The policy of deception, ambiguity, and “buying time” has become Pakistan’s last instrument of survival.
By Abdul Naser Noorzad, security and geopolitics researcher, especially for Sangar
An analysis of Pakistan’s current situation regarding the Taliban movement and developments in Afghanistan must be conducted through two interconnected lenses—security, politics, and geopolitics—while taking into account the new requirements of international security, the evolving nature of threats, and the transforming needs of the great powers.
First, Pakistan no longer possesses the exceptional advantage it enjoyed during the Cold War—a period when, amid rivalry between the United States and the Soviet Union, particularly after the Soviet intervention in Afghanistan, Islamabad became a frontline state in the system of containment in the East. At that time, geographic proximity to Afghanistan and its role as an intermediary in mobilizing proxy forces provided Pakistan with unique geopolitical capital. However, in the post–Cold War period, especially in the era of multi-layered competition among the United States, China, and Russia, the needs of the great powers go beyond the traditional model of “indirect mediation.” Simply acting as a “security broker” in creating threats and managing regional crises no longer provides sustainable strategic advantages.
In this context, the project of returning the Taliban to power—designed by Pakistani security structures and supported by years of efforts to convince Washington of the Taliban’s effectiveness in containing threats and maintaining regional balance—yielded only short-term results. The withdrawal of American troops and the fall of Kabul initially appeared to confirm the success of a long-term security project. However, internal conflicts among the Taliban soon emerged, individual factions sought autonomy, and the security priorities of regional and external actors shifted, overturning the balance. What was intended to provide strategic depth became a source of additional uncertainty.
Second, Pakistan’s policy, coordinated with Western powers, has always relied on sustained financial, military, and technical support. During and after the Cold War, this support enabled a strategy of “managed chaos.” Supporting the Taliban—whether as part of creating an organized zone of instability to contain regional rivals or as a pragmatic exploitation of Afghanistan’s power vacuum—temporarily altered the dynamics of regional security in Islamabad’s favor. Today, however, this option is severely limited, costly, and unpredictable.
The Taliban do not constitute a fully homogeneous structure capable of operating under Pakistan’s directed leadership, yet they have not slipped so far out of control that Islamabad’s former allies would be ready to place full trust in Pakistan’s policy. On the one hand, the Taliban are not dangerous enough to justify large-scale and costly investments in comprehensive containment; on the other, they are not safe enough to reassure Islamabad. This situation has produced a “self-generated security problem”—a product of Pakistan’s previous security architecture—which has now reached a functional deadlock and opened new opportunities for regional rivals to weaken Islamabad’s role in future security systems.
At a higher level, Islamabad faces a new configuration of alliances. India’s growing rapprochement with Israel and several Arab states, along with Delhi’s active engagement in technological, informational, and military spheres, creates additional pressure on Pakistan’s security calculations. Under such conditions, any direct pressure on the Taliban or overt support for their opponents could entail high geopolitical costs for Pakistan’s vital interests. At the same time, the continuation of the current risky strategy—now increasingly affecting Pakistan’s own territory—drains the country’s financial, military, and political resources.
Pakistan’s traditional security doctrine, based on the use of religious fundamentalism, the promotion of jihadist culture, and the creation of strategic depth in Afghanistan, is now undergoing reassessment. Even Pakistan’s closest intelligence allies act according to their own independent interests. Supporting the Taliban’s opponents—largely Western-oriented, democratic, and human-rights advocates—not only fails to guarantee Islamabad any advantage but may also provoke a strategic conflict with its longstanding ideological and security foundations. Even if situational alignment in containing the influence of Delhi or Tel Aviv is considered, identity divides and mutual distrust minimize the prospects for coordination.
At the same time, limited and conditional support from certain Arab countries, Turkey, and the West, aimed at preserving the status quo has temporarily prevented Pakistan’s collapse; however, this situation lacks durable guarantees. Ankara, acting pragmatically, simultaneously engages with the West, the Arab world, Israel, China, and Russia, viewing Islamabad more as an instrument for containing future challenges than as an unconditional strategic partner. Moreover, potential developments in Iran and scenarios of broader regional instability could serve as warning signals for Islamabad, Ankara, and Arab capitals alike. The movement and redistribution of extremist elements within complex security arrangements generate new concerns regarding the redistribution of threats across the region.
In these conditions, Taliban-ruled Afghanistan—sustaining itself through the informal economy, drug trafficking, and the instrumental use of religious extremism—has turned into a space of fluid competition, ready to engage simultaneously with both East and West. For Pakistan, which seeks a predictable environment, such fluidity becomes a source of structural anxiety.
The cumulative result of these processes is that Islamabad’s actions in managing the chaos it once played a key role in shaping are now cautious, defensive, and largely dependent on external changes. Pakistan cannot simply “step over” the Taliban as “engageable but problematic” actors to find a softer and coordinated alternative, nor does it possess the resources or legitimacy to fundamentally alter the existing situation. A policy of deception, ambiguity, and “buying time” has become its final instrument of survival.
For the Taliban’s opponents, the situation is also far from ideal: they face limited resources, a lack of unity, and dependence on external factors. As a result, mutual helplessness imposes a paradigm of “emergency bargaining” and produces undesirable alliances.
The year 2026 will not be a year of strategic transformation in Pakistan’s policy toward the Taliban, nor will it bring a radical revision of its security doctrine. Rather, we are likely to witness the continuation of ambiguity, fears of escalating instability, and attempts to prevent a complete loss of control. Even Pakistan’s military had not anticipated such a degree of disobedience and unpredictability from the products of its own security architecture. That architecture has now become an internal challenge. Assessing the scale of future changes—amid numerous variables and fluid alliances—is becoming difficult, at times impossible. This is precisely the security impasse in which Pakistan now finds itself—an impasse that is neither easy to exit nor sustainable without significant costs.
