By Uzma Ehtasham
The inauguration of the Victory Monument in Islamabad was designed as a moment of national remembrance. It brought together Pakistan’s civilian and military leadership to honour those who, in the official narrative, sacrificed their lives and served the country during what the authorities describe as the Battle of Truth. Yet the significance of such a monument should not end with the celebration of a military victory. Its deeper value will depend on what Pakistan chooses to remember, and what it chooses to build, in the years that follow.
President Asif Ali Zardari and Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif formally opened the monument at a ceremony filled with the familiar language of patriotism, sovereignty and national resolve. The event began with a recitation from the Quran and included a presentation on the construction of the memorial. The two leaders unveiled the monument alongside Chief of Defence Forces Field Marshal Asim Munir, the Senate chairman, National Assembly speaker, defence and foreign ministers, Punjab chief minister Maryam Nawaz and senior military officials. Civilian and military representatives from across the country were also present.
The symbolism was unmistakable. The monument was intended to give physical form to a national memory of conflict and sacrifice. President Zardari described it as a tribute to those who had died and those who had fought, while presenting Pakistan’s military performance against India as a decisive victory. Such commemorations have their place. Nations need occasions to remember the people who defended them, particularly when conflict has imposed a heavy human cost.
But there is a danger in allowing the memory of victory to become an end in itself. A monument can preserve history, but it cannot guarantee security. Nor can military strength alone provide the kind of stability that Pakistan needs. The real test of national resilience lies in whether a country can turn moments of confrontation into an enduring commitment to peace, development and responsible statecraft.
It was therefore significant that the speeches at the inauguration did not focus exclusively on military triumph. Zardari also spoke of peace and stability, stressing Pakistan’s desire to contribute to efforts aimed at preventing wider conflict. He referred to Islamabad’s role in the ceasefire between Iran and the United States and presented Pakistan as a country willing to use diplomacy alongside its security capabilities.
That balance matters. Pakistan has lived with the consequences of regional conflict for decades. From Afghanistan to Kashmir and from tensions with India to instability across the wider Middle East, events beyond its borders have repeatedly carried consequences for its own security and economy. A responsible foreign policy must therefore be firm where national interests are at stake, but it must also leave room for dialogue.
The president’s remarks on Gaza reflected another dimension of Pakistan’s foreign policy. He condemned the situation there in strong terms and rejected the prospect of a regional order based on the displacement or denial of Palestinian rights. Whatever disagreements may exist over the language of international diplomacy, the humanitarian catastrophe in Gaza has demonstrated once again that unresolved conflicts do not remain confined to the territories where they begin. They generate instability, deepen mistrust and make regional peace harder to achieve.
Shehbaz Sharif likewise sought to draw a distinction between a desire for peace and a lack of resolve. Pakistan, he said, did not want war, but that preference should not be interpreted as weakness. This is a distinction worth preserving. Peace is meaningful only when it is supported by the capacity to protect sovereignty and citizens. At the same time, strength becomes counterproductive when it leaves diplomacy no space to operate.
Pakistan’s conception of national power must consequently become broader than the size or capability of its armed forces. Defence remains essential, but so are economic stability, strong institutions, political legitimacy, social cohesion and a credible diplomatic service. A country struggling with economic pressures, unemployment, inequality and institutional distrust cannot regard military preparedness as the sole measure of national strength.
The prime minister’s reference to Pakistan’s efforts to facilitate dialogue between Washington and Tehran also pointed towards a potentially constructive role for Islamabad. Pakistan’s geography and relationships give it an opportunity to act as a bridge between competing interests. But mediation requires credibility. It demands consistency, restraint and a foreign policy that is able to communicate with adversaries without abandoning principles.
The same principle applies to Afghanistan. Sharif’s call for Kabul to prevent its territory from being used for terrorism reflects one of Pakistan’s most serious security concerns. Cross-border militancy has imposed a heavy cost on Pakistani civilians and security personnel. Yet the long-term answer cannot lie solely in warnings and accusations. Border security, intelligence cooperation, political engagement and sustained diplomatic pressure will all be necessary if the region is to escape the cycle of violence.
The prime minister also praised US President Donald Trump for helping secure the ceasefire between Pakistan and India, saying the agreement had saved millions of lives. Whatever the political calculations surrounding international mediation, the central lesson should be obvious: every credible opportunity to prevent another war deserves serious consideration. South Asia has already spent too much of its political energy and public money preparing for conflict when the region desperately needs cooperation on trade, climate change, water, health and economic development.
The raising of a 220-foot Pakistani flag shortly after midnight on 14 August added another layer of symbolism to the ceremony. With contingents from the armed forces, civil armed forces and police representing Punjab, Sindh, Balochistan, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, Azad Kashmir and Gilgit-Baltistan, the event sought to portray defence as a collective national responsibility.
That idea should be taken beyond ceremonial language. The defence of a country does not belong only to soldiers. It also belongs to judges who uphold the law, journalists who protect the public’s right to know, teachers who educate the next generation, doctors who serve their communities and citizens who respect the rights and dignity of others. A state becomes secure when its people believe that its institutions work for them.
(The writer is a public health professional, journalist, and possesses expertise in health communication, having keen interest in national and international affairs, can be reached at uzma@metro-morning.com)
