Fake photos, real threats: Pakistan’s doctored imagery and the future of conflict

A few days ago, Pakistan placed satellite images in the public domain, claiming these as evidence of damage inflicted by Pakistani missile, drone, and standoff air attacks on Indian military facilities—particularly in and around Amritsar—during the brief 88-hour conflict with India in May 2025. Many people I speak to remain dismayed by these claims, made fully eight months after the conflict, that significant damage was caused to Indian defence infrastructure in Punjab and other border areas. The common reaction is dismissive: everyone knows these are lies and half-truths. India’s missiles and aircraft struck their intended targets; Pakistan failed to achieve its objectives. Why would anyone believe otherwise? This reaction, widespread and emotionally satisfying, nevertheless reflects a worrying naivety about the nature of contemporary information warfare.

The problem is not whether these claims are true. The problem is how lies and ‘no-truths’ work in the information domain—and how easily they embed themselves when repeated, visualised, and amplified. In modern conflict, narrative control is not an adjunct to military action; it is a parallel battlespace. Pakistan understands this instinctively. Somehow, we may have been tardy in understanding this.

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People obviously do not have the means to analyse satellite imagery. They do not examine metadata, shadow angles, resolution mismatches, or post-processing artefacts. They do not even seek corroboration because it does not occur to them that their minds could be taken for a ride. Human psychology tends to accept information that appears authoritative, visual, and repeated. Information warfare exploits precisely this vulnerability—not to convince everyone, but to plant doubt, generate peripheral questioning, and weaken confidence in official versions.

That is the real objective of Pakistan’s doctored imagery. Tongue-in-cheek—the term ‘doctored’ will soon apply more to information warfare than even the medical profession from where it is borrowed. The target is not only the Indian public. It includes Pakistan’s own elite, its strategic community, diaspora networks, and—critically—segments of the international audience that absorb such claims casually, through social media, office conversations, or media chatter. Once repeated enough times, half-truths acquire the glaze of truth. Pakistan’s strategic culture has long relied on this method.

In 1965, Pakistan failed in its attempt to seize Jammu and Kashmir through an instigated rebellion preceded by proxy infiltration. Yet September 6 is commemorated annually as “Defence Day” or “Victory Day”. For six decades, this narrative has been reinforced domestically and presented diplomatically, embedding a selective memory among foreign interlocutors posted in Islamabad.

In 1971, Pakistan suffered a catastrophic defeat, surrendered over 93,000 prisoners of war, and lost half the country. Yet a persistent internal narrative claims that the “real war” was fought in the western sector, where outcomes were supposedly inconclusive. Strategic humiliation was reframed as moral resilience.

In 1999, Pakistan denied the involvement of its regular forces in Kargil, insisting that “mujahideen” had occupied the heights in a spontaneous uprising. Despite extensive documentation to the contrary, this version still circulates in official and semi-official discourse. Deception was followed by denial, and denial by narrative entrenchment.

The current episode—doctored satellite imagery claiming damage to Indian defence installations—belongs to the same tradition. But it also represents something more dangerous. This is not just about Pakistan. It is about the future of conflict in the age of artificial intelligence.

As AI-driven image generation, enhancement, and manipulation advance, the line between truth and falsehood will blur further. Deepfakes, synthetic satellite imagery, manipulated battlefield visuals, and fabricated damage assessments will become indistinguishable to the untrained eye. In such an environment, truth will not be self-evident. It will require context, expertise, and trust—all of which are under assault in today’s information ecosystem.

Information warfare of this kind aims to erode public confidence, induce strategic fatigue, and fragment societal consensus. It does not seek immediate belief; it seeks delayed doubt. Over time, that doubt weakens national resolve, complicates decision-making, and constrains strategic options.

This is why focusing only on exposing the technical flaws in Pakistan’s imagery misses the larger point. The question is not whether these images are fake. It is whether India is institutionally prepared for a future in which fakes are indistinguishable from reality.

First, India must recognise cognitive warfare as a national security issue, not merely a media or cyber concern. This demands institutional ownership at the highest levels, integrating information integrity into security planning.

Second, there is a need for credible, independent analytical capacity—publicly visible and professionally trusted—that can rapidly assess and contextualise contested imagery and claims. Silence creates space for falsehood to spread; reactive rebuttals often arrive too late. Some knowledgeable media are making brave efforts themselves, but without official backing, credibility remains questionable.

Third, strategic communication must become proactive rather than defensive. Transparency, consistency, and restraint build credibility over time. In information warfare, trust is cumulative—and once lost, extremely difficult to restore.

Finally, and most importantly, society itself must be sensitised. Media literacy, critical consumption of information, and awareness of manipulation techniques are no longer optional civic skills. In the AI age, the battlefield extends into the mind of every citizen. Pakistan’s doctored satellite imagery is a preview.

Future conflicts may be fought as much through fabricated visuals and engineered narratives as through missiles and manoeuvre. Nations that fail to prepare for this cognitive domain risk losing not battles—but belief.

And once belief is lost, deterrence, cohesion, and strategic autonomy also follow.

(The writer is the former Commander of India’s Srinagar-based Chinar Corps. Currently he is the Chancellor of the Central University of Kashmir and a member of the National Disaster Management Authority. Views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect Firstpost’s views.)