Recently, Pakistan’s Defense Minister Khawaja Asif made headlines during an interview with an American news outlet, admitting that his country had supported terrorism and religious extremism for the sake of Western—chiefly American—interests. These remarks, pointing to a policy trajectory spanning decades, stand in stark contrast to the long-standing denials by Pakistan’s political leadership regarding its support for extremist groups.
In truth, Pakistan has, for more than half a century, harbored and exported militant groups beyond its borders. What makes Asif’s statements noteworthy is not only their candid nature but also the silence they have met from Western governments, including the United States. The current Pakistani leadership continues to identify itself as an ally of the West—especially the U.S.—a relationship that once bordered on the sacred.
To understand this shift, one need only look back to the tenure of Prime Minister Zulfikar Ali Bhutto (1973–1977), whose view of the U.S.-Pakistan alliance was so elevated that he referred to the United States as Pakistan’s “idol.” This reverence came in the wake of Pakistan’s military defeat in East Pakistan, which led to the creation of Bangladesh and left the country’s territorial integrity in jeopardy. In response, Pakistan turned to Washington for salvation.
Diplomatic ties between the two countries date back to August 15, 1947—just one day after Pakistan’s independence—when the U.S. promptly dispatched a chargé d’affaires to Karachi, then the capital.
Bhutto’s declaration of loyalty to American interests, and his characterization of the United States as Pakistan’s patron deity, are especially striking in light of today’s rhetoric. What, then, has led Pakistan to abandon this once-venerated “idol” and begin attributing the roots of terrorism to Western policy itself?
Asif’s recent comments represent a radical departure from Bhutto’s overt devotion. Today, Pakistan appears not only disappointed in its former partner but deeply disillusioned. Asif did not mince words, calling the country’s long-standing ties with extremist groups a “filthy” undertaking: “We’ve been doing this dirty work for the United States, the UK, and the West for three decades,” he said.
Even Bilawal Bhutto Zardari, former foreign minister and grandson of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, acknowledged the state’s past links to extremism, albeit in more measured language: “I don’t think it’s a secret that Pakistan has had connections with extremist groups in the past,” he said.
To understand the full scope of Pakistan’s policy pivot, it’s helpful to revisit the documented 1973 meeting between Prime Minister Bhutto and U.S. President Richard Nixon in Washington. According to an official White House memorandum, Bhutto led a high-level delegation, accompanied by Foreign Minister Sardar Aziz and Ambassador Sultan Khan. They met with Nixon, Vice President Gerald Ford, and Secretary of State Henry Kissinger to discuss regional dynamics, including Pakistan’s relationship with India, developments in the Islamic world, and Afghanistan, which had recently undergone a pro-Soviet coup under Mohammed Daoud.
That meeting, which lasted nearly two hours, revealed the depth of Pakistan’s commitment to its Western alliances. At the outset, Nixon encouraged open dialogue. Bhutto responded with enthusiasm:
“Thank you for your candor. This is a rare opportunity. Please allow me to speak openly, because we rarely have such chances. We Pakistanis have played our role in ensuring global security with utmost humility. The Middle East is tied to South Asia, and we cannot remain indifferent…”
He went on: “India burned its fingers in the fire of Bengal. For years, Sikhs and Nagas have approached us seeking support for independence, and yet we have never taken action. Pakistan sits at the mouth of the Gulf; any nation that reaches Karachi’s coast can control the Gulf. That’s why the Soviet Union is eager to access this region. Pakistan entered global affairs aligned with Western values. We chose the United States. In the past, the choice was simple: God or the devil—and we chose God…”
That meeting also covered India and Afghanistan’s ties with the Soviet Union, the tactical nature of Pakistan’s relationship with China, and Islamabad’s willingness to defend Western interests, including in the Suez Canal dispute, where it sided with Britain against Egypt.
Today, however, the very country that once deified the United States finds itself disenchanted. What changed?
The answer lies in the loss of the resources Pakistan once secured from its Western partnerships. These included vast financial, military, and intelligence support provided under the guise of counterterrorism cooperation. But as extremist groups increasingly came to be seen as threats to Western interests rather than assets, Pakistan’s dual game—supporting militants while presenting itself as a counterterrorism partner—began to unravel.
This duplicity was most apparent during NATO’s presence in Afghanistan (2001–2021), when Pakistan profited from its role as a logistical hub for coalition forces, while simultaneously supporting insurgent networks operating from its territory. The most glaring example of this contradiction was the 2011 killing of Osama bin Laden in Abbottabad, deep within Pakistani territory.
Now, facing dwindling Western support—financial, diplomatic, and military—Pakistani officials appear to be signaling remorse, perhaps in hopes of courting new benefactors in Moscow and Beijing. But this shift comes too late. Pakistan’s political identity has become so deeply entangled with religious extremism that breaking free from it will require more than public apologies or new policies. It will require generational change.
Even if Pakistani leaders attempt to pivot with reforms or legal proclamations, they lack the capacity to dismantle a culture in which extremist ideologies have taken root within both military and civilian spheres. These ideas have become embedded in the country’s political fabric—too deeply, perhaps, to be undone with surface-level changes.
Pakistan’s relationship with the West, once hailed as sacred, has decayed into mutual suspicion. The country’s political leadership, once proud of its allegiance, now finds itself caught in a crisis of legitimacy—no longer trusted by old allies, and not yet trusted by new ones.
Nasrullah Stanikzai is a political analyst and former professor of law and political science at Kabul University.
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Amu.
