If you ever want to know what two countries really care about, don’t listen to the speeches. Watch what words they never quite say alone. In the case of Iran and Pakistan, one word keeps showing up as part of a suspiciously inseparable duo: “trade and security.” And when “security” is always lurking right behind “trade,” it’s a fair bet that commerce is not the real driver.
On paper, the relationship between Tehran and Islamabad should be one of the Muslim world’s great alliances. Two large Muslim nations, sharing a border of nearly 900 kilometers, facing similar economic challenges, and possessing overlapping cultural and religious ties. In reality, their history has been a masterclass in polite distance, occasional suspicion, and the kind of neighborly “cooperation” that tends to happen only when there’s a common problem to solve — or a common threat to avoid.
Yet, in recent months, observers have noticed something strange: Pakistan’s most pro-Washington military regime in years, led by Chief of Army Staff (COAS) Gen. Asim Munir, has been exchanging warm smiles with the Islamic Republic of Iran. In February, Iran voiced strong solidarity with Pakistan during its border tensions with India. In April, Pakistan loudly condemned Israel’s 12-day military assault on Iran. To the casual observer, this might look like a long-overdue brotherly embrace.
It is not.
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A relationship built on sand
To understand why, we have to go back to 1979 — the year that changed the Middle East and South Asia in ways still playing out today. Iran’s Islamic Revolution toppled the Shah, infuriated Washington, and created a Shia theocracy with a revolutionary ideology. Almost immediately, Saudi Arabia — America’s indispensable ally in the Gulf and the self-appointed defender of Sunni Islam — began countering Iran’s influence by funding Sunni religious movements across the Muslim world.
Pakistan, for its part, became one of the key battlegrounds in this Saudi-Iranian rivalry. While Islamabad officially maintained good relations with both Riyadh and Tehran, the reality on the ground was more complicated — and bloodier.
By the early 1990s, Pakistan was suffering from a surge in sectarian violence. Extremist Sunni groups, many with Saudi funding, targeted Shia communities. Iran, in turn, was accused of backing Shia militant groups in Pakistan. The “brotherhood” narrative looked increasingly like a polite fiction masking a dangerous proxy war being fought on Pakistani soil.
The result was thousands of lives lost, an erosion of social trust, and a hardening of sectarian divides that still fester today. Whatever “warm” relations existed between Islamabad and Tehran were almost always transactional — tied to moments when the two countries needed each other for security reasons, not because of some shared vision of Muslim unity.
The Imran Khan interlude
When Imran Khan became prime minister in 2018, he made no secret of his desire to uphold the nation’s sovereignty, to advance social justice, the rule of law, and human rights, and to have Pakistan be a part of a Muslim renaissance. He saw Iran as a crucial partner in that vision, particularly in breaking free from what he viewed as the stifling dominance of Washington and the Gulf monarchies over Pakistan’s foreign policy.
But Khan’s tenure coincided with intense regional turbulence: the US withdrawal from the Iran nuclear deal in 2018, the assassination of Iranian General Qassem Soleimani by an American drone in January 2020, and escalating US–Iran tensions in the Persian Gulf. While Khan managed to improve atmospherics with Tehran, his broader regional vision was cut short by his ouster in April 2022 — a move widely seen as a Washington-backed regime change operation orchestrated by Pakistan’s powerful military establishment, which had grown uncomfortable with his independent streak.
Enter Gen. Asim Munir, a man far more comfortable in Washington’s orbit, yet — paradoxically — now the one clinking tea cups with Iranian officials.
The real agenda: security
The smiles, the handshakes, the press conferences about “enhancing bilateral trade” — all make for pleasant optics. But the real conversation is about security, and both sides know it.
Iran’s position is straightforward, and it has been repeated in various forms for decades: stay out of our fights with the US and Israel, keep American and allied military activity off your soil, and don’t let your territory be used for subversive operations against us.
This is not an abstract concern. Tehran remembers very clearly how Washington, particularly in the 2000s, used Pakistan’s Balochistan province as a launchpad for anti-Iranian operations. These included support for Iranian Baloch separatists, covert backing of the Mojahedin-e Khalq (MEK), and other militant outfits eager to cause trouble inside Iran.
The irony, of course, is that some of these same networks later turned their sights on Pakistan itself. After 9/11, as the US military footprint in Afghanistan expanded, Baloch separatists and other armed groups became useful tools not just for pressuring Iran, but also for destabilizing Pakistan when Washington wanted to exert leverage.
Iran has long been aware of the double game. And while Tehran is pragmatic enough to maintain relations with Islamabad even under pro-US leadership, it also has red lines. As one senior Iranian official reportedly told Pakistani counterparts during the recent delegation visit:
“We want a very good relationship with Pakistan. But if Pakistan restarts cooperation with the US in subversive activities from Balochistan, Iran will make Balochistan a nightmare for Pakistan.”
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Balochistan, which makes up almost half of Pakistan’s landmass but has less than 6% of its population, is a perpetual headache for Islamabad. The province is resource-rich — with vast reserves of natural gas, minerals, and a strategic coastline — yet remains the country’s most underdeveloped and politically alienated region.
Contrary to popular perception, the majority of Balochistan’s population is actually Pashtun, not Baloch. But it is the Baloch nationalist insurgency, fueled by decades of economic neglect and heavy-handed military operations, that dominates headlines.
From Iran’s perspective, Balochistan is a shared vulnerability. Iran’s own Sistan-Baluchestan province, bordering Pakistani Balochistan, has faced attacks from Sunni militant groups that Tehran accuses of being armed and funded by foreign powers — often via Pakistani territory.
For Pakistan’s military regime, however, the problem is compounded by the fact that they are fighting on multiple fronts: Baloch separatists, the Pakistani Taliban (TTP), and other insurgent or terrorist groups. Yet — in a twist that would be comical if it weren’t so damaging — a staggering portion of the country’s intelligence resources is currently devoted not to counter-insurgency, but to monitoring and suppressing anti-Munir and pro-Imran Khan material on social media. One imagines the Pakistani taxpayer might be slightly irritated when her hard-earned rupees are being spent to monitor comments and ‘likes’ on Facebook and TikTok.
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Why now?
The sudden uptick in Iran–Pakistan engagement is not happening in a vacuum. The Middle East is on edge. The Gaza genocide has dragged on, Iran and Israel are trading increasingly direct blows, and the US has repositioned forces across the Gulf. Tehran is making it clear to all regional actors that if war with Israel and the US breaks out, it will not tolerate neighboring countries — especially those with US military ties — being used as staging grounds.
Pakistan, with its long border with Iran and history of serving as a covert corridor for foreign intelligence operations, is high on Tehran’s watch list. Gen. Munir’s Pakistan might be happy to nod along to Washington when convenient, but the last thing the military establishment wants is an open conflict with Iran — particularly when the country is already politically unstable, economically strained, and facing internal security crises.
Thus, the “trade talks” and “joint projects” being announced with such fanfare are less about economic integration than they are about confidence-building — a diplomatic insurance policy to keep Pakistan off Iran’s target list if the region ignites.
The mirage of brotherhood
For all the lofty talk of Muslim unity, the Iran–Pakistan relationship has never been about unshakable brotherhood. It has been about managing proximity. Both sides understand the risks of alienating the other, but neither forgets the history of mistrust. Iran knows Pakistan’s military has deep ties to Washington and Riyadh. Pakistan knows Iran has cultivated networks inside its borders that could cause trouble if unleashed.
And so, we have the carefully choreographed dance: smiling photo-ops, communiqués about trade corridors and energy cooperation, and an unspoken agreement that the real conversation — about red lines, insurgents, and covert operations — stays behind closed doors.
The ending no one will say out loud
Diplomats will keep talking about “enhancing bilateral trade” because it’s the safe script. But beneath the surface, Iran is buying insurance, and Pakistan is trying to avoid opening yet another front in its already sprawling security crisis.
The truth is that in the geopolitics of this region, “brotherhood” is often a mirage shimmering above the desert. Up close, it’s just the harsh terrain of mutual suspicion, historical grievance, and pragmatic calculation.
The Pakistani military regime might think it can balance Washington’s expectations with Tehran’s warnings. But as history has shown — from the sectarian bloodshed of the 1990s to the shadow wars in Balochistan — when you try to serve two ‘mafia dons’ in this part of the world, both will eventually want proof of loyalty.
And when that day comes, “trade” will be the last thing on anyone’s mind.
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The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.