The Pahalgam Gambit: How Pakistan’s Military Weaponized India’s Wrath to Seize Eternal Control

By IndraStra Global Editorial Team

Cover Image Attribute: This handout photograph taken on May 1, 2025, and released by the Pakistan's Inter Service Public Relations (ISPR) shows Pakistan's Army Chief General Syed Asim Munir (Top 3R) standing on a tank and speaking with army troops.  / Source: DG-ISPR, Radio Free Europe

On April 22, 2025, the serene valley of Pahalgam in Indian-administered Kashmir became the epicenter of a tragedy that would ripple across South Asia. A meticulously executed terrorist attack claimed 26 lives, mostly tourists, in an assault that bore the hallmarks of cross-border militancy. India swiftly pointed the finger at Pakistan, alleging state-backed terrorist groups like Lashkar-e-Taiba were responsible. The ensuing Indian retaliation, dubbed Operation Sindoor, targeted alleged terror camps in Pakistan and Pakistan-occupied Kashmir, igniting a cycle of drone strikes, shelling, and missile exchanges that, by May 10, 2025, had brought the two nuclear-armed neighbors to the brink of war. Yet, beneath the surface of this escalating conflict lies a less visible but equally significant story: how Pakistan’s military establishment has masterfully leveraged the Pahalgam attack and its fallout to entrench its dominance, manipulate public sentiment, and secure its grip on power for decades to come.
The Pakistani military, particularly the army, has long been the country’s most powerful institution, wielding influence far beyond its constitutional mandate. Its ability to shape national narratives, control political outcomes, and maintain an outsized role in governance is rooted in a carefully cultivated image as the ultimate guardian of Pakistan’s sovereignty. The Pahalgam attack and the subsequent escalation with India have provided the military with a golden opportunity to reinforce this image, turning a moment of crisis into a strategic triumph. By framing India’s retaliatory strikes as an existential threat, the military has galvanized public support, sidelined domestic dissent, and positioned itself as the indispensable protector of the nation. This is not a new playbook, but its execution in 2025 has been particularly adept, capitalizing on both internal vulnerabilities and India’s predictable response to advance an agenda of long-term control.
To understand this dynamic, one must first consider the context within Pakistan before the Pahalgam attack. By early 2025, the country was grappling with a deepening economic crisis, skyrocketing inflation, and widespread disillusionment with the civilian government. Public frustration was increasingly directed at the military, which many accused of orchestrating political instability to maintain its behind-the-scenes dominance. The army faced a rare challenge: its legitimacy was eroding, and voices calling for accountability were growing louder, particularly among the youth and urban middle class. Social media platforms, despite intermittent crackdowns, buzzed with criticism of the military’s role in propping up a pliant government while failing to address the economic malaise. In this environment, the military needed a unifying cause, a rallying cry to restore its image and silence its critics. The Pahalgam attack, whether orchestrated or opportunistically seized, provided exactly that.
India’s response to the attack was swift and severe. On May 7, 2025, Indian forces launched Operation Sindoor, striking nine alleged terrorist sites across Pakistan and Pakistan-occupied Kashmir. The operation, described by India’s Ministry of Defence as “focused, measured, and non-escalatory,” targeted infrastructure linked to groups like Lashkar-e-Taiba and Jaish-e-Mohammed, which India claimed were behind the Pahalgam massacre. The strikes killed at least 31 people, according to Pakistani officials, and triggered a fierce retaliatory response. Pakistan’s military shot down Indian drones, conducted shelling along the Line of Control, and, by May 8, was accused of launching drone and missile attacks on Indian military stations in Jammu and Kashmir. The tit-for-tat escalation, marked by blackouts in border towns, airport closures, and heightened global alarm, created a warlike atmosphere that played directly into the Pakistani military’s hands.
The military’s first move was to frame India’s actions as an unprovoked assault on Pakistan’s sovereignty. Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif, echoing the military’s line, condemned the strikes as a “heinous act of aggression” and vowed retaliation, while Defence Minister Khawaja Asif dismissed India’s claims of targeting terrorist camps as false, alleging civilian areas were hit. This narrative was amplified through state-controlled media and social media campaigns, which portrayed India as a belligerent aggressor bent on destabilizing Pakistan. The military’s Inter-Services Public Relations (ISPR) wing worked overtime, releasing statements and visuals of alleged civilian casualties to stoke outrage. Posts on X from Pakistani users, some likely amplified by military-backed bots, painted a picture of national victimhood, with hashtags like #IndiaAttacksPakistan trending widely. The effect was immediate: public anger shifted from domestic grievances to an external enemy, rallying even the military’s critics around the flag.
This manipulation of public perception is a cornerstone of the military’s strategy. By invoking the specter of an Indian invasion, the army tapped into deep-seated fears rooted in the 1947 partition, the 1971 war, and decades of border skirmishes. The Pahalgam attack, though tragic, was presented not as an isolated act of terrorism but as part of a broader Indian conspiracy to weaken Pakistan. This narrative resonated in a country where distrust of India is a cultural constant, reinforced by school curricula, media, and political rhetoric. The military’s portrayal of itself as the bulwark against this threat transformed it from a beleaguered institution into a national savior overnight. Protests against inflation and governance gave way to demonstrations of patriotic fervor, with citizens in cities like Lahore and Karachi chanting slogans in support of the armed forces. The military’s image, battered by years of political meddling, was suddenly rehabilitated.
India’s actions, while driven by its own domestic pressures, inadvertently bolstered the Pakistani military’s agenda. The Modi government, facing outrage over the Pahalgam attack, was under immense pressure to respond decisively. The Hindu-nationalist base demanded retribution, and Operation Sindoor was as much a political necessity as a strategic one. Yet, India’s strikes, though targeted at terrorist infrastructure, provided the Pakistani military with the perfect pretext to escalate the crisis. By retaliating with drone attacks and shelling, Pakistan’s military ensured the conflict remained front and center, dominating headlines and public discourse. Each Indian counterstrike, such as the downing of a Pakistani F-16 on May 8, further fueled the narrative of a nation under siege, allowing the military to justify increased defense budgets, enhanced surveillance, and crackdowns on dissent under the guise of national security.
Internally, the military has used the crisis to tighten its grip on power. The civilian government, already weakened by economic woes and political infighting, has been sidelined as the military assumes de facto control of national security and foreign policy. Prime Minister Sharif, whose coalition relies on military support, has little choice but to defer to the generals, a dynamic that reinforces the army’s dominance over civilian institutions. The military has also exploited the crisis to curb dissent, labeling critics as unpatriotic or Indian agents. Activists and journalists who question the military’s role risk harassment or arrest, with the vague charge of “anti-state activities” becoming a catch-all justification. Social media, once a platform for anti-military sentiment, is now heavily monitored, with reports of accounts being suspended or throttled for criticizing the army’s handling of the crisis.
The military’s long-term strategy, however, extends beyond immediate control. By deepening national hysteria, the army is laying the groundwork for its dominance over the next five to seven decades. The crisis has allowed the military to push for structural changes that entrench its power. For instance, the escalation has justified calls for constitutional amendments to grant the military greater authority in matters of national security, potentially formalizing its role in governance. Such changes, if enacted, would institutionalize the army’s influence, making it nearly impossible for civilian leaders to challenge its authority. The military is also investing in propaganda to shape the next generation, with schools and universities being encouraged to emphasize patriotic education that glorifies the armed forces. This ensures that future Pakistanis grow up internalizing the military’s narrative of eternal vigilance against India.
Economically, the military stands to benefit as well. Pakistan’s defense budget, already a significant portion of national spending, is likely to balloon as the crisis justifies new procurements of weapons, drones, and surveillance technology. The military’s vast business empire, which includes enterprises in real estate, agriculture, and manufacturing, will also profit from increased government contracts and a wartime economy. While ordinary Pakistanis grapple with inflation and unemployment, the military’s economic clout grows, further insulating it from public discontent. The crisis has also deflected attention from calls for transparency in the military’s finances, a topic that was gaining traction before the Pahalgam attack.
Yet, the military’s strategy is not without risks. The escalation with India, while useful for domestic consolidation, could spiral into a conflict neither side can control. Both nations possess nuclear arsenals, and the international community, from the U.S. to Saudi Arabia, has urged de-escalation, fearing a catastrophic miscalculation. The military’s reliance on nationalist hysteria also risks alienating segments of the population, particularly in regions like Balochistan and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, where ethnic grievances already fuel separatist movements. If the crisis drags on without tangible victories, public support could wane, exposing the military to the same criticisms it sought to escape. Moreover, the economic toll of sustained conflict could exacerbate Pakistan’s fragility, potentially undermining the very stability the military claims to protect.
From a balanced perspective, India’s role in this dynamic cannot be ignored. The Modi government’s aggressive posture, while driven by legitimate security concerns, has played into the Pakistani military’s hands. By launching high-profile strikes and rejecting Pakistan’s calls for a joint probe into the Pahalgam attack, India has provided the ammunition for Pakistan’s narrative of victimhood. Foreign Secretary Vikram Misri’s dismissal of Pakistan’s probe offer as a “delay tactic” may be factually correct, given Pakistan’s history of shielding terrorists, but it has also fueled perceptions of Indian intransigence. India’s suspension of participation in the Indus Waters Treaty, a critical lifeline for Pakistan, has further escalated tensions, giving the military another grievance to rally around. While India’s actions are rooted in its need to deter cross-border terrorism, they have inadvertently strengthened the very institution—Pakistan’s military—that sustains the cycle of militancy.
The international community’s response has been predictably cautious. The U.S., through Secretary of State Marco Rubio, has called for de-escalation and offered to facilitate dialogue, while the G7 and Gulf states like Saudi Arabia have echoed similar sentiments. Yet, these efforts are unlikely to alter the military’s calculus, as external pressure has historically been deflected by invoking national sovereignty. China, Pakistan’s closest ally, has remained conspicuously silent, likely calculating that a distracted India serves its strategic interests in the region. For now, the global push for peace serves as background noise, with neither side willing to back down fully.
At the time of writing, the Pakistan-India border remains a tinderbox, with drone incursions and shelling reported in Kashmir and Punjab. The Pakistani military, however, has already achieved a significant victory at home. By turning the Pahalgam attack and India’s retaliation into a national crusade, it has silenced critics, unified a fractured polity, and positioned itself as the arbiter of Pakistan’s future. The army’s dominance, once under scrutiny, is now unquestioned, its narrative of eternal vigilance against India cemented in the public psyche. Whether this gambit secures its hold for the next five to seven decades depends on its ability to manage the economic fallout, navigate regional tensions, and sustain the myth of its indispensability. For now, the military stands taller than ever, its power fortified by the very conflict it claims to defend against.
The tragedy of this moment lies in its predictability. The Pahalgam attack, like so many before it, has been weaponized not just against civilians but against the aspirations of a nation seeking to break free from the cycle of militarism and mistrust. As the drums of war beat louder, the Pakistani military’s triumph is a reminder that in the game of power, crises are not just challenges—they are opportunities.

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