Does your native language control how you think?

Just as the BRB Canal is often regarded as Lahore’s lifeline, the Indus River occupies a similar position for Sindh. It is, therefore, unsurprising that the river has remained at the center of the province’s political discourse for decades. Yet, since the passage of the 18th Constitutional Amendment, few issues have continued to unite Sindh’s population across political divides and enable a collective political stance at the federal level. Today, the province’s politics remains broadly divided between urban and rural Sindh. In rural Sindh, apart from disputes over canals and water resources, there appears to be no issue capable of sustaining political mobilization against either Punjab or the federal government. As a result, water politics has become the principal rallying point for several nationalist parties. At times, this has also led to exaggerated claims or misleading narratives. The political logic is evident: abandoning canal politics would require these parties to confront more entrenched issues within Sindh itself, including feudal dominance, decades of corruption and the continued exploitation of ordinary citizens. The recent trial inauguration of the Jalalpur Canal briefly generated political unrest in Sindh. However, the initial wave of anger faded almost as quickly as it emerged. As videos showing water flowing through the canal circulated on social media, several anti-Punjab groups directed their criticism primarily towards Punjab rather than questioning the Sindh government. Arguably, the first questions should have been asked of the province’s own elected representatives. Why was the public not adequately informed about the project’s legal and administrative status? And why was Sindh unable to pursue its case more effectively through political and institutional channels? The concerns expressed by Sindh are neither new nor insignificant. By the time the Indus reaches the province, river flows have already declined substantially, affecting agriculture, fisheries and the livelihoods of communities living in the lower riparian region. At the same time, the Indus Delta continues to deteriorate while groundwater levels have fallen to alarming levels. Against this backdrop, many in Sindh believe that any additional diversion of water through projects such as the Jalalpur Canal could further reduce the province’s already constrained water availability. Punjab, however, has consistently maintained that the Jalalpur Canal is not among the six canal projects over which Sindh has formally raised objections. It further argues that the Indus River System Authority (IRSA) issued the Water Availability Certificate for the project in 2014, when Sindh was represented on the authority by Mazhar Ali Shah. If Sindh considered the project objectionable, Punjab argues, why were those objections not raised at that stage? Likewise, why was the issue not pursued more effectively when the project was placed before the   Executive Committee of the National Economic Council (ECNEC) for approval and when construction subsequently commenced? Sindh, for its part, maintains that the Provincial Assembly adopted a formal resolution against the canal in 2021. Three years later, in 2024, the provincial government formally placed the matter before the Council of Common Interests (CCI). Punjab nevertheless rejected Sindh’s objections there as well, reiterating that the Jalalpur Canal did not fall within the six disputed canal projects that remain under contention between the two provinces. Politically, however, the episode exposed the Sindh government’s difficult position before its own electorate. The documentary record indicates that the provincial government had registered its reservations through official forums. Yet it failed to convert those institutional objections into an effective political narrative because Punjab’s position appeared stronger from both procedural and technical standpoints. This became particularly evident when Sindh Chief Minister Syed Murad Ali Shah acknowledged during a press conference that the Jalalpur Canal was not among the six canal projects to which Sindh had consistently objected. That admission effectively defused the anti-Punjab momentum that had briefly gathered pace following the canal’s trial inauguration. For years, the Pakistan Peoples Party (PPP) has sought to accommodate Sindh’s nationalist parties within the framework of mainstream politics by assuring them political representation at both the provincial and federal levels. At the same time, nationalist parties themselves appear conscious of the electoral limitations of their own rhetoric. Many recognise that slogans traditionally associated with nationalist politics, including “Pakistan Na Khappay”, may have limited appeal when competing with mainstream political parties in electoral politics.

The signing of the Mecca Joint Defence Agreement by Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Türkiye on August 7 has opened a new and potentially consequential chapter in the security architecture of Asia and the Gulf. The agreement states that an armed attack against any one of the three countries will be regarded as an attack against all three, while envisaging deeper military coordination, joint exercises, intelligence cooperation and collaboration in areas including drones, electronic warfare, artificial intelligence and defence production. Türkiye has also indicated that the framework could eventually be expanded to other countries. What makes the development particularly significant is not simply the agreement itself, but the reaction from Washington. President Donald Trump has welcomed the pact as a “big, bold, important first step” towards regional countries being able to defend themselves more meaningfully. His words raise a larger strategic question, is the United States beginning to transfer a greater share of the burden of confronting Iran to regional powers, particularly the Gulf and Asian countries? Or making this region as its main combatant force against Iran? And what are the possible next steps? The answer is more complicated than a simple American withdrawal. Washington is unlikely to abandon the Middle East, its military assets, intelligence networks, diplomatic influence or relationships with Gulf states. What appears to be changing is the distribution of responsibility. The Trump administration’s broader philosophy of burden-sharing suggests that countries possessing substantial financial, military and strategic resources should assume greater responsibility for their own security rather than expecting Washington to carry the entire cost. In that sense, America may not be handing over the war against Iran, but it may be regionalising the consequences of that war. The distinction is crucial. A regionalised conflict can become much more dangerous because the number of actors involved increases. At the same time, regional ownership of security could eventually create a framework in which regional states themselves negotiate a new balance rather than remaining permanently dependent on an external power. The Pakistan-Saudi relationship provides the foundation for this transformation. The two countries signed their Strategic Mutual Defence Agreement in September 2025, committing themselves to collective security. The new Mecca agreement effectively brings Türkiye into a much broader strategic framework. Each country brings a different strategic asset. Saudi Arabia possesses enormous financial resources, energy influence and geographical importance. Türkiye brings one of the region’s most capable conventional militaries, a rapidly developing indigenous defence industry, drone technology and NATO experience. Pakistan brings a large and experienced military establishment and, uniquely among Muslim-majority states, a nuclear deterrent. The combination therefore has significance beyond its three signatories. It links the Gulf, South Asia and the eastern Mediterranean in a single security conversation. For Saudi Arabia, the agreement represents strategic insurance. Riyadh has increasingly understood that sophisticated American weapons alone cannot eliminate vulnerabilities created by missiles, drones, cyberwarfare and attacks on energy infrastructure. Diversifying its security relationships allows Saudi Arabia to maintain its partnership with Washington while simultaneously developing alternative sources of military capability. For Türkiye, the pact fits into Ankara’s long-standing ambition to exercise greater strategic autonomy. Türkiye remains a NATO member, but it has increasingly demonstrated that it does not want its foreign policy to be dictated by any single great power. A defence relationship stretching from Türkiye through Saudi Arabia to Pakistan expands Ankara’s influence across two strategically vital regions. For Pakistan, however, the equation is much more delicate. Pakistan has the opportunity to emerge as an important security bridge between South Asia and the Gulf, but it also has a geographical reality that cannot be ignored, it shares a border with Iran. Islamabad cannot afford to treat Tehran simply as an enemy without exposing itself to enormous security, economic and diplomatic risks. Pakistan therefore faces the most difficult balancing act of the three. Its relationship with Saudi Arabia is strategically important. Its relationship with Türkiye is deepening. Its partnership with China remains fundamental. Its relationship with the United States is economically and strategically significant. Yet Iran is its immediate western neighbour, with which it shares a long border and important diplomatic and economic interests. This makes Pakistan potentially more valuable as a mediator than as a frontline combatant. If Islamabad can defend Saudi Arabia while simultaneously maintaining communication with Tehran, it could acquire an extraordinary diplomatic role. Pakistan could become one of the few countries capable of speaking to the Gulf, Iran, Türkiye, China and Washington at the same time. That possibility is already visible in Pakistan’s efforts to maintain diplomatic engagement with Iran while navigating its defence commitments to Saudi Arabia. The Iranian response will be critical. Although the three countries have described the agreement as defensive rather than an alliance directed against a particular state, Tehran will inevitably examine its military implications. A coordinated Saudi-Turkish-Pakistani security structure potentially means improved intelligence, air defence, military exercises, drone capabilities and defence-industrial cooperation around Iran’s strategic neighbourhood. But this could produce two very different outcomes. The first is escalation. Iran could interpret the emerging architecture as an attempt to encircle it and respond by strengthening its missile forces, regional partnerships and asymmetric capabilities. The Gulf could then become increasingly militarised, with every defensive measure interpreted by the other side as preparation for aggression. The second possibility is deterrence leading eventually to diplomacy. If Iran concludes that it cannot achieve regional dominance through military pressure, while Saudi Arabia and other Gulf states conclude that permanent dependence on American protection is neither sufficient nor sustainable, both sides may eventually have an incentive to negotiate a regional security arrangement. That would be the more constructive outcome. The danger, however, is that the emerging alliance could be interpreted through a sectarian lens. Saudi Arabia, Türkiye and Pakistan are all Sunni-majority states, while Iran is the region’s principal Shia power. If the new security architecture becomes identified as a Sunni military bloc confronting Shia Iran, it could revive precisely the sectarian competition that has destabilised the Middle East for decades. Pakistan should be particularly careful