Pakistan's Diplomatic Moment Has a Hidden Cost

They came, they talked, and they left — only to return within a day. That, in a single sentence, is the rhythm of Pakistan's week as the self-styled mediator in the US-Iran conflict. Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi shuttled in and out of the capital twice over the weekend, while American envoys, said to be holed up in the Serena Hotel, ultimately never boarded the plane from Washington. The ceasefire holds — extended indefinitely by President Donald Trump — but, as journalist Arifa Noor writes in Dawn, "the stalemate continues, though those in the know insist there is slow and steady progress behind the scenes."

The diplomatic backdrop is genuinely historic. The Islamabad Talks of April 11–12 represented the first direct, high-level engagement between the United States and Iran since the 1979 Islamic Revolution — 21 hours of negotiations brokered by Pakistan. They ended without a deal: US Vice President JD Vance said Tehran "chose not to accept our terms," while a sea of mistrust over Iran's nuclear programme and the still-blockaded Strait of Hormuz kept the two sides apart. Yet the ceasefire agreed on April 7 remains in place, and Pakistan — led by Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif and Field Marshal Asim Munir — has won rare, effusive praise from both Washington and Tehran for keeping talks alive.

"Middle power" is now used in sentences about Pakistan as frequently as "off-ramp" was last year, Noor observes. Every television channel and WhatsApp group, domestic and international alike, is full of Pakistan's geopolitical relevance. The country is no longer described as dysfunctional or isolated — it is the new indispensable broker.

But Noor's column delivers a sharp corrective to the triumphalism. While Islamabad basked in diplomatic glory, ordinary residents endured a crippling, week-long lockdown — roadblocks, sky-high rickshaw fares, shuttered schools, and workers evicted from hostels with no notice. A journalist was arrested under the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act (PECA) and produced in court in handcuffs even as the government hosted foreign press at a gala dinner. Katchi abadi demolitions went unreported while patriotic songs played on loop.

Noor frames this as a recurring Pakistani pattern. From General Zia ul-Haq's Cold War leverage to General Pervez Musharraf's post-9/11 pivot — when he was feted around the world, especially in Washington — the country has repeatedly "punched above its weight" at key moments of Western-defined history, only to be left weaker once the geopolitical rents dried up. The current excitement, she warns, risks repeating that cycle: chasing easier IMF conditionalities, Gulf investment promises, or reconstruction contracts in lieu of fixing structural fundamentals. "For cure takes time while the fix can be easier and immediate," she writes. "And the fix, it seems, is in for the moment. For the rulers."

The Strait of Hormuz remains closed, supply lines are disrupted, and the lack of trust between Tehran and Washington means a single miscalculation could reignite hostilities. All the roads still lead to Islamabad — for now.