Pakistan's Diplomatic Hour: The Promise and Peril of Becoming the Region's Bridge

Pakistan may have spent much of UN week enjoying the unusual luxury of being wanted in several rooms at once. By Friday, however, the bill for that privilege was beginning to arrive. While American and Iranian officials circled one another in New York, the military chiefs of Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Türkiye were preparing urgent consultations over the mounting Houthi attacks on the kingdom. On Thursday, the Houthis said they had fired dozens of missiles and drones at Saudi targets, while Saudi authorities said they had intercepted six ballistic missiles fired by Houthi fighters. To add to the gravity of the situation, Saudi Arabia's Grand Mufti, the kingdom's top religious authority, also called on soldiers to be ready to lay down their lives to fight the Houthis. For Islamabad, there could hardly have been a neater illustration of the problem. The Makkah pact is often discussed as though Riyadh, Ankara and Islamabad simply woke up one morning with dreams of a new regional bloc. The timing suggests something less romantic. Pakistan is helping Tehran find a road back to Washington. At the same time, it has signed a defence agreement with two countries increasingly worried about an armed movement backed by Iran. One hand is holding the telephone and the other has signed the insurance policy. President Masoud Pezeshkian told Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif in New York that the Islamabad understanding remained 'fully acceptable' to Iran and that Tehran was prepared to move forward with it. Iran has also put forward terms under which it could reopen the Strait of Hormuz within seven days if Washington eases military pressure and lifts its blockade on Iranian ports. The Americans, meanwhile, continue to say they are open to talks, though President Donald Trump's public language at the UN has been considerably harder than the language coming from his diplomats. From the looks of it, everybody is demanding the other side blink first. The devil, as always, lies in the fine print. Iran does not want to surrender Hormuz and discover that Washington's economic pressure remains intact. Washington does not want to ease that pressure and discover that Tehran has pocketed the concession. The problem, therefore, is not a shortage of possible bargains. It is greenlighting them without allowing either government to look weak at home. That is precisely the sort of space in which Pakistan has found some room to manoeuvre. It has access to Tehran. It has Washington's ear. It has deep ties with Riyadh and Ankara. Qatar remains heavily involved, Oman retains its old credentials, and Egypt has joined the growing circle of regional consultations. There are many cooks in this kitchen, and Pakistan is no longer standing outside it. The trouble is that Islamabad is not simply mediating anymore. The Makkah Joint Defence Agreement signed by Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Türkiye says, in plain terms, that an attack on one will be treated as an attack on all. On August 31, the three governments went a step further. Their foreign and defence ministers and military chiefs met in Istanbul and agreed to establish a permanent secretariat in Saudi Arabia. A Pakistani is to serve as its first secretary-general for three years. For anyone tempted to dismiss the agreement as another handsome communiqué destined for a ministry filing cabinet, September has already supplied the answer. The Houthis have stepped up attacks on Saudi territory, energy installations and shipping. Türkiye has publicly said it is prepared to meet Saudi military requirements under the pact, and Pakistani, Saudi and Turkish officials have already discussed possible support, although Pakistani sources stressed that Islamabad viewed its obligations as defensive–protecting Saudi territory rather than joining combat operations across the border. Pakistan has been here before. In April 2015, when Saudi Arabia wanted help in its Yemen campaign, Pakistan's parliament produced a very cautious resolution, calling for Pakistan to 'maintain neutrality in the Yemen conflict' while, in the same breath, pledging support for Saudi Arabia's territorial integrity. Eleven years later, that balancing act has become harder because the relationship now comes with a written defence mechanism. There is an old South Asian warning about the man who tries to ride two boats. But it does not quite fit Pakistan's predicament. Islamabad is not trying to choose between Iran and Saudi Arabia. Its usefulness comes precisely from not choosing. The real test is whether those two boats continue moving roughly in the same direction. Yemen could pull them apart. The Makkah pact is often discussed as though Riyadh, Ankara and Islamabad simply woke up one morning with dreams of a new regional bloc. The timing suggests something less romantic. Saudi Arabia is learning again that even its closest superpower relationship has limits. Washington may provide weapons, intelligence and diplomatic backing, but an American president can still decide that somebody else's war is not worth another American bombing campaign. That creates room for regional powers. Not a Muslim NATO. Not yet another grand alliance stretching from the Bosphorus to the Arabian Sea. Simply countries looking for more than one number to call when the house catches fire. Türkiye's parliament speaker, Numan Kurtulmu?, made the point even more interesting on Friday when he suggested the Pakistan-Saudi-Türkiye arrangement could one day expand into a wider Muslim grouping that might even include Iran. Pakistan's Foreign Office has been more guarded, saying expansion is not presently on the cards. Still, the remark hints at a larger argument unfolding across the region. Must Middle Eastern security forever be organised around Iran on one side and an anti-Iran camp on the other? Or could the states now scrambling to protect themselves eventually devise arrangements that include rather than permanently exclude Tehran? Pakistan is also working through another, looser group involving Saudi Arabia, Türkiye and Egypt. At their September 22 meeting in New York, the four governments affirmed Saudi Arabia's right to defend itself against Houthi attacks while also insisting that dialogue and diplomacy remain the only durable way out of the regional crisis. If Islamabad appears to become an operational arm of Saudi policy in Yemen, Tehran will have reason to question the Pakistani channel. If it appears indifferent to attacks on Saudi territory, Riyadh will ask what exactly its defence pact is worth. If it promises too much to Washington, Iran will baulk. And if it carries every Iranian demand to Washington without judgment, the Americans will stop listening. There is no clever phrase that makes these contradictions disappear. There is, however, diplomatic precedent for living with them. The emerging negotiations over Hormuz show why. Iran is offering one commodity it knows the world badly wants: safe passage through a waterway through which a large share of global oil and gas trade ordinarily moves. Saudi Arabia, meanwhile, has restarted flows through its East-West pipeline towards Yanbu, precisely because dependence on Hormuz has again shown its dangers. Russia and Saudi Arabia have publicly called for secure passage through both Hormuz and Bab el-Mandeb. France is even considering another UN Security Council effort centred on maritime security. This is no longer merely an Iran-America quarrel. Two of the world's most important maritime chokepoints are now caught in overlapping wars. Yemen, Iran, Saudi security and the price of oil are becoming parts of the same puzzle. Closer to home, there is reason for sobriety. A handshake with Trump does not make Pakistan indispensable, just as a compliment from Tehran does not suddenly make it a great power. Pakistan knows from the Afghan war–and from the 2020 Doha Agreement–how quickly applause from foreign capitals can turn into expectations, obligations and, eventually, blame. Pakistan should therefore be careful not to fall in love with its own diplomatic reflection. Farzana Shaikh of Chatham House has described Pakistan as an emerging 'hinge power,' while also pointing to the insecurity and political weaknesses that constrain those ambitions. That caveat deserves as much attention in Islamabad as the photographs from New York. No country can indefinitely project confidence abroad while carrying deep weaknesses at home. Foreign policy can buy breathing room. It cannot substitute for economic strength, political stability or institutional credibility. The writer is OpEd Editor (Daily Times) and can be reached at durenayab786 @gmail.com. Shetweets @DureAkram.