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ars across the globe have shown that collateral damage—innocent lives lost, homes destroyed, communities shattered—is a fertile ground for terror networks to sow seeds of radicalisation. More than 20 years of conflict and militancy in Pakistan, too, have shown similar trends. Non-combatant civilians, once peaceful, have been transformed into militants following the trauma inflicted by counter-terrorism operations. This phenomenon has perpetuated a vicious cycle of violence, breeding more violence in its wake.
Consider the 2007 Lal Masjid operation in Islamabad, a pivotal moment in the history of anti-state violence. The mosque had become a hub for radical Islamist activities under the leadership of Maulana Abdul Aziz and his brother Abdul Rashid Ghazi. What began as a standoff over encroachment on public land, had escalated into a full-scale military siege in July 2007. In the end, commandos stormed the complex, resulting in the deaths of over 100 people, including militants, seminary students and security personnel. The operation, code-named Operation Silence, was intended to dismantle a breeding ground for extremism.
Militant propaganda outlets seized upon images of the rubble-strewn mosque and bloodied bodies to fuel recruitment drives. Videos and narratives portraying the assault as an attack on religion circulated widely, radicalising a new generation. In the following years, there were reports of female students from the affiliated Jamia Hafsa seminary marrying militants and participating in terrorist violence. The Ghazi Force—a Taliban splinter group named after Abdul Rashid Ghazi—targeted urban centres. This incident deepened mistrust between the state and radical segments of society, illustrating how heavy-handed tactics can backfire.
Pakistan’s fight against terrorism, particularly in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, has been marked by a series of military operations since the early 2000s. These efforts were largely triggered by the spillover from the US-led invasion of Afghanistan post 9/11, which drove foreign militants, including Al Qaeda operatives, into Pakistan’s tribal areas. The first significant push was Operation al-Mizan in 2002, aimed at flushing out foreign fighters who had crossed the border into Pakistan. This operation set the tone for what would become a protracted war, involving groups like the TTP, Al Qaeda, the East Turkistan Islamic Movement and the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan.
By 2009, the insurgency had intensified, leading to Operation Rah-i-Rast in the Malakand division, with a focus on Swat valley. Militants under Maulana Fazlullah had imposed a draconian version of sharia—beheading opponents and destroying schools. The operation displaced millions but ultimately succeeded in restoring the writ of the state, thanks in part to strong political backing from the Awami National Party-led provincial government.
The ANP, a secular Pashtun nationalist party, had initially pursued peace talks with the Taliban in Swat. When the militants violated the agreement within hours of its signing, the government evacuated three million residents and greenlit the military assault. Many militants were killed or driven out and the valley was repopulated within months. This remains one of the few success stories in Pakistan’s counter-terrorism ledger, albeit at a heavy cost: thousands of ANP workers and leaders were assassinated in retaliation, their blood paying the price for political resolve. That same year, Operation Rah-i-Nijat targeted South Waziristan, a TTP stronghold.
Fast-forward to 2014: Operation Zarb-i-Azb cleared North Waziristan of militants, displacing nearly a million people and destroying a lot of infrastructure. In 2017, the nationwide Operation Radd-ul Fasaad aimed to consolidate gains through intelligence-based operations. Despite these efforts, terrorism persisted. The latest chapter is Operation Azm-i-Istehkam. Launched in June 2024, it focuses on Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Balochistan amid a surge in attacks. Described as a multi-domain, multi-agency campaign, it emphasises intelligence-led strikes rather than large-scale invasions.
So why, after so many operations and sacrifices, is Pakistan back to square one?
The answer lies in the unintended consequences of these campaigns. Collateral damage—civilian casualties from operations has been a key driver of militant recruitment. Studies show that in Pashtun tribal culture, where the concept of badal (revenge) is deeply ingrained, the killing of innocents creates a ripple effect. Families seek vengeance, often joining insurgent groups. Drone strikes and military raids in some areas have radicalised survivors, turning grief into militancy. The TTP and its affiliates exploit this, portraying the state as an oppressor allied with “infidels.”
Post-2001, some jihadis framed their fight as resistance against US-NATO forces and Pakistan’s complicity. With NATO’s 2021 withdrawal and the Afghan Taliban’s return, the narrative shifted: now, many of these militants ‘demand’ sharia for the Islamic Republic of Pakistan. Evidence suggests that many of these are proxies for external powers, including regional rivals.
Dynamics of war can evolve unpredictably. What begins with clear objectives morphs with each engagement. Lacking sustained political and public support, Pakistan’s security forces have struggled to adapt. The 2018 clearance of North Waziristan offered a window of opportunity for civilian governance—building police stations, courts and social infrastructure. The opportunity was squandered. When the Afghan Taliban regained power in 2021, the vacuum allowed militants to return with fresh narratives against the state.
Today, with extremist-inclined political forces in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa holding sway and radicalised youth in their ranks, crafting a supportive narrative for military action is an uphill task. Public trust has eroded so that many residents of the province view military operations with scepticism, fearing more displacement and destruction without achieving lasting peace. The new chief minister, Sohail Afridi, has always been a strong opponent of military operations in the province. He maintained that stance in his maiden speech in the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Assembly.
To break this cycle, Pakistan must transcend military might. A comprehensive strategy—integrating counter-terrorism with development, education and deradicalisation—is essential. Rebuilding trust in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa requires transparent operations, minimal collateral damage and post-conflict rehabilitation. International cooperation, especially with Afghanistan, is crucial to stem cross-border threats. The focus must shift from reactive strikes to proactive peace-building. Else the menace of terrorism will continue to rise, claiming more lives and destabilising the nation. As a local proverb goes: violence begets violence—unless wisdom intervenes.
The writer is a Peshawar-based journalist, researcher and trainer. He also works for the digital media platform The Khorasan Diary.