. And here lies the troubling paradox: How does an attack of this scale occur in what is arguably the most militarized zone on Earth-where more than 600,000 Indian troops, surveillance drones, and electronic sensors form an unrelenting security apparatus? Is it plausible that a group of militants could travel 400 kilometers undetected, carry out an operation, and vanish without a trace? Either this represents a staggering intelligence failure or, more ominously, the lines between negligence and design are becoming increasingly blurred.
The decision to suspend the Indus Waters Treaty carries implications that transcend symbolic politics. For decades, the IWT stood as a rare example of cooperation in a region otherwise mired in mistrust. Even at the height of past hostilities, the accord endured, testament to its utility and the mutual dependency it enshrined. India’s abrupt move to put the treaty “in abeyance” now threatens to unravel that legacy. The legal framework of the IWT is clear: no party can unilaterally alter or suspend the treaty. Any modification requires mutual consent. India’s decision is, therefore, not just diplomatically provocative’s also a blatant violation of international law.
The context behind this move is telling. New Delhi has long expressed frustration over provisions in the treaty, particularly mechanisms that allow for international arbitration. In January 2023, India boycotted a Court of Arbitration hearing in The Hague meant to address Pakistan’s concerns about upstream Indian hydroelectric projects on the Chenab and Jhelum rivers-lifelines for water-stressed Pakistan. India instead pushed for the appointment of a neutral expert, an attempt to redefine the dispute resolution process in its favour. By August 2024, New Delhi had formally demanded a renegotiation of the treaty, citing “fundamental and unforeseen changes” such as demographic shifts and environmental challenges. Most recently, India cited “sustained cross-border terrorism” as its rationale for suspending cooperation accusations it has deployed repeatedly and strategically.
What’s equally troubling is that India’s current leadership appears less constrained by the norms that once guided bilateral engagement. Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s increasingly incendiary rhetoric hinting at possible “surgical strikes” and the mobilization of conventional and asymmetric forces, the risk of a catastrophic miscalculation. Reports of artillery movement along the Line of Control and the redeployment of special forces have only added fuel to the fire. Islamabad, while restrained, has made clear that any attempt to alter the water equation will be seen as an “act of war” and will trigger a response with “full force.” Simultaneously, Pakistan has suspended its own bilateral engagements, including trade and overflights, and reserved the right to place other foundational agreements, such as the Simla Accord, “in abeyance.”
The wider regional fallout cannot be ignored. China, Pakistan’s closest strategic partner, has already expressed deep concern. Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi recently spoke with Pakistani Deputy Prime Minister Ishaq Dar, voicing support for Pakistan’s sovereignty and urging restraint. Beijing also endorsed Islamabad’s call for a neutral investigation-a position that underscores how this crisis could draw in external players, potentially escalating an already volatile situation.
What is missing, conspicuously and dangerously, is a backchannel-a discreet line of communication that has often saved the region from plunging into outright war. In 2019, third-party diplomacy by global powers, including the United States and Gulf intermediaries, helped defuse the Balakot crisis. But such timely intervention appears absent this time. Without it, South Asia’s two nuclear-armed powers are left to tackle an increasingly unstable situation without the guardrails that diplomacy-however quiet or unofficial historically provided.
It is vital, then, to ask: What happens when political expediency eclipses strategic wisdom? When treaties become disposable and accountability optional? When nationalist fervor drowns out reasoned dialogue? This crisis is not just about the tragic loss of life in Pahalgam. Nor is it solely about water treaties or cross-border tensions. It is a reckoning dangerous moment of convergence between domestic politics and regional brinkmanship. Pakistan’s call for a neutral investigation deserves not just acknowledgment but active international support. If the international community fails to respond, it will tacitly endorse unilateralism and embolden those who treat escalation as a strategy. As both governments posture and provoke, the world must not look away. For in the absence of meaningful diplomacy and accountability, the next step forward may well be a step too far.
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