Indus Accords 2.0: Terror and water cannot flow together

There is a moment — rare, uneasy and potentially decisive — emerging in South Asia. It is not born of trust, nor of reconciliation, but of fatigue. Fatigue with cyclical escalation. Fatigue with plausible deniability. Fatigue with the quiet normalisation of mass-casualty terrorism as an instrument of statecraft. The question is no longer whether India should respond to cross-border terrorism. As Prime Minister Narendra Modi has repeatedly shown, India always will.

The question now is whether New Delhi should attempt something more structural: an Indus Accords framework — a conditional détente tied explicitly to the cessation of cross-border mass-casualty terrorism and the verifiable dismantling of UN-designated terrorist networks operating from Pakistani soil, in line with international legal standards. Pushing such a framework would do more than reset the bilateral equation. It would force a broader reckoning. If the core demand is simply the dismantling of internationally recognised terrorist organisations, then in theory, there should be nothing controversial about it. The question is whether the international system, particularly the United States, is willing to move beyond rhetoric and support enforcement when it matters, including addressing legal and sovereignty concerns. In that sense, an Indus Accords proposal would not just test Pakistan. It would call the world’s bluff.

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Pakistan today occupies one of the most paradoxical positions in global geopolitics. On one hand, it is being publicly rehabilitated by President Donald Trump. Its recent role in facilitating back-channel engagement between Washington and Iran has drawn approval in policy circles. There is renewed interest, particularly in the orbit of Donald Trump, in bringing Pakistan “back into the fold”, or at the very least, loosening its dependence on Beijing.

On the other hand, the structural concerns have not disappeared. They have been deprioritised. Pakistan continues to harbour UN-designated terrorist groups that operate with varying degrees of freedom. In both India and the United States, there remain persistent claims — never fully disproven — that elements within the ISI have historically maintained relationships with terrorist groups as instruments of asymmetric warfare. Pakistan’s Defence Minister, Khawaja Asif, called it “dirty work”. This is not a relic of the past. It is an enduring feature of the present.

Pakistan’s mediation role between the United States and Iran has been framed as constructive diplomacy. But this framing obscures deeper, more uncomfortable realities. Pakistan is widely believed to have played a role in transferring nuclear know-how to Iran — an allegation rooted in the legacy of the network built by Abdul Qadeer Khan. At the same time, it maintains complex ties with Iran’s security establishment, particularly the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps.

Layered onto this are reported linkages — direct or indirect — with groups such as Hamas and other Iran-aligned actors. The result is not a coherent alliance, but a strategic web: overlapping relationships, deniable channels, and transactional alignments. Pakistan is not simply a mediator. It is, in many assessments, a node. In the 1990s, Pakistan’s intelligence services followed Osama bin Laden to Khartoum and supported his network when he returned to their backyard.

If Washington’s strategic goal is to pull Pakistan out of China’s orbit, it may be underestimating the depth of the entanglement. Intelligence assessments increasingly suggest that Pakistan functions less as a swing state and more as an intermediary — facilitating quiet exchanges between Beijing and Tehran. This includes economic corridors, dual-use technologies, and potentially sensitive military co-operation. In this configuration, Pakistan is not drifting between poles. It is bridging them. This complicates any attempt at bilateral normalisation with India, because the calculus is no longer confined to South Asia. It is embedded in a wider Eurasian contest.

India’s evolving doctrine — illustrated by operations such as Operation Sindoor — has demonstrated an increasing willingness to impose costs below the threshold of full-scale war. These operations signal capability, resolve, and a refusal to accept impunity. But they do not, on their own, alter the underlying incentives that sustain proxy networks. Tactical success has not translated into strategic closure. Which raises a difficult question: can force alone recalibrate behaviour that is structurally embedded within Pakistan’s security doctrine?

An Indus Accords approach would not resemble past peace processes built on vague confidence-building measures. It would need to be far more transactional — and far more conditional. At its core, such a framework would rest on a hard-edged, compliance-driven architecture rather than aspirational diplomacy. It would require the establishment of absolute red lines — most critically, a complete and demonstrable halt to cross-border mass-casualty terrorism — paired with robust verification mechanisms, such as international on-site inspections, satellite monitoring, and real-time intelligence sharing, capable of monitoring and confirming the dismantling of UN-designated groups operating from Pakistani soil. In return, India will offer calibrated reciprocal incentives, including phased economic engagement and gradual diplomatic normalisation, subject to sustained compliance. This would not be a process built on trust, but on enforcement, sequencing, and the credible threat of reversal.

A more uncomfortable question sits beneath the surface: is the United States shaping these crises, or merely reacting to them? The pattern suggests the latter. Washington engages tactically — escalating where necessary, stabilising where convenient — but rarely defining a coherent political end-state. Its reliance on Pakistan as an intermediary in regional crises, even while acknowledging the risks associated with its behaviour, reflects a policy of managed contradiction rather than strategic clarity.

The same ambiguity is visible in South Asia. The United States remains present, but not decisive. Engaged, but not transformative. This raises a deeper issue. If an Indus Accords framework is centred on enforcing existing international norms — namely, the dismantling of UN-designated terrorist organisations — and aligns with US interests in regional stability and counter-terrorism, then in theory, Washington should be its natural backer. If it is not, the reasons will be clear and will require further strategic consideration.

In principle, the case for US support is straightforward. The United States retains significant leverage over Pakistan through financial institutions, security co-operation, and diplomatic access. It has also deepened its strategic partnership with India, particularly in counter-terrorism and Indo-Pacific security. Supporting an Indus Accords framework would align these interests. It would shift US policy from crisis management to structural enforcement.

But in practice, three constraints persist. India’s long-standing resistance to third-party mediation remains firm. Pakistan continues to serve as a useful — if problematic — intermediary in US regional strategy. And perhaps most importantly, Washington has historically lacked the consistency required to sustain pressure over time. The result is a familiar equilibrium: pressure without rupture, engagement without transformation.

The answer to why the United States has not attempted such a framework lies less in capability than in calculation. Pakistan is too strategically useful to confront fully. India is too strategically important to alienate. And forcing a decisive break — on terrorism, on doctrine and on alignment — is seen as carrying risks that outweigh immediate gains. So, the United States manages the problem rather than resolving it. An Indus Accords framework would disrupt that equilibrium. It would force Washington to choose between rhetorical commitment and operational support, which is precisely why it has not yet been attempted.

For decades, India’s position has been unequivocal: no third-party mediation. The reasoning has been sound — external involvement risks internationalising the dispute and creating false equivalence. That logic still holds. But the strategic environment has changed. Pakistan’s relationships — with China, Iran and key Gulf nations — have embedded the conflict within a wider geopolitical framework. At the same time, actors such as Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates are already engaging in quiet diplomacy, while the United States continues to exert influence through financial and institutional channels. In practice, the conflict is no longer purely bilateral.

The question, therefore, is not whether India should accept mediation in the traditional sense. It should not. The question is whether it should redefine the concept on its own terms. There is a critical distinction between mediation and structured external support. The former implies negotiation and compromise. The latter enables enforcement and compliance. An Indus Accords framework could incorporate this distinction. India would retain control over the political terms, while external actors would function not as intermediaries, but as enforcers — leveraging financial pressure, diplomatic weight, and verification mechanisms to ensure compliance. This would not internationalise the dispute. It would internationalise accountability.

Any serious Indus Accords framework must account for Pakistan’s deep financial and security relationships with the Gulf, particularly Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates. These relationships have repeatedly stabilised Pakistan’s economy through direct financial support, oil facilities, and emergency liquidity. At critical moments, they have prevented systemic collapse. But they also create leverage. Gulf states are increasingly prioritising stability and reputational risk. Their strategic recalibration — away from exporting radicalism — is welcome. They also want Pakistan to confront the Taliban’s warped dogma. We saw that last year with the Islamabad Declaration. This, in turn, may translate into quiet pressure on Islamabad to curb destabilising behaviour. For India, this presents a strategic opening. Gulf actors could serve as underwriters of compliance — not out of alignment with India’s objectives, but out of their own interest in regional stability.

No agreement of this nature will survive on substance alone. It will be contested in the information domain and tested in the grey zone. Pakistan has long demonstrated an ability to shape narratives — positioning itself as both participant and victim, obscuring accountability through ambiguity and denial. India cannot afford to cede this space. It must define the narrative architecture of any accord from the outset, clearly articulating conditions, evidentiary standards, and consequences. Intelligence disclosures, diplomatic engagement, and sustained public messaging will be essential to maintaining legitimacy — both domestically and internationally.

In an environment where perception often competes with proof, silence creates space for distortion. At the same time, ambiguity in response thresholds must be eliminated. An Indus Accords framework will only carry deterrent value if India defines, in advance, what constitutes a breach — and what follows. Pakistan’s strategic behaviour has historically operated in the grey zone, probing limits and exploiting uncertainty. A framework that does not anticipate this will be tested from the outset. India must therefore establish clear escalation thresholds, supported by a tiered response structure that differentiates between isolated incidents and systemic violations. The consequences of breach must be predictable enough to deter, but calibrated enough to avoid uncontrolled escalation. Clarity, in this context, is not rigidity. It is credibility.

An Indus Accords framework would not be a peace treaty. It would be a managed risk. India would be betting that Pakistan — under economic strain, international scrutiny and shifting geopolitical currents — might be willing to recalibrate. But it would also be preparing for the likelihood that it will not. The alternative is the status quo: periodic outrage, calibrated retaliation, and a slow erosion of clarity in deterrence.

The danger lies in mistaking diplomatic movement for structural change. Pakistan’s renewed visibility — whether in Washington, Tehran, or beyond — should not obscure the unresolved core issue: the persistence of proxy networks as instruments of policy. An Indus Accords initiative, if pursued, must be grounded in realism, not optimism. Because in a highly volatile region, the cost of illusion is not theoretical. It is counted in lives and the erosion of basic human rights and liberty.

(The author is a strategist in international relations and economic development. Views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect Firstpost’s views.)