RASC NewsAgency: In a rare moment of candor before Pakistan’s National Assembly, Foreign Minister Ishaq Dar has conceded that Islamabad’s policy of engagement with the Taliban since their return to power in 2021 was a “strategic blunder of historic proportions.” In his striking remark, Dar admitted, “That cup of tea enjoyed by then-ISI chief Faiz Hameed in Kabul turned out to be the most expensive in Pakistan’s history.”
His comment referred to the infamous photograph of Lieutenant General Faiz Hameed, then head of Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), smiling as he sipped tea at Kabul’s Serena Hotel, only days after the Taliban seized the Afghanistan’s capital in August 2021. At the time, that image was trumpeted in Islamabad’s corridors of power as a symbol of triumph a visual confirmation that Pakistan had finally achieved the long-elusive goal of “strategic depth” in Afghanistan: a friendly regime in Kabul that would neutralize Indian influence in the region.
Yet four years later, that same image has become an emblem of overconfidence, misplaced trust, and catastrophic policy failure. What Pakistan once perceived as a victory has instead unleashed a tide of insecurity, militancy, and diplomatic humiliation.
Reflecting on the chaotic aftermath of the Taliban’s return, Dar told lawmakers:
“Pakistan acted with excessive enthusiasm and without sufficient foresight. I will not assign personal blame, but the truth is that we rushed in emotionally, believing we were shaping the future. What we shaped, instead, was a nightmare. That one cup of tea cost us more than we could ever have imagined.”
According to Dar, the reopening of border crossings following the Taliban takeover allowed tens of thousands of militants from Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) an extremist network responsible for hundreds of attacks inside Pakistan to re-enter the country under the Taliban’s protection.
He added that one of the Taliban’s first actions after seizing power was the mass release of prisoners, including “dozens of notorious insurgents who had waged war against Pakistan in Swat and Waziristan, burning our flag and slaughtering our soldiers.”
“Today,” Dar said, “we are facing a security situation worse than in 2012. The attacks are growing deadlier by the week, and our losses military and civilian continue to mount.”
Once paraded as “brothers in faith and geography,” Pakistan’s relationship with the Taliban has collapsed into mutual suspicion and strategic hostility. Islamabad accuses the Taliban of offering sanctuary to the TTP and turning a blind eye to cross-border attacks. The Taliban, meanwhile, continue to deny responsibility, insisting that “Afghan soil will not be used against any country.”
But these assurances have rung hollow. Pakistani intelligence reports confirm that the TTP operates freely across eastern Afghanistan, recruiting fighters, training suicide bombers, and planning attacks. Taliban leaders under the guise of religious solidarity have refused to restrain them, instead granting ideological and logistical cover.
“The Taliban have mastered the art of denial,” said one Pakistani security official speaking anonymously. “They offer sympathy in public and shelter in private. Their words are diplomatic; their actions are duplicitous.”
Dar admitted that Islamabad now faces a strategic deadlock:
“We cannot change our neighbor, and the Taliban will not change their policies. Since their occupation of Kabul, our national security has deteriorated continuously.”
For decades, Pakistan’s military doctrine was built on the illusion of controlling Afghanistan through proxy influence the so-called “strategic depth.” In theory, a compliant regime in Kabul would protect Pakistan’s western flank and project influence into Central Asia. In practice, it has delivered strategic entrapment: a destabilized border, rising terrorism, and diplomatic isolation.
What Islamabad saw as a buffer has become a breeding ground for militants. What it thought was an ally has transformed into an ideological adversary that scorns its benefactor.
Security experts argue that Pakistan’s establishment, long accustomed to viewing the Taliban as manageable partners, grossly underestimated their radical rigidity and disdain for external control.
“The Taliban’s loyalty ends where their ideology begins,” said a South Asia analyst with the International Crisis Group. “They view Pakistan not as an ally, but as a state that must ultimately submit to their interpretation of religion and governance.”
The consequences of this miscalculation have been devastating. The resurgence of the TTP has reignited violence across Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Balochistan, with suicide bombings targeting police posts, military convoys, and border installations. Over the past year alone, Pakistan has recorded some of the highest casualty figures in a decade.
The Taliban’s unwillingness or deliberate refusal to curb the TTP’s operations has turned Afghanistan into a launchpad for regional militancy. In the process, Islamabad’s earlier narrative of “brotherhood” and “shared struggle” has collapsed under the weight of repeated betrayals.
For Pakistan’s security establishment, this is a bitter reckoning: a reminder that the Taliban, far from being a controllable proxy, are an uncompromising ideological regime, indifferent to diplomatic pressure and hostile to secular governance in any form.
Pakistan’s costly experiment with Taliban diplomacy has yielded no dividends only bloodshed, economic instability, and political disillusionment. Its hopes for a pliant regime in Kabul have been replaced by a militant theocracy that shelters Pakistan’s enemies and defies its warnings.
Regional analysts note that Islamabad’s decades-long attempt to manipulate Afghan politics has backfired spectacularly, eroding trust with global allies and undermining Pakistan’s credibility as a stabilizing force.
“What was once sold as strategic brilliance has revealed itself as strategic blindness,” said a former Pakistani diplomat. “We built the Taliban as a tool of influence. Now they are the architects of our insecurity.”
The image of Faiz Hameed holding a cup of tea in Kabul was once hailed as a snapshot of victory a general smiling over the ashes of a defeated republic. Today, it stands as a haunting metaphor for the arrogance of power and the price of short-sighted strategy.
What Pakistan perceived as a diplomatic success has instead become a symbol of humiliation the day ideology triumphed over pragmatism, and faith in extremism replaced rational statecraft.
Four years on, that cup of tea has come to symbolize more than a photo opportunity: it represents a nation’s failure to recognize the danger of empowering fanaticism and the steep cost of mistaking control for partnership.
“The Taliban’s game,” a Pakistani commentator wrote recently, “was never designed to have a winner. Islamabad thought it was managing a movement. In reality, it was feeding a monster.”
Pakistan’s rare public self-reflection may mark a turning point a moment when the architects of its Afghan policy are finally forced to confront the wreckage of their own design.
But analysts warn that unless Islamabad abandons its decades-old obsession with controlling Afghanistan and instead embraces genuine diplomacy and regional cooperation, history will repeat itself this time with even greater cost.
For now, Ishaq Dar’s words echo through Pakistan’s political and military establishment as a cautionary reminder:
“A single cup of tea,” he said, “can sometimes reveal the true price of illusion.”
