he concept of narrative holds a foundational place in philosophy, literature and social theory—especially when examined through the interwoven lenses of knowledge and power. A narrative is not merely a recounting of events; it is a constructed representation shaped by purpose, perspective and ideology. It is through their narratives that individuals and societies ascribe meaning to the world around them.

The narratives are not neutral or benign. Often, they are instruments of persuasion, designed to legitimise particular interests or obscure uncomfortable truths. This is particularly evident in the context of geopolitical conflict, such as the ongoing confrontation between India and Pakistan, where a battle of narratives has eclipsed the facts on the ground. Here, the narrativisation is not always grounded in truthfulness. Instead it is often shaped by strategic falsity, manipulation and ideological warfare.

While narrative and knowledge are closely related, they differ in crucial respects. Knowledge traditionally aspires toward truth, objectivity and justification, relying on logic and evidence to support its claims. Narrative, by contrast, is inherently interpretive and emotionally charged. It structures events into meaningful wholes but does so through the prism of cultural norms, power structures and subjectivity.

Where knowledge asks, “What is the truth?” narrative often asks “What meaning can be derived from this?” “Who is speaking?” and “What agenda is being advanced?” This is precisely what makes narratives such a potent—and at times dangerous—force in the realm of international politics.

In an India-Pakistan conflict, the primacy of narratives, especially around contested events, such as border skirmishes, alleged terrorist activity and diplomatic breakdowns, is unmistakable. The states engage in discursive battles not merely to inform people but to influence and shape public perception, garner international sympathy and solidify internal cohesion. The narratives often bear little resemblance to verifiable reality and are instead crafted to serve strategic interests. They mobilise patriotism, demonise the ‘other’ and reinforce nationalistic ideologies. These falsified or exaggerated accounts are not accidental deviations from truth; they are integral to the mechanics of modern statecraft.

Michel Foucault’s insights into the relationship between knowledge and power are profoundly relevant in analysing the dynamics of historical narratives in countries like India and Pakistan. Foucault’s concept of “regimes of truth” refers to the idea that what is considered to be true within a society is not a simple reflection of objective reality, but the product of socially constructed and regulated discourses.

These discourses—systems of communication, belief and knowledge—are shaped by those in positions of power. They function to reinforce existing power structures by defining what is legitimate, acceptable and true. According to Foucault, truth is not neutral or universally accessible. Instead, it is produced and regulated through specific societal mechanisms that decide what can be said, what can be known and what information is to be kept hidden or suppressed.

In the context of India and Pakistan, this framework provides valuable insight into how the state, through its control over media, political discourse and the shaping of collective memory, constructs narratives that serve particular political and ideological interests. State-controlled media plays a crucial role in disseminating and reinforcing the dominant narratives that align with the state’s political objectives. In both countries, the governments’ manipulation of media and public discourse influences the flow of information, directing what is presented as truth and what is marginalised or distorted.

Political rhetoric in both India and Pakistan often seeks to establish an official narrative of national identity. This is presented as an uncontested truth. In these nations, the articulation of political power frequently involves framing history in a way that it legitimises the state’s current position and policies, while demonising the ‘other’ or presenting them as a threat. This practice not only shapes national identity but also serves to justify military actions, economic policies and other state decisions.

Jean-François Lyotard’s critique of “grand narratives” in his influential work The Postmodern Condition (1979) provides a key theoretical framework to understand the role of overarching stories in shaping national identities, particularly in contexts of conflict. Lyotard’s central argument is that in the modern era, grand narratives—which are broad, overarching stories that claim to explain and legitimise historical processes, ideologies and social orders—have lost their credibility and power. These narratives, which once provided a society with a unified sense of meaning and purpose, are now viewed as increasingly inadequate to explain the complexity of contemporary life.

Both India and Pakistan deploy grand narratives that simplify complex histories and issues into more digestible and emotionally charged stories. These narratives often revolve around themes of victimhood, heroism, historical betrayal and civilisational destiny. For example, in Pakistan, the Partition of India in 1947 is often framed as a tragic event of Muslim victimhood and the birth of a nation forged in suffering.

In India, the same event might be portrayed as the heroic struggle for independence with a narrative of betrayal by the Muslim community leading to Partition. In such frameworks, there is little room for nuanced complexity of the event, such as the role of colonial powers, the social and religious diversity within both India and Pakistan and the voices of the people affected by these upheavals.

These grand narratives become totalising frameworks that do not simply offer a way to understand the past but also serve as tools of political and ideological control. Within these frameworks, any dissent or alternative viewpoints that challenge the official narrative are often labelled as disloyalty or subversion. National identity and political unity are defined in opposition to those who disagree and the space for critique, complexity and diversity gets narrow.

As Lyotard argues, when subjected to scrutiny, these grand narratives inevitably collapse, revealing the inadequacies of these simplistic, monolithic explanations of history and reality. Lyotard’s solution to the crisis is the creation of micro-narratives—smaller, localised stories that allow for the expression of individual and community experiences that are often erased or ignored in larger national narratives. These micro-narratives are more fluid, diverse and open to complexity. They reflect the real experiences of people rather than the ideological goals of states.

Edward Said’s work, including Orientalism (1978), too offers an invaluable lens for understanding how narratives function as a form of ideological domination. Said’s primary focus is on how Western colonial powers constructed the Orient—the East, which includes regions like the Middle East, South Asia and North Africa—as an exotic, inferior “Other” to justify their domination and exploitation.

According to Said, the West used narratives about the Orient to portray it as backward, irrational and in need of Western intervention to bring civilisation and progress. These narratives were not grounded in the empirical reality of the cultures and peoples of the East. Instead, these were constructed through the biased lens of colonial power, which needed to justify its aggression and control.

This concept of narratives as a tool of domination is equally applicable to the India–Pakistan context. Just as the West constructed the East as the “Other,” powerful entities in India and Pakistan have created distorted national narratives about each other to serve internal political agendas and legitimise their policies of aggression, militarisation and diplomatic hostility. These narratives are often shaped by historical grievances (e.g., the Partition of 1947; the wars of 1965 and 1971; and the ongoing Kashmir dispute), but they are framed in such a way that they obscure the complexity of the relationship between the two countries.

For instance, Pakistan might portray India as a hegemonic power seeking to suppress the rights of Muslim populations (particularly in Kashmir), while India might depict Pakistan as a sponsor of terrorism and an aggressor. These portrayals are not necessarily objective representations of the political realities on the ground, but rather products of ideological constructions that serve to solidify national identities and justify state actions.

The writer is a professor in the Faculty of Liberal Arts at the Beaconhouse National University, Lahore.