By Uthpala Wijesooriya
The night sky over Kabul on October 9, 2025, was torn apart by explosions. The unacknowledged airstrikes, which Islamabad later framed as a counter-terrorism operation targeting the leader of the Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), were a shocking escalation. For the first time, a regional power had struck the Afghan capital. The Taliban’s response was swift and furious. In the days that followed, a full-blown border war erupted, with coordinated ground assaults, artillery duels, and wildly conflicting claims of casualties that left hundreds dead.
After a fragile, externally mediated ceasefire quieted the guns, the question remains: how did two nations, once patron and proxy, arrive at the brink of all-out war? While Kabul has stated it wants a peaceful resolution, Afghan Foreign Minister Amir Khan Muttaqi issued a stark warning: “if the peace efforts don’t succeed, we have other options.”
The immediate answer lies with the TTP. Ideologically aligned with the Afghan Taliban, the group has unleashed a wave of terror inside Pakistan since its counterparts took power in Kabul in 2021. With over 600 attacks in 2025 alone, the TTP has made this the deadliest year for Pakistani security forces in a decade. Islamabad’s fury is understandable. It accuses the Afghan Taliban of providing sanctuary to the militants, a charge backed by UN reports but vehemently denied by Kabul.
This crisis is the spectacular failure of Pakistan’s decades-long foreign policy doctrine: “strategic depth.” The theory was simple: nurture a friendly, pliable government in Kabul – namely, the Taliban – to act as a buffer against arch-rival India. For twenty years, Pakistan played a dangerous double game, officially aiding the U.S. “War on Terror” while covertly sheltering the very Taliban leaders America was fighting. When the Taliban marched back into Kabul in 2021, the Pakistani establishment celebrated what it saw as a grand strategic victory.
The jubilation was short-lived. The new Taliban regime, no longer needing Pakistani sanctuary, began asserting its sovereignty. They refused to be Islamabad’s puppet and, most critically, would not wage war on their TTP brethren for Pakistan’s benefit. The instrument of Pakistan’s foreign policy had turned on its creator. The proxy had become a predator.
But the TTP is merely a symptom. The true source of this conflict is a 130-year-old colonial scar: the Durand Line.
The Original Sin
Drawn in 1893, by British diplomat Sir Mortimer Durand, the 2,640-kilometer line was a geopolitical expediency of the “Great Game,” the imperial rivalry between Britain and Russia. It was never meant to be a national border based on geography or ethnicity. Instead, it arbitrarily sliced through the heartland of the Pashtun people, dividing tribes, communities, and families.
This is the conflict’s original sin. For over a century, no Afghan government has ever formally recognized the border. They view it as a colonial imposition that must be undone. Pakistan, as the successor to British India, sees the line as a settled international boundary, a non-negotiable pillar of its sovereignty.
This unresolved grievance gave birth to the dream of “Pashtunistan,” a proposed independent state that would unite the divided Pashtun lands. For Pakistan, a multi-ethnic state founded on a religious identity, this ethno-nationalist aspiration is an existential threat. The fear of Pashtun separatism has driven every Pakistani security calculation on its western frontier, from supporting the anti-Soviet mujahideen in the 1980s – a policy that unleashed the blowback of refugee crises, drug trafficking, and a “Kalashnikov culture” – to the creation and sponsorship of the Taliban itself.
Today, the conflict is trapped in a deadly cycle. A TTP attack from Afghanistan prompts a Pakistani airstrike, which the Taliban treats as a violation of sovereignty, triggering military retaliation and further inflaming the very tensions that empower the TTP. This path leads only to more bloodshed.
But there is another way.
A Lesson from the East
In 2015, India and Bangladesh quietly achieved the unthinkable. They resolved a centuries-old border dispute that was, in its own way, as complex and emotionally charged as the Durand Line. The Land Boundary Agreement ended the bizarre and tragic existence of 162 “enclaves” – pockets of one country’s territory stranded inside the other. Bangladesh’s then-Foreign Minister, Abul Hassan Mahmood Ali, called it “a historic milestone in the relationship between the two neighbouring countries.”
For 68 years, the 53,000 residents of these enclaves lived as stateless people, denied basic services like electricity, schools, and healthcare. The solution was a masterclass in pragmatic statecraft.
First, it required immense political will. After decades of failed attempts, Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s government built a national consensus to amend the constitution, a move necessary to authorize the transfer of territory. Second, the agreement was based on a pragmatic land swap. Under the deal, India transferred its 111 enclaves to Bangladesh, while Bangladesh gave 51 of its enclaves to India. Instead of clinging to a zero-sum view of territory, both sides prioritized a stable, rational border.
Most importantly, the solution was people-centric. Every enclave resident was given the right to choose their nationality. They could stay where they were and become citizens of the new country, or relocate. This humane approach decoupled the fate of the people from the fate of the land, placing their welfare above nationalist pride.
A Path Beyond Conflict
The Afghan-Pakistan context is undeniably more complex. The LBA did not have to contend with powerful militant groups or the explosive force of Pashtun nationalism. Yet the principles that guided it – political courage, pragmatism, and a focus on human dignity – offer the only viable path forward.
A sustainable settlement requires a grand bargain. On one side, Afghanistan must finally do what it has refused to do for 75 years: formally recognize the Durand Line as the international border. This would satisfy Pakistan’s core security demand and remove its primary justification for interfering in Afghan affairs.
In exchange, Pakistan must agree to transform the nature of that border. Instead of a militarized fence designed to sever a people, it must become a “soft” border that preserves the socio-economic fabric of Pashtun life. This practical approach would involve opening numerous official crossing points and establishing shared markets for vendors from both nations. Furthermore, a system of local permits could be introduced, allowing families and businesses to easily move across the frontier, thereby preserving the vital social and economic ties that have long defined the region.
This approach reframes the dispute from a zero-sum fight over a line on a map to a positive-sum negotiation about the future of a people and a region. It would allow Pakistan to secure its legal sovereignty while enabling Afghanistan to honor its historical commitment to the Pashtun nation.
The alternative is to continue down the current path – a path of escalating strikes, proxy wars, and perpetual instability that serves only the interests of extremists. The Durand Line has bled for more than a century. It is time for leaders in both Kabul and Islamabad to find the courage to heal it.
Uthpala Wijesooriya is a researcher and law student based in Sri Lanka, affiliated with both the University of Peradeniya and Sri Lanka Law College. His work is interdisciplinary, with a focus on international relations, history, anthropology, and legal studies.
Factum is an Asia-Pacific-focused think tank on International Relations, Tech Cooperation, and Strategic Communications accessible via www.factum.lk.
The views expressed here are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the organization’s.
