Nawaz Sharif’s recent offer to reset Pakistan-India relations and his call for not wasting the next 75 years after squandering the last 75 may sound like a fresh breeze in a fraught landscape. Yet his track record suggests that such optimism must be tempered by caution. Sharif, despite his personal popularity in Punjab—Pakistan’s most powerful province, which controls the army, industry, and much of the country’s political and economic influence—has often found himself at odds with forces beyond his control. His three non-consecutive terms as Prime Minister, all cut short, reflect both his resilience and the turbulent political environment in Pakistan, where the military wields enormous influence.
Sharif’s resilience is remarkable. Each time he has been deposed, he has found a way back, emerging stronger than before. His appeal lies not just in his personal charisma but in his deep roots in Punjab’s powerful industrial and political elite. As the scion of the Ittefaq Group, one of the largest industrial conglomerates in Pakistan, Sharif understands the economic levers that drive both domestic and international relations. He has long argued that Pakistan’s economic future depends on stable and peaceful relations with India, an argument few other Pakistani politicians are willing to make openly.
This pragmatism is reflected in his past overtures toward India. Sharif was the architect of the Lahore Declaration in 1999, a rare moment of diplomatic breakthrough between the two countries. He is the only Pakistani leader to have admitted publicly that Pakistan’s soil has been used by terrorists to launch attacks on India, and he is the only one who has acknowledged Pakistan’s role in the 2008 Mumbai attacks. He even admitted that the Kargil conflict, a military operation by Pakistan to seize Indian territory in 1999, took place without his knowledge.
It is perhaps this candidness that makes Sharif’s latest overtures worth considering. His close relationship with Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi, who travelled to Lahore in 2015 to attend the wedding of Sharif’s granddaughter, sets him apart from other Pakistani leaders. Modi’s surprise visit, which followed Sharif’s attendance at his swearing-in ceremony in 2014, marked a brief thaw in relations between the two nuclear-armed rivals. However, the goodwill generated by these personal gestures was quickly undone by external forces. The Kargil conflict sabotaged the Lahore Declaration, and the 2016 attack on India’s Pathankot airbase derailed another potential diplomatic breakthrough.
The timing of Sharif’s latest statement suggests a strategic calculation. His younger brother, Shahbaz Sharif, was installed as Prime Minister in 2022, largely because the military found him more pliable. By positioning himself as an elder statesman and the architect of a new relationship with India, Nawaz Sharif could be seeking to reclaim the political spotlight. His statement is also a clear rebuke of Imran Khan, whose inflammatory rhetoric toward India has further poisoned bilateral ties.
But Sharif’s ambitions come with significant risks. Any move to improve relations with India would inevitably provoke Pakistan’s military, which has long justified its outsized role in the country’s politics by framing itself as the defender of Pakistan against Indian aggression. Sharif has clashed with the military before, and each time it has cost him his position. The most glaring example is Kargil, which was launched by the army behind Sharif’s back, leading to his eventual ousting in a military coup. The Pathankot attack, which followed Modi’s personal outreach to Sharif, also coincided with the beginning of Sharif’s downfall. The army’s vested interest in maintaining hostilities with India remains a formidable obstacle to any lasting peace.
Further complicating matters are the non-state actors in Pakistan, particularly Islamist militant groups historically used by the military as proxies against India. Sharif’s tenure saw him declare Burhan Wani, a Hizbul Mujahideen commander killed by Indian security forces, as a martyr. He also instituted Kashmir Solidarity Day, which is celebrated annually on February 5 to express support for the Kashmiri separatist movement. These moves, likely made under pressure from hardliners, underscore the difficulty any Pakistani leader faces in attempting to chart an independent course on India.
Sharif’s business acumen and his understanding of Pakistan’s economic predicament make him acutely aware that peace with India could be a game-changer for the country’s faltering economy. With the Pakistani rupee trading at nearly 300 to the US dollar and inflation spiralling out of control, the middle class is struggling to survive. Sharif knows that latching onto India’s economic rise could offer Pakistan a lifeline. But Sharif’s economic pragmatism will have to contend with the entrenched interests of Pakistan’s military-industrial complex. Sharif’s vision for better ties with India rests on the assumption that Pakistan’s civilian leadership can wrest control of foreign policy from the military, a notion that has been repeatedly proven false.
His previous attempts to assert civilian control—whether through the Lahore Declaration or his outreach to Modi—have all ended in his political demise. While his vision of a peaceful and prosperous Pakistan in cooperation with India is appealing, the reality of Pakistan’s entrenched military power and its historical hostility toward India casts a long shadow over any potential détente.
(The author is a motivational public speaker. Views personal.)
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