Beyond the rhetoric: choosing peace in South Asia

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In the wake of the recent terrorist attack in Pahalgam, the familiar drumbeat of war rhetoric has returned with unnerving speed. Television channels in both India and Pakistan have turned into battlegrounds of their own — anchors shouting over each other, guests hurling accusations, and talk show panels reduced to nationalist echo chambers. Words like "retaliation", "punishment" and "decisive response" dominate the airwaves, drowning out nuance, restraint, and any aspiration for a different path.

This cycle has become all too predictable. A violent incident triggers outrage, and instead of sober inquiry or diplomacy, both states fall back into postures of hostility. Politicians make aggressive statements to appease domestic audiences, the media inflates emotions for ratings, and the public is fed a narrative of enmity that leaves little room for critical reflection. But the question we must ask - loudly and persistently — is whether this path leads anywhere meaningful. Can war guarantee peace? Can two nuclear-armed neighbours truly afford a misstep?

The historical record offers no comfort. India and Pakistan have fought three wars and countless skirmishes. Each has inflicted pain, deepened distrust, and widened the emotional chasm between societies that were once part of the same cultural fabric. We have been told repeatedly that the next strike will be decisive, that the next war will settle scores, that this time we will teach the other side a final lesson. But what has this bravado achieved beyond loss and exhaustion?

If the United States — with its unmatched military strength and intelligence apparatus - failed to achieve lasting peace through warfare in Afghanistan and Iraq, what can India or Pakistan expect from military confrontation? The notion that a surgical strike, a show of might, or a diplomatic snub can substitute for meaningful conflict resolution is both dangerous and delusional. It reveals a troubling truth: the obsession with retaliatory gestures is not about peace — it is about performance.

What makes this moment especially perilous is the media's complicity in escalating tensions. News coverage has increasingly become theatre, and nationalism its script. Each side finds comfort in its own myths, its own selective memory, and its own validation loop. In this environment, dissent is not tolerated. Calls for restraint are interpreted as weakness. Reason is mistaken for betrayal. Very few voices, knowing the horrors of war, dare to plead for good relations anymore.

But amid this noise, it is worth remembering that people do not want wars - governments manufacture the conditions for them. No parent wants to sacrifice a child for a border or ideology. Citizens across both countries care more about jobs, education, health, and justice than they do about geopolitical victories. Yet the idea of a permanent enemy persists, because it serves a purpose. It becomes a convenient distraction from the failings within.

Both countries face significant internal challenges - economic inequality, rising polarisation, environmental crisis, and declining trust in institutions. Instead of confronting these problems with honesty and accountability, governments often find it easier to externalise blame and conjure up threats across the border.

Nationalism becomes a shield behind which governance failures are hidden. Television debates about missiles and military readiness divert attention from hunger, healthcare, and human development. The latest Human Development Index ranks India at 132nd and Pakistan at 164th. These are not numbers befitting countries aspiring to global influence. They are a reminder that while we compete in arms and outrage, we are falling behind in what truly matters to the lives of ordinary people.

The only way forward is through dialogue - sustained, structured, and sincere. Peace does not require that we erase history or deny our differences. It only requires that we refuse to be defined by them. The European Union was born from the ashes of war not because countries forgot the past, but because they learned to stop being its prisoners. South Asia, too, deserves that opportunity — to imagine a future not dominated by threats and suspicions, but by cooperation, connectivity, and common purpose.

A path to lasting peace demands more than lofty declarations. It requires political courage, institutionalised engagement, and above all, a reorientation of public discourse. We must push back against the manufactured hostility that defines much of our media and politics. We must create space for those who speak of peace not as naïveté, but as necessity. This includes academics, artists, civil society groups, and above all, citizens who refuse to see their neighbours as permanent enemies.

Terrorism must be condemned, always and unequivocally. But it must also be isolated from the broader relationship between two states and their peoples. Holding entire nations responsible for the actions of a few only empowers extremists. Intelligence cooperation and joint efforts to root out militant networks are far more effective than rhetorical escalation. If both governments are truly committed to the well-being of their people, they must recognise that the true threat to national security lies not across the border, but in the erosion of reason, empathy, and democratic dialogue.

India and Pakistan cannot keep mortgaging their futures to the logic of rivalry. They must make a conscious, courageous break from the past - not in forgetting, but in refusing to repeat its mistakes. We need not more missiles, but more imagination. Not more isolation, but more engagement. Not more pride in our capacity to destroy, but in our willingness to rebuild.

For over seven decades, our region has been held hostage by its history. It is time to ask — how much longer? How many more moments like this will it take for both sides to realise that the only victory worth having is peace?