Munich Debates Security; Islamabad Must Forge Its Own Destiny

In the frost-kissed halls of Munich, where the old empires once drew their maps in blood and ink, the world’s guardians of security gathered again. It was meant to be a symphony of steel and solidarity — a ritual to prove that the post-1945 order still breathes. But this year, the music cracked. Beneath the handshakes and the honeyed words, one could hear the low rumble of shifting tectonic plates. The United States spoke of ironclad commitments, yet its eyes betrayed the weariness of a power stretched across too many oceans.

Europe spoke of “strategic autonomy,” yet its feet remained firmly planted in Washington’s shadow. NATO stood tall on the podium, yet its spine showed the fractures of burden-sharing and strategic drift. And over everything hung the long shadow of Ukraine — a war that has turned energy into a weapon, sanctions into siege engines, and technology into the new theatre of combat.

Security, once a fortress of tanks and treaties, is now a fluid river — changing course with every new current of power. The old table of the world order, once supported by four sturdy legs — American primacy, European cohesion, institutional sanctity, and the doctrine of deterrence — now wobbles. One leg debates retreat. Another dreams of independence it cannot yet afford. A third openly challenges the very legitimacy of the table. And the fourth? The rising powers sit quietly in the corner, sharpening their own knives, recalculating the weight of every alliance not in slogans, but in cold, hard leverage.

This is no longer a European story. This is the rebalancing of global gravity itself.

*And gravity, my brothers and sisters in the corridors of power, pulls hardest on those who refuse to adjust their stance.*

Pakistan stands at the epicentre of these shifting plates. Geographically, we are the hinge between Central Asia, the Middle East, and the Indian Ocean. Economically, we are a nation of immense potential chained by chronic vulnerabilities. Politically, we are a nuclear-armed democracy that has paid in blood for every strategic choice we ever made. Our history is a testament to survival through turbulence: from the Cold War chessboard to the post-9/11 inferno, from the loss of East Pakistan to the dawn of CPEC. We have danced with superpowers, flirted with ideologies, and buried too many sons in wars not entirely our own.

But this moment is different. It is not about choosing between East and West. It is about surviving — and thriving — in a world where loyalty is rented by the hour and permanence is a myth.

The Quran, in its eternal wisdom, teaches us the first principle of statecraft: *“And consult them in the matter. Then when you have taken a decision, put your trust in Allah. Indeed, Allah loves those who rely upon Him.”* (Surah Al-Imran 3:159). Consultation is not a weakness; it is the mark of a mature nation. Yet how often have we allowed foreign capitals to write our red lines? How often has emotion replaced calculation?

The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ[peace & blessings be upon Him] warned us: *“A believer is not stung from the same hole twice.”* (Bukhari & Muslim). We have been stung — by broken promises, by sanctions that came after alliances, by partnerships that evaporated when the wind changed. The time for repeating those mistakes is over.

As Allama Iqbal, the poet of our renaissance, thundered:

**“Khudi ko kar buland itna ke har taqdeer se pehle,
Khuda bande se khud pooche, bata teri raza kya hai.”**

(Raise your self so high that before every decree of fate,
God Himself asks the servant, “What is your will?”)

This is not poetry for the mushaira. This is a command for the policy room. Pakistan’s “khudi” — its national self — must rise so high that no foreign power, no IMF tranche, no arms deal, can dictate our tomorrow.

When alliances fracture, middle powers like ours face a fork in the road: *danger* and *opportunity*. Danger, because the pressure to choose sides will intensify. Opportunity, because the space to manoeuvre has never been wider.

If Washington recalibrates its global footprint, what does that mean for our military modernisation, our counter-terror cooperation, our access to global finance? If Europe chases autonomy, can we become a bridge — not a beggar — in the new Eurasian economic corridors? If Russia continues to defy the West, can we turn energy diplomacy into a source of strength rather than a vulnerability? If China deepens its footprint in the Indian Ocean, can we ensure that the fruits of CPEC nourish every province, not just the ports?

These are not theoretical questions. They are existential.

The old doctrine was binary: ally or adversary. The new doctrine must be *modular* — trade with one, technology with another, energy with a third, defence with a fourth, and above all, *sovereignty with none*.

But modular does not mean rudderless. It demands a national strategic doctrine — written not in the heat of crisis, but in the cool light of foresight. A doctrine that measures every partnership against one sacred metric: *Does this strengthen Pakistan’s sovereignty, or does it deepen its dependencies?*

Let us be brutally honest with ourselves, as the Quran commands: *“O you who have believed, fear Allah and speak words of appropriate justice.”* (Surah Al-Ahzab 33:70). Our economy remains fragile, our institutions politicised, our youth restless, our water stressed, our climate vulnerable. In such a condition, emotional foreign policy is a luxury we can no longer afford. We must move from *reactive diplomacy* to *anticipatory statecraft*.

Imagine a Pakistan that:

– Builds a *National Strategic Affairs Council* — not another bureaucratic relic, but a brain trust of scholars, soldiers, economists, and technocrats — tasked with scenario planning for the next twenty years.

– Diversifies its economic lifelines so that no single country can hold our jugular — deepening ties with the Gulf, ASEAN, Africa, and Latin America, while making CPEC the golden artery of a truly regional economy.

– Turns its geography into *geoeconomic power* — making Gwadar not just a port, but the beating heart of a new Silk Road that connects resource-rich Central Asia to energy-hungry South Asia.

– Invests in the *new battlefields* — artificial intelligence, cyber defence, green technology, food security — so that when the next global shock comes, we are not pleading for aid but offering solutions.

– Strengthens the *OIC and Muslim world* not through rhetoric, but through concrete projects — a Pakistan-led Islamic Development Bank initiative for climate-resilient agriculture, a joint defence production consortium with Turkey and Malaysia.

And above all, we must remember the Hadith of the Prophet ﷺ: *“Tie your camel, and then trust in Allah.”* (Tirmidhi). Tawakkul is not fatalism. It is effort crowned with faith. We must tie our national camel with iron chains of institutional reform, human capital development, and internal cohesion — and only then can we walk the path of destiny with serenity.

In the end, the question before Islamabad is not what the world will do to us. The question is what *we* will do with the world.

Munich was a mirror. It showed the West its own fractures. Let it also show us our own possibilities.

Because in an age when alliances crack like old porcelain, survival does not belong to the loudest voice in the room. It belongs to the wisest heart — the one that beats in rhythm with its own history, its own faith, and its own unyielding will.