“With every passing day the grip of undemocratic forces, controlling the main resources of the country, is becoming more and more brutal….”—Reforms for Sustainable Growth, Friday Times, February 8, 2025
We write these lines with heavy hearts, burdened by the persistent global misunderstanding of our homeland, Pakistan. As of 2025, the Pakistani passport ranks 100th globally, a symbol not of the character of our people but of how deeply misconceptions have taken root. These perceptions—centred on terrorism, political instability, and economic struggle—overshadow the values of 250 million Pakistanis who live by peace, community, and dignity. Perhaps most damaging is the 2025 Global Terrorism Index, which ranks Pakistan as the second most terrorism-impacted nation in the world. This stark label has been politically exploited—especially by our arch-rival, India—to justify harsh actions such as the suspension of the Indus Waters Treaty. But the real question is not how Pakistan is ranked.
The question is: Are 250 million Pakistanis terrorists? Or are they among the most peace-loving, hospitable, and culturally rich people on Earth? This article is not an official government response, but a citizen-led effort to shine a light on the Pakistan that the world rarely sees. We aim to correct this dangerous narrative and present to the global community a side of Pakistan defined by compassion, resilience, and a deeply spiritual identity rooted in love, not violence.
The Spiritual Soul of Pakistan: Sufism, Harmony, and Coexistence
Contrary to media portrayals that depict Pakistan as a hotbed of extremism, the nation's true spiritual and cultural foundation is Sufism—a mystical branch of Islam that has shaped the region for centuries. Sufism spread across South Asia not by force or conquest, but through the magnetic teachings of saints and mystics who preached universal love, harmony, and inner peace. From the qawwalis of Amir Khusro to the dhikr circles in the heart of Punjab, the message has always been one of inclusivity.
Shrines like those of Data Ganj Bakhsh in Lahore and Lal Shahbaz Qalandar in Sehwan are not just religious sites—they are spiritual sanctuaries where Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs, and Christians have found refuge and resonance for generations. These spaces are living proof that Pakistan’s soul is not defined by extremism but by coexistence and compassion. The khanqahs (Sufi lodges) have long offered shelter, food, and spiritual solace to anyone in need, regardless of background. These institutions stand as testaments to the fact that Pakistan's roots are grounded in equality and love, not in exclusion or radicalism.
Even before the 1947 Partition, Sufi orders like the Chishtis actively embraced interfaith harmony. They adopted elements of Hindu practice, celebrated common festivals, and created spaces where divinity was felt, not dictated. These traditions continue to thrive today through music, poetry, and ritual. In every spinning dervish and every soulful verse of a qawwal, one hears not the voice of hate, but the rhythm of peace.
Pakistan, having played a key role in regional wars, was left to deal with its devastating aftermath: the rise of militant ideologies at home, a surge in cross-border violence, and the erosion of Jinnah’s secular dream
From Soft Power to Misrepresentation: The Fallout of Geopolitics
When Muhammad Ali Jinnah, founder of Pakistan, stood before Pakistan’s Constituent Assembly on 11 August 1947, he laid out a vision rooted in freedom, equality, and secular governance. Pakistan, he declared, would be a country where every citizen—regardless of religion—could freely practise their faith, and where the state would make no distinction on the basis of belief. Though he was a passionate advocate for Muslim rights, Jinnah firmly warned against the dangers of religious extremism. For him, religion was a private matter, not a blueprint for governance.
But three decades later, that vision was forcefully overturned. In 1977, under the weight of rising religious hardliners, Pakistan was rebranded as a “pure Islamic state”—not through the ballot box, but through ideological coercion. Fundamentalist clerics rose to power on promises of cleansing corruption, creating jobs, and ending crime. Yet nearly 50 years on, these promises remain unfulfilled.
Today, Pakistan ranks among the world’s most corrupt countries, with wealth concentrated in the hands of a powerful elite. Far more alarming is the social decay that accompanied the ideological shift. Narcotics are widespread, and a culture of weapons and violence—once alien to Pakistani society—has been normalised. Under the guise of religious reform, these extremist elements not only reshaped the moral fabric of the nation but attempted to export their dogma beyond Pakistan’s borders—against the will of its largely peaceful population.
This domestic upheaval was tragically compounded by international entanglement. In the late 1970s, Pakistan was dragged into the Soviet-Afghan War, not by democratic mandate but by the strategic calculations of a few military and political actors, under pressure from religious parties and Cold War allies. Despite Pakistan’s secular roots, it aligned with the United States as a frontline state in the global crusade against communism. The CIA, along with Saudi Arabia, funded and armed the Afghan Mujahideen, while Pakistan served as the logistical hub.
But this was never the will of the people. Most Pakistanis were either unaware of the covert operation or questioned its legitimacy. Contrary to propaganda, the Soviet Union, despite its secularism, had not attempted to erase Islam from its Central Asian republics. The claim that Islam in Afghanistan faced annihilation was exaggerated and strategically exploited. Fear, not faith, fuelled a militarisation that would leave permanent scars.
What followed was a war that indeed broke the Soviet grip on Afghanistan and contributed to the USSR’s eventual collapse. But the victory came at a staggering price. Once the Soviets withdrew, Afghanistan descended into chaos. The Mujahideen—once celebrated as freedom fighters—splintered into rival militias, paving the way for the Taliban’s rise and the eventual birth of transnational terrorism.
Pakistan, having played a key role in regional wars, was left to deal with its devastating aftermath: the rise of militant ideologies at home, a surge in cross-border violence, and the erosion of Jinnah’s secular dream. What began as a short-term strategic move turned into a generational crisis—one from which Pakistan still struggles to recover.
Missed Diplomatic Opportunities: A Himalayan Blunder
While the reunification of Germany and the dissolution of the Soviet Union were hailed as victories for global freedom, Pakistan missed a historic opportunity to redefine its international role. Having helped defeat a superpower, Pakistan could have emerged as a beacon of liberty, forging new alliances with emerging Central Asian states and post-Soviet nations.
Instead, Pakistan failed to build diplomatic or economic bridges. Instead of leveraging its global position, Pakistan allowed itself to be reduced to a transactional ally. Its role in shaping the post-war world order was never capitalised upon. Worse still, it became obsessively focused on Afghanistan—channelling political energy into a neighbour’s affairs while its nation suffered from the spillover effects.
Since the Taliban’s return to power on 15 August 2021, terrorism within Pakistan has surged. What was once seen as a strategic necessity has turned into national insecurity. In a tragic twist of fate, the nation that helped dismantle a global superpower is now among the most affected by terrorism, according to global indices.
A Humanitarian Giant: Pakistan's Unsung Role in Refugee Integration
While political choices often cast long shadows, the actions of ordinary Pakistanis shine with a quiet, enduring humanity. Since the 1980s, Pakistan has opened its arms to millions of Afghan refugees, one of the largest refugee populations hosted by any country in modern history. This wasn’t just a matter of policy, but of profound public empathy. Across towns and cities, Pakistani families offered shelter, food, and companionship to people fleeing war.
But more than material support, refugees were welcomed into the social and cultural heart of the country. Among the many cultural bridges extended to them was Pakistan’s beloved national obsession: cricket. Just as football remains the world’s most popular sport with over 3.5 billion fans, cricket holds second place globally, captivating over 2.5 billion hearts—most of them in South Asia.
In refugee camps and schoolyards, on dusty village pitches and city playgrounds, Afghan children found healing and joy in cricket—a game that would later help produce stars for the Afghan national team. This wasn't just sport; it was a symbol of dignity, inclusion, and shared identity.
What the global community too often misses is that this cultural generosity—the willingness to extend the soul of a nation to others—is not an exception in Pakistan, but a norm. Whether through cricket, cuisine, or compassion, ordinary Pakistanis have long practised what politics too often neglects: humanity.
Afghans, unfamiliar with the game, began learning the sport by watching Pakistanis play. Over time, cricket replaced traditional violent sports like Buzkashi in Afghanistan. This transition was not engineered by the state, but fostered organically by communities. Cricket—often referred to as the “gentleman's game”—taught values of teamwork, patience, and civility, in stark contrast to tribal conflicts.
Today, Afghanistan’s national cricket team is a rising force in international sport. Its foundation was laid in Pakistan, not by policymakers, but by ordinary people. Moreover, Pakistani-born cricketers have gone on to represent global teams in England, Australia, New Zealand, and beyond. The people of Pakistan, not its political elite, have served as quiet diplomats of peace through sport.
If an impartial global body were to conduct a fair survey, over 80% of Indians would likely express support for close and peaceful ties with Pakistan.
Cricket as Cultural Diplomacy: A Case Study in People-Powered Education
The power of cricket in transforming Afghan society extends beyond sport. It became a vehicle of informal education. One of us (AHA), who worked in Afghanistan’s power sector, recalls how even illiterate villagers in remote regions regularly listened to cricket commentaries on the radio. Through this exposure, they picked up not just the rules of the game but also English vocabulary and expressions.
This is not just a sporting story—it is a model of cultural diffusion. Without textbooks or schools, the people of Pakistan managed to spread literacy and civility through their love of cricket. In doing so, they showed that grassroots change is often more effective than foreign aid or military intervention.
Billions of dollars have been spent in Afghanistan with limited impact. Yet, a peaceful transformation has been sparked quietly by Pakistani citizens—uncelebrated, undocumented, and largely ignored by the world.
Leadership Failures and the Misrepresentation of a Nation
Pakistan’s global reputation has been further wounded by a series of deeply regrettable political missteps. In 2018, former Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif made a haunting implication of state-level involvement in the tragic Mumbai attacks. A year later, Prime Minister Imran Khan acknowledged the presence of militant groups operating within the country.
Though perhaps intended as gestures of candour, these revelations came stripped of context, leaving Pakistan exposed and vilified in the eyes of the world.
What is especially sorrowful is what was left unsaid. Both Sharif and Khan, men once celebrated for their cricketing prowess—the sport long hailed as the game of gentlemen—failed to remind the world of a quiet triumph: how Pakistan, through the simple medium of cricket, had nurtured peaceful, people-to-people ties with Afghanistan. It was a story of hope, dignity, and grassroots diplomacy, tragically eclipsed by political recklessness.
Most heartbreaking of all is the chasm these statements created between the deeds of the political elite and the soul of the Pakistani people. While the state may have faltered in judgment, the ordinary citizens have not abandoned their values. They continue to champion peace, tolerance, and the sanctity of human life—principles now obscured by the shadow cast by their leaders.
India’s Role in Shaping Perception
Despite political hostilities, few bonds in the subcontinent run deeper than the shared love for cricket—a sport that continues to unite the hearts of millions across Pakistan and India. In stadiums and living rooms alike, cheers echo not for politics, but for talent, passion, and a game that speaks a language both nations understand. Cricket, along with Bollywood films and Pakistani TV dramas, remains a bridge between two peoples whose cultural, linguistic, and emotional ties are stronger than the narratives of division.
Yet, this profound human connection is persistently overshadowed by official narratives, particularly from India’s government, which has often worked to tarnish Pakistan’s image on the international stage. The suspension of the Indus Waters Treaty is a particularly aggressive move that signals a diplomatic hardening. Indian state media and officials frequently portray Pakistan as a threat, seeking to reinforce this image at global forums.
But this portrayal collapses under the weight of lived experience. Ask any Indian who has journeyed to Pakistan. The stories they tell are not of fear, but of friendship—shopkeepers refusing payment, strangers offering tea and conversation, streets echoing with warmth rather than wariness. On social media, countless Indian travellers share videos praising the generosity and hospitality they received in Pakistan. They openly dismiss the demonising rhetoric, describing it as little more than political propaganda.
The truth is more powerful than the spin. A recent shift in public sentiment offers hope: more than 70% of Indians reportedly disapproved of their government’s decision to suspend the Indus Waters Treaty. And if an impartial global body were to conduct a fair survey, over 80% of Indians would likely express support for close and peaceful ties with Pakistan.
This isn't speculation. We both travelled across India and experienced first-hand the warmth of ordinary Indians—proof that the desire for peace and friendship runs deep. What binds us is far greater than what divides us. Culture, compassion, and cricket remain the common ground on which our peoples still stand, even as politics attempt to redraw the lines.
A Call to the Global Community: Look Again
Today, 97% of Pakistanis live peacefully, working hard, raising families, and contributing to society. They are not extremists. They are poets, artists, engineers, doctors, teachers, and yes, cricket lovers. The tragedy is not just that the world has misjudged Pakistan. The tragedy is that even our own government has failed to showcase the soft power and humanity of its people.
Pakistan has endured terrorism, yes, but it has also resisted it. It has stood firm, resilient, and hopeful in the face of adversity. It has chosen cricket over conflict, love over hate. So we ask: How long will the green passport remain a symbol of suspicion rather than pride? How long will the world turn away from the real Pakistan—a nation with a bleeding heart, but an unbroken spirit?
Conclusion: A Nation of Peace, Not Peril
This article is not a plea for sympathy. It is a demand for recognition. Recognition of a nation that has been vilified for far too long. Recognition of 250 million souls who live by the values of peace, harmony, and hospitality. Recognition of a cultural legacy defined not by war, but by wisdom; not by hate, but by the hum of a qawwal’s song and the crack of a cricket bat.
The time has come to rewrite the story. Let the world see Pakistan not through the distorted lens of fear, but through the light of its art, its music, its compassion, and its people.
Pakistan is not a terrorist nation. It is a peace-loving nation. A cricket-loving nation. And above all, it is a nation worth understanding, respecting, and celebrating.