Pakistan’s New Label for Baloch Fighters Reflects a Deeper Crisis of State Legitimacy
In a striking new development, the Government of Pakistan has issued an official notification directing all federal departments to refer to Baloch insurgent groups as “Fitna al-Hindustan” — a term that translates to “the mischief of India.” The circular, dated 31 May 2025 and issued by Pakistan’s Ministry of Interior, instructs all government agencies and security institutions to use this nomenclature when describing armed groups operating in Balochistan. According to the notification, the terminology aims to reveal the “true nature” of these organizations and highlight what it calls India’s “conspiratorial designs.”
At first glance, this linguistic shift might appear to be a semantic strategy or a rhetorical flourish. But its implications are far more profound. It marks a deliberate attempt by the Pakistani state to reframe a decades-long domestic insurgency as a foreign-sponsored conspiracy, thereby externalizing the causes of internal unrest and bypassing the legitimate historical grievances of the Baloch people. More importantly, the use of the Arabic term “fitna” adds a theocratic veneer to a political issue, transforming it from a nationalist struggle to a religiously tainted threat.
The backlash to this rebranding has been swift and pointed. Herbyar Marri, the exiled Baloch nationalist leader and head of the Free Balochistan Movement, called out the hypocrisy of the Pakistani state. In a widely shared statement, Marri pointed to the double standards of Islamabad, which vilifies regional actors for maintaining ties with India while itself seeking aid and partnerships with countries closely aligned with New Delhi. He further criticized the treatment of Afghan migrants in Pakistan, noting that the very state which displaces and detains Afghans then accuses them of being foreign agents, forgetting that much of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa was carved out of Afghanistan under colonial machinations.
Marri’s critique is not merely rhetorical; it reflects a growing ideological convergence among Baloch and Pashtun nationalist movements. Both communities have long accused the Pakistani state, particularly its Punjabi-dominated civil-military bureaucracy, of systemic marginalization and coercion. The state’s policies in regions like Balochistan and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa have largely been characterized by securitization rather than political accommodation, feeding a cycle of rebellion and repression.
Baloch activist Bahot Baloch also weighed in through social media, noting the recent uptick in targeted attacks by Baloch armed groups, their control over key transit routes, and the seizure of arms and ammunition from state forces. He argued that the new terminology is less about accurately describing these movements and more about legitimizing a harsher crackdown under the garb of religious-nationalist fervor. In other words, the term “Fitna al-Hindustan” is not merely descriptive; it is prescriptive. It frames the conflict in theological terms, allowing the state to pursue a militarized response with minimal internal dissent.
This linguistic maneuver, therefore, is not a trivial bureaucratic update. It is part of a long-standing narrative strategy employed by the Pakistani state to deflect blame and project unity through the construction of external enemies. By attributing the Baloch insurgency to Indian interference, the state seeks to absolve itself of decades of exploitative policies, human rights abuses, and political disenfranchisement in Balochistan. More dangerously, it sets a precedent for transforming political dissent into religious heresy — a move that could deepen sectarian divides and provide ideological cover for state violence.
This is not the first time Pakistan has deployed such rhetorical tactics. During the Bangladesh Liberation War of 1971, Bengali nationalists were branded as Indian collaborators, and their political aspirations were dismissed as foreign subversion. The outcome of that narrative was catastrophic for Pakistan and brutal for East Bengal. The parallels with present-day Balochistan are unsettling.
But the central question remains: Can semantic shifts and theological jargon suppress a deeply rooted political discontent? Or does this signify an erosion of the Pakistani state’s ability to engage with internal plurality through democratic mechanisms? The answers lie not in Islamabad’s press releases but in the mountains of Balochistan and the refugee camps of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, where stories of marginalization, resistance, and identity continue to evolve beyond the control of official discourse.
What we are witnessing is not merely a discursive shift but a crisis of state legitimacy. The increasing reliance on religious-nationalist narratives indicates that the Pakistani establishment is running out of tools to contain the internal fissures of its federation. When states abandon the language of dialogue for the language of divine war, they not only alienate their own citizens but also make reconciliation increasingly impossible.
In the end, no amount of nomenclature can substitute for justice. The term “Fitna al-Hindustan” may temporarily serve to rally the faithful and justify the state’s actions, but it cannot erase the legitimate historical and political demands of the Baloch people. The road to peace in Balochistan does not run through religious polemics; it begins with political honesty and historical accountability.