Arshad Mahmood Awan
Pakistan has articulated a firm and principled position on the future of Gaza, one that merits serious reflection by the international community. Deputy Prime Minister and Foreign Minister Ishaq Dar has reiterated that Islamabad would consider participation in any proposed International Stabilisation Force for Gaza only if its mandate explicitly excludes the disarmament of Hamas. This is not a procedural objection or a diplomatic technicality; it is a political and ethical assessment shaped by history, experience, and a realistic reading of Gaza’s complex realities.
Gaza is not a conventional post-conflict environment where external forces can step in, impose order, and depart once calm is restored. It is a densely populated territory with deep political, ideological, and social fractures, shaped by decades of occupation, blockade, repeated wars, and internal Palestinian divisions. Any attempt to “stabilise” Gaza without addressing these underlying dynamics risks reproducing the very instability it claims to resolve.
At the heart of Pakistan’s position lies a crucial distinction often blurred in international debates: the difference between peacekeeping and peace enforcement. Peacekeeping missions are built on consent, impartiality, and limited use of force. They function best when local actors accept their presence and view them as neutral facilitators of stability. Peace enforcement, by contrast, involves coercion. It presumes resistance and seeks to overcome it through military means. In Gaza, a mandate that includes disarming Hamas would inevitably push an international force into the latter category.
Hamas is not merely an armed group operating on the margins of Gaza’s society. Whatever one’s view of its ideology or tactics, it is deeply embedded in the territory’s political and social landscape. Attempting to forcibly disarm it through foreign troops would almost certainly provoke armed resistance, undermine the legitimacy of the mission, and turn peacekeepers into combatants. Rather than stabilising Gaza, such a force would risk becoming another party to the conflict, entangled in local rivalries and exposed to perpetual violence.
Pakistan’s stance reflects the understanding that disarmament cannot be imposed from outside. If Gaza is to move toward sustainable peace, the question of armed groups must be addressed through a political process led by Palestinians themselves. This responsibility rests with the Palestinian Authority or any future representative government that emerges through credible, inclusive political arrangements. Only a leadership seen as legitimate by its own people can hope to negotiate disarmament, integration, or security reform without plunging Gaza into renewed chaos.
External actors may have a role in supporting such a transition, but that role must be carefully circumscribed. International forces can help maintain public order, protect civilians, and support humanitarian access. What they cannot do—at least not without severe consequences—is dictate political outcomes or reshape internal power balances through force. Even troops drawn from countries sympathetic to the Palestinian cause would struggle to escape perceptions of partisanship if tasked with disarming one side of a deeply polarised conflict.
Pakistan’s caution is informed by long experience. As one of the largest contributors to United Nations peacekeeping missions, Islamabad has deployed troops in some of the world’s most volatile environments, from Africa to the Balkans. These missions have taught Pakistan hard lessons about what peacekeepers can and cannot achieve. Where there is political consensus and local ownership, peacekeeping can help consolidate fragile stability. Where such conditions are absent, foreign troops risk becoming targets, spoilers, or unwilling enforcers of contested political agendas.
This history explains why Pakistan has consistently resisted participation in peace enforcement operations, particularly in Muslim-majority conflict zones where foreign military presence can quickly become a lightning rod for resentment. Islamabad’s position on Gaza is not born of indifference to Palestinian suffering or reluctance to shoulder international responsibility. On the contrary, it reflects a desire to avoid contributing to a flawed approach that could worsen the situation on the ground.
Equally important is the message Pakistan is sending to those shaping post-war plans for Gaza. Clarity at this stage matters. Vague mandates, elastic interpretations of “stabilisation,” and shifting objectives have undermined many international interventions in the past. By drawing a clear line—support for peacekeeping, not enforcement—Pakistan is urging the international community to think carefully about ends and means. Gaza does not need another externally designed experiment that ignores local realities and collapses under the weight of its own contradictions.
Pakistan has repeatedly affirmed its readiness to support peace in Gaza through diplomacy, humanitarian assistance, and, if conditions are right, a genuinely neutral international presence. But it has also made clear that peace cannot be manufactured at gunpoint. Stability imposed without consent is rarely stable, and order enforced without legitimacy is often short-lived.
Ultimately, Gaza’s future cannot be decided by foreign troops, however well-intentioned. It depends on a political horizon that offers Palestinians dignity, representation, and hope—conditions no international force can create on its own. Pakistan’s position serves as a reminder that restraint is sometimes the most responsible form of engagement. In a region scarred by failed interventions, that lesson is one the world would do well to heed.
